Fólkvangr

Chapters

Labor
Actual Labor
Lèse Majesté
Reverie
Burning Cold
Force of Nature
Everything is Okay
Meeting the Cool Griffons
Aya Harpyia
Thriving in Adversity, Pt. 02
Birds of Prey
Eternal Recurrence
City of Princesses
Underneath
Conversation
A Day of Gilda, A Day of Grunhilda
Big Cat League
A Glance Inside
Mythical
Stealing Souls
Hero for the Day; Legend Forever
Hook, Line, and Sinker
Wrapping It Up With A Bow
Calm Before The Storm
Undying Hatred
First Snow
Venom of Venus Pt. 1
Venom of Venus Pt. 2
Venom of Venus Pt. 3
The War Older Than Time
Dreammaker Pt. 1 - Trompe L'oeil
Dreammaker Pt. 2 - Fidelity
Blood
Discipline
The Soulsmith
Preparations
Calibrations
The Horny Harvest (clop)
The Red Banner
When Griffons Go On A Journey
Big Bird Eat Small Bird Pt. II
Requiem for the Astrani
Perfectly Normal Griffoning In Session
Still Perfectly Normal Griffoning
The Harpy Made me Do it, pt I
The Harpy Made Me Do It, pt II
Sacramental Sister
The Game of Griffons, pt. I
The Game of Griffons, pt. II
The Gathering Storm, pt. I
The Gathering Storm, pt. II
The Gathering Storm, pt III
Sacrament of Sin
Stoßgebet, pt. I (clop)
Stoßgebet, pt. II (clop)
Stoßgebet, pt. III (clop)
The Aftermath, pt. I
The Aftermath, pt. II
Battle on the Fields of Sorrow, Pt. I
Battle on the Fields of Sorrow, Pt. II
Battle on the Fields of Sorrow, Pt. III
Another Mourning After
Mercy
Behind Invisible Silver Bars Nowhere
Thriving in Adversity, Pt. 01
First Sight of the North
Big Bird Eat Small Bird, Pt. I
The Aftermath, pt. III

Labor

Morning came cold and wet, but Gilda’s head had cleared enough she could see the way forward. She donned her leather pouch and dutifully marched to the city hall, a large brick and plaster building next to the plazza. Before going in, she dropped her letter to Rainbow Dash into the mailbox outside. The simple act lifted a weight from her shoulders. She smiled, ready to deal with the day’s manticore: getting started on community service. It might even be relaxing. Once the day got warmer, messing with the cold clouds always helped a griffon relax.

Past the large iron and glass doors she found herself stepping on a cold marble floor and right by the entrance an information table occupied the center of the atrium. Perfect.

A griffon sat across from the table, reading the day’s newspaper. A map dominated the front page. Griffonia separated in the south and southwest territories against the north and northeast territories printed in different shades of gray. The headline’s fancy letters read ‘Loyalist army captured in Snow Mountains Hold’.

Suddenly armies had gotten themselves involved. I wasn’t even supposed to be a war, but whatever. Not her problem. She tapped her paw at the table. “Hey… I gotta go to Community Services.”

From behind the newspaper, a yellow griffon paw pointed up to the sizeable placard affixed on a pillar. It directed to different offices, and showed her destination on the second floor, to the right of the stairs, so she hurried there. Didn’t bother thanking whoever sat behind the newspaper either.

The checkered black and white pattern on the floor almost made her eyes go cross and the puke yellow walls sucked the will to live out of her. The white roof didn’t help much, and neither did artificial magical lights on the white ceiling. Along the corridor several griffons who didn’t want to be there occupied varnished wood benches.

Fortunately, she found her destination without much of a walk, but someone talked to the clerk inside. Gilda sat on the bench, next to an abandoned newspaper. And she waited.

And she waited.

She huffed, not even caring to think about how long had passed and grabbed the newspaper. Opening at a random page, a photograph of some old but restored castle in a cold place greeted her. Its towers held long banners with Princess Cadance’s cutie mark, assorted hearts, and the cutesy stuff that the ponies loved. Tall stained-glass windows and more decorative banners decorated the towers and the palace-like structure of the main keep.

‘The Bordello of Candy, sieged by the Royal Guard.’ The headline said with giant bold letters.

“What the heck?” What in Tartarus were the ponies doing? Wasn’t that place a brothel or something?

Earlier this week the Royal Guard sieged the ancient castle that houses the world-famous Bordello of Candy in the Crystal Empire. According to witnesses, the event followed the arrival of Princess Luna and Queen Chrysalis at the capital, who quickly enacted martial-law and mandatory curfew to the population.

Queen Chrysalis? What?

The pair was then seen ridding a coach to the old castle and haven’t left yet, despite Princess Cadance having been seen leaving it under an escort of Luna’s Royal Guards.

Due to the curfew still being in effect at the time this was written, our correspondents could not enter the Bordello. But little more than 24h later an entire detachment of the Royal Guard arrived. With the Presence of Princess Celestia, King Thorax and Prince-Consort Chocolate Velvet they surrounded the place and hostilities were initiated with the use non-lethal weapons and spells.

After a quick skirmish, changeling forces defending the castle surrendered. There is no new information as of the publishing of this paper after the Royal Guard has taken control of the towers and the gates remained closed afterwards.

Great. It reminded Gilda of the time the Moon just stuck to the sky, and only days later they even heard about the mess with Nightmare Moon. She stared at the text and blinked a few times until she noticed another griffon, a tan and white male, next to her reading the paper she held.

“You think that’s bad?” He groused. “I have a friend in Ponyville and he said Princess Celestia had ordered the local militia to apprehend Princess Twilight and all her friends right before they escaped on the Princess’ airship. Can you believe this? Griffonia is going to the shitter and the ponies are going around doing stupid pony stuff.”

Gilda swallowed a lump of insecurity and fear down her throat. She knew Rainbow’s friend enough to know that if Twilight was out and about doing something like that things were bad. Even worse, her letter might never reach Rainbow.

Other than that, she worried her morning would go down the drain and she obviously hadn’t sold a single scone. She just nodded at the griffon, not really thinking about it.

Sometime later, she still waited and pulled her bang feathers. “Ugh, come on! How long does it take to pick a job off a list?!”

The other griffons on the corridor stared, and she pretended she hadn’t said anything, but after a few more minutes later, she had enough. She stood and stormed through the door to a simple office with a window, a desk, an old yellow and brown griffon lady talking to another old griffon lady, but she was tan and yellow. Both glared at Gilda.

“I have an appointment!” She growled.

“Ugh. Fine. See you later, Guelly.” Yellow and brown grunted and then waved goodbye to the other walking past Gilda with a more than disgusted stare. Of course, Gilda responded with her own evil eye.

“What do you want?” The remaining old griffon growled at her, sitting straight behind her desk.

“Isn’t it your job to talk to the griffons who come here?” Gilda’s voice raised. Scones didn’t sell themselves. But she felt conscious of mentioning it to the old hen.

“Sweetie, you’re a criminal. Nobody cares about your problems.” The other simply didn’t seem interested anyways.

“I’m not a criminal! I punched a jerk that stole from me!” Gilda snapped back.

The old one on the other side of the desk snickered. “Royal Law says that makes you a criminal. Go take it out with The Mare. Now, since I’m stuck with you here… Name?”

Gilda contained herself not to break something and simply sat angrily on the sitting pillow. “Gilda of Griffonstone.”

Yet, she knew better than asking the old grifffoness to hurry. Gilda watched as the old hen shuffled through the papers, repeating the name to herself until she finally pulled one out of the pile. “Ah. Gilda, Griffonstone. Hum… Got two Gildas born here. Parent names?”

“Grendel and Gaud.” Gilda rolled her eyes. Stupid griffon names.

“Ah… This is you. Wait. You punched a kid?!” She put down the paper. “What is wrong with you?”

At least she got the right one. Gilda hoped the other Gilda wasn’t as stupid. “I have anger issues, apparently! I want the cloud duty job.”

She remained seated, avoiding fidgeting despite the nervous energy, while the old griffoness hummed to herself and looked at a list for a minute or two. Nice office, though… Yellow walls, brown door, window right to the next building. At least Gilda would never have to work in an office like that.

“It’s taken.” Old yellow finally said.

“What do you mean it’s taken?” Gilda snapped out of her thoughts.

“No positions available.” She glared back at Gilda. “You have to choose the hospital or the gutters.”

Gilda stared at her for a second. “Because life doesn’t suck enough, right?”

“Hah, wait till you get older, sweetheart.” The griffon snickered from the other side of the table.

At least things seemed to be consistent in that place. Everything sucked. Gilda held her face and grunted. She really didn’t want to take the hospital job… Cleaning patients sounded miserable. Messing with wounds and listening to sick griffons whining would be torture. On the other paw… The gutters.

“How bad are the gutters?” She asked and the government employee showed her a list with exactly zero names on it. “That bad huh. Fine… Put me in the damn hospital.”

“Alright. Just a second.” The other replied smugly.

Gilda spent several minutes answering dumb questions. Diseases she had or might have had, and even more uncomfortable personal questions involving sexual partners and kinks. The old griffon lady probably asked more for herself than for whatever form she had to fill. Once the creepy old jerk was done embarrassing her, she finally gave Gilda a small paper card with her name and a stamp.

“Give this to Worker Resources. You’re expected to be there at one past noon. Don’t be late. They have to train your worthless ass before you can even get started.”

Gilda took the card and secured it in her pouch. Fine. The sooner she started, the sooner she’d get it over with, even if it meant no scones sold. At least she was done looking at that creepy old fuck’s face.

“Any questions, Gilda?” The clerk gave her a half-hearted smile.

“Will I get paid or anything?” Gilda frowned.

“Yes!” The old griffon grinned in such a cruel way Gilda regretted asking anything. “One free meal per day and a cap that says ‘I’m a Good Griffon’. You’re doing community service, dumbass! They’re doing you a favor, so they don’t send you to Shatteredrock and it doesn’t get too crowded with violent asses like yourself. It would end up costing even more money to the Union.”

“Fine. Thanks.” Gilda couldn’t wait to get out of that place, turning on her seat to leave.

“You’re welcome!” Her cheery voice just punctuated how pissed Gilda felt by then.

She wouldn’t give the old jerk the satisfaction of slamming the door like she wanted, but she almost screamed when she saw the clock on the corridor. The damn thing said it was a quarter to noon! The whole morning spent in that stupid place and now she wouldn’t have time to go home, lunch and be on time at the hospital!

It would also, probably be a good idea to not tell others why she was stuck doing community service… Regardless, maybe she could eat something at the plaza in front of the hospital. Or maybe they had some sort of cafeteria or restaurant in there.

***

The hospital occupied a large portion of the blocks surrounding King Grover’s Plazza. Wide walls made its façade with new paint and large decorated wood doors for enjtrance. Inside, washed-out green linoleum and white masonry walls dominated the view. The ceiling held occasional iron chandeliers keeping the magical lights. Totems directed visitors to wherever they needed to go in a wide atrium with stairs.

Turned out they did have a restaurant in the hospital. But it only served staff and patients. Gilda lost about half an hour while the griffons discussed whatever or not someone on community service belonged to the staff. After they decided she was indeed part of the staff, they told her that she wasn’t part of the staff yet. She had to report to Worker Resources for it to become true.

Griffons and logic. The result of unicorn efficiency applied to griffons.

Hungry and upset, Gilda went outside to the back area to the cafeteria. A covered area next to the outer wall. Behind the hospital, close to a small garden under the windows of the patient rooms. A sitting area occupied the space in front the cafeteria and under a passage on the floors above, as the hospital had a H shape.

The hospital actually had two cafeterias. One for griffons and one for ‘the others’. The griffon one was closed, and she had to eat from the ‘pony one’. It had no name associated with it, so she decided she would call it so as an earth pony couple owned it.

In the end it was a good thing she was so hungry because she didn’t think she could eat that disgusting soybean hamburger she bought for one Bit. At least the damn thing was cheap! She didn’t even feel like eating the fried potatoes, they just made her think of ‘pony food. She paid four Bits for the whole meal with the potatoes, the apple juice (from Sweet Apple Acres, of course), and the extra onions she asked.

One of the owners came to her table with an apologetic look on her face. Ponies could make such sad expressions despite their usually funny manners. Even her funny red coat and green mane, or her sliced tomato cutie mark couldn’t help it. It was like a clown, sorry her act wasn’t funny. “I’m sorry the food isn’t very good for you ma’am. It really is meant for ponies that want to eat with their griffon friends, but it is something you can eat.”

She walked around, collecting plates from nearby tables. “It seems as though meat prices have soared. Most of it comes from the northern holds and the larger businesses are buying all the farm meat, seafood, and poultry they can. Smaller food businesses are closing all over.”

Gilda said nothing, but she hadn’t asked! She had enough troubles to worry about without worrying about others.

“Doesn’t help the ponies regulate the meat farming industry into oblivion.” Gilda grumbled, as though the poor pony could be blamed. She regretted her tone, despite her awful mood.

“We, hum… Decided to return you two Bits, since you didn’t like it.” She put the coins from the pouch on her apron on Gilda’s table.

What a surprise. The small act of kindness not only helped a lot, but it brought a smile to Gilda’s beak. “Thanks.”

“It’s not our fault.” The pony explained, almost offended. “Princess Celestia follows the regulations other races vote on. The problem is that hooved creatures find it grisly you eat the flesh of other hooved creatures. Especially when they are intelligent too. They settled on a compromise with fish and other things, like eels. But even then, some dairy farms get permission to sell the meat of deceased cows. I hear it’s not very good, though. There is also the game meat from the north, but I don’t understand the politics behind it.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just angry today…” The pony smiled sympathetically at Gilda’s words and went back to her job of clearing the tables, but Gilda became curious about the problem. “Why is fish expensive? I mean… I understand griffons in the north have a problem with the ones in the south because of the Chancellor and him being a corrupt ass. But… Don’t our fish come from the coast?”

The pony shook her head. “Most of the coastal cities don’t export their fish. Or they export only a portion of it. Most of our fish comes from Mount Aris. They have humongous fish and kelp farms. That should be normal, though. The problem is that Queen Novo is miffed about some pretty bad things the northerner griffons say about her kind. She also hates our Chancellor Gail. She’s put some heavy taxes on their fish coming to Griffonia. Actually, everything coming here through Mount Aris. Larger businesses don’t care, but smaller ones simply can’t pay. It also drove the price of poultry to Luna’s stars, since they’re buying all they can. On the other hoof, one of the companies that makes soy hamburgers lowered prices. The owner says it’s because it’s going to prevent famine in here.”

“This sucks.” Gilda frowned. “I’d think Princess Celestia would do something about it instead.”

“Well, she could. But she typically avoids intervening unless it is really necessary because of the Princess Meddling Accord.” Since Gilda’s face turned to a confused frown, the pony went on. “It says that the Alicorn Princesses aren’t supposed to mess with individual nations within the confederation to maintain their sovereignty. Only if things get out of hoof.”

“I’d say her subjects getting out of food and corrupt officials screwing us over fits.” Gilda grumbled, suddenly in a bad mood again.

The pony simply shrugged. “The princesses know what they are doing.”

Ugh… Typical pony. The little bastards couldn’t admit their precious princess was screwing up. It made Gidla think of the news article about the Bordello of Candy.

She didn’t know much about Thorax, but he struck her as a giant wuss simply for marrying the Changeling Queen. What the hell, wasn’t she supposed to be his mother or something? Freaking weird changelings! Not to mention she was supposed to have disappeared, or something. What the heck was wrong with the world?

“Well, thanks for the service. And for returning some of money. The rest tasted great, though.” Gidla cleaned her beak with a napkin and left it with the rest of her uneaten ‘hamburger’.

“You’re welcome! If you ever wish to try some of our other dishes, we’d be delighted to have you!” The pony ‘ponied’ at her, all sappy and friendly.

She thanked the pony again and left. She didn’t want to get late for her first shift.

She had no trouble finding the Worker Resources department due to some helpful, and likely wealthy griffon doctors. Past the door with the plaque identifying it, she found a waiting room. Gilda presented herself to a tan and white griffoness with beautiful red highlights on her feathers. She gave her the card and waited for a few minutes while the other went to the next room. Soon she called Gilda. A unicorn pony, deep blue with a well-kept and short lighter mane, gray eyes, sat behind a desk.

He even had a cyan tie and offered a hoof. “Hi Gilda! Nice to meet you! I’m Azure Suit!”

Fitting name… Regardless, she bumped his hoof with a fist and sat in front of him as the hen returned to her post.

“I see here you got yourself in a bit of a problem with the law!” She wondered what he was so cheery about. “We’re glad you’re now a part of the team and we can help you pay your debt to the great city of Griffonstone! I will get your papers through to administration as soon as I come back. Come. I’ll take you to your supervisor, Miss Goldina. We call her ‘Golden Heart’.”

He chuckled as he stood, and Gilda dutifully followed him through the corridors. More light green linoleum floor and white masonry walls with the eventual chandelier. They walked past doors to rooms with patients, doctors, nurses, empty examination rooms… Mostly griffons, but also many ponies. They passed different wings for different specializations and different wards.

The size overwhelmed Gilda. The central lobbies connected the floors and the wings on both blocks of the building, with small decoration items everywhere along with comfortable furniture for seating. Mostly paintings the unicorn explained were from local artists and some artsy statues. Large windows let in the sunlight and a general atmosphere of calm serenity dominated the place.

“We are the largest hospital in the area, and we receive patients from all cities in the hold and complex cases from the next ones. Our job is very important, Gilda. I hope you see that while you work. We are excellent to our patients, and we expect excellence from our team. Part of which you will be for the next two months. Don’t worry, though. Administration urges all the staff to be excellent also towards one another, so if you have any questions, or suggestions, we urge you to be open to your colleagues!”

She wished she could have paid more attention to what he said, but the smells started getting on her nerves. Such a shame, since the pony seemed to be so nice and enthusiastic about her presence there.

Blood and remedies. Weird pungent smells that got her on edge and clashed with the peaceful atmosphere. Thinking of sick creatures make her skin crawl.

Finally, they reached a larger room in between the patient rooms with a central table and some cabinets on the walls. More cabinets and windows along the deep wall. Some griffons busied themselves with ‘hospital’ stuff and stared only to see whatever happened didn’t concern them. One of them dropped what she was doing and went to them.

Like a living gold statue of a griffon covered in a particular shade of yellow. The griffoness walking to them smiled radiantly and it seemed to maker her golden fur and feathers shine even brighter.

“Hi! Can I help you Azure? Who is your friend?” She asked all happiness in her pink eyes.

“Hi Golden. This is Gilda. She’s here to supplement the nursing staff with non-medical tasks.” He nodded at Gilda who refrained from rolling her eyes at the obvious ‘code’.

“Oh! I see! Welcome, Gilda!” At least her soon-to-be-boss grinned genuinely at her.

“Uh… Hi!” She responded with her best smile, but feared it came of as standoffish. The ‘golden’ griffon let that bother her.

“Don’t you worry, I got you under my wings!” She piped and gave Azure a thumb up. “I’ll show you the ropes and assign you to some easy patients to get you started!”

Gilda let an uncomfortable chuckle escape. “Thanks Miss Goldina.”

“Nah! Call me Golden! Everyone does!” She then grabbed Gilda’s paw and pulled her to walk down the corridor, leaving Azure behind. “Now, do you have any experience in taking care of sick creatures? The elderly?”

“No… I don’t. I live alone, actually.”

“Ah, it’s alright.” The other griffon waved a paw while they walked. “There isn’t really much to this job. All you have to do is be nice, patient and caring to them.”

Three of the things Gilda should never be tasked with.

“If all fails, remember you’re not a real nurse.” Goldina smiled. “You’re here to help us, alleviate our job and learn some love for your fellow creatures.”

***

The training session took hours, but it felt like it had taken entire days. At least it didn’t seem so bad after learning a thing or two. Really all she had to do was listen to them complain and not really do anything other than tell one of the real nurses. Unless it her list of attributions allowed her fixing the problem.

Change dressings of simple wounds, clean said wounds. Change the bedding if needed, help patients eat. Open the window, close the window… Fortunately, bathing and helping them go to the bathroom didn’t belong on her list of tasks. She supposed they wouldn’t trust just any shmuck, much less a ‘criminal’ to do those things.

‘Golden’ even took her on a small tour and showed her, in vivo, how to do stuff. Once back to their teaching room, her supervisor finished it up with a few quick additional tips.

“Now, you should go home and study this!” Goldina grinned while she put a relatively small book on the table they shared. She had the earnest stare of someone who really cared. “I know you would rather not be here but give this job a chance! It can be hard at times, even if you’re not really a full nurse. Patients don’t usually see the difference and their gratitude will creep on you and take you by the heart!”

“Okay…” Gilda said slowly. “So… Until tomorrow?”

“Yes. Officially, your obligations here start at one past noon, but it is a good practice to be at least one hour early. So you can participate in our meeting.”

Yeah. Fat chance… Gilda showed her best to smile anyway. “Thanks, Miss Goldina. Er… Golden. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Alright! Bye!” She grinned widely again as Gilda collected the book and stashed it under her wing. Then Gilda left before she got too uncomfortable with the smiling hen.

She thought of picking up the scones she baked last night and trying to sell them, but she would likely not be able to sell enough to justify the time she’d invest in it.

Getting home, she sat on her small couch on the sitting room, made herself comfortable, and started reading.

Minutes later she boredom caught up to her, so she left the book.

Seconds later she picked it up again because she realized she had to take that thing seriously or else she might have to see Judge Gracey again. If she went to see Judge Gracey again, she would likely end up in a prison. If she ended up in a prison, she would end up in the same path Gertrude and Grizelda did. She just couldn’t let that happen to her. Period.

Thus, with the late afternoon spent in frantic studying she hoped was effective as it was semi-panicked, she could barely keep her paws under her on her way to her bed. She slept as soon as she collapsed on it.

After a short night of sleep, she woke to the noise from the street outside her window. The usual noises of griffons and other residents going about their businesses of starting with their day. A cart passed by, loaded with metal, anything they could sell for a pittance. Dragging herself out of her bed, she readied herself for the new day by baking fresh scones. She had planned to do it before sleep, but at least the things would be as fresh as they would ever be. She could put them up with the ones from yesterday and it would be fine. They wouldn’t have gone bad yet.

Not much time to waste, she would rush to the plaza with Grover’s statue as soon as she had them ready. If anything, the proximity with the hospital helped. She hated the idea of not being able to sell her stuff in the afternoon because she had to be in the hospital though. Maybe she could sell her scones to the hospital staff? Many of them already used to buy from her during the night shifts! What a great idea!

Wait… What if she doesn’t have time? She knocked her own forehead and called herself stupid. She had work to do in there. And not even as a ‘free’ worker. Maybe she could sell them by the bunches, after she made some acquaintances. After they recognize her as the griffon selling them scones at night.

Heh… Making plans... Maybe the whole ordeal would be good for her after all. She smiled to herself, just a little. Maybe next time she met Dash she’d be a respectable owner of a whole bakery? She could dream, couldn’t she?

That, or she was trying to distract herself from the fact she had to do a shitty job she didn’t want to. All because she punched someone who deserved to be punched.

Bitching about it wouldn’t help her. Getting stuff done would, so she quickly gathered what little she’d need, along with the book Goldina had given her. When her scones were ready, still hot from the oven, she wrapped them in a delicate cloth. Put them in a bowl and took her foldable stand.

After an uneventful walk to the plaza, she set up her stand, let the scones sit on the cloth inside the bowl and donned her best smile.

And she held it for the majority of the morning. The sun rose, the time for her to present for her job came closer, and scones became less and less fresh before her. Her smile diminished until she finally let go a deep and sorrowful sigh when it was time for lunch. She chose to not have it so she could stay and hopefully sell something.

She ate a few of her scones before leaving. They tasted wonderful, as far as she was concerned. Maybe the extra few minutes would yield at least a sell or two.

It didn’t and the time to present herself had arrived, but an idea dawned on her. Almost a stroke of genius. Something she once saw a pony do in Ponyville, and if it worked there, it would surely work with her. She should leave the stand with the scones and the bowl in a way griffons who went by saw them and would leave the money in the bowl for the scones they took.

Part of her called it an incredibly stupid and naive idea, after all nobody had left money when she the militia arrested her, and griffons had taken the scones. But she hadn’t left the scones properly stacked with bowl next to them.

She neatly placed the cloth with the scones next to the bowl. A small, tasty pyramid sitting on the cloth arranged as a diamond, making sure the little plaque with the prices stood in the middle. Once satisfied, she left with a few minutes to spare.

Step after step towards the big building she almost convinced herself insanity had started to claim her faculties. Community service, prostitution, the griffon king, being sent to a prison and barely making it week to week with the scones had to be doing a number on her. Griffons walking past her stared at her pained frown, but she ignored them.

Walking past the doors, she saw Goldina sitting at the middle of the hall as though she expected someone. She waved and smiling warmly at Gilda as soon as she saw her.

“Hi Gilda! You made it! Horray! You missed our meeting, but it’s okay! I’m glad you’re here!”

“Yeah…” Gilda hesitated and rubbed the back of her neck. She completely forgot about the meeting. “I guess…”

Oh, Mighty Sun… Goldina could clearly see Gilda when she was outside. Her cheeks burned, but Goldina’s words interrupted her.

“That is great, though! One step at a time, right?” ‘Golden’ beamed at her and she got the book from under her wing.

“I brought back your book. I studied… I’m ready.” She smiled awkwardly and Goldina looked at her like she her mother or something.

“Come on!” The golden griffon lady smiled some more. “First task of the job is returning it to its place, so you know where to find it if you need it. You’re not expected to do everything by heart, you know? You can look at the book whenever you need. Come on.”

She concluded with a beckoning wing gesture and Gilda followed to the second floor, past another hall, a few doors in a hallway and into room where griffons worked on ‘hospital’ stuff.

Actually, according to the book, there were separated rooms for doctors and for nurses. Hooray! She did learn something!

“So, here is where we keep this book.” Goldina told her while the others watched casually or simply went on with their jobs of writing stuff down or preparing medications. Nonetheless, she placed the book on its place on the shelf. “We keep it here so the new ones can find it easily. Don’t hesitate to open it again to look for information you might need, or even, asking one of the others. The important thing is to get the job done right, not to do it by yourself. Right staff?”

The other griffons, and one or two ponies in the room grunted collectively, some more enthusiastic than other, waving at Gilda, who waved at them too, if out of embarrassment.

“Now!” Goldina went on. “This is our board!”

A black board with a few pieces of chalk and an eraser tied to it. Nothing too fancy, but someone had drawn a table on it. File number, patient names, condition, and room. Quite simple, but certainly efficient.

“And these are your patients. Just three of them since this is your first day. Take your time and do everything just like in the book. I’ll be around if you need anything, but the others will help too if you need it. Just pretend you’re confident.”

“Uh… Thanks.” Nothing more than a couple of paper sheets with stuff about the patients.

First one had been submitted to neck surgery. The second had a wound on his thigh and the dressing needed to be removed since the doctor was going to see him. The third had a surgery scheduled. She had to ask him a few things.

Well, alright. Seemed simple enough. She thanked Goldina again and checked the room numbers on the table, and then she checked the details for her first patient.

Some guy had a lump removed from the side of his neck. The medical jargon made it a touch difficult, but she managed. Mostly thanks to the book. She didn’t really need to understand everything, just care for his wound as the book and Goldina taught her. She was supposed to see if he was okay and see if he was awake. Then clean the surgical wound and take note of any complaints to be directed at the medical staff. All right. Nothing too complicated.

She also knew what she would need and finding the stuff wasn’t too hard. In fact, the nursing staff had everything already set up and prearranged in neat cloth packs. She grabbed one of the ‘kits’ from the locker and put on her back with the clipboards before she made her way to the room. Come to think of it, Goldina must really be trusting of her to simply let her be on her own. She better not disappoint.

“Oh! Just one more thing!” Speaking of Goldina, she waited for Gilda by the door with a huge smile as she put a white cap on Gilda’s head. “This is our uniform! You gotta keep it clean and come wearing it to your shift. Also, return it at the end of your tour. Any questions?”

“Not really. No.” Honestly, Gilda just wanted to be done with it. Finally, Goldina let her go into the wild of the Surgery Ward.

Actual Labor

Gilda appreciated Goldina letting her work on her own and not watching over her shoulders at every step and little decision she had to make. On the other paw, being alone, without someone watching over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t screw up scared her. Every decision she made had the potential to mess everything completely up.

When baking scones, the worst possible ended at burning a batch. Or punching someone in the face when trying to sell, apparently. Such thoughts didn’t help.

Fortunately, a short walk didn’t allow for many more such thoughts and she reached her patient’s room. She knocked and someone on the other side said she could enter with a less than excited voice. Opening the door, she entered a small but neat room. The open window above a nightstand let the fresh air in and with the bed right next to it. A green and white male griffon laid on his side, looking miserable.

“Hello? Mister, uh…” She looked at the clipboard and then back at him. “Godfrey?”

“Hi, miss.” He raised his head for a couple of seconds to look at her but gave up with a groan as she walked over. A quick look at the clipboard told her he was on several medications. She had no idea what those medications did, it explained.

She examined the blood spotted dressage wrapped several times around his neck and the smell of blood aggravated her. Not enough to cause her to heave, fortunately, she expected worse. The chemical smell emanating from the thing made her skin crawl though, but memories of Judge Gracey worried her more.

She coughed into her paw. “So, I’m gonna clean this thing for you. And uh… Do you need anything?”

“It just hurts a bit, but it’s fine.” He said groggily and seemed to sleep again.

She stared at him for a few seconds and then shrugged. Fine. The sooner she got it done, the sooner she could go home and the less she would have to bother the poor guy.

She opened the ‘kit’ over the nightstand and found all she would need. A pair of curved bowls some gauze, and a sponge with a foul-smelling soap. A rounded scissor and tweezers. She knew those things had names, but she couldn’t be bothered with those. They were tweezers.

She donned the gloves which came with the kit, after all, one wouldn’t care for the wounds of others with the same paws they walked all over in the floors. Funny thing they ate with those… Well, they washed their paws. They also carried stuff with their beaks, but griffons ought to be mindful what they put in their mouths.

She sighed and looked at the dressing with the dark red spot on it. Enough stalling.

Slowly, she cut open the dressage, a little surprised at how careful she was. A nasty wound hid underneath, some four fingers long and all mucked up with an oily ointment and wet lumps of blood. The smell bothered her, but the weird ‘hospital smell’ became background as she focused. They had shaved his plumage around the area, and the dressage kept if clean of dirt.

The two lips of skin kept together with small threads struck her as awkward and somewhat disturbing. ‘Unnatural’. But not as much as the alternative of ending up on a corner with Grizelda and Gertrude or at Shatteredrock.

She feared hurting the guy or damaging the doctor’s work if she so much as touched the swollen wound. It was her job, though, and she forced herself to get started and stop stalling. The ointment and the clotted blood came off easily enough into the small bowl with some water and soft rinsing. He kept sleeping and she loved it as her paws trembled through the procedure.

Once she had cleaned the wound it looked nice. As nice as a stitched-up cut would look, at least.

Next, she applied the ointment. Fresh, it smelled like chamomile with a greasy texture, conveniently sticky. Then she covered the wound with gauze and wrapped the dressing around it. Before she knew it, she had done it. It looked neat too if she could say so herself.

He guy had slept through the whole thing, and she concluded she preferred it so. She cleared her throat and got rid of the dirty water in the bathroom to then return the used-up stuff to the appropriated disposal area in the nurse’s room.

She went to the sink, aiming to clean her paws. Nobody seemed to care about her except for a female. A paler shade of tan than Gilda, with brown eyes, she approached to wash her paws too.

“So, what’s your story?” Pale tan asked with a curious smirk. “The chief’s taken a liking to you and you’re way off the season from the nursing school.”

“I’m not really a nurse… Community service.” Gilda said as dryly as she could and as defensively as she dared. Hopeful she wouldn’t incur on some sort of discrimination from her fellow, actually trained nurses. Maybe her own insecurity gave her such thoughts, but she might be angry herself if someone with barely any training got in the way of her job.

“Oh! Cool!” The other brightened up, completely opposite to what Gilda feared. “I thought someone had gotten you a job here, or something! I mean… You know.”

“Yeah… No.” Gilda kept her dry tone while minding her paws. Try as she would, her paws wouldn’t stop shaking.

“What’s your name? What’s your actual work?” The paler one became way too excited for Gilda’s taste, letting her wings flare and almost dropping medicines and medical stuff on a nearby shelf. “Oh! What did you do? Did you kill someone?!”

“Come on, Gina.” Another of the nurses in the room, a yellow and white male chuckled and approached, much to Gilda’s relief. “You don’t get community service for murder.”

“Hey! I think I know you!” He beamed at Gilda.

“I’m Gilda… I bake and sell scones. And I punched a dude.” She said, her wings tight against her sides and eyes shifting, not staring directly at them. “He stole from me.”

“Aw, sucks…” Male one said with a frown. “Yeah! I remember you! Great scones! I hope you hurt him to make him regret it though. You look like a tough hen.”

Her cheeks went hot, and she coughed, stumbling on words.

The younger hen spoke, wide-eyed. “Dude, that is bad! Griffons have anger issues, and we need to chill!”

Gilda’s eyebrow raised. “I thought you were excited I was doing community service…”

“Well, yes… But we have some bad impulses we need to keep under control.”

“Don’t listen to her too much, Gilda.” The male one deadpanned. “She’s been listening to some unicorn jerk who says griffons need to be educated, or something. That we need stricter laws and whatnot. That we are dangerous, and such.”

“No! This is for real. He helped me get through university! I was all angry all the time and then my friends sent me to talk to him. He helped me achieve an inner peace I never thought I would. Maybe you should talk to him, Gilda!” Gina grinned widely.

“Yeah…” Gilda grinned too, but with a grimace and a forced cough. “I’ll think about it. I got work to do now.”

Fortunately, Gina didn’t insist. Both left her alone to check the file for her next patient. Some young guy working in construction fell and got a wound on his thigh. He got an infection and had to stay at the hospital after the surgery. Her job included removing the dressing, cleaning the wound, and leave it for the doctor to see during his shift. Also take his medication to him and witness him taking it. For whatever reason.

If she remembered her study session correctly, she should leave the wound covered with a gauze, so it didn’t get too exposed.

After grabbing the relevant ‘kit’ she minded the medications listed on his file, a couple of pills. She had to fuzz around the medicine cabinet until she found the medications in the correct doses. Feeling like an idiot, she took a moment or two to notice the alphabetical organization and she swore under her breath. Another quick walk, pretending confidence in her abilities, took her to the patient’s room. Everyone seemed too busy to give her attention anyways.

A chirpy male voice told her to enter after she knocked. Another room, much like the other, with a white and dark gray griffon laying on his side, but awake. Barely an adult, and his nightstand had a bottle of water and a glass.

“Hi!” He grinned and waved at her.

“Hi, George. I’m Gilda.” She smiled, walking in and pulling the door closed with her tail. “I brought you your medicines, and I’m gonna clean your wound if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Geez, what a dweeb.

First things first, she gave him a small plastic cup with his pills and even served him a nice glass of water. She watched like a hawk until he was done.

Wait, was she enjoying her job?

Regardless, satisfied he had done as he was required without so much as a word, she opened the cloth packet with the things she would need. Fortunately, his wound was on the outside of his thigh, so he just laid on his side and away from her.

“So, you’ve been working here long?” He asked with a cheery, youthful voice.

“No. I just came in.” She refrained from snarling while cutting the dressage around his thigh. A foul smell invaded her nares. Not the chemical stink of the hospital, but like disease. It almost made her heave. Gladly, he couldn’t see her grimace. The gauze stuck to the dried off pus and blood, so she wet it a little. An acid burn came to her throat at the smell and sight of the sticky secretion.

Rough stitches held the lips of the wound with a soft rubber pipe stuck inside. It smelled of pus and drained drops at the sheets. A dry yellow coating and bloody clots over the swollen lips came out with water. Including some blood that got on his fur past the shaved area.

For all it’s worth, she felt like she was paying for something but told herself not to freak out. The alternative would be worse.

“Does it look too bad?” He raised his head and looked back at her.

She coughed down her nausea. “Aaah… It’s doing as it should. You know… The doctor’s gotta see it.”

“How did this happen? I read you work in construction. You look kinda young.”

She wasted no time in cleaning the ugly thing with the soaped sponge and a lot of water. Someone else would reapply the local medicines once the doctor had looked at it.

“Thanks! At least they said I can go to school as soon as I’m discharged from the hospital!” She softly touched the wound with a dry cloth to remove the excess water.

She had to change the sheets but doubted the kid could stand. Fortunately, the book taught her how to deal with the situation, and Goldina showed it during their tour. She took off one side of the sheets, had the guy roll over the exposed rubber mattress. Then removed the rest, cleaned the impermeable mattress, and replaced the sheets with a new set from the closet in the room. It would probably get easier with practice. At least the kid helped as best as he could.

“So, do you need anything?” She flashed her best friendly smile. “Any pain?”

“No. It’s okay.” He shook his head. “Thanks Miss Gilda.”

“Say, are you all alone?”

“Mom is gonna come here to sleep with me, but she has to work during the day and my big sis has to watch my young brothers.” He looked away from her.

“I see. Well, call if you need anything, kay?”

“I will!” He chirped, looking back at her. “Thanks again, Miss Gilda!”

“Hey… Doing my job.” She grinned at him and offered a closed fist he bumped with his own.

She hurried out the door this time and then repeated the process of discarding the used stuff and washing her paws. The clock above the blackboard showed half-past-two. Long day ahead, it seemed.

After she cleaned her paws, one of the nurses, a female with a salmon coat and white plumage on her head approached all smiles. “Guys are saying you’re the hen that sells scones in the plaza! Can you get us some next shift? Those would be sweet to have in the meeting! We’re gonna pay you, of course! Gordon says your scones are great!”

“Sure!” Gilda grinned. “It’ll be my pleasure!”

“And don’t let Gina intimidate you… She’s kinda crazy, but she’s nice.” She did the spinning finger gesture next to her head. “Hey! You’re gonna dine with us, right? When the shift is done?”

“Sure. Gotta make use of my free meal a day.” Gilda chuckled with an awkward grimace.

“Alright!” The other smiled. “See you later.”

Acquaintances! Awesome. With her head a little higher, Gilda proceeded to check on the file for her next patient. Some guy scheduled for beak surgery. Even easier than last one. Ask him a few questions, no disgusting wounds.

Before setting on her way, she took a good look at the questionnaire. Mostly stuff about allergies, previous diseases… Interaction with the health system. It certainly was important for someone’s job.

With a confident grin, she took the clipboard and a pencil, tucked it all under her wing, and walked out of the room past one of her new colleagues on the hall. They nodded at each other.

Wondering how her scones were selling, she stopped before the open door of the relevant room and saw the fat dark-brown and yellow hen. The mayor’s wife, with her ‘little boy’ sitting on the bed.

It took her all her strength not to scream, but she fortunately reacted in time and hid past the door’s frame.

Suddenly the air in the corridor seemed to have vanished. No way she could go into that room and deal with that old cunt and her spawn! She would recognize Gilda and make a scene. Being the wife to the damn mayor, she could ruin everything on the first day!

Another griffon wearing a white coat, probably a doctor, walked past her and raised an eyebrow. She smiled awkwardly and tried relaxing instead of backing into the wall. Controlled her breathing instead of letting her chest move frantically. She closed her fists and controlled her nerves. Inside, she could barely contain her screaming.

They would make a scene. They would ruin everything.

“Gilda, is there a problem?” Goldina stared at her, her head tilted with curiosity and her voice sounded like a worried mother.

Gilda had to cough a few times and restart her sentence some three times before she managed to speak like a damn adult. “It’s the kid I punched!”

Crap! She realized too late she shouldn’t have said that! Now Goldina would be judging her too.

But rather, the older griffon lady held her beak and hummed. “I see. I’ll take it from here. You should wait in the nurse’s room. Okay?”

She opened her paw for Gilda to give her the clipboard, which she did. “Now, don’t you worry, Gilda. I’ll meet you in the nurse’s room when I’m done. Try to relax a little. You look like you’re going to burst.”

It all happened too fast, and Gilda only came to herself when she heard Goldina greeting the pair inside the room. Finally, she relaxed, but her muscles hurt all over. Goldina told her to return to the nurse’s room, and she slowly dragged herself.

The corridor turned to the gallows and the executor was a big white and gray griffonness ready to pull the plank from under her. The room became the jail cell where she would wait for her condemnation. Mostly empty, the nurses in there busied themselves with paperwork. She sat at the big central table and waited until the pale-yellow Gina approached her.

“You okay?” She put a friendly paw on Gilda’s shoulder. “You look like you saw a ghost!”

Gilda didn’t feel like talking to anyone. “I guess…. I may have screwed up.”

She didn’t even know how she came up with the notion she did something wrong, but it would be too much trouble actually explaining what had happened. It didn’t help the other hen gasped in the same way Gilda would have expected out of Rainbow’s pink friend.

“Oh my gosh!” She held her face much too comically for Gilda’s tastes. “Did you scratch someone’s eye off in a fit of rage?”

“No! What the hell?!” Gilda screeched and ruffled her feathers.

Fortunately, Gina’s male friend dragged her off and they left Gilda alone. She wanted to think about what she would do when Goldina came back and treated her like a criminal for what she had done to the kid. Goldina, as a professional would know how bad it was. She would be offended Gilda gave her team a bad name.

Gilda’s elbows supported her head over the table and her paws covered her eyes. The words uttered by the town militia’s griffon echoed in her mind. Maybe she should leave Griffonstone. Maybe she could live for a while with Dash until she got a job in Ponyville. Fat chance she could compete with Pinkie and her pastries, though.

But she couldn’t just go. They would find her, and it would be worse.

Oh man… It went better than expected only to get ruined in the first day… The first hours. She stared at the white ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. Well, she did her best.

It didn’t take too long for Goldina to return with the clipboard and place it with the others before chirping at Gilda. “Well, that was a bit of bad luck… But it’s sorted out now. His wound didn’t seem so bad, but anyways… I’m not a doc. How did you go with the others?”

Gilda stared and blinked at her. “I didn’t screw it all up?”

“What?” Golden frowned, but then she giggled. “Oh, dear! I saw some griffons really mess up their jobs here and you didn’t! You didn’t do anything wrong! It was just a tiny bit of bad luck, that’s all. I took care of it. I wanted you to tell me, but I also checked on your other patients. You did great! Don’t worry about it anymore!”

Poof. Just like that, the room had cleared of its dark clouds. Gilda hesitated before she spoke to the other though. “Oh. Thanks.”

“You just gotta get started and before you know it, you’ll be free to go take care of your life. Though I’m biased towards hoping will be going to nursing school and joining the team in full. I would vouch for you!” Goldina winked at her.

She would vouch for her. Nobody had ever told her anything remotely similar. Did she mean it for real? Gilda’s heart warmed at her words nonetheless.

“Now, I got a few more patients for you. The shift ends at seven, you know. There is never a dull day around here.” The Goldina gave her a smug grin and elbowed at her. “Just make sure you dine at the hospital’s restaurant before you go home.”

***

She didn’t count how many patients she saw, but for sure the hospital was damn big. Sure, details mattered but, at its core, the job repeated itself. Or maybe Goldina jsut gave her the easiest patients. The actual nurses got the challenging ones.

All her patients taken care of, slightly before seven, she walked the halls of the hospital towards the restaurant. They ought to serve her this time and she wondered for a second if her job meant anything. If her simple ‘community service’ tasks accomplished something. Supposedly, taking care of the simple stuff freed the actual nurses to take care of the more complicated patients. It gave the whole thing some meaning. A sense something good came out of it. Other than she not getting sent to Shatteredrock.

Also, Goldina had said she would vouch for her if she went to nursing school. She had some trouble believing it. Her supervisor probably tried to motivate her, or something. Gee, she, an actual nurse? She restrained herself, or she might start giggling in the middle of the hallway where doctors and other nurses still went one way and another.

Reaching the restaurant, she found no opposition. Most of the tables were filled with griffons and a few ponies having dinner. Approaching the buffet in the back, one of the waiters greeted her.

“Hello nurse. We have grilled fish and potatoes, or minced meat lasagna for the main course. You can take whatever you want for complement.” He waved at the flood displayed before her. Premade dishes with grilled fish and others with the lasagna, but also bowls with things for her to add. Cheese and ham rolls, white rice, rice with meat, rice with lentils, sliced tomatoes and onion salad. Even more salads for the ponies, fried potatoes, potato salads…

Wow. Those guys ate well. At least part of her taxes seemed to be going the right way. She wondered for a second why didn’t Chancellor Gail mess with the health system, since he stole everything he could.

Probably because the hospital belonged to the Confederacy. Mostly funded by the Royal House. Griffonstone, Griffonland Hold and Griffonia’s government helped, but supposedly the Royal House ensured the hospital worked no matter what.

“I’ll have the fish!” She pointed. Less politics, more food!

“Here you go.” He gave her one of the plates and she took her time getting a bit of everything from the rest of the table. She worked hard during the day, but at least she could eat well. She could even choose lemon, guava, strawberry or apple juice (from that place). And another table had desserts! Grape gelatin and some sort of pave with chocolate.

She found the table with the nurses from the ward she worked on. Gina waved at her, and she felt like she didn’t really have a choice. She took her tray with her fish, the rest of the stuff, her apple juice, and the piece of the pave.

“Hey, you made it!” One of the nurses she didn’t know the name of greeted her.

Goldina sat at the table too, with her own plate and glass of juice. “You did great for your first day, Gilda. Gerard, you could be nicer to your patients… Let’s try to be more friendly, alright?”

A blue and navy griffon at the table blushed a little. “Sure, Miss Golden.”

While she watched, Gilda ate. The fish actually tasted like fish. She tried not to hurry, even though she hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.

Goldina went on. “Doctor Flesh Wound said the third operating room opened again, so we should be getting a pair of you back up to recovery. I’ll ask for volunteers tomorrow, so think it up. Other than that, we did great. And, Gina, I swear… Next time you ask a patient if they got injured in a knife fight, I will send you back to Emergency.”

“But he’s name was Gianni, and he came from Manehattan!” She defended herself and then pouted to her food. “Fine.”

Then the dinner turned to friendly banter rather than work-related conversation. Mostly curious about Gilda, they asked questions, but none of them bothered too much with the details of how she ended in her present situation. When the food ended, they left. Some of them had an extra shift to do, but Gilda left the hospital to check her stand in the plaza.

No scones in sight, but the bowl for the money wasn’t empty.

It had a paper written ‘sucker’ on it.

She sat on the plaza’s cobblestone, looking at the paper. She internalized the message because she sure felt like one.

What a fool-hardy, naïve idea. She should have known it wouldn’t work, but she would survive… She would probably make some good money selling her scones to her new colleagues.

She grabbed her things and started on her way home.

If anything, the night provided a welcomed chill, but the streets were mostly empty and the griffons outside weren’t the friendly kind. She felt a familiar sense of being put back in her place. Like the world wanted to remind her happiness didn’t fit her.

But tomorrow would be another day and things looked up. Mostly. She could even hope the mayor’s wife had forgotten about her.

Lèse Majesté

A couple of days passed and, surprise, surprise. Acquaintances turned to ‘kind-of-friends’ Gilda liked being with. Routine became a thing: bake and sell scones, miss the meeting, and feel bad apologize to Goldina. See patient, friendly banter, see another patient. Rinse and repeat until nineteen, dine and laugh at the stupid thing someone did. Go home and sleep. One day she woke with the sound of thunder.

Right on time too, and actually rested. Her general mood improved over the days; things were working out.

She got her scones baked. Grabbed her purse, her nurse hat, put her stand on her back and left for the plaza. The morning smelled of rain and she could hear a distant raging storm. Common enough for the weather team to build up the rainclouds in the distance, before moving them over the city and let them pour. Curiously, and she wasn’t a specialist like Dash, but there was way too much lightning in that rain. She kept hearing distant thunder.

But she didn’t have time to waste worrying about clouds and rain.

She rushed past the griffons collecting trash. Griffonstone changed in the last years. It used to be a rich and proud city. She blamed the mess with the northerner hold. And the Chancellor stealing their money, of course. Political stuff she didn’t understand nor had the time to worry about. She, like most griffons, supposed things were connected but couldn’t make heads from tails about it. They didn’t have the time, they needed to survive.

That day things changed. A throng had gathered around King Grover’s plaza. It connected the hospital, and the city hall, but it also the Chancellor’s Palace and it seemed the distant storm made a good analogy. Thousands of griffons gathered, flooding the plaza, shouting insults, and demanding the chancellor came out and faced them.

A particularly pissed off griffon lady threw a stone past the closed iron gates and scared the feathers out of the militia griffons before the doors. Even the soldiers on the other side of the gates kept staring nervously. “Come out and face us you pussy!”

“Hey, what is going on?” She asked the griffoness, a dark shade of yellow while her head showed an off-white shade of tan.

“What? You don’t know?” She turned to Gilda, wide eyed. “This asshole mobilized the entire Griffonian Standing Army and sent them to Snow Mountains. The only reason the unit spearheading the maneuver didn’t start this damn civil war already was because Lord Discord showed up and negotiated with the northerners. I have a brother in there!”

Oh… She had seen something about it in the newspapers. She just didn’t think it was so bad.

“It’s actually worse than that.” Another griffon told her, a white and black male just as angry. “They bypassed the Hall of Friendship in Canterlot. They meant to capture The Lion and bring him to be judged here. Completely behind Princess Celestia’s back! This is treason! Princess Celestia said The Lion can be made king, but the chancellor just won’t let go! Everyone and their mothers know he’s stole ridiculous amounts of money from us, and now this! They won’t even talk about the other units and won’t admit to anything! I don’t want my nation in another stupid war!”

Gilda didn’t care about the politics involved. The whole mess got her pay docked and the Chancellor caused it. Angry? Absolutely. But she also saw a griffon selling water bottles among the crowd and decided that she should sell her scones.

And what do you know, it actually worked. She sold all of them, after all, angry griffons needed food too and her scones might not be the best, but they were tasty enough. She only regretted not knowing beforehand. She would’ve made a lot more scones.

Glad she made some good money, despite all the wasted scones from last day, Gilda gleefully grabbed her things and went early to her job. Once she identified as one of the nurses, the griffons working on security let her put her things in a secluded place. A nice nook under the stairs. Out of the way, and out of eyes. She even left her pouch with the money so she didn’t have to carry it around the hospital.

Surprisingly, the day seemed awesome going forward and she carried herself up the stairs and lobby with a raised head and a happy spring on her feet. She even got to eat a delicious stew with chuck steak, potatoes, carrots, and onions. The griffons happily served her despite her being supposed to eat only once a day. No alternatives, but she couldn’t see anyone deciding against th emenu. Also, free food! And on top of it all, she made it to the meeting Goldina kept telling her about.

Nothing fancy, in the nurses’ room by the ward. They gathered, and spent a few seconds exchanging pleasantries with the others.

Goldina didn’t take long before she arrived, but wasted no time. “Hi Gilda! Nice seeing you here! I’m glad you’re with us because we got a doozy this afternoon! Details are obviously not for us, but it seems that the Royal Guards raided a museum that was a front for something shady and there was a fight at Thunderpeak. Lots of shooting, beating others over the head and magical stun sticks. The Royal Guard had many transferred over to us. A lot of patients are getting interned for surgery and they’re all coming to our ward. As usual, I’ve drawn the patients around and I have assigned them to each one of us. The files of the ones involved in that incident have the numbers underlined in red. Standard rules apply and don’t talk to them too much. I’m talking to you, Gina.”

The ‘crazy one’ huffed, but things happened smoothly from there. Gilda didn’t waste time grabbing the files Goldina had for her and put them on a neat pile. Starting with a griffon guy called Grady. A Thunderpeak local militia who got shot in the shoulder. Apparently, nothing too important got damaged, but the wound ought to be cleaned daily. A job for not-nurse Gilda.

She grabbed the stuff she’d need and went to the relevant room. Knocking at the door, an annoyed voice on the other side told her to enter. Past the door she saw the tan and white griffon. A big and fit guy, laying on his side with his head on the pillow and bored out of his mind judging by his unfocused stare. She supposed working in the law enforcement he ought to be strong and fit. Kinda hot, laying like a model, and not even trying.

She coughed and focused on her task.

“Hi. I’m Gilda. I’m here to clean your wound. How are you feeling?” She kicked the door closed with her hindleg and the griffon’s voice came out as bored as he looked.

“Hi, Gilda. I’m just annoyed. Can you believe they transferred me here just because a bullet grazed my shoulder? I should be home with my kids and my wife… Come on!”

“Yeah, sucks.” She said casually while she opened the bundle with her tools for the procedure over the nightstand. Then she slowly removed the dressing, careful not to pull too much at his fur. Not to mention that he looked tough and probably had experience in hospitals. “So, why did they send you here? Doesn’t Thunderpeak have its own hospital?”

She knew she shouldn’t talk too much with him, but who cared? The Book said that she ought to be friendly anyways.

“Yeah… It’s complicated.” He grunted, more from annoyance than her pulling at the gauze stuck to his dried wound. “It’s on the border with Snow Mountains hold and Princess Luna worried about some sort of retaliation. It’s all because of those damn northerners and because our mayor is too much of a wimp to take a stance against those savages. He’s all scared of The Lion and won’t side with our government already. It allowed all sorts of undesirables to get cozy in the city. Pisses me off!”

The wound didn’t look like something even a big guy like him could shrug off casually and it was likely a good thing they sent him to the doctor. As The Book said, it looked like pieces of burnt flesh were removed and it was left open to drain. A bit bloody and watery in the middle, it had a lot of clotted blood. Probably because he moved around too much.

She proceeded with her job of cleaning it.

He kept talking though. “Feathering northerners had some sort of operation hidden in a museum. Can you believe it? But the worst is how messy they conducted the operation. Princess Luna just showed up with her Royal Guards and went in by herself. We only heard of it if because some griffons started freaking out over the shooting and called us. What a Celestia-damned mess! She could have coordinated with us!”

“Yeah, I think I understand.” She carefully rinsed the wound with the gauze in water and soap. “It wouldn’t hurt them to let you guys in, right?”

“Huh. Now that I think of it, maybe Her Highness worried someone inside the force would tip them off. Like an infiltrated mole. I swear… Those pricks are everywhere! If Princess Celestia isn’t going to let Chancellor Gail deal with them, then she ought to do it herself.”

“Nice hospital though. Glad to see the money we pay the Princess to watch over us turns into these neat royal hospitals.” He chuckled. “And some people want Griffonia to split with the ponies. What a load… Yeah... Maybe Gail is a corrupt jerk, but the solution is kicking him off the Chancellor’s Office and putting someone less dumb. Not change the whole system and put a freaking king in his place. Lion's gonna want the title to be inheritable, and that is the least. We're just giving up on democracy, man.”

He sighed. “I mean… I know I’m not supposed to mention it… But… Heck… I miss the time the North was reasonable and got us tasty game meat, even with all the drama the ponies raised about it. And those ass-kicking revolver muskets! I mean, put one of those in my paws with a decent bayonet and I’ll pluck The Lion’s feathers myself!”

“Yeah.” She agreed without really thinking while her mind focused on her job of remaking the dressing. “He sounds like a prick.”

“You’re damn right he does! I’ll never understand how griffons can be so stupid to go all the way to the North and join him.”

His words filled her head with thoughts of Grizelda and Gertrude. She hoped they were alright. Gertrude didn’t seem the kind to make good decisions. Not that Gilda herself was… But she worried anyway.

With her job done, she grabbed everything and put the tray on her back. “All done. Get well.”

“Thanks Gilda.” He gave her a thumbs up. “You’re great at your job.”

She blinked and fidgeted with her paws a bit before thanking him and leaving as fast as her embarrassed self could manage, quickly pulling the door closed with her tail. Outside there were two of the nurses staring at her. Crazy Gina and a pinkish one she hadn’t talked to yet.

“Sheesh, Gilda! What is the point of taking care of a big guy like that and not even feeling his muscles a little?” The first told her she and deadpanned with a grunt.

“I think I’m already in enough trouble as it is…” Gilda told her with a deadpan of her own.

“Aw, come on! Perks of the job, am I right?” She insisted and her friend started giggling while Gilda rolled her eyes and walked off towards the nurses’ room.

Time for the next patient!

For next patient, she got a female earth pony. They admitted her with some sort of lung fungus and had it removed. The doctor had already seen her, and all Gilda should clean the surgical wound. Hooray, routine!

***

The day dragged on and Gilda lost count of how many patients she saw. The whole staff worked past their time along with the ones from the next shift. Dinner became a fond memory of a dream long gone, unlike the real tiredness.

Her present patient came from Thunderpeak too, but had been interned in another floor. Some old dude called Gabriel who underwent surgery on both his forepaws. No details.

Up the stairs, she reached the lobby with the entrance to the corridor. Much like in her floor, it had a neat space where relatives and patients could walk, lounge around along the doctors taking a break and talk among themselves. A large canopy made the ceiling and let visible the dark and clouded night sky. The storm had arrived in full force and the heavy rain castigated the glass, pounding incessantly with lightning and thunder every now and then.

Ponies almost lost their composure at a loud thunder only to chuckle or smile awkwardly later. She liked the sound, finding something strangely and distantly comforting about it. Tiredness almost caught up to her, and she wanted to get her work done already. No time to appreciate the sound.

A pair of thestral Royal Guards blocked the path to her destination. The night guys, bat-ponies, who liked the Princess of the Night. An unusual sight in Griffonstone. Rarer than their gold-clad brethren anywhere in the world.

“Hey. I gotta see this guy…” She showed them the clipboard. “Gabriel. Gotta clean his wounds.”

One of the thestrals stared at the papers and nodded at the other, who spoke to her with an adorable lisp. Damn cute ponies. “Right, ma’am. Please be mindful he is a dangerous terrorist.”

She blinked at them. “What did he do?”

“We’re not at liberty to discuss this, ma’am. Please do your job as quickly as you can and leave him to us.”

“Yeah. Sure.” She frowned a little but went on her way down the corridor.

“Hey, Smokey! She’s cleared to see the Old Guy!” One of the two thestrals called and down the corridor another one of them waved a hoof by the door.

A young grayish thestral who squinted at Gilda, but opened the door for her. Then she closed it.

The wind and the rain threatened to break the glass in the window, but it held well enough. Lightning flooded the room, soon followed by thunder. Laying on his back on the bed, she saw the dangerous terrorist. An old gray-headed griffon with his body covered by the sheets, but she could see his colors washing away due to age.

Geez. Some terrorist.

Walking closer she saw the dressing over the surgical wounds in his forepaws, all bloody and bulky as the others she had seem during the day, fresh off the surgical center. The griffon’s bulk impressed her. Fitter than most griffons, enough to remind her of the Thunderpeak militia guy, despite his age. He must’ve been a beast in his younger years.

She checked his file. The curator for a museum. The museum the Royal Guard raided? Holy feathers! Maybe he used to do some Daring Do shit to end up looking so buff in his old age.

Anyways, she had come there to clean his wounds, not to guess about his past or to gawk at him. She set to work under the insistent noise from the storm pelting the window and the occasional thunder.

His paws went through surgery alright, and they looked bad. Not the wound, but the injury which required surgery. Then she noticed he had awakened but didn’t say anything or even move.

“Almost done, Grandpa.” She said as nicely as she could. He kept staring at her though. “And quit staring like that. It’s freaking creepy.”

He did shift his eyes away and she focused on cleaning thoroughly through the stitches, slowly, methodically.

“Do you hear the storm?” He asked her casually, though with a serious tone.

“Yeah…” She focused on removing the blood clotted in between the saliences of his skin. “It’s raining buckets outside.”

She felt like an ass. An old guy tried to strike a conversation and she had told him to stop staring. They ad arrested him… She knew how it felt. “So, ponies tell me you’re under arrest and not to talk too much with you.”

She pulled the new dressage around his paw, after she cleaned on one paw. “What did an old dude like you do? Blew a raspberry at someone?”

“You are going to talk to me despite being told not to?” His grave voice filled with curiosity.

She shrugged while she worked. “I wouldn’t be stuck with community service if I was good at following pony rules, now would I?”

He laughed and grinned. “I shot Princess Luna.”

She stopped her work and stared at him, then started laughing. “Dude! For real?”

“With a five-chambered, griffon-made high-caliber revolver. Enchanted bullets too, straight from Stormvalley Armory. Didn’t work as I imagined, though.” He smiled at her again and she laughed too, but his wound drew her eyes.

“Did she do this to you?”

He hummed and nodded. “She crushed my gun paw with a swing of a polearm and stabbed the other to the floor with a dagger. I don’t think the bullets even hurt her and her cursed magic.”

“Damn.” Gilda tried imagining the awkward and generally reclusive princess doing something like that and failed. “I guess I would be pissed too if someone shot at me.”

“What about you?” He seemed genuinely curious. “Why are you here? Somehow, I don’t think you are enjoying.”

She didn’t hate it. Not anymore. She sure liked it sometimes and liked Goldina but being forced didn’t help. She was tired after the long day and something told her to open up to him.

“I punched a jerk trying to steal two Bits from me and ended up breaking his beak. He was a damn minor and the judge said I had to do community service or spend time in jail. No fucking way I would be spending time in a damn jail, so I tried cloud duty with the pegasi. No openings, though. I ended up taking care of the patients in the hospital.” Frustration swelled in her, loathe for the compliance they forced her into. Putting it out lifted a weight from her chest and let her breath in a lungful of air. As refreshing as the storm outside. Her paws met her face and she barely kept from sobbing. “Even had to attend to a class about how to do this crap.”

“It is such a pony thing to punish others for defending what is theirs.” He frowned. “If it is worth anything to you, know I would have done the same.”

Yeah. He would likely have killed the little worm. “Yeah. Thanks grandpa. It’s not so bad. Most ponies are annoying, whining all the time their everything is hurting, but it is easy enough. You at least sound like you’re cool.”

She shrugged. Amazing how well she felt with such a short conversation. “At least I got to sell some of my scones in the morning before my shift. Couldn’t do that if I was in jail.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m stuck here the whole afternoon. I tried leaving the stand unattended, but they took the scones and didn’t leave the money, just a note telling me I’m a sucker. Of course.” She growled and her paws rose up as she contained the impulse to swear. “The problem is that griffons are jerks!”

“I mean… I did those things just as a hobby. But the damn Chancellor had all the southern holds drop the basic income because of the war effort. Now I barely make it month to month with the scones. I just hope I can last until the damn ponies in Canterlot get off their lazy flanks and fix this mess. There shouldn’t even be a war effort, but the damn princess must be too busy with some pony crap to notice her feathering subjects aren’t getting their rights! I pay taxes every time I buy scone ingredients!”

“I pay damn taxes every time I pay for anything! I probably pay taxes when I pay taxes!” She growled. “And now, on top of it all, the damn mayor decided all commerce needs to stop by nightfall because something, something war, something.”

He let her talk her problems out like the one supposed to take care of the other. He paid attention and it endeared Gilda. Someone who didn’t judge. Someone who actually heard. Embarrassing, but he didn’t give her time to think about it. “Your problem is not that griffons are ‘jerks’ either, kitty. Your problem is you are living with the wrong griffons.”

What the heck. “Did you just call me kitty?”

“I mean no offense. What is your name, then?”

“Gilda.” She growled at him. Almost regretted opening up to him.

“Your problem, Gilda, is that your race has been living under subjugation. Under an old enemy. For so long you don’t even remember you are a prisoner anymore or even what it feels like to be free.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m not interested in your griffon pride spiel. I got more important things I need to care just to stay out of trouble.” She really didn’t care. King, chancellor… Just another dude trying to get rich on her money and neither would care about her problems. Yes, she knew where he would go with his speech, and she wanted not of it. Not when she heard Gertrude going on about it, not from his beak. “I know this stuff, and it’s wrong. I have pony friends, dude. It’s not the ponies, it’s some weirdoes who want to feel special about themselves.”

“Listen to yourself, Gilda.” He didn’t seem impressed. “You have no means of self-support other than what money the government pays you. This is a pony thing. They are the ones who implemented the universal basic income, but once things stopped working how they wanted, they took it away. The Princess, quite literally, pays griffons to behave.”

“This is not right!” She did her best not to let her agitation show. “It’s the Griffon Chancellor that messed things up. He’s the one that ordered the territories to stop it and retained the money for the war effort.”

“But this is part of the problem: The Chancellor doesn’t rule for us. He rules for Celestia. And do you see why he did it?” Did he mean Princess Celestia actually approves of what Chancellor Gail did? Sending an army to the north… Maybe even stealing all he did. Or maybe she turned a blind eye to it because the Chancellor had his uses for her? “Because he is doing Celestia’s bidding. They want the one fit to rule the griffons, for the griffons, gone.”

Gilda frowned. She imagined Gail just wanted more money. He had ulterior motives? Even worse, Celestia’s machinations, through the griffon chancellor? What the heck! “The Chancellor needs the money to pay for his soldiers?”

He chuckled. “No, kitty. He needs you. Your brothers and sisters. He did it so the griffons who embraced Celestia’s ideals would starve until they joined his army. You’ll notice everything Celestia has done to us will work perfectly as long as you are compliant. As long as you violate your true nature and remain docile.”

“My true nature?” She wondered.

“Have you ever seen a griffon using their claws to do a job the ponies have given them?” He showed her his injured paws.

She didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes found the floor and she let her wings sag. She had spent her whole life thinking herself a badass loner who made her own rules and lived however she wanted. But the old dude just told her not only she played right into a system Princess Celestia used to control griffons, but she had done it willingly.

But… Celestia was nice, wasn’t she? Everyone liked her. Could it be she fooled everyone and only those griffons in the North understood it?”

Gilda would be pissed if such was the case, but it also sounded so convenient for them. Still… It sounded reasonable if Gail actually worked with Celestia.

Gilda stared at the griffon, and he studied her while she struggled with his words and her own thoughts. Then his eyes narrowed and he spoke in a low voice, like sharing a secret.

“There is a city, far in the north. Where griffon lands meet the Frozen North. Holy Griffindell, in the Valley of Griffons. Most ancient of griffon cities, it was built before the Windigos were unleashed upon us, and she housed the mightiest Lords of the Sky. Before the pegasi, before the sun and the moon.”

She listened quietly. “It is the birthplace of our race, full of history. Full of pride. It is a journey every griffon should make at least once. Beware though… Most who go will not return because they find their true selves, staring at her black gates where the Conqueror fell before the Dawnbringer.”

“Who is the Conqueror what is with talking like that?”

“You’ll learn in time. In there resides your future king. Lord Gilad Ironfeathers.”

“The Lion?” She blinked.

“And his mate. The most important griffon to ever exist. Lady Gwendolen. The most beautiful, the wisest. Listen and open your heart to her. It will change your life forever.”

Gilda shook her head. He must be going crazy! “That is the most inhospitable place in the world. How am I supposed to go there when I can barely pay my bills?”

She didn’t even know if she could leave the city… She’d get her ass dragged to Shatteredrock.

“If you want change, you must change. Ask yourself… Are you happy with your life? Life-changing decisions are difficult and require much. You may have to throw yourself at an abyss and believe there is one who will hold you. I have done the same. And She caught me in my darkest hour.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Gilda thought the big change she could do in her life involved trying to learn something out of the whole experience. Then again, she didn’t know Celestia was screwing harmless little her and the crazy griffons from the north might have the right idea.

“Meet my daughter, Gerdie, in Haybale. She may have left already, but you were made to thrive in the adversity. When you do find her, tell her I sent you. She will ask you my name, and it is Gabriel. She will then ask you if you can hear the storm. You must answer, exactly, ‘I can hear Her cry’.”

She nodded, listening intently. But what the heck? Did he just giver her some sort of code? Like in one of those dumb books Rainbow’s unicorn friend liked to read?

A thestral pony, another one of Luna's guards, opened the door and walked into the room. He held a sandwich in his mouth, which he dropped, so surprised to see her. “Hey, this guy is under arrest. You're not supposed to be talking to him!”

Gilda just stared at the bat-pony. Sounded like the princesses didn’t want her to listen to the old guy, alright. “Sorry, girl. You gotta go if your job is done.”

She frowned at getting ordered around. The stupid pony with the lisp sure seemed sketchy. Some royal guard who never showed up unless to mess with the locals, like Princess Luna invading some museum and fucking up an old guys’ paws.

“I’m going.” She said and gathered the small tray with the remains of the cleaning kit. She squinted at the pony on her way out, but he didn’t seem to understand.

She left and rushed back to the nurses’ room where she found Goldina, hunched over a form next to a mountain of paperwork still to be done

“Hey, Gilda. All done?” Goldina smiled at her.

“Yeah. I’m done.” She left the files on the table.

“You can take the day off tomorrow.” Goldina told her, signing something.

Gilda blinked a few times before she managed to speak back to the other. “What... I don’t think that I can. I mean… I’m on probation. I don’t want to piss off the authorities.”

The old griffon’s words kept reverberating inside her head. The more she thought about it, the less sure she of anything. What if Goldina was in on it? She treated Gilda too nicely. Maybe she was genuinely a nice griffon, like Greta. But… If not…

“It’s okay, Gilda. You’re not the first.” Goldina giggled. “It is within my attributions to reward your hard work this way. Not to mention, you won’t be too useful to anyone if you’re too tired. You guys did a great job today, and we won’t be getting new patients tomorrow. The ward is closed to new admissions because of the Thunderpeak kerfuffle. I’ll be giving the others half-period tomorrow, so don’t feel too special.”

Gilda chuckled. “Then, I’ll see you after tomorrow!”

The short talk put a spring back on her gait and made her lighter, until she reached the hospital’s front door and realized she would have to go home under the storm. It poured like there was no tomorrow. Dark, cold. Eventual flashes of lightning made the plaza shine in a spectral light only for thunder to echo right after.

She had to be going crazy, but she could swear she saw someone sitting in the middle of the plaza. Staring at her. A distant cry echoed with the thunder, but it all vanished in an instant. Only the cold rain and the dark plaza missing its public lighting remained. Until the lights simply came back into being and illuminated the plaza under the rain. Definitely empty, and she chuckled. Who would be out in the middle of that downpour?

“Did you…” She still turned to the security griffon next to her but stopped mid-sentence.

“Oh well…” She sighed to herself, looking at the empty plaza with pools of water. “It’s just a little rain.”

She could even get some rest tomorrow since her scones sold well in the morning and she had the afternoon to herself. She probably wouldn’t rest, though. She would bake more scones and go sell them.

“Ma’am, you can leave those here if you want.” The security guy for the hospital’s entrance told her when she went to grab her stand and the rest. Some normal looking guy with tan fur and a yellowish head wearing a ‘Security’ black cap. “I know you. I saw you in there selling your scones. And I mean… This stuff isn’t bothering anyone.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him, and he nodded, holding his cap before going back to his post by the entrance. The water might ruin the stand, after all. She left it and her nurse hat but took the pouch with her money.

Not much left to think about. She walked out of the building under the storm. The rain came down hard and cold as it looked. Not much point in running as she’d be soaked when she got home anyway. Flying in the wind would be dangerous.

Not a soul outside, not even the poor griffons trying to scrape a living off junk. Most houses shone lights out their windows and she could see griffons inside going about their daily routine as much as the rain permitted. Seeing families, made her wonder if she had made a mistake deciding she wanted to live alone. Sure, she liked the freedom and the space she had for herself but living with someone else would certainly make those times easier to live through.

Or maybe the wet fur bothered her. She would win, despite her irritating interaction with the legal system. At least she met some great and nice griffons.

At least the rain should clean the cobblestone streets and wash the smells away. She couldn’t remember the damn city smelling so bad in all her life.

Surprisingly, some griffons had come out and there seemed to be some sort of party with a huge bonfire up ahead. The crazy old lady who lived across the street from her was probably freaking out. Gilda supposed she would too if some idiot lit a bonfire on their front yard.

Speaking of her, she came running at Gilda, all flustered and panting. Honestly, Gilda always thought of her just an annoying crazy old lady. Never to have the drive to come out of her house and run towards someone and complain about anything.

And old, greyed out lady with small glasses and a navy-blue scarf, she could barely move faster than walking speed, coming towards Gilda under the harsh rain.

“Hello, Miss Gemma. Should you be outside with this rain?” She smiled with a frown at the old lady.

“Gilda! Dear! Your house is on fire!” She screamed.

Gilda’s first reaction was a chuckle. How could anything be on fire with the freaking storm pouring water over everything? No way her house was on fire.

After a heartbeat of hearing the news, she broke into a frantic flight until she arrived at the front yard, surrounded by griffons. They stared while the firefighters, pumped water from their cart and hosed water inside through the windows. Something cracked and two of them ran from inside the house. Gilda arrived next to their cart just in time for the second floor to crash down and shower embers everywhere.

It made a loud crack, but she screamed louder. “My house!”

“My house…” A whine escaped her. Everything she had, but the stupid stand, somehow, burned in one of the worse storms the city had ever seen. How did it even happen? Her house! It wasn’t much, but it was hers. Her home. The last thing she had mom left for her. Gone.

She sat under the snow, along in the middle of all those griffons. The burning embers amid broken planks filled her eyes and her beak hanged open, letting drops of rain.

“Ma’am, did you live in this house?” A cyan male griffon came to her, wearing the red hat of the firefighters and looking sorry, covered in a mixture of water and soot.

“Yeah… I guess I did.” She sighed, turning to him.

“I’m terribly sorry, ma’am. Something inside caused the fire and weakened the structure.” He avoided her gaze. “We did what we could. I’m sorry.”

Wait! Her house was insured! Yes! It wasn’t over yet! She and her mom paid thousands of Bits in insurance over the years. The tought even caused her to smile. “I'll go to my friend's house… Take a bath and then, in the morning, go see the insurance office.”

“Oh. That is a bit of good news then. Take care, ma'am.” He nodded his hat and smiled. “We'll be here in the morn and see if we can find some clue to what caused the fire. You should visit our headquarters. We may have something for you in a few days.”

“Thanks.” She grinned the best she could. Things looked grim, but not so bad. Maybe she tried some optimism. She might even get a better house with the insurance money.

Right then she needed to get out of the stupid rain. Fortunately, Gilda had someone she could depend on.

***

A quick trot took her to the nicer, richer part of the town. Not that the griffons who lived there were rich, merely better in life than most. Nicer houses, but still under the same damn rain. The one she looked for had a white façade with a greenish roof and a nice grassy lawn, complete with a small stone path to the door.

Unfortunately, the house had no cover over the front door and she still stood on the rain while she knocked. The cold started to creep into her.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for someone to open the door. Greta’s husband, a nice looking cyan and white griffon gave her a disinterested glance despite her grinning at him. It took him a few moments before he recognized her. She must look like shit; so tired and soaked in under the rain.

“Oh my gosh! Gilda! Come in!” He squaked and came out of the way, gesturing for her to get inside. Gilda wasted no time in doing so, dripping on the nice gray-green carpet. But Mister Gary didn’t mind.

“I'm sorry to disturb, Mister Gary. But…” She started, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Don’t say a thing, Gilda.” The living room and dining room connected together and to the kitchen, making for a spacious entrance. A staircase in the middle led to a mezzanine, another living area towards which he shouted. “Greta! Bring a towel! Hurry!”

She appeared on the second floor, squeaked, and seconds later flew down the mezzanine bringing said towel on her beak, promptly delivering it to Gilda. The tan, soaked, hen felt like a burden, but wasn’t prepared to decline.

“Goodness sake, did something happen for you to be out in this storm?” Her friend fussed about, trying to help her get dry and it just made Gilda feel worse to impose. Reality had come crashing down on the awesome and independent Gilda once more.

She blamed the storm. She blamed herself for punching the kid, but it was the storm. And her house catching fire.

“I had just come home from work… It burned… My house caught fire, somehow.” She showed a soft smile and hugged herself under the towel.

“Goodness!” Her friend gasped. “Will you be alright?”

“I suppose insurance is finally going to be worth something, right?” She chuckled and it hurt her chest, so tired she was. Every part of her body ached and she felt generally miserable. Stupid rain. At least she had her friends. Well, her friend Greta and her husband, because Dash was miles away.

Surely, Rainbow Dash and her friends would help, but reaching out to Dash would be a lot harder because Dash… Well, Rainbow Dash was Rainbow Dash, and Gilda couldn’t pay for the teleporter fee, much less travel all the way to Ponyville.

No, Gilda would be stuck with Greta and her husband and she was damn grateful the two of them didn’t kick her out.

“Wait, did you say you had come home from work?” Greta blinked. Gilda supposed she would be surprised.

“Well, not really job… I mean… I got into trouble with the law. I punched a jerk who stole some scones from me, and I went a bit too hard on him. I broke his beak and now I gotta do community work at the hospital.” For some reason telling them came easier than she had thought, but her cheeks burned, and she smiled sheepishly. They had such a nice life, with a nice home and good, decent jobs. She felt so inferior. Even Rainbow Dash had a job.

She had a job though: baking scones. Not that hot of a job, but a job. She had to remind herself she simply caught a bad spell and things would be great again.

“I can’t believe this, Gilda…” Greta growling at her like her mother even made Gilda chuckle. “I can’t believe this! You ought to know better!”

“Yeah, I know.” Gilda Looked at the carpet sheepishly. “I screwed up bad this time.”

Then Greta scratched the back of her head while her husband looked at them and she sighed. “Let’s get you settled in. You can stay in the guest room, and dinner will be ready soon. You can stay with us until you get a new place. Alright? Or until you get this while mess sorted out.”

She looked past Gilda at her husband and Gary blurted out. “Oh! Yeah! I mean, you got insurance, right?”

“At least that I do.” Gilda showed a shallow smile.

“See? We’ll figure this out, just like that.” He snapped his fingers and grinned. “I mean, it’s not standard practice at work, but I’ll talk with the guys in the city hall to see if we can’t fast track your money. It’s a bit awkward since you’re on probation, but I could vouch for you and it should speed up the process.”

What? She just stared at him in the dumbest way a griffon ever stared at another. Greta giggled and explained.

“Gary works with insurance in the Mayor’s Office.” She gave Gilda a big smile. “Insurance is in the city hall too.”

“Thanks, Gary. I never knew.” She should be happier after what they said, but she had depleted her energies.

Anyways, whatever Greta had in the kitchen smelled great. After a nice (second) dinner with friends, she’d catch some Z’s and, in the morning, she would do her part with insurance. Hopefully, Gary would get her money in no time, and she could get out of their feathers.

Reverie

Gilda woke in a strange crystal room. A soft light radiated from the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor. The wall to the right had a door, but it was closed. She blinked a few times, not because of the light, but because of a weird feeling something was dead wrong.
Still, she simply sat with her haunches on a comfortable sitting pillow, in the middle of the room. Any memory of anything after going to sleep completely eluded her.

Outside the rain castigated the walls and its incessant noise muffled through the thick crystal walls. Somehow. Thunder often punctuated the repetitive noise. The crystal would flash every time and return to normal. She could hear a distant cry in the thunder. Not as a baby, but as a large bird, ‘howling’ furiously. Talons scratched under the racket of the rain and a distant door banged against its hinges.

Inside of the room was only Gilda though. Had she heard anything? She wasn’t so sure anymore. Then she noticed she had company. Princess Luna sat in front of her. The big, blue, and blueberry smelling alicorn princess responsible for the night.

What the hell? Was she there before?

“Princess? Princess Luna? That you?” Just… What the hell?

“Greetings! You are Gilda, correct?” The big pony smiled at her and looked at a weird blue crystal slab held in her magical grasp. Like she read something from it. “Pleased to meet you! I mean, not really ‘meet’ you… We have met many times in the past, in your childhood, but you get my meaning.”

“What the heck is going on?” Did she stutter? Was something wrong? The whole thing struck Gilda with a bizarre sensation of something out of place. As though time had stopped, somehow, and she was plucked from her life and put in that room to talk with the big blue weirdo. Something hid right before her grasp, like a memory, staring her in the face from just beyond a fog she couldn’t pierce.

“I’m sorry, Gilda.” Luna’s ears hung from her head and her brow knitted softly. “I pulled you out of a particularly nasty nightmare.”

Oh! That’s what happened… Gilda had stopped with the nightmares after grew up and convinced herself only ponies feared nightmares was a pony thing. Weirdly, it was not how she remembered it. Luna would enter her dream and talk to her about whatever had scared her. Not meet her in a strange room. What even was that place?

As though she read her thoughts, Luna spoke once more. “Again, I’m sorry. This isn’t normal… It got so out of hoof I had to get rid of the whole thing and erase the whole state your mind found itself in. Then I needed a place to situate your mind for it to form a consciousness so we could talk. This place, this moment.”

The door Gilda didn’t know where banged again, and a shrill cry echoed through Gilda’s head, above the storm outside. Did the princess not hear? She never reacted to it. She simply stared at the crystal thing she held and frowned.

Luna’s reaction notwithstanding, old Gabriel’s words came back to Gilda’s thoughts.

“Your problem, Gilda, is your race has been living under subjugation from an old enemy for so long you don’t even remember you are a prisoner anymore or even what it feels like to be free.”

As though a siren had gone off deep inside. A red, flashy, and noisy alarm she should not trust the blue pony.

Luna, meanwhile, frowned at her slab of crystal and Gilda could swear she heard laughter. A haunting female voice echoed inside her head. She felt cold, like the wind from a winter night descended on her, but it brought more comfort than chill.

A ghostly voice, female and haunting crept into her ears. She chanted words Gilda didn’t know, but sounded as beautiful as mesmerizing. Somehow, she understood the meaning, even if she didn’t recognize the words from another language.

A mighty beast in My likeness;

A caged, proud, and hurt lioness.

Throwing herself at the silver bars;

Held by the magic that moves the stars.

A toast to you, My Child, reborn afresh;

What did you dream of?

What reveries escape the grasp of the Night Made Flesh?

What was she dreaming of? Luna did say she plucked her out of a nightmare. Just a bad dream, right?

“What was I dreaming of, Princess Luna?” Gilda asked, innocently enough.

The princess stared up from her crystal slab but kept looking back at it. It distracted her. “Nothing important. It seems you have been under a lot of stress lately. It got to you, and it affected your dreams. There is also this storm. The thunder and lightning do weird things to some griffon minds. Nothing you need to worry yourself about, though. You seem to have a few subconscious strings floating up, but I got this under control.”

“Do you hear the storm?” Gabriel’s voice echoed inside her again, with the shrill scream of an eagle in counterpoint to a loud rumbling thunder. She could swear she heard laughter.

Luna's horn shone in blue after, and Gilda didn’t know what she did, but the storm, Gabriel's voice and the haunting female all vanished. Along with the cold and the weird subjective feeling something was wrong.

The confused pony princess blinked and hummed at Gilda. “Do you… This may sound weird, but do you hear something? Do you feel cold?”

Gilda smiled friendly. “Nothing at all, princess.”

“Huzzah!” The Princess cheered. “Success! Do you need any assistance? You were quite distressed a while ago. It seems some life event got into your dreams, and it wasn’t pretty. It roused some weird fantasies, you know?”

She had no money, and her house burned down. Some powerful politicians might be targeting her and she could actually be in danger… Yet, all that paled in comparison to the magical mind-bending eldritch horror in front of her.

“I’m sure it was just the rough day at work, Princess.” Gilda spoke all friendly.

“Well, then…” Luna’s horn shone again, and she gave Gilda a cute plush doll in her likeness. “This charm will tell Tantabus to call me if there is something wrong. Okay? You should wake now. See you later, and good luck with your job.”

The Princess vanished with a teleporting flourish, but Gilda didn’t wake. The Crystal grew dark, and a strange foreboding sensation took hold of her. Something wasn’t right. She looked at the cute doll in her paw. A cute representation of the helpful Princess of the Night. A charm to keep her safe from the bad dreams, complete with shinny mane, fluffy wings and a cute smile.

It was a piece of eldritch magic the alicorn abomination left ingrained in between the processes of Gilda's mind to warn her if it did anything it wasn’t supposed to.

Time had no meaning, and she might as well have spent an eternity looking down at the cute doll. Her entire existence came down to the simple choice. Holding on to the endearing symbol that the Princess of the Night watched over her dreams or getting rid of the horrifying magical device which communicated the workings of her mind to Luna’s minion.

She sat on the razor edge of one simple and binary choice: keep the enchanting sign of Luna's dutiful dedication to protecting her dreams, or relinquish the alien alicorn magic made to spy the innards of her self.

The Princess could easily solve Gilda's problems.

The Mare With The Mane Made Of The Night would smother away whatever Her Sister decided made Gilda too dangerous for her little ponies.

It came down to one simple choice, and she slowly opened her paw. It balanced on the palm for a second, but the doll tumbled over towards the crystal floor.

“Do you hear the storm?” Thunder rumbled again.

“I can hear Her cry.” Gilda muttered to herself.

The thunderous storm stirred louder, and she surrendered to slumber to the creaking of a heavy door opening.

***

Morning came fast. Gilda must’ve been so tired she was out as soon as she dropped on the bed. The tasty dinner, nice bath and sturdy roof certainly helped. She hurried to wash the sleep off her face and then to the breakfast table with her friends. Greta served some tasty prench toasts and Gary did the coffee.

She wanted to help, but… ‘Guest’.

“Did you sleep well, Gilda?” Greta asked all worry while Gary buttered one of his toasts and Gilda tasted the coffee. “I swear I heard you thrashing in the night. Maybe crying.”

“Come now, Greta.” Her husband stared at her. “Gilda is not a child.”

She stared at Greta too, pecking at her toast, but shook her head with no recollection of even a dream. “Nah. Slept like a baby! Damn comfy bed you have on your guest room.”

“Oh, well. That is better, I suppose.” Greta beamed. “Do you have plans for today?”

“Not much I can do… Gotta go see to this mess.” Gilda shrugged. Seeing a solution to her problem and with the support of her friends, everything seemed so much simpler.

The politicians targeting her… Well, surely paranoia wouldn’t help. The militiagriffon the other day had problems of his own. Judge Gracey scared her, but it didn’t mean she was corrupt or anything. Come on… He was her kid. Probably some dweeb with mommy issues.

“It's not that bad.” Gary smiled. “The department of insurances is in the Mayor’s Office. The City Hall, right next to the Chancellor's palace in the main plaza. I’ll walk you there. I just can’t hold your paw, but you should get through the system no problem. If something crops up, we’ll work it out with my help. Most importantly, you got a safe place to stay until this whole mess blows over.”

“Your mood certainly seems to have improved too!” Greta giggled.

Suddenly, Gilda became all too conscious of her situation. Again. Just how screwed would she be without them? She hated the sensation of burning cheeks and general uneasiness. “I just don’t know what to say, guys. I hate to be a burden, but…”

Damn stinging eyes…

“It’s alright, Gilda.” Greta put a paw on her shoulder and her touch just made everything better. “We’re friends.”

Her husband just nodded while he munched on his toast. It was so weird seeing griffons chew.

***

They left the house together and in a great mood. The hot and damp air made breathing more laborious than it had any right to be, and the clouds kept the sun away. It appeared that storm decided to stay. But the guys in the weather department certainly knew what they were doing. Despite the annoyance and water puddles everywhere, Gilda, Greta, and Gary walked together, chatting and laughing until Greta’s job took her on another path.

Gilda didn’t mind being alone with Gary as his had a charm of his own. He kept talking about how great he thought Greta was. Gilda had to agree. She only wondered if someone, someday, would talk about her like that.

The realization she wasn’t the badass independent tough girl she thought of herself still stung though. Her life needed some adjustments. All in all, maybe the whole problem with the mayor’s kid had a silver lining. Maybe she could even actually go to nursing school. Who knew?

They arrived at the central plaza where Gilda’s life seemed to gravitate towards lately. Grover’s statue drew attention as soon as one arrived and behind it hid the Chancellor’s Palace. Many militiagriffons standing guard in the area with all the mess of angry griffons that took the place last day. She doubted the issues had been resolved, though. The strong arm of the state kept the plaza clear.

Not very endearing a thought, but at least she had a clear path to her destination, the City Hall right next to the Chancellor’s Palace. Next to it a giant mural commemorated Griffonia’s adhesion to the Equestrian Confederation. She had never paid too much attention to it. Just another piece of ‘history’ which had no real impact on her life. I just sat there to celebrate some event which benefited the rich jerks and screwed the masses, in which she found herself included.

That day she stopped and stared at it.

King Grover, all high and mighty with reds, purples, and gold, not to mention holding a chalice which was the Idol of Boreas and a crown, along with a sword strapped to his side. He bumped his closed fist with Celestia’s hoof, and her sister stood next to her. In the background a large city represented Griffonstone and in foreground a crowd of ponies and griffons cheered. A beautiful blue sky crowned the painting, with the sun and the moon shining golden and silver rays down on them.

Not a bird. Not a cloud. Not a mountain. Not an animal. Nothing but the city, the rulers, and the people.

And the symbol of The Sisters’ power.

Something about the mural deeply disgusted Gilda, but she couldn’t put her talon on it. She frowned and pierced the details. Celestia’s golden adornments, Luna’s black ones. Grover’s crown. The… Wait… Why did they paint the Idol of Boreas as a chalice?

She looked closely, and grover held it. The idol. Not a chalice. Why did she think it was a chalice? It kinda looked like a chalice, but she saw the actual thing once and even in the mural it wasn’t a chalice. Why did she think of a chalice? For some reason, it freake her out.

Wake up, My Child. They lied to you!

It occurred to her the thing had nothing to do with the Kingdom of Griffonia joining the ponies and their confederation. Why did they even show the Idol in the mural? It helped Grover unite the griffons, much earlier than they joined the Confederation.

“Gilda?” She heard his voice, but it sounded distant and unimportant.

Remember! Memories so powerful etched into your soul. Nor death or the Mistress of the Mind could steal them away.

She couldn’t remember when, or where precisely, but a tent stood in the middle of a dry and hot desert, burning under the sun. A pavilion with silks and satin above a saddle arabian green and golden rug. A small censer stood next to her emitting the aroma of sandalwood as she lounged comfortably on the rug next to many other beautiful and strong griffonnesses of varying ages.

She, and the others stared at a large and powerful griffon, all brown and tan with serious orange eyes walking on the rug, wearing a bronze armor, and a golden crown above his head.

The desert air remained still but a change grew steadly. A large crowd banged something and chanted. Or was it an army? She didn’t look, she remembered. Two armies met there. One puny and pathetic, the other mighty and invincible.

“Traitor King! Traitor King! Doing the Dawnbringer’s bidding, hiding under her wing.” They chanted on and on, mocking and laughing in coarse voices above the banging of shields.

As childish as it carried the energy of antsy soldiers. It drew Gilda into joining in a low, giggly, and mocking tone with a seductive voice she used to mock the weakling males. The others around her giggled and joined. Her opinion was important, for some reason, and she knew her mocking leering pierced his stone exterior and hurt him inside. Did she know him? She couldn’t remember

Ignoring her and the others, the mighty griffon stopped in front of a tall throne set on the rug, under the shade. Black iron, gold, and steel, supported a massive, mostly unremarkable, griffon of brown colors and a white head. His head carried a crown made of sky-bound spike-shaped iron. Cruel, brown eyes locked on the armored griffon as bronze-like talons clicked at the armrest, next to a chalice made of bone, gold and silver.

A host of griffons sat around the throne, silently judging the armored griffon. Worst of all, a tall and fit griffonness with metallic pink colors who wore a multicolored cape with her white longsword on her back and a white gold diadem on her head. Her disapproving stare would’ve melted a steel ingot. Behind the throne two diamond dogs, bound in chains, fanned the area with large leaves. A saddle arabian pony, yellow and orange, wore an iron collar and stood nearby, next to a table with food and drinks, trying to look invisible. Next to him a pair of beautiful, pearlescent-white hippogriffs seemed lost between despair and hopelessness.

The griffon on the throne rose his paw in a relaxed gesture for silence and all the chanting stopped.

“Kinda cool, isn’t it?” Gary’s voice pierced through, and Gilda was back staring the mural. “Can you imagine how different things would be if we hadn’t joined the ponies? I mean, an independent Griffonia without the help from the rest of the world… I suppose the other nations could trade with us and all that, but I doubt that they’d care about us the same way the pony princesses do.”

“Yeah…” Gilda agreed in a low voice. The dry, hot wind still washed over her. “It’s pretty cool.”

What the hell was that? She was going crazy, was what! All she needed after the mess she had gotten herself into. She was so screwed she didn’t have the time to worry about her mental health anymore.

“So, where am I supposed to go?” She turned to Gary and he grinned, happy he got to help. Such a nice guy. No wonder Greta had married him.

He pointed one of the buildings. “The insurances office, in the city hall. It is on the ground floor, the east wing. Can’t miss it. I’ll be working there, so I can take you all the way. I just can't… You know… Work with you. Boss wouldn’t like it, but nothing is keeping me from giving your paperwork the fast lane.”

He winked at her, and she chuckled. “Alright! Thanks a lot dude. I’d be lost without you guys.”

“That’s what friends are for Gilda! Come on!”

The griffon reading newspapers still sat behind it at the information table. Gary gestured for her to follow and pointed the right queue to a clerk window in the corridor while he went into the offices.

Gilda sat on the floor and waited along with the other griffons in the queue. Their vexed expressions and lack of friendly banter matched a queue for insurance business. The storm caused a lot of damage, it seemed. Of course, few houses must’ve burned in the middle of a freaking storm…

The time passed, and the minutes turned into a whole hour. A clock hung from the ceiling to remind them of how much time of their life they had wasted. Then a commotion drew attention from the queue and griffons, Gilda included, bent to the side to see.

A big griffon girl scratched the floor while four big militiagriffons struggled to drag her out. Almost an adult, but huge and screeching like they meant to kill her.

“The day of reckoning comes!” She cried in a panicked frenzy. “The Wheel of Time spins unstopping, and he who finds himself in power will find that he is thus powerless! Under the Sun and Moon you have forgotten the harsh mountain where She has birthed your ancestors and hoofed blood runs in your veins!”

The heck? What even was hoofed blood?

“Oh, for crying out loud! Get her under control!” One of the griffons in the local militia grunted and cried when she kicked him away at the nearest wall. That guy wouldn’t be getting up and would be spending the next year learning how to walk again if not for the protective spells in his barding.

Gilda grimaced and the others around her gasped and recoiled at the spectacle. Two of the griffons trying to hold the big female poked her on the back and behind the head with the pink-tipped magical stun batons. She barely felt it, even when the pink sparks flew.

The big griffoness reached for the ones in the queue, in Gilda’s general direction and caused griffons to recoil and gasp again. “Open your eyes! Wake up! There is still time! Repent and cover yourselves in ashes of birch trees that the Allmother will forgive you!”

“Settle down, will you?!” One of the militiagriffons roared and jumped on top of her, hitting he back of her head with the baton twice.

The big hen cried. Not like crying in pain, but she cried like a furious eagle and stood on her hindlegs. Her powerful and elegant body, moved like lightning and she grabbed the militia officer with her forepaw. She threw her to the floor with the left and the right slashed straight through the magically enchanted leather armor. Blood flew everywhere.

Griffons standing in line started panicking and it only got worse as the stun batons didn’t seem to work until one of the griffons in the militia drew his wheellock pistol and shot at her. All three of them shot her. She finally collapsed and turned on her back, still mumbling and trying to move until they jabbed her with the batons a few more times. She didn’t seem injured, other than small burn marks on her fur. They certainly shot her with enchanted crystal balls. If Gilda remembered correctly, legislation forbid local militias loading their guns with real ammunition, only crystal balls with stun spells.

Maybe the stress of the situation got to her, but Gilda felt bad for the white hen and hoped she lost consciousness already. Empathy? Griffon ladies had tender and sensitives parts in their belies that they didn’t usually like exposed, without even mentioning her other lady bits. In her place Gilda would’ve felt so exposed and vulnerable. Or maybe Gilda sympathized because she might be going crazy too.

“Right. Show’s over! Quit staring you creeps!” One of the griffons with the militia, the one who got kicked into a wall, barked at the present griffons while the others recovered. Older than the others, all tan and yellow. “Get her outside. They’re waiting to take her to the hospital.”

He kept talking while he helped the one who got slashed to her feet. “You okay Gris?”

“Fuck!” She grunted and staggered, holding a bloody paw to the cut in her armor. To be honest, the girl seemed even more scared than the onlookers. “The freaking crazy clawed me through the armor. What the fuck!”

“That’s drugs for you.” He helped her walk with what must have been a nasty gash on her chest. “We’re getting you to the hospital. Come on.”

Gilda simply stood with the others, too stunned to do anything while they hurriedly carried the big griffonness outside. Finally, a gray and white griffon male, wearing reading glasses, came out of the office and apologized. “Everyone, please remain calm. We’re resuming work so nobody’s process gets hindered. Everyone will be served. Just remain calm. It was just some poor girl with issues.”

‘Issues’? She almost killed a griffon from the local militia with her bare talons, took a beating and got shot multiple times before she stopped!

“Psh…” An small and old griffon lady next to her harumphed. Covered in gray and blueish, wearing a little hat with an orchid on it. She glared at the militiagriffons dragging the big hen out. “Drugs. They say that about anyone who gives them a little trouble. Some griffons go kind of crazy because of these storms. It’s been getting worse over the years, I tell you.”

“But nobody cares. Even went to Canterlot with my case study and Princess Celestia couldn’t get her head out of her ass.” She mumbled something. “Some griffons are just dangerous, indeed. Feathering dumbass.”

“Excuse me?”

The older griffon sighed. “Sorry sweetie. I get a bit moody in the morning.”

“No. You know something?” Gilda insisted. Might be that she would be next…

“I worked as psychiatrist in the Griffonstone Hospital for the most of my life. I kept seeing this. Some griffons just got angrier and meaner when the ponies pulled these thunderstorms. Actually, my research convinced the weather department to tone them down.”

First Gilda ever heard of it. “What happens to them?”

“Well, they just can’t handle it. It’s like they get some weird thing in their heads and it acts out when these storms happen. They snap. I once saw a guy trashing his room because he kept hearing the thunder way after the storm ended. He kept saying ‘she’ was calling to him and that he had to go.”

“Who was calling?” Creepy stuff. “Go where?”

The old griffon shook her head with a defeated sigh. “Never managed to figure it out. He committed suicide less than a week later. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be filling your head with this. I just get frustrated nobody listened to me when I could do something about it. If the militia understood this stuff, they might be able to deal with it a lot better. Poor girl is probably gonna get sent to the psych ward in Shatteredrock.”

“No. I wanna know.” Not like the queue would be any faster if she didn’t… And it made her think of the things the old museum curator told her.

“It is usually associated with the storms and some sort of traumatic event. Well, I suppose some drugs can trigger this, but they use the excuse because it exonerates them of the need for a proper investigation. The unicorns up top are fine because ‘some griffons are just dangerous’. Some deal better with the psychosis. Others… Well, they snap, and the militia has to contain them.”

“How the hell did she cut through militia armor with her bare talons because one of her screws got loose?” Gilda gestured with her own talons.

The old griffon lady chuckled. “We don’t know the strength we have, girlie. Until we lose control, and our inhibitions are gone. The public loves to forget, particularly ponies, but there is a lot of magic involved with griffon paws and wings. We do walk on the clouds, after all.”

Gilda frowned. There was also some obscure law about sharp talons and claws. Like, griffons carried freaking cutting weapons with them all the time. Ponies freaked a little and the griffon government decided sharp talons were to be classified as melee weapons for the purpose of law enforcement if they were kept sharp. Crazy girl could’ve killed the militia right there.

Maybe the ‘vision’ Gilda had with the desert had no more meaning than just her head doing weird things because of the storm. Come to think of it, maybe the whole ‘they’re out to get me’ thing and that old guy, Gabriel’s talk about going north related. Just crazy griffons being crazy.

Anyways, the line moved. She only had to wait.

***

It took her three whole hours of perseverant dedication and patience, but she finally made it to the clerk. A glass window with a space for her to talk and slip documents separated her from the griffon on the other side. The white griffon with glasses from before stood there, smiling. Next to him, sat a cute looking rose and yellow unicorn with a small bowtie for assistant. She sat behind the counter, so Gilda didn’t see her cutie mark.

“Greetings, ma’am. Thank you for your patience. Things are moving a bit slow today. You know… Even without the crazy… We apologize. She worked in cleaning for a few months, and it seems to be some kid with issues. Anyways, how can I help you?”

“My house caught on fire this night. I need my insurance money to buy another.” She plainly stared at the pair.

“I see. I’m sorry. Name?”

“Gilda of Griffonstone.”

“Do you have your ID, Gilda?” He Asked again. “Insurance papers, house scriptures…”

“Uh… I guess it got burned in the fire. But I know my ID number, if it helps.”

“It certainly does.” The unicorn piped, picking up a pencil and paper. “We’ll have to procure the rest with the city’s archives, and it should cost you a couple of days, but it shouldn’t stop the process.”

“It’s two-four-five, five-nine-five, thirty-nine dash four. Griffonstone.” Gilda recited the numbers slowly.

“Thank you.” She wrote it all down and started looking through the papers on a box while the griffon kept talking to her.

“Was there any passing away involved? Bodily injure? Pets? Money?” He asked with a monotonous voice of asking the same questions hundreds of times a day. “Do you wish to declare you caused the accident? Is there a related occurrence report with the Local Militia? Did you own the property? Was there any particular insured property within the property, such as family heirlooms, historical artifacts…

“Uh… No… No one died. I wasn’t home, I have no pets and no money.” She chuckled, trying to sound friendly, but it came out rattling. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t cause the accident and there shouldn’t be a report. But, yes, I owned the house, and I didn’t have anything else insured.”

“Well, then.” The griffon sounded pleased. “Standard procedures then.”

“I have the report, Gile. Arrived soon after the shift started.” The unicorn magicked it to the griffon. “She’s on probation and doing community service.”

Gilda blinked twice. “Is that a problem?”

Though she supposed she ought to be grateful to the firefighter who filed the report before going to sleep or something.

The griffon on the other side of the window adjusted his glasses and took a better look at the paper. “Not really. Bad stuff happens to griffons trying to do right too. All it means is your process will be under closer scrutiny than usual. In practical terms, it’s going to spend a few hours in a couple of extra desks. Let’s see… It seems you will be granted a pay of…”

He stared at the ceiling, certainly doing some quick mathematics. “Two-hundred thousand, three hundred something, something Bits. After taxes.”

Taxes… Of course. Regardless, Gilda tried not to show it, but she expected less for her crappy house. Her mom really got it right. She ought to remember she also had the terrain; she could sell it and buy something better elsewhere. Maybe in the same neighborhood as Greta and Gary? That little dream was within grasp!

“Well…” The griffon started writing on the form. “Since it was an accident, likely outside of your capacity to avoid, and you were working on community service, I think we can make it seem like you’re really trying hard and got some bad luck.”

“Yeah!” The unicorn cheered. “You should be getting the check in some two weeks. Tops. You just gotta come here in fourteen days and you’ll leave with it. Easy-peasy.”

“Will there be anything else, Miss Gilda?” Gile asked with a smile, looking up from the paper.

“Not at all! Thanks a lot, guys!” She smiled back and then left the window.

The old lady followed next, and Gilda simply greeted her with a nod before heading out. She walked the corridor on her way out a heck of a lot lighter than she felt before.

Walking out, even the sun seemed brighter, even if through the damn dark clouds. Then she saw the entrance to the hospital. The big griffon girl laid on a wheeled stretcher, on her side and tied to it, still unconscious. The militiagriffons were there. Two of them stood watch, their boss talked to a griffon doctor. The one who got injured probably headed inside already.

Part of her wanted to get close and try to help. Maybe use the stand she stashed in the hospital as an excuse. But a more rational part convinced her that she had enough troubles. She ought to avoid exposing herself too much. She should go back to Greta and Gary’s house. Stay put, out of trouble, before leaving for her job tomorrow. Who knew? Perhaps the big griffon lady would still be there, and she could get herself involved in helping, or at the least getting informed with Miss Goldina.

However, on her way, her thoughts lingered on the ‘psych ward in Shatteredrock’. She had only heard of the place and that it sat smack on an island off the coast of Baltimare. Her imagination pictured a big rocky tower carved into a maximum-security prison where Celestia stashed all the ‘evil griffons’. She had never even seen a prison, but she never heard anyone speaking of Shatteredrock on good terms.

She couldn’t imagine anyone having a good time there and the psychiatric ward on Shatteredrock ought to be the closest a living being would ever come to Tartarus.

Every single hair on her back and her feathers stood and she shivered a whispered moan out.

Well, Gild had her paws tied. Even if had work as an excuse, she couldn’t actually do much to help. Remembering the girl would be on Goldina’s paws would have to suffice. She had a knack for helping problematic griffons.

In the end Gilda should be happy she didn’t have to skip a day in the job because she had to go see to her house’s insurance.

Burning Cold

Gilda avoided any drama on her way to her temporary home. She arrived and found a locked door. At the moment she would pick up the key, it dawned on her both Gary and Greta were still at work and she had no key to enter.

“Duh… Dumbass.” She landed her head against the door. “Guess I’ll have to wait.”

She huffed and sat on the porch, trying to to look as unfriendly as possible because she did not want anyone asking what she was doing there. And, of course, it happened within the first ten minutes. Because griffons were the most independent snoopers in the world.

An old griffon guy who had nothing to do with his time other than pestering the others walked up halfway the stone path to the porch. “Young lady, is there any reason you are sitting there?”

His dark brown and white under a green beret suffered with old age and he wore giant glasses in front of his brown eyes. As Gilda took an instant of mustering self-control before she responded, he stuffed his chest like an angry rooster.

“My friends live here and I’m staying with them. My house caught fire.” She did her best to be friendly, but she must have failed because the sound of her own voice almost worried her.

“Oh! Is that so?” He didn’t even try either. “How come I have never seen you here then?”

“I had my own house. Until it caught fire. Now I’m sitting here. Waiting for them to come back from work. Because I don’t have the key.” She fumed but controlled her impulses to tell him where he should go.

“So, you don’t work…” He squinted at her. “Do you?”

The better choice still was to control herself. She didn’t want to go back to see Judge Gracie. Ever again. She learned her lesson about snapping at griffons. She would keep her cool, and not snap at the old griffon.

“I asked you a question, young lady.” He glared from the distance. Like he had any sort of authority and she had an obligation to respond. But he likely wouldn’t leave if she didn’t answer.

“Sir…. I am not in my best of moods. Would you kindly leave me alone?” She seethed. “I’m waiting for my friends to come home from work so that I can go inside! I’m living with them.”

He hummed in an obnoxious and intentional way that almost made Gilda lose it. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, young lady. I used to be on the Militia, you know? Don’t do anything dumb.”

She closed her fists and raised them to her chest, humming so she wouldn’t scream. But at least he left her alone. Fortunately, he didn’t bring the Local Militia. Crazy old waste of griffon.

“Geez, calm down, Gilda.” She sighed and whispered to herself, rubbing her forehead. “It’s just some old guy that has nothing to do with himself after he retired. He probably thinks he’s helping.”

Yeah… Just sit and wait. Avoiding all and problems she might attract by wandering aimlessly. They shouldn’t take too long anyways.

Damnit, her stomach started burning. She ate a good breakfast, yes. But lunchtime fast approached, and she might be left outside for hours until Greta or Gary came home. Should have thought it might happen, dumbass.

Minutes passed and not only she became hungrier and more frustrated, but also bored. She leaned on her side against the door groaning to herself and soon sleepiness creeped at her. Keeping her eyes open became hard and her thoughts fogged. Thank goodness she had her friends, because she really didn’t feel like going to one of the homeless shelters in the city, if they even worked anymore with the stupid coming war.

Yeah. She yawned. Greta and Gary were good friends. Heavy eyes closed slowly.

You have no friends in that place, My Child.

Hell yeah, she did! Greta, Gary. She could even include Goldina and the other nurses at the hospital. And that was without even mentioning Rainbow Dash! Surely, she could even count Dash’s friends.

When the war was ended and the Dawnbringer crowned the Traitor King, My Children were hunted and cornered by mobs of cowards. It started as soon as she left, and the Traitor King turned a blind eye. My Children became a scapegoat to be sacrificed to a mob of frustrated peasants in need of vengeance but too weak to wrestle control of their destinies. They hated you for your service to The Emperor, but above all they coveted your legendary beauty and feared the prowess I had given you.

Gilda should have startled awake. Someone else talked inside her head. But she didn’t. Instead, the soft darkness became a wooden room. Dim light filtered through the gaps between the planks in the floor above. The hot and damp air smelled of moldy straw. She was the oldest of the six griffon girls with her. The stories varied, but only she still had her enchanted sword. Commandment she had called it the day she earned it, years ago.

The others were near defenseless, young, not fully trained, nor touched by The Harpy, without a real weapon. She borne the responsibility of protecting them with the mission of taking them home.

A heavy thud roused her from her meditative slumber and elicited scared cries around her. Another followed and something crashed. Sunlight reinforced the light which filtered through the poorly placed planks above and hot desert air flooded in.

“There she is! She’s the one!” A theatrically angry male accused in a language she didn’t recognize, but still understood the words.

“Where are they? Where?!” Heavy steps shook the planks above their heads as a coarse male voice accused.

“There is no one else here, sir.” A weak and scared female voice said.

Those who surrendered were hanged in the central plazas of cities, much like the one where they build a statue to the Traitor King. Those who hid were hunted like animals. Loyal servants turned side as soon as the bleating mobs called their names as servants to The Emperor. Tax collectors and administrators saved their skins by sacrificing My Children. Most vile of treasons, yet those who followed the Traitor King spared the same ones who took their coin and oft their kin for tribute. All for the opportunity of torturing and murdering one of My Children. Those who provided any assistance were tried for treason and left to die in the desert.

“You’re lying!” The planks shook violently, and someone cried sharply at the sound of physical contact and collapsed to the floor above.

“You are animals!” The same female cried so hurtful. And then she cried again at the sharp sound of a slap.

“Take her to the plaza for judgement!” Another male barked. “And you find them! They are in here, somewhere!”

Heavy steps reverberated everywhere. Large objects dragged on the floor above, several glass objects broke, and metals clanged above them as someone was dragged outside, screaming.

Silently, with cold and calculated moves, Gilda’s body shifted. It felt different, stronger. Her joints seemed free and her mind more focused. She didn’t allow the noises disturb her, and instead focused on the fact that soon they would find the entrance and she had to do something about it.

She went from the center of the damp straw-covered room to the only dark wood door that led into it. There was nothing which could be moved into the way, so she became the only thing at the door. The others moved to the back of the room, as quickly as they dared, trying to not make a sound.

“Over here! This wall is false!” Someone laughed upstairs and several steps converged.

Gilda stood on her hindlegs. Decades of discipline and training made one of the hardest things a quadrupedal creature could do trivial. Her right forepaw reached for the sword magically held on her back and she drew it. Her left forepaw held lower under the downward-swept hilt, and she twisted her waist, raising her weapon and aiming the point forward. Faint yellow light emanated from the blade and lit its runes. Powerful spells moved magical energies and it vibrated and hummed as a furious lioness growling.

The stairs on the other side of the door creaked and someone tried it, but the rudimentary bolt locked it in place. She moved not a muscle.

“Nobody else, my ass…” Someone growled and chuckled on the other side. “Give me that hammer!”

A few seconds of silence passed before the door rattled with a bang and dust fell from it. One of her younger sisters whimpered behind her. The door rattled and banged again, fittings holding the bolt became loose. The third time, splinters exploded from it and the metal fittings flew from the door. It opened wide and violently to show a smugly grinning griffon of medium height, dark green fur, and white feathers with green highlights.

The last thing his blue eyes saw was the lusciously attractive female standing before him and the tip of her sword that pierced his left eye, his skull and his brain. Next to him stood a laughing youth of similar colors, barely old enough to be called an adult. His joyful expression turned to terror as she lunged and then pulled the sword back. The momentum freed her blade of the older griffon to come down at his forehead. It cracked open bone and cut to the base of his skull. Exposing blood-stained brain and a fountain of blood.

She pulled her blade free in the chaos of panicked peasants trying to distance themselves. One of them, a dumb-looking and fat green-gray griffon cried and fell down the stairs face-first into the straw on the floor. The tip of her sword cut the back of his neck and sent flying splinters of bone along with blood in one clean swing.

One step back, the sword before her, she sidestepped a burly male of piss-yellow coat and a big white head charging forward with his pitchfork. Her sword sliced clean past his neck and then came down crashing past an improvised shield made of the bottom of a barrel. It cut open the chest, flesh, bone, and viscera, of a white and gray male who fell dead to the side before the head landed on the filthy straw.

A soldier jumped down the stairs. He wore a mesh armor covered in clear bronze squares above his blue coat and his white head was protected under an olive shaped bronze helmet. He stood to fight with a proper shield and a short sword. He thrust his sword and she jumped back with a flap of her wings. He followed and predictably thrust again, but she spun past him, her sword cleaved through his exposed neck too and another head flew.

Something hit her back and she cried. Turning, she saw three of those dirty peasants spinning slings and wearing cheap leather armor. At her prime, she would have been able to summon the magical energies in her blood through her sword and rip them apart from a distance with magic alone. But things had changed, and her kind wasn’t as powerful as it once was. Still, she knew how to fight, and those peasants didn’t.

One of the clay bullets exploded on her blade when she intercepted it, the other missed and the third never let off his sling. With one mighty flap of her wings, she closed the distance faster than he could swear in panic and her sword stabbed him through the chest. The magical blade pierced through like he wore nothing and then she spun on her hindlegs, pulling her blade free to slash through the next one’s face.

In the middle of gurgling and bloody cries, she distanced herself a step from the door and a javelin somebody threw broke its tip against the hard dirt floor under the straw. The third peasant with the sling tried reaching for the javelin and she cut his paw off. He screamed at his cut off limb, but not for long: she slashed his throat open and sent him to the ground squirming in pain and panic.

Shouting and discussing came from the top of the stairs while two more armored soldiers came into the room and promptly assumed a proper fighting stance side by side.

“We’ll go easy on you if you drop that thing!” One of them said and the other distanced himself, as though they faced some stupid commoner who didn’t know what she was doing.

She could imagine just how many homes filled with scared citizens of the Emperor's cities they sacked and how many scared kitties they raped every time Grover's rebels won a siege thanks to the help from that filthy equine! Their cruelty to captured Swordmaidens such as herself. They still wore the same armor they wore during the war. Grover still used them to keep cities safe and under control.

She wondered for a second if their paragon of justice, The Dawnbringer, approved of their ‘justice’, and she knew very well the fate waiting for her and her sisters. But she would send as many of them as she could to the Scorch before they would lay their paws on her!

Her wrath fueled the sword’s magic and its magical gleam. It scared them. They raised their spears and shields, but she moved too fast. She spun past the first’s spear even before the thrust and her momentum brought her sword hard on his head. Bronze was no match for magical energies and steel from the imperial flashforges. The blade cut past bronze helmet, plumage, skin and bone. He fell, but the other rose his shield in time.

The bronze reinforced wood fared better, but his hand broke and he cried, falling back, against the wall. Before he knew, the tip of her sword pressed in between the bronze squares of his armor. His brown eyes pleaded for mercy too late, her sword already pierced through to his heart.

Before he roared, she had felt his presence behind her. She pulled back her sword and it spun in her paws, cutting upward past his groin and spilling his intestines. Another filthy peasant, he dropped his hammer and cried in pain and terror, all the strength he thought he had gone. The other by his side hadn’t even noticed what happened and attacked her with a cleaver.

She sidestepped and spun past him slashing his body in half by the waist, spraying blood on the next commoners that meant to attack her, with a piercing cry and bringing her sword to bear on them.

One of them pissed himself and collapsed on his launches, dropping his rusty sword. The one to his side let off the bolt from his crossbow but she intercepted it with her sword, moving like lightning. He tried protecting himself with his weapon, but her enchanted sword broke past the questionable metal and wood and cut his skull in half with bone splinters and blood to the wall behind him.

In the same swing her sword cut open the other's neck before he even tried using his dagger. Another collapsed, crying as a panicked child, and futilely grasping at his wound. The last cowered in the floor, next to the wall, covered in blood and urine.

“Mercy! Please!” He wailed as a waning cub, but she knew very well the kind of mercy to be had in that room and drove her blade through his heart.

“Drop that thing, you witch!” A peasant had grabbed one of her younger sisters and shielded himself with her, forcing her to sit in front of him, holding a knife to her neck.

Her name was Gharra, with green coat and white plumage on her head and her luscious fluffy chest. Lime on the tip of the feathers that made her crest, just like her eyes. Gilda, somehow, remembered teaching her sword drills and teaching her how to make a flower tea for her nerves when she prepared to meet the Emperor for the first time.

The filthy peasant wouldn’t ever understand and was surprised when her sword pierced thought her sister to his chest. He wouldn’t have them, and the others wouldn’t have Gharra.

You fought like a beast. You painted the floor and the walls in their filthy traitorous blood. But it was never meant to be a fair combat and your fate had been sealed.

From the top of the stairs, they threw bombs at her. They exploded with concussive force and threw her off-balance. Her senses dulled and a clay bullet exploded on her head. Clay dust and particles hurt her eyes and her head spun. One of her sisters cried, and before she could recover herself, strong paws grabbed her, and a heavy body threw her to the ground. She couldn’t see it, but something hard hit her head again.

When she came to herself again a big white and gray griffon held her to the straw on the floor. Spiteful gray eyes.

“We got you, fucking witch.” He gloated and spit fell on the feathers of her crest his heavy bronze and silk armor weighing on her. “Grab the others!”

They made a game of raping you and your sisters, like unthinking brutes, unbothered by the filthy straw or even the blood of their brethren. When they grew weary of your abused bodies, they tied you to poles and made a spectacle of killing you by the entrance to the city.

They tied her forelegs to the top of a pole and her hindlegs to the base, at the top of a wooden platform. Strapped her wings closed, and left her body stretched and exposed. Six poles side by side by the entrance of the city, within her walls and before a crowd of angry griffons. Straw and logs at the base, covered in tar. The crowds screamed whoops and insults at the broken creatures at their mercy or obscene comments at their exposed teats and genitalia.

They threw rotten fruits and animal feces. Worse than the repulsive smells and the pain in her broken paws and sore body was the humiliation and hopelessness before such a display of unbridled hatred over defenseless victims. Before the realization her fellow griffons had been reduced to animals by hatred.

It justified all the things that she had done which led to that point and the only thing she regretted was that the Emperor ultimately failed. Still, her loyalty remained, unfaltering even upon one of the worst deaths she could imagine and that she had never imposed on another.

Then a griffon came with a lit torch. One of her sisters cried at the sight. Barely an adult that had never laid on the Emperor’s bed. Never completed her training and never earned her sword, but she was one of them and that was all that mattered. She despaired and cried, wailed as a child would until her panic infected her sisters and they cried too.

A pony ran in front of the crowd. Gray in his luscious coat, with a white beard and mane from which poked his horn. Wore a blue cape and a tall, pointed hat, both adorned with stars, moons and noisy little bells which conflicted abhorrently with the situation he found himself in.

“Stop this madness!” He cried, angry enough his impetus surprised her, placing himself between the crowd, the executor, and the stakes. “What lust for misfortune and suffering! It will not bring back the dead nor erase the abuses you suffered! Kindness will! There should be no place for this in the new world anymore, much less under King Grover’s crown. He fought against the Emperor, despite all the odds, so you could live free! By mimicking it, you spit in the deaths of thousands of slaves that joined us and wanted nothing more than Grigor’s insanity to stop!”

Immediately someone cried in the middle of the throng. “They deserve worse! They murdered and tortured for the amusement of the Emperor!”

“They killed numberless of your own kind!” Another cried and the assembled griffons agreed noisily. “Why are you defending these monsters? They were Grigor’s whores, and his executioners!”

“Get that pony out of there!” Another faceless griffon in the crowd cried from the back and the ones in the front reached and dragged the old pony out of the way.

“King Grover will hear of this! Celestia will hear of this! Barbarians! All of you!” He cried, but no one paid attention, much less when they dragged him away.

None of the six prisoners begged for mercy, nevertheless. Even if there was any to be had, they would not want it. Even the youngest among them understood. They could despair and cry but would not beg.

Still, the mob laughed, and laughed. And laughed while the pony begged for some common sense. Like braying mules, they celebrated torturing Her Chosen and they forgot Her words.

With what energy her body still managed to conjure the wind to cry above them and all the pain she endured, she cried. “The Wheel of Time spins unstopping, and he who finds himself in power will find that he is thus powerless! Under the Sun and Moon, you have forgotten the harsh mountain where She has birthed your ancestors and hoofed blood runs in your veins!”

They booed and others laughed louder yet, the pony silenced, however and she could see the dejection in his eyes. The executioner laughed and carried on this task with cruel delight, walking in front of them and letting the flames touch the straw and tar. They caught on almost immediately and spread over the dark liquid, quickly rising and reaching at their limbs.

Wailing cries and sorrowful bawls overcame the laughter with the stench of burned fur while the condemned squirmed and fought helplessly against their restraints. The torment of the flames scorched the fur on her coat and burned into her muscles. They pulled tendons and became one with the smell of her flesh under the searing heat.

The fire in your veins burned hotter than the flames licking at your skin and lighted your wrath in sublime desire for revenge. You roared louder and fiercer than the flames.

“You followed the Traitor King and you forsworn the mighty for the meek in their promises of ease. You regale yourselves with their softness and you give in to their pliant beds! You follow leaders fat from their disgusting food and you pay them in the coins with the Dawnbringer’s face. You listen to her soothing words, and you share in her children’s drinks.”

They did not silence, but neither did you. Their laughter tainted in apprehension; your words drenched in fury, fueled by a ravenous hunger for vengeance and burned you hotter than the scorching heat.

“The Wheel of Time will spin unstopping and you will regret and cover yourselves in the ashes of birch trees. Sacrifice me and my sisters under Her sun and I will feast in the Stormy Eyrie, but when the Predator stalks the world again, you will share in their fear and I will rejoice, a captain of Her faithful at Allmother’s side!”

I held your heart in the cool rain from the mountains where your race was born and distanced the agony of the flames. A final gift, for my faithful chosen that never wavered. Your body expired to the fumes and burned away to the flames, but your soul remained cold as the Stormy Eyrie where I gave rise to your proud race.

Countless others before you, innumerable after you.

And they dared call us savages. The ones the Traitor King said were tired of subjugation. The ones who allied themselves to the Dawnbringer. The who who united the entire world against us. Yet, none came to your assistance when they used your body and burned you alive. Even in our grim defeat, I was the only one who heard your cries.

And here we are now, and I beckon you to me, for it is at my side you belong, to guide your race into a new Empire and bring reckoning upon those who had forsaken us. For not even several lifetimes and deaths erased the torment they inflicted upon you for serving My Favored Son.

Not Greta or Gary. They would never hurt her.

“Gilda?” She startled awake at the mention of her name and Greta’s paw recoiled. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you! You look… Are you okay?”

Her friend, next to her, carried a box on her back and had her saddlebags filled with stuff. She blinked. “Are… Are you sure you’re alright? Gilda?

“Ah, it was nothing…” Gilda shrugged off her concern with a gesture. “I was just having a dream. That is all. And uh… Waiting for you to open the door.”

She grinned and moved out of the way, trying not to look too awkward while waiting for Greta to open the door, despite the residual sensations from her dream that intruded on her mind. The heat. The smells. The laugher.

“Goodness!” Her friend gasped. “I’m sorry Gilda! I forgot you’d be locked outside!”

She waited while Greta took care of the lock. “Ah, it’s okay. I’m cool.”

What the hell was that?! That… That wasn’t normal! Like someone put thoughts into her head! Memories rushed back at the mere recollection of the dream. Vision. Whatever in the freaking heck that was! The smell of smoke intruded on the smells of grass and Greta’s perfume.

The screams and their laugher haunted her thoughts, the smell of sweat and his weight. Every pain and sensation. She took her paws to her beak and breathed in with a whimper.

Greta stared at her again. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did something go wrong in the Insurances Office? Gilda?”

She shook her head, but her eyes stung. Wetness slipped down her face. She spoke the best she could through a lump in her throat and a sob. She whipped the tears as fast and discreet as she could. “I’m okay. I… Ah. I just need some water. That is all.”

That was messed up! She had got to see Goldina and get a doctor tomorrow!

When Greta finally opened the door, she followed inside and did her best not to seem too distressed, making her way to the bathroom in the corridor and locking the door. Her reflection in the mirror showed nothing, but she smelled it. She felt it. Her coat dirty and disgusting. Fortunately, Greta’s house had a shower, one of those fancy magical showers that even heated the water. Not that she cared about it, she only wanted the water and the soap.

It took her several rinsings and almost an hour before she finally got her shaking and sobbing under control. The warm water helped, and so did the soft aroma of roses the soap left on her body. But most of all, the running water across her fur and feathers while she supported herself on the wall and let it shower on her head downward.

Someone knocked at the door and she startled. “Gilda? Do you need anything?”

“Uh… No. Thanks… Uh… I… I’ll get out in a minute.” She grimaced at her own broken voice.

“Alright. Uh… See you soon, then.”

Poor Greta. She worried for her. It felt nice, but it also made her feel like a weight. She shouldn’t make her wait too much. Hopefully, those freak visions, or hallucinations… Or whatever the heck they were, would be gone once the thunderstorm was done.

She grabbed a towel and dried herself off, but she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering, and speaking of worrying, she hoped Greta and Grizelda were okay. And that big girl from the insurance office too. Somehow, she doubted, though. Maybe she was just on edge.

You know very well what you saw.

Gilda held her beak again. She knew. That was her. Somehow. Fuck knew where, centuries ago, after the war King Grover and Celestia won to dethrone the Emperor. Except, that wasn’t the story she was taught! She didn’t even know how to process that information.

But she was calmer and didn’t feel dirty anymore. She couldn’t let Greta waiting forever either.

Once she was done and walked out the bathroom, Greta waited for her with some food. A pinkish juice, a large and short pie with slices already cut and served at two plates. And Greta next to the table in the dinning room. Sitting and with her paws by her chest, smiling though her eyes were as heavy with worry, as her voice.

“I got some pie for us. Hum. Milk jam pie from Manehattan and some guava juice! If you feel like it… And, and… How about a game?”

Gilda smiled. She really didn’t deserve Greta.

***

That was some of the most fun Gilda had in months. A simple card game with important creatures from the present and past. She didn’t know how she’d feel if she found her semblance in a card game but seeing Rainbow Dash trumped by Spitfire in intelligence made her giggle.

She also saw the pony from her dream but pretended she didn’t recognize him. Good stats, though.

The pie was one of the most delicious things she’d ever eaten. That thing certainly had been transferred via teleporter because it was the only way the thing got to Griffonstone, across the ocean, fresh. It must have costed a ridiculous sum of money.

Part of her resented the fact Greta had it so easy. She made her own money working with things she liked, while Gilda’s stupid scones barely kept her afloat when that whole mess of war began. She supposed that rather than felling entitled like a child she ought to be happy her friend shared it with her. Not to mention Gary worked as a public servant and had his salary guaranteed no matter what.

So, yeah… It was Gilda’s own fault she didn’t go to college and didn’t have any great skill sets like Dashie. Guess it was nice being a pony and being born with a set of skills one could turn into a job.

You were born a predator. A hunter. You still remember the smell of blood, talons tearing into flesh and the terror in their large eyes.

In reality, she supposed, there were no jobs the ponies could find which would not make her too dangerous.

The thing they fear the most is your occupation. You excelled at taking lives. One of those closest to the Emperor. One of his favorites, and one of My Chosen. You are wasting your time and you are waited in the ancient home of your race. There is nothing for you among the hooflickers anymore.

Gilda coughed and grinned at Greta while the other carefully examined the cards in her paws. “When does Gary come home?”

“Oh…” She replied absentmindedly, with a mischievous grin at her cards. “Sometimes he has to work late. Especially with these thunderstorms. Things go kinda crazy. A-ha!”

She slapped her Fluttershy card on the table. “I’m going for Kindness!”

Yeah… It should be cheating… Gilda scanned her cards and she had probably a lost round. The best she had was an Ocellus. The fuck was an Ocellus anyways? Looked like on oe fht new and improved changelings.

Then the door opened, and Gary came inside with a large basket on his back. “Oh! Hi Gilda! Hi, Greta.”

“Hi! Welcome home!” Greta ginned while Gilda got up from her seat.

“Let me help.” She grabbed the basket from his back, and it smelled awfully of blood. Like a lightning bolt shot through her body and she just stared at it, hopefully not too awkwardly when she noticed it. “What is in here?”

“I bought a whole chicken from the market. Since we have a guest.” He chuckled. “I suppose we should do something special.”

“Great idea!” Greta squealed and took the basket from Gilda. “Let’s get it ready for dinner! The we can eat the rest of the pie for dessert and play games the whole night!”

Gary chuckled again. “Calm down, Greta. We have to work tomorrow morning. Including Gilda.”

“Ah… We’ll work something out!” She insisted in her cheerfulness.

***

At least Gilda knew her way around the kitchen and actually helped. The three of them got the chicken seasoned, and it wasn’t ideal, but they didn’t want to wait until lunch next day to eat it. It didn’t matter because it tasted amazing anyway. Gilda refrained from eating too much, though. Too conscious of just how expensive the thing must have been. Greta talked without stop. Probably because of the wine. Yeah. Another hecking expensive stuff they showered her with, and she wouldn’t be able to afford it for herself.

She couldn’t help feeling just a little jealous they managed to make a nice living for them, and both worked with what they liked. Stupid war. Stupid Chancellor.

Your place is with royalty, My Child. Return to me and your life will be fulfilled.

“Ah…” Greta finally stopped talking about the recent trends in perfumes. “I’m gonna go get that pie for us!”

She stood and walked off, cheerfully murmuring a little song to herself and Gary smiled at Gilda. “How did things go in the insurance office?”

“Pretty well, actually!” She grinned. “They said my case gotta be reviewed, but they also said I’ll get some good cash. Soon!”

“Oh! That’s great!” He grinned too. “Er. Not that I want you to leave. It’s just… I’m glad! Already talked to my boss and said you were cool and got a bit unlucky. He was fine with it going through in a hurry. We got bigger fish to fry, you know!”

“Sounds great! Thanks Gary!” She grinned, and right at the same time Greta called for some help from the kitchen. Since Gilda was the guest, he gestured for her to stay and went himself. In fact, he stood before she could volunteer to help, and so, she simply waited at the table for the two of them to return, which didn’t take long. He brought the plates and small dessert forks while she brought the pie from the afternoon.

“We should do something fun!” Greta chirped after she served their slices. “Why don’t you tell us about the job you got, Gilda?”

“That is not fun, Greta…” Gary deadpanned at her so hard Gilda had to laugh.

“Of course, it is!” She insisted. “Gilda is gonna do great in anything. She’s so independent and clever!”

Wow. That was so awkward. “Uh… I don’t know about that, Greta. I mean… I’m kinda like a nurse, but not really. I mostly clean and change wounds that aren’t too complicated. I don’t help the doctors or anything. But I am thinking about going to nurse school after this is all done. I mean… My boss, Miss Goldina, is great.”

“Well, cleaning wounds and changing dressings is important too, right?” Greta grinned. “The important thing is you’re doing your best. It’s a shame that dumb judge won’t see it wasn’t your fault!”

“Well, it kinda was.” Gilda’s fingers drummed at the edge of the table. “I mean… You’re not supposed to punch griffons even if you are right.”

“I guess so.” Greta frowned a little and stared at Gary. “But don’t you think it’s wrong she’s the one being punished when she was just struggling and protecting her income?”

“Oh! Yeah! Sure! I mean, Gilda was more of a victim than anything.” He shrugged. “But I guess we have laws that protect minors for a reason.”

“See?” Then she gave Gilda a lewd grin. “Hey! Any hot guys working there?”

“Greta!” Garry cried.

“What? It’s a legitimate question!” She pouted. “I mean… Nurses, right?”

“Well, I worked on this hot guy from the Thunderpeak Militia…” Gilda grinned back, winking.

“Oooooh! Details!” She jumped on her seat.

“Do you girls need me to walk outside for a while?” He teased them, pointing a thumb at the door.

Gilda laughed more to herself. Geez. Talk about the wine going up to their heads.

Someone knocked at the door, and Gilda didn’t pay much attention since Gary stood and didn’t even say anything. He closed the door, going outside to talk to someone while the two of them kept talking about Gilda’s job. Mostly about the big guy from Thunderpeak.

It didn’t take long for Gary to return, and he didn’t look very happy.

“Who was it, Gary?” Greta giggled, all cheery.

“Ah… Nothing.” He just sat back on his place and gave them the most nervous and insincere grin she had ever seen. But maybe Gilda was on edge because Greta didn’t seem to notice it.

The conversation didn’t last much longer anyways. They all needed to sleep.

Force of Nature

Do you remember, dear Child? The Stormy Eyrie. The sacred mountains where I gave rise to your proud race. Lost to the malice of the Windigos, ages ago.

The Stormy Eyrie? Nice name. It did ring some bells too. Distant and muffled by the noises of daily life. But Gilda had heard the name before. Or maybe in another life. If that made any sense. She wasn’t sure. Something stirred, however. Something forgotten in a dark corner, hidden away past the distracting memories of day-to-day life.

But she found it. Something she didn’t remember and at the same time ought to never forget, hidden behind the petty struggles of the everyday bore. Something wonderful which had fallen behind the counter, ages, lives ago. Still, it shone as bright as the day it was seared into her soul with a flame as bright as the moment of Creation itself.

Gilda found herself in a cave, a place she had never been before. Curiously, the realization didn’t come with the expected weirdness. She was just there, as she should. She had a nice aquamarine rug made with the coat for some animal where she slept. She really liked it, since it went nicely with her cyan coat, but mostly with her aquamarine eyes. A pile of bones sat on a corner, and she needed to get rid of them before they started stinking in her cave. Seriously, nobody liked that.

Next to the wall, rocks and slabs of wood made for a shelf where she kept her things. Just nice things, like shinny yellow rocks she found in the deeper caves of the mountain, near the base where she often went to gather firewood. A few pouches made from the bladder of a big caribou. They often wandered too close to the mountains. Mostly, she used them to hold water com the valley as it drained from the summit when it was hotter. Flying down the mountain to drink was a pain.

Small bowls made of carved wood held nice smelling petals. Some fat, useful for making salves and tinder to make the fire easier to start. A few herbs for teas which took the pain away, or that made her feel happy. Teas for when sleeping was difficult and ointments for bites and scratches or simply to get her coat all nice and shiny.

Leaves stirred on the valley below. It approached… She had to hurry, or she might miss it. Screw the bones, she’d deal with them later. She had more important things to do.

Past the cave's entrance, the air became colder with the wid, but it refreshed her muscles, tired of the day’s chores. The chill made her feel awake and aware, while the hard stone made for a good perch outside her cave. The darkened sky eased her eyes, and the moonlight provided all the light she would need as clouds rolled over the top of the world. Some griffons liked living above the clouds, but she thought they missed the point of the clouds.

From her perch she saw many other caves and mountains joined together at their bases, valleys littered by tall pointy trees waving with the wind and a few streams here and there. She could even see a few scared animals running. Elk, fleeing the mountain range, caught unawares. They could smell it too. The aroma of rain announced Her arrival. They had remained behind for too long, seeking the fertile greens, and now their lives were forfeit. They knew it as well as she did, yet they ran anyway. They always did, even when they knew they would not escape nor see their loved ones ever again.

But no hunting for her yet. She stretched and arched her back, yawned into her paw and stared indifferently at the griffons exiting the caves, sitting by the rocky outcrops. Some of them took flight, lazily circling above the woods, avoiding the turbulent winds. Kids… Showing off their clumsy flying, hoping some young and inexperienced queen would endear herself to their ungainly skills.

She was past their level. Shinny coats, preened feathers and basic flying skills were part of the game, but others still reached beyond. Already gone, they searched for better prey on the prairies beyond the mountains. They still didn’t understand. It was not the juicy pray that made the moment special. Even with the sweet flesh and fragrant dark red blood she craved.

Not yet, at least. Once again, the others, even the ones who thought they understood missed the point.

She waited for something sublime, greater than all the food or attention a companion could give her. Something the barely adults didn’t understand quite yet. They had never stopped and waited. They never listened to it, always too busy trying to show they were stronger, faster.

It made her the most coveted one. She understood her price was higher than a dead rabbit or the still hot liver of a hoofed beast. The other griffons who waited understood it too, and they had learned watching her. She understood something which made her special because she showed it to others.

Soft rain touched the gray stone and her cyan coat. She looked up to the skies and let it caress her. Velvety and smooth at first, it turned to cold and heavy drops falling from the heavens. She stood on her hindlegs, welcoming it with her open forelegs and flared wings, closed eyes, lost in pure bliss. Untainted, untouched magic washed over her coat, embracing her every inch as the most thorough of lovers. It filled her with joy and her heart beat faster to the same rhythm of splattering raindrops on the hard stone.

Magic surged all around her and the world seemed brighter, more real. She could feel it vibrating in her feathers. Resonating in her bones and her anxious talons, outstretched, and reaching up, grasping at the air as though she could hold it all for herself.

Suddenly it happened.

Lightning flashed with the booming clap of thunder. It resounded in her lungs and blinded her for a second, ringing in her ears, echoing in the mountains. A tree exploded in fiery splinters in the valley below and the excited clouds above rumbled, lit with the raw, unrestrained, unstoppable might of the Mother of Storms!

Her blood boiled and an uncontainable euphoria simmered in her chest. She had to let it out with a piercing wailing cry and her mighty wings in full display.

The others followed suit; they felt it too. The Allmother called to them. Her mighty magic stirred their blood and brought out the raptor in their souls. They sang to their Mother in a rising storm to meet the one that stirred the heavens and the bones of the earth themselves shook at their power.

The moment had arrived! Her wings flapped to the rumbling thunder as though the storm itself sang with them following the blaze ignited in the clouds. She could hear Her cry in the thunder. Calling them out. Urging Her Children to fly and take the world, for it was theirs. She had given it to them.

Thunder echoed and the windows rattled. Gilda laid on her side, holding her paws together in the soft bed, in the small guest room. Tears trickled down from her eyes. Thunder echoed again, and she could hear Her, calling to her.

Something gaped inside of her. She missed something she didn’t really understand, and the memories dulled every time she recalled them.

He will kick you out. His superior found you are targeted by powerful individuals and he, in his stupid compliance, confirmed you are in his house. He is afeared and lacks the courage to make a stand for one he called his friend. He will betray you and his mate out of his fear.

Greta was Gilda's friend. She would stand by her.

You will find yourself alone and when you are in danger, you must fend for yourself. You will have no one in that place with the true bounds of honor and fellowship to stand by your side. They have forgotten the pride I instilled into your souls. They hid it in the back of their minds where the shame cannot reach to them. They have decided the way of the hooved ones is easier, less painful. Once again, the legacy of the Traitor King will be your torment and you will see you have no friends in that place.

Gary was her friend too. Gilda didn’t believe any of it.

You will cry for me before the end of the night, as you did when the blaze licked at your skin, tied at the stake. And I will save you again, for you are My Child and I beckon you to me.

Thunder clapped again and the door opened. Gary looked inside and she already stared at him from the bed. He gasped, scared at finding her awake, with big eyes, but he still walked in.

“Gilda… I’m sorry…”

No… He was not. The creaky ceiling returned to her mind and an old female tried to protect a group of hopeless refugees. But her friend turned his back on her. She didn’t frown, though. She didn’t react.

“My boss… He came to see me… And…”

Traitor. Coward. The words came to her mind, but her beak didn’t move. Deep inside, she didn’t want to hurt Greta and she knew whoever sought to do her harm wouldn’t spare them. He was a coward, and Greta would be foolish. Gilda should distance herself, for their sake. She would find no shelter in their home. She knew from the first moment, but p´retended she didn’t.

She simply stood and walked past him.

“Gilda…” He mumbled.

“Don’t talk to me anymore.” She growled quietly. “I don’t want them to hurt Greta.”

He mumbled in the dim light from the public lighting outside entering from the windows. She turned her back to him, picking up the keys on the small table. Gilda opened the door and left under the storm.

He didn’t call her. He didn’t do anything. The door simply closed.

Fucking traitor.

Lightning flashed. It cast its glow over the street and the cute griffon houses that flanked it. Thunder soon followed. She didn’t look back. Didn’t have anywhere to go, but she didn’t look back and took the left past the walkway to the porch. No particular reason but she had been already to the right way, and it led back to her burned house. Nothing remained for her in there.

She wouldn’t be able to get her money either, so fuck it.

She thought of going to the hospital. Maybe she would get a place to stay. Unofficially, but it would likely just get Miss Goldina into trouble. So, fuck that too.

And speaking of that, fuck the community service too. Fuck the community itself. No one was going to help her, and she was left alone. In fact, it was worse than that. They had all betrayed her. Never a model citizen, but she did her best with what she had. One time, just one time she stepped out of the line, and in defense of her livelihood. It was all they needed to fuck her over!

She should have punched that pissant dweeb harder, caved his beak into his fucking skull. And then done the same to that fat, disgusting cunt he had for mother. At least then she could have told the bitch judge that she had done something wrong!

But, perhaps, the worst of it all was if she had been sent to fucking Shatteredrock they would still find a way to screw her over!

Lightning flashed and she found herself in the central plaza, staring at King Grover’s statue. She growled, staring up. “Great fucking job you did, dumbass!”

“Look around you! This is the shit kingdom you left for us! Griffons can’t even be nice to each other without the fucking ponies coming here and teaching us! And even then, your oh so great legacy is a rat nest of corrupt assholes who will take everything from us and then screw us over because… Because… Fuck it! Shitty peasants gotta get screwed anyway!”

“Ma’am, you’re screaming at a statue of a guy that’s been dead for thousands of years…” A female voice told her from behind.

She didn’t even think and turned as though she meant to rip someone’s throat out. She would if she didn’t think she had enough troubles as it were. It was Judge Gracie’s kid, next to that female who ‘handled’ her while in jail. Both of them wore a heavy raincoat over their armor and gear.

“You are also making me stand in the rain…” The female deadpanned at her.

The male shook his head. “Look, she’s been having some tough days. Let’s just leave her alone, alright?”

“Wait!” The female gasped. “You’re the dumbass who punched the mayor’s kid! Sorry. You’re screwed enough as it is.”

Gilda just stared at them. “Just how the hell can you just be in the local militia knowing the dirty crap that goes on and not do anything about it? Are you guys just cool with it?”

“Ma’am…” The male glared at her. “My mother is the Madam Justiciar for the whole hold of Griffonland. Do you have any idea how screwed I would be if I started making noise? She could put the Lord Protector himself and the whole local militia through hell if she wanted. She has the power to put the Chancellor himself behind bars if she wanted. Not even Gail would mess with her. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if that dick in the north, The Lion, became king and not even he messed with her.”

“Yeah, right. Cool thing she gave you a job, though. Right? I’m starting to think the ‘dick in the north’ really is a better solution.” She turned to the other. “What is your excuse?”

The female shrugged. “My excuse is that my mom isn’t some big powerful justice. None of that is my problem. My problem, right now, is that there is some crazy bitch screaming at a statue in the middle of the town at two in the morning! Look, I get it, but things suck for everyone and The Mare doesn’t give a flying fuck about us! We’re not her cute ponies and griffons gotta deal with griffon problems. We elected Gail, and all the griffon representatives in the Hall of Friendship anyways.”

“Fine.” Gilda relented. “I’m sorry. I’ll find somewhere else to soak in the rain and die already.”

“You know there’s a homeless shelter in Idle Stream street, right?” She at least tried to pretend she cared.

Yeah, right. The Mother of Storms would pluck her feathers if she went to a fucking homeless shelter. Wait… What?

“Look, ma’am…” The male guard at least seemed sincere in his concern. “You gotta get out of the rain. If you get sick, it will only make things worse for you. I’m sorry too.”

He didn’t have the courage to look her in the eyes and his went to the wet cobblestone. “It sucks. I hate this. But I can’t do anything.”

Yeah. Another fucking coward who ‘would love to but’. Too much of a pussy to do anything about that whole shitty situation. Maybe griffons really need The Lion. Speaking of that…

“Hey, whatever happened to Grizelda and Gertrude?”

“Who?” The male didn’t even know. The female shrugged.

“They got out by noon. Don’t know, don’t care. Not my problem.”

Gilda sighed. “And the crazy big gal that made trouble in the town hall? I was there.”

“Ah… She’s getting sent to Shatteredrock.” The male said. “I mean, she injured a militia… That’s… Kinda like a personal ticket to Tartarus.”

“She was sick.” Gilda felt like she was going to get sick.

“I don’t care!” He lost his temper. “I don’t care what she was flying on. Could’ve been me! You injure a militia, you’re signing your own death warrant. It’s simple as that.”

Gilda just frowned at him. “I hope the Lion does come and does something about you guys. All of you. They burned my house and I had to leave my friend’s and you two assholes are angry at me I’m yelling at a statue.”

“Well, turns out there is a law that prohibits you from making noise in the night, sweetheart.” The female said. “Not to mention that with that whole business of war, some dumbass that punched the mayor’s kid and is wandering the streets is likely to be mistaken for a spy. So, you should beat it. Why don’t you go soak somewhere else before you give me trouble I don’t need?”

Time to leave. She turned and went… She didn’t know where. Some direction she had never gone to, between two state buildings filled with officials that did whatever to her money. As if they would be working at that time. It turned to a small street with closed stores. She soaked in the rain, but still managed to feel bad at seeing an old griffon siting under a soaked cardboard next to a gas light pole.

Under the cold rain, she stopped to look at him from a distance. Even in his sleep, sitting and leaning against the pole, he seemed so exhausted. He didn’t have any clothes and his coat was so dirty. A soot and filth which resisted even the water drenching him in spite of his flimsy shelter.

Something inside her urged her to do something about it, but what could she do? She didn’t have anything left either. Then it began turning to anger.

What was his story? She didn’t know. Maybe he used to be some government official who told his boss how fucked up things were and got kicked out for it. Or maybe just some old guy who worked with something simple, but that he liked, and when the Chancellor decided he would fight a stupid war, he lost everything.

So different from the other old guy, Gabriel, the museum curator. Weren’t the pony princesses supposed to be making things better for everyone? At the same time, Gabriel’s words returned to her. The Chancellor worked for the princesses, and not for the griffons. It rang very true in the picture of a homeless, tired griffon, abandoned.

She served as a good example of it too, by the way. She just hadn’t reached his level. Though, she supposed her end of the road lied in the same path Grizelda and Gertrude had taken. She wouldn’t last much time because she doubted those assholes trying to ‘destroy her shitty life’ would let her live for long.

Yeah… Right. She resumed her walk under the rain as thoughts festered inside her head. A griffon she had called her friend wouldn’t help her. Grizelda and Gertrude wouldn’t either. They probably have their own problems too and she couldn’t even say they would be expected to help.

Not to mention Gilda might as well die before it came to that.

Do not fool yourself, My Child. You will do whatever it takes to survive. It is in your nature to adapt and overcome the challenges the world throws at you. Not to mention you are not uninitiated in the motions of pleasure.

Great… Not only she felt like someone put thoughts inside her head, but the damn voice in her head became sassy.

She frowned to herself and water from the rain drained in between her eyes. Princess Luna certainly knew of all that bullshit. Why didn’t she do anything? Why didn’t her sister do anything?

Eyes forward, My Child.

Thunder flashed on the walls, and she could see the figures of three griffons approaching from the opposite way she went. Immediately she tensed up, even before a whole list of all the awful things which could happen to her popped up inside her head.

“Shit…” She whispered to herself and trotted down the transversal street, trying to keep to the flimsy public illumination, surrounded by store fronts. Not a damn house she could seek shelter. The rain didn’t relent in the slightest and she realized she had no idea where she was.

In the wrong part of town, certainly… She’d never been there. Part of her, a thought away from panic, wanted to fly away. But flying in that damn rain was dangerous and they might as well catch her flying anyways. Not only would they do to her whatever they meant to do, but she could smack her face in a wall in the dark.

She picked up her pace and almost broke into a gallop. Breathing with all the rain in her beak became harder but fear prevented she stopped. Someone landed at the next crossing, though. She could see him in the dim public light. She stopped and took back a few steps. The damn rain made so much noise she couldn’t hear a thing, but she saw him grinning.

She turned to run the other side, and there was another guy in there. In the shade, but she saw him moving. She turned again and her heart was trying to burst out of her chest. To her right was a dark alleyway and lightning flashed again to show it ended on the tall wall of a building, complete with trash cans. Fucking way she was going in there!

Gilda glanced up and opened her wings. One of them hovered above her, but she had barely noticed it when the one behind her pulled at her tail. She screamed and turned to him; her tail tucked between her hindlegs.

“Easy, girlie.” A burly, dark tan and white griffon laughed, mocking her in a way which humiliated and scared her.

The other approached and she snapped to stare at the green and gray with an ugly scar of a cut on the side of his head. She screamed at his paw hovering next to her and they laughed as she recoiled and tripped on the curb. They laughed some more as she fell on her side to the muddy cold water, and she cried again. Her paws slipped and she almost fell again.

“Easy there, hot stuff. We just wanna talk.” Dark tan chuckled.

“Please!” She cried, backing away. Her right hindleg gave a little and her ankle hurt. She probably hit it on the curb. But she still backed out. “Please, don’t hurt me!”

The two of them laughed and walked forward, forcing her to back down. Her paws trembled and she could barely think straight anymore. All she did was scream when her hindquarters bumped into something.

She tried to run, but one of the griffons in the front shoved and forced her to sit in the dirty water that pooled from the rain in alley. Someone grabbed her from behind. Got a hold of her forelegs and pulled them up and back. She tried resisting, but all she managed was her hindlegs skipped on the wet pavement and suddenly she thrashed on her back, exposed to them.

“Please! I don’t have anything!” She screeched, struggling helplessly, and kicking up the water still pouring from the sky. “Someone help me!”

“Hey! Hey, girlie!” Tan talked to her. The third’s warm body rubbed against her back, his harsh grasp hurt her wrists and the other one leered over her. “This is all your fault! You messed with the wrong griffons. Shoulda seen this commin’, ya?”

His words shot panic through her, and she struggled pointlessly. She started sobbing and wailing. She could smell the moldy straw and hear her sisters’ crying in the rain. Lightning flashed and thunder echoed. She closed her eyes, but she kept seeing the dark basement.

One of them poked her in the chest and the tan one spoke again. “Shoulda left town, stupid hoe. Now we gotta kill ya and make the evidence disappear. Least ya could do is pay us for the work.”

The other two laughed and the guttural laughter that sounded with her own cries and that of her sisters seemed the same. A male grunting above her and she didn’t know what was real anymore.

A strong paw held her beak and she couldn’t break free. She cried, but no voice came out and her breath was too short. She tried crying for help, but her thoughts were lost in the cacophony of gross and her own panic.

The voice inside her head laughed, harmonious like a singing bird in counterpoint to the flash that illuminated the street and the resounding thunder which followed.

You do not need a magical sword to send these wretched souls to the Scorch. Their flesh is frail and the only weapon they have is your fear. Yet, fear is inexistent, and pain is but temporary. You are a Swordmaiden of The Harpy and I bestowed upon you all my blessings. Your body knew the art of killing before you were born and all it needs is your will.

Gilda herself didn’t fully understand what happened. When paws touched her lower pair of teats, something snapped inside her head. She let go of a heavy burden she didn’t know why she even carried. As soon as she did, everything seemed clear. Like a light at the end of tunnel, except it was a train. And these assholes were about to get ran over.

She pulled her hindlegs and kicked at the tan jerk trying to hold them. Just the right way that she pushed him back and propelled her into the one holding her. Both so surprised they screamed, but the one holding her let go. She beat her wings once and pirouetted to land on her fours, splashing the dirty pooled water. Her wings open, she stood on her hindlegs and her whole body tensed.

Tan got up first and looked so pissed. He didn’t even mind stepping on the one still on his back while the third circled around. She almost laughed. She was taught by the one who understood her kind the most how griffons and their heads worked. Lust and arrogance clouded their judgement, otherwise they would have realized flight was the better option.

He lowered himself to the watery ground and so stupidly telegraphed to her his intention she almost felt bad for his pathetic self. Of course, it was the other who attacked her, from the side, from where they thought he could catch her unaware. He tried tackling her, and all she did was take a step back and push him past her to lose his balance and go face first to the wet floor.

The tan one pounced at her, roaring and aiming his talons at her, she sidestepped him and slashed her own talons at his face, opening a bloody gash under his eye. He didn’t let it stop him. He landed on his fours and stood, clawing at her but the best he managed were a few scratches glancing off her plumage. She locked her talons at his neck and pierced his skin, pulling him down and ripping off skin. He screamed at the pain and fell to the water, his weight thrown off balance.

The third one lunged at her with a dagger. From too far and she saw the blade from metaphorical miles away. She held his wrist, redirected his thrust and with practiced ease twisted it so her other paw held the weapon. Before he even knew what had happened, she pushed its point downward over his collar bone. He screeched and his balance failed in his panic at the gushes of blood he tried to hold.

She chuckled at his big, terror-filled eyes while he squirmed in the filthy water quickly becoming red. They looked so tough before.

The one she had shoved to the ground pulled a wheellock pistol from under his wing and aimed at her. She didn’t think, just covered herself with a wing and the powder exploded as it should, but she barely felt the iron ball glancing off her magic-infused feathers. He stared dumbly at her for an instant before the tan one attacked her again.

An angry, furious roar escaped him as he reached for her neck with his bloody forelimbs. Flaps of meat and and plumage hung from him where her talons had cut his face and his neck. She responded with a shrill cry, jumping at him, higher. Her weight and momentum made him topple with his back to the ground and she held his neck. She could feel the pulse of his blood under her paws and hear his wheezing over the storm. His panic driven slashes at her forelimbs, chest and shoulders felt pointless.

She pressed harder and grinned with a cruel delight she hadn’t felt in a while. “I’ve fucked females that scratched me harder, you little waste of griffon.”

The remaining one took a pair of steps back and turned to run. Just left.

And the one she held squirmed until his slashes became weak a flailing of his forelegs and limp pushes at her until he stopped altogether. She stood, but her head spun. She grunted and fell to the ground.

***

Gilda woke on the pooled rainwater. Dark still claimed the alley and the rain still poured, but the water smelled of blood. A distant thunder growled in the distance while she stood. Eerie silence other than the sounds of the rain and little light other than the gas lights of the public illumination.

She saw, clear as day, a white and black griffoness, tall and imposing, perched over her, as though she watched her sleep. It startled her, but once she blinked, the griffoness wasn’t there anymore.

Her body ached, soaked, and smelling of blood. Her head ached most of all, but she didn’t seem hurt or sore. Her wrists hurt a little, but not much, and she felt like she had been hit here or there, but nothing like in that dream she had the other day.

She immediately remembered what happened and stood slowly, next to the lifeless griffon on his back. Didn’t spare him more than a glance and looked around to find the other, limp in the water.

She frowned. They deserved it. Fuckers didn’t know how to rape a single griffoness. And in this filthy water. For fuck’s sake, she was used to soft pillows and sandalwood incense. Before, that was… Did that line of thought make any sense? She didn’t really care. That piece of shit deserved to suffocate and that other deserved to bleed to death. There were worse ways of dying. She knew.

Gilda looked at her paw and a swollen piece of meat stuck to a talon. She shook it off.

Then she sobbed. “This… This… This is wrong. This is messed up!”

Well, get a hold of yourself, Gilda. These jerks messed with the wrong griffoness. Could’ve been Greta. She controlled her shaking and her breathing. Would’ve been Greta. Griffons like the ones she read about in the news. They’d slash Gary’s neck open and take turns raping Greta. Like those pieces of shit, so long ago.

She did a favor to the world putting these down and her only regret was that one of them escaped.

She sat on the pooled water and raised an eyebrow. What did she do in that desert those griffons hated her so much? Huh… No bad or good griffons, just sides. Fair enough.

She glanced at the griffon with his punctured neck. He chose the wrong side. His eyes were open, and the red had stolen away from his conjunctiva. The other had nasty gashes and a bruise around his neck. At least she supposed the local militia would have a bit of work.

She stood again and walked. She knew she couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t be seen with those… Things. She looked back into the alleyway, to the bodies and turned to run. Nowhere in particular. Anywhere not there. Fast. As fast as she dared under the torrential rain.

Galloping through the empty and mostly dark streets only one thing was for sure: she couldn’t stay there. She had to go. The old museum curator and his words floated to her mind, and she had decided. She would find a way to go to Haybale and find his daughter. Gerdie. She would not allow them to catch her. She knew they would try again… Somehow, she doubted the ugly fat slob of a griffon would care that these two never reported back. She likely didn’t even have contact with them, but some crook of hers.

Gilda would not go to Shatteredrock and she would not live on the streets. She would not prostitute herself to survive, and she would not lead them back to Greta. She didn’t know how, but she would reach Griffindell. Wherever it was in the North.

And then, she would return to Griffonstone and show griffons what the Scorch looked like.

Everything is Okay

Somewhere, in the distant past a griffoness slept on the snow. The cold didn’t bother her. Her body knew to survive the harshest of colds. The fur and the feathers in her coat stood and trapped the heat from her internal furnace. Her wings closed around herself as a cloak, her heart slowed, and her mind fell into a dreamless slumber. Magic worked, unknown to her. A slight movement roused her, and her body prepared to fight whatever lacked the sense not to approach. Or to chase and kill whatever source of food slipped too close.

Gilda woke to the cold of the morning after the rain. She had found a modicum of shelter under the awning of a storefront. A pair of big eyes stared at her. They recoiled and a tall female pony shrieked. Her legs were covered in faux animal skin, fluffy and white, along with a rosy and fluffy hat behind her elegant horn. A fluffy saddle too protected her from the early morning cold and a strong unicorn accompanied her in formal attire. A well-groomed cyan mane on his white coat, went well with her white coat and pink mane. Most aggravating of all was his moustache and monocle. Gilda wanted to rip them off just because they looked so ridiculous.

“Ma’am… Are you in need of any assistance?” The stallion asked, all politeness.

“Piss off.” Gilda growled at him. Her skin relaxed and her fur returned to its normal orientation, mostly dry, and she folded her wings, letting muscles lose their tension. Muscles responded and the soreness on her hindlegs from sitting hunched over herself disappeared almost instantaneously.

The storm had left the street damp, but it didn’t bother her. She walked past the two ponies.

Around her, the city slowly came to life for the new day. Part of her wanted to see if Greta and Gary were okay. Mostly Greta… But she decided against it. If she went there, she would just bring bad attention to their house.

She didn’t know for sure if she was going insane or if there was some meaning to those visions and dreams, but whoever she tried to seek for help would likely become a target too. Maybe she’d find answers at the city Gabriel told her about. She sure couldn’t stay in Griffonstone anymore and she had to hope there would be an end to the nightmare.

Embracing the madness would move her in the right direction. It had worked last night. She passed the alley and a bunch of griffons gawked and made comments at the grisly scene while the local militia kept them at a distance. The word which came to mind was ‘hypocrites’. Nobody cared. They wanted the spectacle. To the point she walked on the other side of the street, but nobody paid attention to a dirty street vagrant. She had learned a lot about griffons during those last days.

Enough time wasted, she had more important things to ponder about. How to get to Haybale? She didn’t know the city, bit it had the name of a pony city. She would have to cross the ocean. Buying an airship ticket seemed doable, but messy. Especially in her condition. Her best bet would be the teleporter facility. But Haybale should be a small city and they wouldn’t have one. But getting far from Griffonstone should be a priority, anyway.

Of course, she needed money, and her money stayed in Greta’s home. No… She wouldn’t go back there. Greta would help her but would also get herself in trouble. Gilda would endure rather than cause harm to her.

Nobody paid attention, but her face turned to a scowl. She would have to get the money from someone.

The corners of her hard beak formed a devious smile. Maybe she should find those two ponies. They looked like they had money.

Of course, actually doing it… She wasn’t sure she could… Do… That. She would end up forced to hurt them. And it would be wrong! It wasn’t their fault! None of Gilda’s problems were their fault. They weren’t like those murderous thugs who assaulted her.

Her thoughts ground to a stop once she found herself again entering the plaza with Grover’s statue. Guards could be seen everywhere. A few griffons going around the plaza and buying stuff from the stands too. In a normal day, she would be there, selling her scones for a few Bits.

The hospital sat next to the plaza too. She blinked at its large doors. Was… Would the big girl still be in there?

In her mind’s eyes she saw the big hen strapped to a table and some creep touching her. Injecting her with some crap and… Keeping her calm and submissive. Yeah… Sounded like Shatteredrock’s psych ward, alright.

She didn’t mean to do it, but she growled to herself and a griffon walking mindlessly around the plaza almost squealed when he saw her and whatever expression she had put on.

She hadn’t even noticed it, but she had started making her way to the doors. And she didn’t stop either. She had little choice on her future, but she didn’t feel like letting them screw the poor girl. She was bigger than Gilda, but it didn’t matter. Big griffons could be vulnerable too and Gilda would rip someone’s throat out if she had to. A bolt of energy went through her spine, just like last night.

Then she saw the security guy waving at her.

“Hi, nurse. You’re early today! Geez… Ah… Are you okay?” He frowned at her, and she blinked a few times. She liked him, she smiled for him and curbed her anger.

“Had a rough night. That’s all. Say… Did they get the big lady that the militia brought in yesterday out already?” She asked, friendly enough.

“Nuh-uh!” He shook his head and waved a finger. “Transfers go out at ten. Especially ‘those’. Gotta have a doc available and they are usually busy seeing their patients in the wards. They told us to tell anyone some wards are full, and that emergency isn’t admitting anyone. So, you know they got their plates full.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at the guy again and grabbed her nurse hat, still in the nook under the stairs where she had left it. “I guess I’ll take a bath and get to work.”

She left the stand though. Didn’t think she’d ever use it again.

Up the stairs and along the way to the ward she worked on, griffons and the odd pony stared at her with awkward expressions. Some covered their beaks or muzzles, but nobody bothered her.

The ward really did have much less traffic than the other days. She thought of talking to Gabriel again, but she likely wouldn’t get past the thestral Royal Guards sure to be watching him. Better to focus on what she could fix.

A quick trot through the corridor took her to the nurses’ room. She quickly looked up the board with the patients and found several patients, not one brought by the local militia. She knocked herself on the head. They probably stashed her on a different ward. She had never paid attention to it, but all patients she saw had some sort of injury or had come out of surgery. The hospital had different wards for different specialties.

Duh, stupid.

“Hey, Gilda!” The pale tan ‘crazy one’ Gina came in through the door and walked past her to stop and look at her. “Aaah… You okay?”

Then she beamed. “Did you get in some sort of wild and animalistic fight with another griffon? What did he do? Oh my gosh! Did you make love in the rain?! Like cave griffons?! Or…”

Gilda held the other griffon’s beak and grinned at her. “You’ll read about it in the news. Gina. Now, listen.”

She hum-hummed positively.

“I need a place to take a bath.” She let go of her beak once she had her full attention. “I thought I should come here and be a good girl. You know… Work those bad griffon vibes off. You following?”

“Oh yeah! That is a good thing!” Gina grinned again.

“So, where can I take a bath?” Gilda insisted with a friendly grin.

“Ah! There is the doctor’s quarters and the nurse’s quarters right in the other side of the corridor! There’s a bathroom with a shower! Ours is the one in the right!”

“Great.” Gilda friendly poked her with a talon. “I also need a favor.”

“Sure! There’s not really a lot of complicated stuff to do today! Just don’t hurt me!” She smiled. Whether it was because she suspected something, Gilda wouldn’t know. Maybe she just liked the idea of Gilda being a bad griffon… Seriously, griffons were fucked in the head, but she liked Gina. She reminded her of Pinkie Pie once she stopped wanting to murder the pony.

Freedom both mesmerizes and terrifies the captive, My Child.

“Yeah. Makes sense.” She spoke to the voice in her head, which caused Gina to blink at her, but Gilda spoke to her again before she could ask anything.

“I need you to find out where they put the hen the militia brought in yesterday. The big hen they’re sending to Shatteredrock.” She explained calmly. “Can you do it?”

“Sure!” The other waved a paw. “She’s in the psych ward! It’s past the waiting room, on the other side of the floor! I’ll find what room she’s in! They’re closed too. You know… Too many crazies these days.”

“Thanks, Gina. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She hoped to whatever god might be listening the nutjob wouldn’t do anything stupid… Or rather, something reasonable, like telling anyone there was a criminal asking about a crazy griffon. To be honest, she didn’t know if she was going crazy herself, but it sure felt liberating. And a little scary. Just a little. Enough to titillate.

Well, at least Gilda had already accepted going crazy. Might as well take a few steps further into the crazy and help someone.

She crossed the corridor and opened the door to the right. Gina’s yellow friend sat on a bunk bed. Gordon, she supposed. He held a small mirror, pawing at his crest feathers, but stopped when he saw her and opened giant eyes.

“Gilda?” He blurted out.

“Hi.” She liked him too, but she stopped for a second before she found the door into the bathroom near small lockers.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t see your name in the schedule for the morning.” He blinked at her.

“Yeah.” She put her hat on the bed and walked into the bathroom. Entered the box and didn’t bother closing the white curtain. Put a paw to support her weight on the wall and turned on the water. Magical heating made the water nice and warm, washing the grime away.

“Hum… Are you okay?” The yellow guy asked from the door.

“I can’t believe you just walked into the bathroom with the shower on.” She looked back at him with a sultry smile.

Only a second later he noticed he kept staring at her taking a bath and squeaked an apology, blushing under his eyes and retreated, closing the door.

She also took some of the liquid soap in the form of small plastic balls. Just because she was going crazy, it didn’t mean she couldn’t smell nice. Come on, she always smelled nice in the past. She couldn’t attend to temple procedures smelling of blood and grime. Those weren’t hers, but if someone put them there, it meant anyone could use. She didn’t really care, and there found a strange serenity in not caring.

She also didn’t hurry herself too much, taking care to make herself fresh and doing away with the filth in her sensitive areas too. Blacking out in the middle of a dirty and bloody alley and in the rain and murdering thugs made for a messy job. Whenever she fought in the past she’d end covered in blood, so it wasn’t anything new, really.

Once done and after shaking most of the water off, she walked out of the bathroom and the yellow Gordon sat there and he blushed, looking away from her again.

“Towel.” She said.

“Uh? What?” He avoided staring at her.

“Pass me the towel, dude.” She pointed at a white one folded in a pile on top of the lockers.

He blinked twice before he understood but did as she asked. He kept avoiding staring at her while she used the towel. Funny. She could swear he looked smaller than last time she had seen him. Regardless, she found some fun in torturing him for a while. She never minded anyone staring at her, not in the present, not in the past anyways.

She threw the towel next to him and stared for a second. He and Gina actually would make a nice pair, kinda like Greta and Gary, if Gary wasn’t a scaredy pussy. She talked to him while she straightened the feathers in her crest. “Hey…. Suppose you wanted to leave the hospital, but not through the front door…”

“Uh…” He took a second before he managed to form a coherent phrase. “I guess you could use the service doors. There are many. For the kitchens, supplies… But why?”

“Nah…” She ignored his question, putting back on her nurse hat after batting the dirt from it. “Too many nosy griffons.”

“Hum… I suppose you could just fly out of a window. Or the roof? It might raise a few eyebrows, but nobody would care.” He shrugged at her, and Gilda smiled.

“Yeah! Should work. Thanks!”

She opened the door to the hallway and Gina sat there, all smiles. “Got it! It’s room two-oh-four you want! Her name is Grunhilda!”

“Thanks.” Gilda thanked her and casually pulled Gina inside. Took the key from door and walked out.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Gina blinked at her.

“Locking you two in.” Gilda told her casually while closing the door. Then she locked it and tossed the key over her shoulder. That should keep them from talking too soon.

Satisfied, she made her way past the sitting room that connected the two wards. No one there or on the other hallway. The entrance had a security guy, though. Just the security cap and nothing more. But he didn’t bother her, and she quickly found the room she looked for.

The door had been locked, but the key was in the lock, and she entered without any issues. The big hen laid on her side, tied to the bed with belts across the sides, a red collar with a tag Glda didn’t bother reading, and had her beak tied with a small belt.

“For fuck’s sake…” Gilda cursed under her breath and approached.

She put her paws on the bed and approached a little more. Grunhilda seemed so young, despite her size. Not too big, or tall, but she had some crazy muscle mass under her white coat. Not like a freak, but an elegant powerful physique. Sharp facial features too, and quite young, indeed.

Gilda spoke softly to wake her up. “Grunhilda?”

The other startled awake and struggled against her binds but Gilda put a paw on her head. “Easy. I’m Gilda. I’m gonna take you out of here.”

Then she pulled the belt from around her beak and Grunhilda whined like a scared child. “But they said I’m sick and I have to go to somewhere, so I don’t hurt other griffons!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gilda loosened the straps and freed her, after taking out the collar too. “Let’s go, I’ll take care of ya.”

Grunhilda stood while Gilda opened the window, and it had bars on the other side. She supposed they would put bars in the windows of the psych ward. Big gal just stared at her and waited. Then Gilda had an idea. She went to the small locker in the room and found a gray blanket.

“Come on.” Gilda put the blanket on her back, opened the door and peeked out. The hallway remained mostly empty except for a security griffon at the entrance and on the end. Seemed like there could be some stairs there, opposite to the entrance. Perfect. She gestured for Grunhilda to follow, and she did obediently all the way to the security griffon.

Gilda tried to pass him with a simple greeting but had to stop when he complained of Grunhilda. “Hey. Patients aren’t supposed to leave the hallway. Where’s her collar?”

“I gotta take her to a sunbath.” Gilda said casually. “Collar is in the room. She doesn’t need it.”

“What?” The griffon looked confused. “That’s the first I ever heard of it.”

“Dude, I work here.” She pointed to the little nurse hat. “I got a nurse hat. You got a security hat. You do security stuff and I do nurse stuff. You watch doors and I take patients to get some sunlight.”

She wasn’t even lying. The book said it was important.

“Okay…” He didn’t sound too sure and raised an eyebrow. “Alright… But don’t take longer than necessary.”

“Awesome. Let’s go Grunhilda.” She motioned with a nod for the other griffoness to follow, which she did as obediently as before.

Past the guard she found a stairwell, going up and down, as Gilda had supposed. She started up alongside Grunhilda, but the guard griffon came after them. “Ma’am… You’ll need the key to the roof.”

He held a bunch of keys and took the lead. “I’ll open it for you.”

After a few flights of stairs, they reached the top and he did open the metal door, then made way for them. Gilda led Grunhilda outside to a flat roof covered in concrete and with several vents popping out of it.

The big griffon lady looked up to the dark clouds and the wind fluttered her white, gray-tipped ears-like crest while she stared dumbly at Gilda. “No sun… Just clouds.”

Great. The weather department was slacking off. They should have cleaned the whole thing by then. She should have thought of checking the damn sky before… Gilda sighed and looked at the guard. She had hoped that she’d get Grunhilda to lay in the sun and he would go back to his post, or something. “Look, I’m sorry. You look like a nice guy...”

“Sorry for what?”

She sat on her haunches and punched him. Out cold, straight to the floor with a broken jaw making his beak look awkward.

Grunhilda sat too, but giggled all excited, holding her paws to her beak. “That was awesome!”

“Guess I’m good at punching griffons…” Gilda looked at her own fist. Then she threw the blanket over the guard, threw her nurse hat from her head, and stood calmly. Opened her wings, looking at Grunhilda. “Come on. We should have some time, but we gotta get to the teleporter and find a way to pay the fee before they figure out something is wrong. They’re gonna be looking for us when this guy wakes up.”

“What? No sunbath?” The other whined.

“We’ll get you a sunbath when we can. Right now, we gotta bail.” Gilda insisted.

“Okay.” She followed Gilda, hopping, and flapping wings, taking flight while steering towards the teleporter facility.

Gilda had never been there but knew it had been built on the richer commercial areas of the city. To be honest it surprised her Griffonstone could afford one of those. She had no idea how they worked, but it probably had something to do with subsidies and private interest. The operation generated ridiculous sums of profits, but also required a large investment. Or so Greta had told her. She often needed their services, traveling from city to city and talking to her business’ suppliers.

It should be a short and quick flight, but Gilda checked to see if Grunhilda still followed her. It disturbed her a little… The big girl just followed her without questions, but if anything, it ought to make things easier.

Flying above the city had its dangers, but it they ought to be fast and parctical in their situation. The thermal islands caused updrafts strong enough they could throw a griffon to faceplant on one of the taller buildings. It happened too often and brought with it a ticket to a slow death on a bed or never waking up again. The solution involved flying slowly or so high one would have time to recover.

Gilda didn’t have time to be careful and too much height would draw attention. Grunhilda didn’t seem to mind.

Regardless, she found the teleporter facility amid the sea of houses and stores. A stone building mimicking the city’s older districts, all gray with a gray-green slanted roof. Long and with wide doors to a plaza with some griffons trying to scrape a living by doing stupid stuff like selling scones.

She was bitter, it seemed.

Some homeless griffons idled nearby, all dirty and looking hopeless in their corner of the plaza, where they didn’t bother anyone.

The pair landed on the plaza, and she thought if The Lion had any idea how to fix that sort of thing. The Chancellor and the mayor just ignored them or couldn’t fix the problem. Considering her own situation, Gilda imagined it the former. Some kid interrupted her. He ran up to them with a packet of some stuff she had no interest in and shoved it on her face. “Ma’am! Buy some sunflower seeds?”

She swatted it away. “Buzz off, dipshit.”

It fell to the artistic, colorful, cobblestone and the kid, some little blue and yellow loser stared angrily at her before stomping off. Gilda ignored both the packet and the kid, surveying the plaza. Grunhilda lowered herself to the ground with a whine at the sight of a pair of griffons in the militia barding patrolling the plaza.

“It’s cool. They’re not looking for us.” She petted the other’s shoulder before she made it more of a scene.

“Okay.” Grunhilda blinked compliance and stood.

“C’mon. Let’s see if we get lucky.” She walked off, expecting the other would follow, and she did, carrying the packet of black seeds on her paw. Gilda wanted to tell her to leave the thing, but it was not like it was dangerous or anything.

Inside the building, the whole thing seemed cleaner than the town itself. Probably because the creatures who owned it had more money than the city. Some of the most powerful individuals in the world, or one of the new conglomerates. Mostly ponies and it showed. Hearts, horseshoes, little clouds, moons, suns, and stars in every direction.

But she didn’t let it bother her and walked to one of the counters. She actively chose the least cutesy of them, which still looked cutesy to her tastes. A cyan stand with a stormy cloud, complete with a lightning bolt for logo saying ‘Wild North TP’ above the cloud. In griffon characters rather than the typical pony glyphs. It also had a cute griffon girl instead of a pony behind it. Gilda chose it because it seemed right griffons had part of that overdesigned monstrosity. It looked like it belonged to griffons in the middle of all that pony cuteness.

“Hi!” The overly cheery griffoness, lime colored with a yellowish plumage and a crest of upward feathers greeted her. She even wore a nice and proper suit with the company’s colors. “Wild North Teleportations at your service, wherever you must go!”

Guess she seemed so happy because she had a job. Nonetheless, Gilda kept a civil tone. “Gotta go to Haybale.”

“Uh… It may not be possible, ma’am.” The cheery hen deflated, and her crest even bent a little. The closest teleporter is Baltimare and they are closed because there seems to have been a terrorist incident. All companies can only teleport there if it is an emergency.”

Well, it kinda was an emergency. Only one nobody cared about. Gilda’s eyes shifted away while she remained sat before the stand. “Crap… I really gotta go. Gotta meet someone there. She has important information that I need for personal reasons.”

“Is that so?” To Gilda’s surprise, the cute griffon girl squinted at her. “Who would that be?”

“Hum… It’s a griffon hen called Gerdie.” It was such a far-fetched hope it felt like it was worth it.

“Gerdie, you say?” The griffoness behind the counter rubbed her jaw with her fingers, frowning in the cute way the more innocent griffons did when they were thinking. “Master Gabriel’s daughter?”

She’s gotta be kidding. The guy was famous? Well, the Curator of a museum gotta be an important job. She just nodded, while Grunhilda stuffed her face with those black seeds. “Yeah.”

“Say… Can you hear the storm?” The attendant asked in a lowered voice.

Whoa! Gilda didn’t even blink and whispered back. “I can hear Her cry.”

“Alright. I’m gonna get you through. But I need a justification for the union’s supervision. And you may have to wait until tomorrow.” The hen on the other side of the stand chirped. Just like that, a door opened.

“Say my friend is sick and gotta see her doctor in Baltimare.” She pointed back with a thumb at Grunhilda who stopped eating the seeds for a second and then coughed a couple of times into her fist.

“Right!” The hen typed words into her bulky typing machine for a while. Once done, she dropped red wax and marked it with a seal. A pair of open griffon wings. She even grinned, giving Gilda the paper. “Room five! Just follow the yellow line. Wild North’s got you covered!”

“Thanks!” Gilda took the ticket with her beak and followed the lines in the floor, while Grunhilda followed her.

It took them to a rather isolated sitting room with some rustic, but not cheap at all, furniture. A glass placard with the company’s logo imprinted with acid confirmed the place. Grunhilda looked at everything with a hanging jaw as Gilda presented her ticket to a huge griffon by a door. The guy wore leather armor and had one of those revolvers she had heard about in a holster to the side of his chest. But not only that, he looked fierce, with sharp aquiline facial features and a pair of dark blue eyes which looked like they had seen a lot of shit.

Just then, Gilda realized she had gotten herself involved with something, and she had no idea what. But it beat sitting on her ass in Griffonstone doing the Militia’s job of dispatching the thugs the mayor’s wife sent after her.

“Ma’am.” He took the ticket and looked at it. Then gave it back. “Welcome. Please step inside.”

He opened the door, and she did as he told her, closely followed by Grunhilda who, at some point, let go of the paper bag with the sunflower seeds.

They found themselves in a corridor. White marble floor with white masonry walls and ceiling. Rather than magical lights, it had elaborate sconces like golden figures of beautiful griffon ladies holding torches. On the deep end sat a large, black statue of a strong female griffon laying on her stomach with her forelegs forward, wings stretched upwards and her neck straight, staring down.

Gilda didn’t even know what the thing was made of, but it intimidated simply for the way it stared down at the entrance to the corridor. Its eyes held a pair of large diamond gems and the whole thing must be twice the worth of Gilda’s burnt house.

She just couldn’t tear her eyes from the thing. The statue. It meant something. Something important just at the edge of recognition.

“Greetings, young ladies!” An older griffoness talked to them and distracted her. Salmon coat with similar pinkish plumage and red eyes. She wore a glossy blue silk cloak and a small chain of delicate iron links for necklace. A little older than Gilda, carrying herself with an eerie composure which made Gilda think of some sort of queen, or something. Stupid, but she just seemed different. Still, she stared at the two of them with an amused stare. “What a curious pair you are. How may I call you?”

She also put forward her paw for Gilda to give her the ticket, which she did.

Gilda immediately thought a pair of fake names. Simply because the whole thing seemed way too creepy for her tastes, but Grunhilda just giggled and chirped off. “I’m Grunhilda! I was in the hospital, but Gilda is helping me escape because they were going to take me to some bad place!”

Fortunately, Gilda didn’t have time to react. The older griffoness just chuckled, covering her beak with a paw and then she gestured to the door on the left. “Right this way.”

She took the front and Gilda glared at her companion. “You let me do the talking from now on, got it?”

“Okay.” The other stared down with her crest hanging from her head and quietly followed Gilda past the door.

Both gasped at what they saw on the other side, though. It resembled one of those ultra-fancy hotels in Manehattan or casinos in Las Pegasus. The sort she would never be able to afford even staring at it for too long.

Black, mirror-polished, marble floor with gold inlays between tiles. Round pillars in green and black marble. An actual mirror for ceiling and gold molding for finishing. A large room with several different areas, including a fancy bar, a sitting area, a giant aquarium with all sorts of colorful fishes. A pair of black double doors led away, and in the center, a giant candelabra of gold and crystals. So many crystals Gilda believed it had more of those than she had feathers.

And beneath it, a freaking fountain. A sculpture of a couple of attractive griffon ladies flying and dancing around each other with a pole in between them, from where the water showered. Gilda half chuckled at a sexual innuendo in her dumb head but kept it under control. It was marvelous craftsmanship either way.

“Don’t touch anything!” She stared at the fountain.

“Okay.” The other did the same but nodded at Gilda’s command.

The older griffon lady who welcomed them returned and she brought something on her beak. “This is for you, Gilda.”

She wrapped a red scarf around Gilda’s neck and left a leg hanging, showing a brooch in the shape of a pair of griffon wings made of a black metal. Gilda just held and stared at it. The same symbol in the wax seal. She had seen it before too. To Grunhilda, the griffoness gave a small wristband made of delicate iron links. She snapped it on her wrist. “And this is for you.”

“It’s pretty! Thank you!” Grunhilda cheered.

“What is going on?” Gilda rose an eyebrow and the older female smiled.

“Yours says you’re one of the ‘cool griffons’, and hers says she’s your charge, so others don’t mess with her.” She winked.

“Yeah...” Gilda insisted. “What is going on?”

"We can’t get you to Baltimare today, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t help you. You are between friends now, Miss Gilda. Real friends and griffons interested in your well-being.” She smiled at Gilda. “For now, let’s get you two settled. There is a lot we need to talk about.”

Meeting the Cool Griffons

They had a fancy room, but they didn’t have any luggage to ‘get settled’ with. No windows on the walls, which Gilda supposed was expected since the whole facility housed the teleporters and not guests. It just made the whole thing shady. At least she seemed to be on the right side, with the right griffons this time.

The ample room had a large bed with black and white sheets and a long pillow and a furry headboard. It made Gilda think of the northerner hold. Cold and wild within the sophistication of the luxurious room. While the same mirror-y black marble made the floor, white mansonry made the walls and ceiling. A living room divided the space with the bed, adorned in rustic sitting furniture and a modern black desk. A painting of a mountain hung from the wall. Anex to it the accommodation had a bathroom with a giant tub and a shower. The whole thing was larger than Gilda’s old house. Probably more expensive too.

Some griffons sure knew how to spend their money and had a lot of it. The ‘high-rollers’ from Las Pegasus kept occupying her thoughts as she kept finding stuff like little golden statuettes of sexy griffon ladies. Someone had a thing for cute ladies.

“Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda, sitting on the floor, called and distracted her from gawking at every little thing in the room. “I’m going to take a bath.”

What? Did she think she needed her permission or something? “Sure. I guess I’ll go to the lobby and talk to that griffon that met us.”

“Okay.” She simply turned to the bathroom and went past the door.

Gilda might as well try to figure out what was the deal with the secret codes, creepy statues, and fancy teleportation company operating in the middle of Griffonstone. Still, she stole a glance to the bathroom’s door and decided Grunhilda had a weird aura about her, but should be safe.

Out the door she found herself on a corridor. Past another door she entered the lobby with the candelabra, the statues, and the bar where the griffon lady waited for her. She waved at Gilda as soon as she passed the doors.

Her paws tip-tapped on the fancy marble floor as she made her way to the bar. A cute and young hen with white fur and light gray plumage poured her an amber drink smelling of alcohol. Probably whisky. She never tried it, but everything smelling of alcohol and amber must be whisky.

“Thanks.” She nodded at the bargriffon, who smiled at her and then pretended she had vanished. Turning to the older lady next to her, Gilda meant to talk to her, but on the wall behind her hung a painting. A work of art with a plaque below.

It showed a griffon. A big, dark brown griffon, bulky and fit with a white head and serious brown eyes. No crest of feathers like most griffons, but he wore a golden diadem, and the painting showed his profile. He stood on his hindlegs with a huge war axe supporting his weight he held with his forepaws. He wore a black metal armor with not only black fur for ornaments, but also a cape of that stuff.

And the plaque read: ‘Strong? Intelligent? Resourceful? Competent or experienced? Or maybe just a griffon tired of your corrupt government. If you are loyal, there is a place for you, and Lord Gilad Ironfeathers, The Lion, needs you.’

Damn. Gilda didn’t know if she was horny or if the artist was, but if The Lion looked like that in real life, she might as well go there just to gawk at him. In the end, though, he was probably just another politician. Especially if that sort of money was involved.

“So, what do I call you?” Gilda minded the other griffon again. Paying some attention, the griffoness, much older than she, just didn’t look so. Despite her age, she looked fit and healthy.

“Madam Loremaster.” She grinned all mischief at Gilda, who didn’t exactly like it, but the older griffon laughed before she could complain. “I’m Gladys. Will you find it easier to relax if I answer some questions?”

“So… I guess you guys have some rich costumers?” She asked in the best, non-offensive way to mention all the fancy stuff for a teleportation company. “And you, completely without second intentions, support The Lion.”

“Unlike airships, teleportation platforms can’t offer luxuries other than instantaneous travel, Gilda.” Gladys gestured calmly with a paw. “We can’t have cassinos, lounges, dance floors and restaurants for passengers to enjoy during their trip. Teleportation companies took to enhancing their facilities with all sorts of extras. Some have restaurants, others have stores. Our main supporter likes a high-class lifestyle and wishes to provide our customers and supporters with the same luxuries.”

Gilda hummed. It seemed kinda obvious. “The Lion?”

“Almost.” Gladys grinned wider. “His mate. Lady Gwendolen. However, she is an adamant supporter of himself and his claim to the Throne of the Griffon King.”

Gee… Gilda would be supporting her hypothetical husband’s claim to becoming a king too… She must not have seen too impressed, because Gladys almost laughed at her.

“What is the deal anyways?” Gilda complained. “I mean, I hear Princess Celestia is cool with him becoming the king.”

“The chancellor is the problem. He won’t let go of his bone.” Gladys explained, making a gesture with her paw holding her glass. “There are also other reasons Lady Gwendolen supports our company. Actually, I’m not part of the company. I am her liaison officer, being part of a very exclusive group of griffons. Which brings me to my next question: How did you come to hear of the password?”

She didn’t wait very long and followed on. “Come now, I’m not going to kick you and your friend out. Did one our agents find you? I wish to better help you two, because you belong with us. Did Master Gabriel talk to you? We know authorities transferred him to the hospital. I’m guessing you work there, and he told you some things which made you question your present place in society. Am I right?”

Gilda wouldn’t ever understand why she trusted the old hen. Maybe it was her way of speaking. If it made any sense. “I was working as a nurse in the hospital. Community service, actually. I talked to him, and he said some things… Honestly, I don’t think that I would have cared about it if they hadn’t burned my house and I wasn’t marked to die by the mayor’s wife. But I have to say that his words sound truer the more I think about it.”

Better not to go around saying that she had visions… Dreams… Whatever those were… And that she killed two thugs by herself. It seemed like she went deeper and deeper into something, and not necessarily a good thing. Though, she didn’t really have a choice either.

“That unpleasant creature… I understand. It doesn’t matter what happened, but do you understand why is it Master Gabriel chose to speak openly to you?” Gilda shook her head ‘no’, so the older griffoness went on. “You are a purebred Shaddani. Griffon breeds have mixed so much in the past centuries only a well-trained eye can discern the individual lineages, but it is easier when you are such a pure example.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Not entirely true. Gilda understood whatever she talked about related to griffon races, or something. Like the pony tribes. Though she had never even thought about it all her life. As far as she knew, griffon races simply weren’t a thing.

“When the Windigos came down upon the world they claimed a large portion of it to themselves. It was called The Frozen North.” Gladys let her words hang, expecting Gilda to follow through, which she did after a second or two.

“Yeah. The ponies called them because they didn’t do their sappy friendship stuff, or something.” Gilda didn’t fully understand why, but it irritated her. Not enough she thought she let it show, but it did. “Why is this important?”

“What did the tale tell you about how the griffons dealt with the event?” Gladys asked, all smug grins.

Well, griffons… Gilda didn’t know. Huh. Actually, her kind wasn’t mentioned in the story.

Just as she realized it, and before she could speak, Gladys went on. “What about Nightmare Moon? What did griffons do when, roughly one thousand years ago, Princess Luna declared everyone’s day privileges canceled because she was sad?”

Gilda frowned at the dickish way of speaking of the event. But, at the same time, it wasn’t wrong either. She had never thought about it either. “Hum… What do you know...”

“Yes. This is what happens when your culture is owned by another.” Gladys smiled at her. “They will never tell you the ponies summoned the Windigos as an act of war against us.”

Hard one to swallow. Gilda did her best not to show, but she doubted it was true. Ponies got screwed by the Windigos. Hard. She knew. After all she had grown up with a pony and the damage the Windigos did to them hurt. As one could see from the actual history which survived the period in the form of archeological artifacts and written records. The unicorns were… Anal, to put it simply… About their records. The reason why the unicorn-heavy cities had more archives and libraries than earth-pony and pegasi cities. Ironically, pegasi cities, such as Cloudsdale, also leaned heavilyy on history. A ‘pegasus-pride’ thing, and they liked showing it. Harmless enough, but it also meant they gathered artifacts from the time and preserved them.

Evidence of constant wars between pegasi and griffons existed, and it would be simple to imagine the other tribes joined in, but it didn’t meanthey summoned the Windigos as a weapon, or anything similar.

Easy to imagine the Windigos screwed up griffons too, but claiming ponies intentionally used them as a weapon asked too much. One could say such claim would be too convenient. At the same time, one could easily see how griffons who didn’t live close to ponies could swallow such a version. Especially considering how griffons and ponies did have lots of wars among themselves. And those had been documented.

Interesting. If anything, it made her curious about how it all related to whatever lied hidden behind King Grover and Princess Celestia. How it related to her visions. She just knew too little, and with a clear head, she wasn’t prepared to believe just about anything.

But there was another angle to the whole mess. The same griffons readily willing to help Gilda were the ones saying ponies were a problem. Gilda supposed she had to choose a side and considering the last days, it was a no thinker. She had learned the lesson… No right or wrong, just sides.

Still, she didn’t want to be ‘easy’.

“Yeah. I see what you mean. Though you really have no proof of that.” Gilda tried to sound convinced, or at least, inclined to believe. Gladys’ bizarrely enticing voice and the alcohol didn’t really help a lot. “To be honest, I just think my life is done here on Griffonstone. I need to go somewhere else and it’s not really my choice. Gabriel told me to find his daughter in Haybale and to get to Griffindell. Because it’s where the ‘cool griffons’ are nowadays.”

“Survival. It is a powerful drive for our kind, Gilda. A pony might curl up and cry about it, but a griffon will fight destiny.” The older griffoness showed a proud grin.

“I don’t have a lot of love for griffons either.” Gilda took a sip of her drink. Come to think of it, she had no idea how whisky should taste, but she liked it.

“What if I told you you are special to us?” Gladys teased her with a grin. “The ‘cool griffons’?”

“Yeah…” Not impressive. “Princess Twilight Sparkle says all creatures are special.”

“I don’t mean special as in ‘minion we pretend to care about’. I mean special as in, ‘The Lion would really like you to be on his side’.” Gladys made a small pause. “More precisely, Lady Gwendolen would like you to be on The Lion’s side. So much you are worth a series of privileges.”

“You didn’t mention it, but I would wager a fair amount of money you had visions and dreams.” That got Gilda’s attention and raised her fur. “Maybe you saw a large and impressive griffon with a crown made of iron spikes. Or maybe you saw your death in another life. Now, understand we don’t talk about this to outsiders, but I am sure that you are one of us, and you will take your place among us. Maybe you are one of the lucky ones who remembers Her name. Maybe even Her face.”

“An old lady that worked as psychiatrist at the hospital said those things were visions caused by some weird magic in the thunderstorms.” Gilda shot back; despite being convinced. She wanted to see what Gladys’ reaction would be.

“Very observant of her. But she doesn’t know what you know… Isn’t that correct?” Gladys rose an eyebrow to Gilda, with her knowing smile which started to get on Gilda’s nerves. “The storms are Her magic. After all, you can hear Her cry… You remember the Stormy Eyrie.”

She couldn’t help but agreeing, and Gilda couldn’t fool herself. Whatever she had seen, it had to be more than random visions. A question came to her, but she already knew, what was the Stormy Eyrie. The place where her race was born. Where the magic from the Mother of Storms gave rise to her kind, and the Windigos had it. “Alright… You want to tell me something about myself… I’m listening.”

“You, and your friend, are purebreds of your lineages. As I told you. When our ancestors fled the Windigos, they spread to what is today the Saddle Arabian desert, the griffonian south and some remained in the north. Others tried going to the west, past the ocean and they gave rise to the hippogriff. Yech… Disgusting.”

Gilda just stared at her before she continued. “You are a descendant of the griffons who settled in the south, the Shaddani. But a branch of your ancestors became the Saddani and they are the ones who spawned those abominations. I don’t know what would possess a griffon into having sexual intercourse with a pony, but I suppose it is too late to judge.”

Gilda supposed she should keep her friendship with Dashie a secret… If that even counted for anything anymore.

“Anyways…” Gladys went on. “Your ancestors found themselves under King Grover and Princess Celestia. She destroyed the Order, and all evidence it ever existed. She ensured griffons would, illiterately, and carelessly, breed with no thought to spare about the strength of their blood. It ruined the Shaddani bloodline, and the Saddani brought pony magic which tainted our blood and spread to all the other lines. Their descendants fell apart from Her.”

“Your pure blood, however, brings you closer to Her. That is why she can reach to you. You had to make a choice, however. You allowed Her into your mind. That is something griffons out here won’t understand because all understanding of such is dead since the war ended. They hunted us down and murdered us with delights of cruelty. The Allmother loves us and wants us back. All of us.”

‘We’, huh? Gilda shouldn’t really be surprised by then.

“In the northern lands, isolated and forgotten, our ancient history thrived. Customs remained and the Cult of The Harpy passed on, generation to generation, far from Celestia’s eyes. A young lord rose among the others, and he ruled ancient Griffindell after his parents, a descendant of the first Lords of the Skies. A pureblooded patriarch of our race. Even with all the lies Celestia told our brethren, his claim cannot be denied for we have records proving it. And this is why Lady Gwendolen mated with him. She will bring back the Cult of the Harpy and he is a devout follower. This makes him the best king we could hope for, even if such details are secret. For now.”

“Why did she lie?” Gilda had an idea but wanted to hear. “Celestia, I mean.”

“Because she fears the Allmother. She and Grover tried to destroy The Emperor’s legacy and the world forgot as time passed, but we did not.” Gladys grinned wickedly. “Most important, She has convinced Celestia she never existed in the first place. As far as Celestia thinks, The Harpy was never real, but a false god worshiped in Grigor’s empire. And this is why we keep Her secret.”

That explained why the Princess was so stingy about the whole situation. She didn’t know for sure what went on. Ponies talked about her as though she was perfect and oh-so-awesome. Interesting. Gilda wanted to meet The Harpy… The Allmother. It felt as though she already knew her, somehow. If the ponies had their princess, it seemed fair griffons should have their ‘princess’ too.

“Celestia and her sister are liars, Gilda.” Gladys concluded. “They lied to us about our heritage, they lied to the world about the Emperor and The Mother of Storms. She lied about herself and about her little ponies and the damage they caused. Most importantly, Celestia stole your soul, and She wants it back. And this is why you find yourself drawn to Griffindell, Her city.”

“I suppose Lady Gwendolen is a sort of leader, like the Princesses, and she follows this Harpy… Allmother… The Mother of Storms? Same as they follow… Harmony? If it could even be compared.”

“Yes, it is a good analogy. Yes.” Gladys nodded. “Although ponies do not believe in Harmony as an intelligent force, more like the processes of magic and the world.”

“Now…” Gladys put down her glass. “We have more practical issues at paw. You told the clerk you wanted to go to Baltimare, and it is good. Miss Gerdie was made prisoner in the wake of Princesses Twilight’s and Cadance’s foray into Celestia’s lies. I would like you to check on her for us.”

Something drove a schism in between the freaking princesses. Damn… Ponies must be going nuts! She stole a glance at Gladys. It wouldn’t surprise her if the whole situations had been engineered. Lady Gwendolen and The Lion seemed smarter all of sudden. Wow. That was big! Like… World-changing big.

“After you’ve shown your allegiance and mettle, we will help you get to Griffindell. In fact, Gerdie herself ought to put you in the right path.” Gilda frowned at her. “Don’t look at me like that. Nothing comes free, Gilda. One paw washes the other.”

“And do keep the scarf out of sights until you get to Snow Mountains. Celestia has countless eyes under her employ and The Harpy’s symbol ought to remain hidden.”

To be honest, Gilda thought it was fair. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Why, absolutely.” Gladys smiled.

“I have a few friends and I would like you to protect them from the Mayor's Wife until I can return and put her in her place.” Gilda could hope… “I’m probably asking do a lot… But…”

Gladys laughed. “Ah… Revenge. Another mark of a true Child of the Harpy. When you understand your place, you will know you ask for little compared to your worth. Tell me of them, and we will ensure they will remain safe, and ignorant.”

***

The day passed calmly and without any additional drama. Gilda mostly sat idly on their room while Gruhilda slept on their bed. They even got a nice lunch and a dinner with some grilled meat and potatoes. But after nightfall Gilda didn’t feel like sleeping, despite being so tired.

She just sat on the fluffy bed, rather sleepy, but too anxious. If she slept, she’d awake in some weird dream of a past life.

Grunhilda though, seemed to have slept too much during the day, because she just sat near the headboard too, staring at her feet as though she was doing something wrong.

“So… Are you from Griffonstone?” Gilda asked, smiling a bit at her.

“No…” She said softly. “Mamma and Pappa came from Snow Mountains with me, but they died in a train accident. The Royal House took care of my situation, and the ponies sent me to an orphanage here. Princess Luna’s orphanage didn’t exist yet.”

“Hum…” Gilda, at least, was old enough to take care of herself when her mother died. Also, she supposed ponies tried to help, but the bureaucratic structure of the time just put her in a griffon orphanage. Not bad, since the Royal House helped those, like the Griffonstone Hospital. When pony stuff worked, it was nice. “And you were working in the Mayor’s office?”

“I lived there. One day the owner of the orphanage told me I had to leave and find a job because I was too old, and the government wasn’t paying enough anymore. In the City Hall they let me stay in a room under the stairs and I helped clean the place. They paid me some money.”

Gilda couldn’t decide if it was charity or if getting an irregular spared more funds to be… Diverted. She was probably too sensitive about such stuff. Most griffons were probably nice enough rather than corrupt assholes. Regardless, weird. “Didn’t they leave you stuff? Your parents, I mean… Money, their possessions? Didn’t they have anything? At all?”

Gilda could imagine the answer, and what might have happened to her things, but preferred not to say it loud because it would only upset the hen.

“I don’t know.” Grunhilda said softly. “They didn’t tell me anything. They just sent me to the orphanage in the city and I lived there until recently. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Do you even know how old you are? What is your birthday?” Gilda believed orphanages kicked them out at eighteen with a chance to stay until twenty-one under some conditions. But with the whole mess of the Chancellor eating their basic income… She could imagine a young griffon girl would get screwed. Especially when she seemed so large for her young age and had such an undefinable weirdness about her. Not to mention it seemed easy someone would take advantage of her. And with her origins… Documents may have been lost in the accident.

Regardless, Grunhilda shook her head at Gilda’s question.

“What happened at the City Hall?” Gilda looked at the bigger griffon and she kept staring at her forepaws. “Did you get some visions? Or weird dreams?”

As Gilda thought of and recalled her own dream, she realized she did say some weird things when they tied her to the stake to burn. Things which sounded a lot like the ones Grunhilda was raving about.

“I dreamed I was hiding in an old and ugly place… And some bad griffons wanted to get me, but there was this awesome griffon lady with the sword, and she killed them… But they were too many. And they did really bad things to us… And then…” She stopped for a second, sobbing a little. “Then the nice griffon lady talking in my head told me I need to be strong. And that she loves me. And that you will take care of me, and not to be scared anymore.”

She spoke as though she confessed a sin. Shit… Griffons don’t go crazy. It’s the Allmother talking to them. The weather department probably coulçdn’t do anything about the storms. They used to be important to the griffons. Geez. Maybe Gina had those dreams too and it was why she got all excited with Gilda’s adventure.

Holy shit… No way the whole thing would end up well. With all the griffons being so upset about the Chancellor and his administration, it would blow up eventually. And if The Lion supported the cult, and vice-versa… Damn… A rebellion was the least of Gail’s worries. Celestia had one heck of a powder barrel on her hooves.

She grinned a little. A self-conscious and selfish grin. She couldn’t wait for it all to blow in the face of the jerks who tried to screw her up.

Then a soft sob pulled her out of her daydreaming. She acted before she thought and held the big griffon… Child? Teenager? She seemed adult, but… At the same time, she seemed so vulnerable too. Gilda just held her close and petted her head with the little crests that looked like little ears.

“It’s gonna be alright.” She supposed embracing the weird protective feeling she felt came with embracing the madness of the whole situation. She was no psychologist, but maybe it helped her anchor her own sense of reality in the middle of the chaos her life had become. Maybe she saw something of that young griffon she called a sister in her dream. She couldn’t know for sure. But she knew they were together in that disaster. “We’re gonna take care of each other.”

“Okay…” The other sobbed softly into her fluffy chest.

***

In the next morning, with exactly zero hours of sleep, while Grunhilda managed to sleep like a damn baby in her hug, Gilda hoped Gladys would keep her word. That the whole thing she got herself into wouldn’t prove too costly for her to pay in the end.

Once it was time to be up, she decided to, at least, freshen up a little in the bathroom. Grunhilda got a little too clingy, but a good ‘no’, set things straight. And when both were ready, they met Gladys in the lobby. Surprisingly, he big griffon they met in the entrance to their installation accompanied her. That guy who seemed like he had seen a lot of stuff.

And they had a ‘friend’. The one griffon who got away when he and his friends tried to have their way with Gilda. Well well…

“Do you know this bird, Gilda?” Gladys asked, grinning a little too happy with herself.

“Hell yeah, I know him! It’s one of the douchebags that tried to kill me!” She pointed at him.

Gladys turned to the green griffon with a smug. “You see, Mister Grodi? You could have spared yourself the shame. And a night in captivity.”

He didn’t answer with more than a few mumbles because he had a black eye, and his beak was tied with a rope.

“How did you get him?” Gilda looked at her with curiosity.

“Your description of Misses Grizelda and Gertrude reminded me of a pair of courtesans often… Peddling on the plaza before the teleporter facility. I asked the faithful Master Grofnar here to find them. He did, on a nearby hostel where mister Grodi harassed your friends for information. He was kind enough to accompany Master Grofnar here after some encouragement.”

“What about Grizelda and Gertrude?” Gilda growled at the green griffon.

“They have been taken to one of our fronts. A charity what takes care of less fortunate griffons.” Gladys explained with her superior smile. “We will keep them there. If you so desire, you can meet them if you return from your journey. I believe they are in debt to you. Unfortunately, the Mayor’s Wife is beyond our reach for the time being. But I suppose that you would wish to see to her reckoning personally anyways.”

“What do you want us to do with him?” She turned back to the griffon while talking to Gilda.

Grunhilda giggled. “Hurt him! Dumb bird hurt Miss Gilda!”

“How did we deal with pieces of shit like this in the time of the Empire, Gladys?” Gilda thought it a bit tasteless, but she couldn’t keep from grinning. The dumbass had indeed chosen the wrong side. In the end, it was all his fault. “How do we deal with this in the North?”

“Beheading. The Lord of whatever city would carry it out in public. But it is messy, and we can’t do it here. We will hang him if such is acceptable.” She shrugged and his eyes went wide. He tried talking, but only managed to mumble louder, just couldn’t free himself from ‘Master Grofnar’ and nobody really cared. “Would you like to watch?”

“You know… Nah. It’s enough knowing he’ll be out of circulation.” Gilda frowned. “I suppose I better get going to Baltimare and then Haybale. Sounds like it could be a while to reach Miss Gerdie.”

Gladys nodded. “Very well. Your friends from the hospital, as well as Mister Gary and Miss Greta are being watched and will be kept safe. If anything, someone made powerful enemies when they decided they wanted to get in your way. We take care of our own.”

Hell yeah. It felt good to be on top of things for once.

Everything settled, Gladys made sure they were ready to leave, and Wild North’s employees were nice to Gilda and her charge. They gave them a nice white fox pelt backpack the northerners used, rather than saddlebags, which Grunhilda happily wore. No money, but they did give them some traveling supplies: two canteens and some dried meat packed in deer leather.

Rainbow would freak out if she saw that thing. Regardless, Gilda stashed her scarf into the backpack too since Gladys said she shouldn’t wear it outside of the northern lands.

The teleporter room hid behind the other door on the corridor with the creepy statue. It had a raised platform, some three paws in height, made of white and gold tinted metalized crystal (or crystalized metal, Gilda didn’t know nor care). Next to it sat a sort of desk with all sorts of magical contraption doohickeys. Behind the desk stood a unicorn with a weird and forced smile. She could imagine how uncomfortable with his career plan working for such company he would be. She didn’t care. He waved all niceness and had a small wristband of iron links on his foreleg, greeting her.

Gladys accompanied them from his desk as he instructed them to stand on the platform, and then fiddled with the desk using his magic. A flash and a bang, Gilda finally left Griffonstone behind.

Aya Harpyia

Gilda took a deceptively long time to realize she hadn’t awakened and somehow found herself alone in a dark place. It was a dream, but the dream was missing. She couldn’t understand her situation in any other way. It didn’t necessarily make any sense, but it explained the bodiless sensation.

She couldn’t feel herself, or anything. She didn’t even feel as distressed as she should over her situation, and the overall sensation something had broken. As though her ability to dream had didn’t work as it should. Which didn’t make much sense either.

She couldn’t speak, she had no beak. She couldn’t move, she had nothing to move. She couldn’t feel, there was nothing to feel. She could barely hold a thought. Even the idea something was wrong eluded her as soon as she held to it.

“Do not fret, My Child. It will draw her attention.”

Oh, nice. The voice was back. But something felt different. She could hear it as something outside her own thoughts, rather than it intruded in them. It sounded pleasant, a melodic voice, and it didn’t speak in the Common Equestrian she spent her whole life listening to. Instead, it spoke in an ancient language she, somehow understood, despite never having learned, or even hearing it in her life.

Though, she had heard it before. She spoke it before. It felt like singing. Like one of those overplayed theater pieces in the Canterlot Theater she had to watch one night because Rainbow’s friend wouldn’t shut up about it.

Except instead of ponies neighing, she sung the most perfect of songs. But the voice nor herself didn’t sing. Their language sounded just like singing. It felt unusual, but right.

“Can you… Hear me?” Gilda tried and, much to her surprise, her voice came out even if she had no beak, no mouth, no lungs or anything.

“Always.” The voice answered, melodical and eerie.

“Who are you? Why are you talking to me?” She asked, though she already knew the answer. She had merely forgotten. She recalled her dream with Princess Luna.

She couldn’t think straight then. But in the present, she could. As she could remember hearing the storm in her dream. Outside. And the crying griffon. Most definitively, a griffon female. ‘Trying to get in’, into her head. Well, she certainly seemed like she got inside.

The voice she had heard before she had been born. If that made any sense. It was how she recalled it anyways.

It told her what she was, and that the world was hers before she was born. If that made any sense either.

“Just… Who are you?!” She asked again. Things just didn’t connect in Gilda’s head, and she felt like they should. That she should know that voice she recognized.

“I am the Cry in the Storm what brought your race into existence. I am the Mother of Storms who gave you the world and for whom the raptor in your soul cries for deliverance. I am the Allmother who first ruled the world. I am the shame you hide from. I am Mother Harpy.”

Suddenly Gilda awakened.

Everything was different, though. She was also the same she was when she fought those… Vile creatures, before they burned her in a stake. Much younger, though. Younger still than Gilda herself, but she liked that body… Memories associated with it made her recall her mother didn’t allow her acquiring many of the bad habits she had in the present time. Everything felt weird and disconnected. Conciliating memories from two different lives confused her, but she managed.

Regardless, she found it easier to fully immerse herself in that reality. She assumed the role of the young griffoness. No more than sixteen when her mother deemed her ready to be presented. To whom? It should be obvious. To the Emperor? Yes. Him. She wasn’t sure yet why, but she supposed memories would return to her at the opportune time. It felt like learning a skill, the more she remembered, the easier it became.

She never been so happy in her life. Her peers started seeing her as an adult. Finally, they stopped talking to her as though she was inept at everything. Finally ready to begin her training in earnest.

She blinked as her eyes adapted to the dark room. Deferentially dark, as she liked to think. She could see perfectly in the light given by the flames radiating light from the four corners of the room. They had, each, a large pyre made of black granite holding tall flames. She stepped on black marble, brought from the quarries in the southern Equestrian Heartland. They came a long way, from the birthplace of the Diamond Dogs. They now had meaning to their pathetic existence, drawing such wonderful stone from the bones of the earth to serve a higher purpose.

Of course, they worked in mines all over the Empire, but she didn’t really feel like thinking about Diamond Dogs in her special day.

A the table waited before her, made of dark granite with grooves for draining liquids efficiently. A smaller table next to it held surgical instruments. Cutting tools and spanners. A few fixators and clamps.

It amazed her the same blacksmiths who made swords, maces, axes, spearheads and such, could also make exquisite devices of such precision. She barely believed the ones on the small table belonged to her. Her mother ordered them crafted and personalized especially for her. Was she very rich? Or did she have such prestige the greatest toolmakers in the Empire would compete for her favor?

It took a while, but the soldiers finally brought him. A young zebra with a bang of mane in front of his eyes. Deep purple eyes. If she didn’t know, she would never have guessed he was a warrior, despite his strong physique. He looked so innocent. Though probably not a very good warrior, considering the imperial soldiers captured in the attack to his city. Village. Wherever those things lived. He had been given a special honor, thanks to him actually trying to fight. Not many equines did.

She supposed she ought to thank him, if he would understand what honor he had bestowed upon him, coming from such a distant place, far past the ocean. But she knew better than try and talk to one of the prisoners. He wasn’t friendly. They didn’t understand the importance of the role they played.

He stared malevolently at her, as though he had the power to harm her in any way. But at least he didn’t shame himself trying to escape or begging as others had done. It would have ruined the whole thing. They were supposed to be strong and brave. This one would be brave to the end, and she found respect in her for him. Even if he was an equine who thought he could pick up a weapon and fight against his masters.

The soldier who brought him kept close but looked at her with the utmost reverence and respect. A large griffon male of tan body and white head with serious golden eyes. He wore the temple guard’s armor of golden chainmail with a golden peytral and an ogive shaped helmet. He had his heavy ceremonial axe of iron with him too.

Her mother entered soon after. A large and imposing griffon female with reddish fur and salmon plumage on her head, but fiery and perpetually angry red eyes. It didn’t really look very pleasant on the eyes under her blue satin cape held in place by a small chain of iron links, though. She wore it because it symbolized her position, and none would even think of mentioning it looked bad.

The older griffon sat on the floor and joined her paws together as she did whenever Gilda, or whoever she was in that life must pay full attention to her. Stern as always. “The celebration has begun. The Emperor and the Empress have started the rites and the Golden Guard has the sacrifices lined up. Are you ready? Do you need any help?”

“Yes, mother.” She answered respectfully. “And no, I do not. You are not supposed to assist me. She will know.”

The older griffon nodded. “The Emperor is here, with his entire family and his court. She Herself watches. You are my daughter. You must be perfect. She will not accept anything less.”

“Yes, mother.” Gilda nodded. “I will not disappoint you.”

At that, the zebra grumbled something, impatient and defying. The gold-clad soldier growled and slapped him with the back of his paw. Her mother told him something in his own language, and he seemed surprised, but then launched an angry tirade of words Gilda didn’t understand.

Her mother ignored him, shaking her head and pointed at the table. “It is time and I care not if he understands the value of being chosen or not.”

The soldier shoved the zebra to lay on the bed, on his back, and tied his hooves go the corners with the leather straps. He stood on his hindlegs, bringing his heavy iron axe to bear, raising it above. Then he brought it down and the zebra's head fell on the cushioned basket under the table.

It happened so fast it almost surprised Gilda. Just like that, the zebra was dead. So fast she didn’t even have time to be shocked at the spurt of blood. And the confusing memories made it all the worse. She only kept her composure because it was a dream, or whatever the hell it was.

That said, the lifeless stare would have freaked her out of her mind, if she hadn’t gotten used to seeing dead heads. Her young self watched countless times as her mother or the other priestesses did the same ritual she would perform.

Confusing memories danced together in a blurry of intertwined life experiences. Too hard figuring out which were hers and which belonged to the young hen. Priestess… Whatever the word meant. Nonetheless, the young griffoness focused her mind on her task, not on the meaning of words. Gilda had no time to think as her thoughts were dragged along.

She had limited time, so she acted. It helped dealing with the fact the zebra guy was alive and talking less than a minute ago and suddenly wasn’t anymore. Part of her wanted to drop on her side and puke, but another, in control, coldly took the instruments in her paws and worked. Her paws still trembled though. Cold as she was, her nerves jittered. Not only because her performance mattered and her mother stood to her side, but because she took part in the death of another intelligent creature. It seemed easy when she watched the others. Did they ever feel the same?

The ritual was important, and his sacrifice was the thing which kept his village alive in the end. She demanded it. But he had talked to her seconds ago! She did the best to keep his face out of her mind… Focus on the value of his end, even if he didn’t understand. It helped.

It would keep the Empire whole, griffons and the other races in their respective places. For She overwatched everything, and as long as She remained in her throne, all would be well.

Gilda and the younger griffon both blocked such thoughts out of their minds and quickly shaved the fur from the side of his chest with the proper shaving knife. The metal was cold to the touch and its blade so sharp it glided past the hair effortlessly.

Then she left it on the smaller table, and with the short knife she cut open his skin past the leather. Blunt-pointed scissors made their way past the white connective tissue, tearing it and opening it, rather than cutting. Past what little fat the young and fit zebra had, separating them apart through to the red and white muscle.

The nastiness went away, and her mind focused on not screwing up her job. Moist, slippery, and smelling of blood. Unnerved and at the same time clinical in her approach. She opened a window. Spread muscles apart with the scissors as she should not damage the valuable source of nourishment. Or at least should do it as little as possible, out of respect. If anything, She required prey and sacrificed died quickly.

His bones would be burned, his muscles would be served in diverse dishes to the Emperor’s own, and his liver given to the warrior who had captured him. None of that mattered more than a fleeting thought. Her real goal was harvesting his heart.

Spreaders helped her keep her access open and identifying the muscles all the way to the ribs.

She cut the connective tissue and another spreader helped pull apart his ribs and then she pulled his lung, pink and healthy, out of the way. The smell of blood did strange things as it crawled up her nostrils and made everything slippery. Conflicting feelings made the fur on her back stand and her beak salivate, but she held everything at bay. She could see it. The pericardium, in the mess of flesh. So much more nebulous than the drawings of her teachers. She identified the major arteries, such as pulmonaries and the aorta, not to mention the trachea and esophagus. But she didn’t focus on them too much. They were a reference.

She cut open the sac which contained his still beating heart. She cut arteries, veins and nerves. Blood pooled on the table and stained her fur and her paws. Her mind raged with a flurry of contradicting emotions between excitement and disgust. She held her exterior stone cold and stoic as she removed the heart, still beating in her paws, and placed it on the tray next to her. Stupid thing was eerily warm, and the blood made it slippery. She did it as fast she dared, under penalty of dropping it, and kept her trembling paws as firm as she could. Her mother watched…

She cursed under her breath. The pressure starte getting to her. She must be fast. She must do it right. She harvested the heart of a guy alive minutes ago! At least the hardest part ended. Or at least the more ‘technical’ part.

She focused on the tray that kept the heart.

It was made of electrum, with the symbol of the griffon wings etched and filled with gold and white gold. The blood pooled up on it and Gilda stared at her mother, who nodded at her while the soldier opened a door for her. The light of fires in the night entered with the smell of dry sand and the hot desert air seasoned with the smell of roasting meat and aromatic herbs.

She walked through an open corridor off the side of a pyramid, with the ceiling missing due to the slanted wall, carrying the tray with her beak. In the back of her mind, part of her recoiled at the sight of the still beating heart, albeit slowly, and the blood pooling in the tray. Another held her panic at bay at the magnitude of what waited her. She kept her eyes down or she might not have the strength to move forward.

Walking out of the black floor her paws met with the hot sands and a crowd greeted her with thunderous cheer.

The night seemed dark as the giant bonfires and torches everywhere blinded her to the light of the stars. Only the moon was visible up above.

The temple city of Aen Hader surrounded her. She was born and spent her whole childhood there, learning and coexisting with others like her, destined to serve. The specific path she would be steered towards remained to be decided, but her journey really began there. To her sides stood giant stone grandstands filled with thousands of griffons. At the top of the one on the right was the Emperor’s podium where he, undoubtedly watched with his whole family and the imperial court.

She could almost feel his stare upon her.

To the other side, much of the same, sans the Emperor’s Podium. Thousands of griffons had come visit the holy city and witness the celebration around her. Between the stands her path took her over a sandy field with countless captive creatures tied to poles. Archers stood ready, paying attention to her young self, passing by with the tray and the sacrificial offering.

The crowd repeatedly chanted verses of praise to the Mother of Storms. The Allmother. Mother Harpy. All referring to a single being. All for Her, and Gilda, or whatever was the girl’s name she used to be in that life understood so. The confusing and the storm of emotions didn’t help though. Part horrified; part scared. Part excited, part anxious. The cheering of the crowds and the reverent chants. The strong metallic smell of blood which by itself revulsed and at the same time excited her. The cries of the captives. Hundreds, if not thousands, tied to the poles and waiting for whatever destiny had been reserved to them.

She found herself at the base of a tall stairway. A black pyramid covered in iron, tall as a small mountain. The iron still retained much of the heat after a day under the desert’s sun, but she did it anyway. She got used to it after a few steps.

And step by step, she climbed the stairs. She remembered her mother doing the very same… Not too fast as to end it too soon, nor too slow, as to bore the crowds. In the night before her mother talked to her, before she went into reclusion and preparation for the ritual. She said she should never mention it, but ‘She’ lived from their excitement. Her younger self’s job was to provide for both.

It was a climb and an effort, but she reached the summit of the black pyramid and there she found the Sanctum of the Holiest. Words Gilda didn’t know, and had no idea what they meant, but they held a deathly importance to her younger self. She gasped, finding herself at the entrance of a structure, no doors, only the flickering light of flames inside.

She didn’t tarry, walking inside with some hurry now she was so close. Past the entryway she found a dimly lit square atrium. Tall flames atop black pyres lit the room in consonance to a pair of smaller pyres between the forelegs of obsidian statues of a griffon female. They laid on their stomachs and with their wings pulled up high. Their heads above the flames, were adorned with arched headdresses and all manner of gold adornments with encrusted gems. Between the statues, a short flight of stairs led to an arching doorway hidden behind white curtains.

Torchlight from the other side allowed her to see the figure of a large griffon female behind it. The young griffon girl Gilda shared thought with gasped, almost let go of the tray. Her paws seemed heavy and her heart beat much too fast. The pungent odor of blood in her breath didn’t help and the tray seemed heavier by the second.

But she didn’t delay for long. She took small and reverent steps toward the curtains as the figure on the other side remained unmoving.

It felt like an eternity until she finally reached for the curtains and pulled one of its sides out of the way and the being on the other side revealed herself to her.

A female griffon. Large, tall. A powerful frame with an elegant shape covered in snow-white fur and fluffy feathers until her neck where her white feathers met her blackening plumage. Like a dark sheen of silver until it became black, framing her head of the same pure white. A crown of dark feathers pulling up to make her crest like a natural crown. She had an elegant jet-black beak with cold and harsh stormy-gray eyes locked on the young griffon girl. Gilda felt smaller than she already was before the elegant and terrifying creature.

A fearsome set of aquiline features stared down at Gilda and formed a lascivious grin.

Without a word, Gilda lowered her head and offered the heart to Her, taking a pair of steps up into her sanctum, where She sat on top of large pillows of white and black silk. The light came from behind, where iron statues of beautiful griffonesses, standing on their hindlegs, held lit torches. An open wall showed the dark desert under the moonlight, with its subtle and waving dunes.

With long and elegant black forelegs crowned with obsidian talons, She reached and pulled up Gilda’s beak to stare at her, speaking softly, but with a commanding tone. “Gulsana begat you, has she not? Her strong lineage is readily apparent on you.”

She didn’t answer. Instead resisted an urge to avoid her gaze, avert her eyes. But she nodded curtly shortly after.

“Who sired you?” The large griffoness kept Her eyes on her so intensely she worried.

“Gulbaz, Mother Harpy.” She spoke as softly and meekly as she dared. “Commander of His Grace’s Golden Guard.”

The large female then turned her attention to the offering in the tray. It still dribbled iron-smelling blood out of its vases and pulsated slowly. It tinted Her black limbs as She raised it above and let the red liquid smear Her black and white before she brought it down and Her beak teared into the meaty apex and more sticky blood dripped down Her face.

Sitting next to the pillows, Gilda kept her eyes on the mighty griffoness that delighted Herself with chunk, after chunk of dense and raw muscle her beak teared from the heart. She swallowed whole. Gilda, on the backseat to that young girl’s mind was torn between disgust and awe at the creature before her. It was a spectacle of macabre; she had just witnessed herself harvest the heart from that zebra guy as though it was a fruit hanging from a tree and then presented it to this…

Her size. Her elegance. Her pure physical beauty and might made the whole thing so surreal. She looked like something that shouldn’t exist. Too beautiful, too perfect. Too mighty and elegant. She wondered if that was how ponies felt before their Princesses.

And then… Eating a heart, oozing of blood and raw. Just… Raw meat. She understood the whole predator and carnivore thing. She really did get it and she didn’t even sweat it as much as some of the other griffons did. After all the things that happened to her even less… But there was something savage. Something uncivilized about it being raw. No. Not uncivilized. A better word was primal. There was something symbolic and primal in the whole ritual and maybe the girl’s thoughts dragged her own around, but she became mesmerized. Awed by that creature and Her act of consuming another creature’s heart.

Gilda was glad it was a dream. She could feel, somehow, it was a dream. A recollection from a past life, but through a dream.

When the great griffoness was done and She was liable to notice the young griffon girl staring at Her, Gilda lowered her head, but a blood-covered talon pulled her beak back up again.

“Tell me your name, My Child.” Her sultry voice and the smell of blood did weird things to Gilda she would rather not feel in public.

“I am called Ghadah.” Her eyes drifted down, despite her beak pulled up.

“Your sacrifice is accepted, Ghadah. And I welcome you into the Order.” She offered, with Her other paw, a strip of red, dense meat, dripping blood over the silky pillows. “I shall present you to the Emperor and your training begins now. Gulsana will be proud of you.”

It disgusted Gilda, but she didn’t have a choice. Ghadah opened her beak and allowed the other to feed her the dense raw muscle.

Damn… It tasted sweet and she realized she wouldn’t have rejected another sample.

Suddenly Gilda was herself again. Still in that same place and the great griffoness wiped her paws and beak with a fine piece of cloth. It didn’t feel like a dream anymore. She had in control of her faculties and her mind belonged to her again.

Then she licked a drop of blood that lingered in her beak. Why did it taste so damn sweet? Not sweet like a candy, but it was a strange taste to describe. It was coppery… But it tasted delicious.

“You still remember the taste of their blood. Zebras are not the best. Earth ponies are the sweetest to our tongues. Cooked meat is best, with the fats released and broken, not to mention muscle fibers and connective tissue.” She stared back at the great griffoness, letting her jaw hang at her smiling beak while she spoke. “Your digestive system was made for it, not for vegetal fibers and sugars. The brain recognizes good, nutritive food and rewards the creature. That is what you are feeling. It does taste of metal, but it tastes delicious to us. And repulsive to them. That is how it is supposed to be. You spent too long eating of their sugars in their candies and pastas. Your primitive brain remembers, however.”

“But raw meat can also be tasteful. Especially in the right context. And blood is like wine. It tastes different for every race, and one learns to identify it, as would a canterlotian sommelier.” She chuckled. “Of course, Canterlot did not exist at this time.”

She grinned at Gilda, then she turned to stare at a young griffon lady deeper in her alcove. She remained quiet and still and only when she shifted in her place Gilda managed to see her. She was big too. Like… Big as Grunhilda was big! For a second, she even thought it was her, but her coat had a different color.

“Leave us.” She commanded and the female jumped out of the bed of pillows. She had a strong physique under her steely-blue coat that had several scratch marks. Some of them were quite deep and Gilda flinched at the sight. Didn’t seem to bother the other griffoness, though. She had a quite beautiful plumage in her head and carried herself with a superior sophistication, like she thought too highly of herself. A playful smirk in her beak and a spark of devilishness in her blue eyes surrounded by cyan shadow, as though she knew something Gilda didn’t.

That was one heck of a punchable beak…

“Have fun out there.” The great white and black griffoness smiled wickedly at the other leaving before she acknowledged Gilda again and patted on the white pillows. When she hesitated at the recollection of the other griffoness, the larger one laughed. “Worry not, I will not hurt you. She is different. Wicked that one is, while you are more… Normal. Furthermore, you have questions; I will oblige.”

But before Gilda could ask her something, she continued. “You must accept however there are answers you are not prepared yet to understand. You spent too long far away, and your kind has forgotten much of what I have taught you.”

Okay, first, what the fuck?

“What are you?” Gilda just blurted out the question without thinking. She hadn’t noticed, but she was shaking and thinking straight after all that was not as simple as she thought. “Is this a dream?”

“Yes. This is a dream. My dream.” She insisted Gilda climbed onto the pillows, which she did after a second hesitation. For some reason she concluded that disobeying that griffoness would be a bad idea. “Worry not. You are tired. Your slumber is deep, and Luna is busy. We have time and I have restrained your ability to dream. She should have trouble finding you. As for your other question, I am the Beginning, and you already knew that.”

Yeah… Weirdly enough. The voice in her head. Those thoughts which intruded on her own. She, somehow, recognized the big griffon female. And She smiled at Gilda when the realization came to her.

Everything felt too new for her. Never, in her life had she even remotely considered such a being existed, much less had any relation to her in any way whatsoever.

“Are you… Responsible for the stuff that happened to me?” Her voice came out more sheepishly than she intended when she simply wanted to speak normally, but the whole thing was so outwardly bizarre and intimidating.

“Yes, and no.” The other reached for a small table with bottles of many shapes, colors and sizes. Uncorked one smelling of wine and offered some to Gilda in a fancy crystal chalice. “I have engineered the situation Griffonia finds itself in. It will facilitate Gilad becoming the Griffon King. It is his rightful place, after all, chosen by me. And I have little issues with causing suffering to those griffons. Adversity is a great teacher, and they will find their way back to me through it. As have you. You are special, however. As you have seen.”

Somehow a revelation and at the same time something obvious. She really should have realized by the visions she had. She just didn’t fully understand those.

“You are hurting griffons I care about.” Gilda growled. It seemed disrespectful and wrong, but she did anyway.

“Such fiery defiance!” The bigger one delighted. “Most who know me would not dare. I find it quite refreshing, in such a soul so special to me. I was wrong. This life has made you good, and you will be quite powerful. Your friends are quite lucky I have endeared myself so to you.”

Gilda just blinked at Her.

“Do not play coy.” She said plainly and laughed at Gilda’s surprise. “Privilege is such a fleeting thing. It changes with whoever has the sharpest talons. I have taught My Children to use it well, and it is such an easy lesson to learn for your kind. When the Dawnbringer would punish you for defending yourself, I would applaud you for being stronger and teaching My Commandment once more.”

Gilda frowned again as words came to the forefront of her mind, then she recited those words as though they had been ingrained in her head after exhaustive repetition. “Love your own infinitely. Hate your enemy infinitely. Take everything and give nothing. That is the Raptorial Creed. That is The Harpy’s Commandment.”

Gilda allowed herself a little guilty grin. “Princess Twilight would have a seizure at that.”

The bigger one shared in her grin. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, as much as the others, was never meant to exist as she does. The ponies were supposed to be nothing more than wardens of nature and serve their masters. In the very beginning, they were not even supposed to possess free-will. But it is something you are not prepared to understand quite yet. There are more important issues that we must discuss.”

“Celestia destroyed the concept of faith. Priestesses simply do not exist in the world anymore.” The big one explained as Gilda tasted the wine. It was probably the best thing she’s ever tasted in her life. Present life, anyways. “It is a shame your brain lacks the language for you to experience that in its fullness. You have been relegated to such a limited life.”

Gilda stared at the glass. So, blood, okay. But fine wine, forget. Thanks, brain.

“We shall fix this soon enough. I will be delighted to show you our regional bloodwine.” The white and black one smiled as though they were having a pleasant conversation over cookies.

Geez. She just ate a heart Gilda had harvested off a prisoner, and She was already talking about wine. Maybe the worst was that Gilda actually looked forward to it. Why did she find it so easy to trust that big griffon lady? She experienced feelings she had never felt before. As though Ghadah’s… Was that her name? As though her thoughts lingered, or something.

The other griffoness interrupted her thoughts. “In this past life you were a Swordmaiden, one of the Emperor’s mates and one of his bodyguards. It was one of two paths a griffoness in that position would take. A Swordmaiden, or a Loremaster. Sharp sword and magic, or sharp tongue and mind. Both sides of my favored Children at the service of the Emperor. The first of My Children.”

“We lost a war, didn’t we?” Gilda sat and tried to make herself comfortable. “Wait… How did you get into my head? What about Princess Luna? Won’t she be suspicious?”

“As I said, you are not prepared to understand many of the answers to many of the questions you have. I will do my best to explain, however.” The large griffoness settled Herself on her pillows. “We lost much more than a war. The world used to be ours. But that is another story. The war you mean is a rather recent one. Emperor Grigor I conquered most of the world in my name. The life you remember was past his conquest, and soon before his fall. He was the Holy Emperor, and one of his vassal kings betrayed him in beseeching assistance with our most hated enemy. Grigor, however, failed to strike him down and died believing the Traitor King would return to our midst. He failed to heed my commands.”

She frowned and the conversation seemed to have soured the wine in her chalice. “She marched against this very city. My Holy City. And laid siege to it, seeking to destroy me. Fighting the Empire was an insurmountable challenge, but I knew, and so did Grigor that the might of our old enemy would not be contained much longer as soon as she was born into this world. She commanded six Battlehorn legions and she, with Grover and his rebels did defeat us. Grigor retreated with his army. But the freed slaves and captives joined their insurrection and battle after battle they became stronger. She chased Grigor all the way to Griffindell. The empire fell apart. Even if the city itself remained.”

“I will tell you no further. Remembrance will come. Suffice to say you are choosing a side in a war older than time itself and has been waged countless existences before. As for Luna, it is sufficient to say that she is incredibly powerful and the mind is the province of her powers. She and her sister are not to be trifled with and this is why I must remain hidden until the time is right. And so must you. Tantabus should not find you, however, without her magical token. Yet, if Luna is drawn to your mind again, she will notice something is very wrong. You must be cautious. You are hidden for now, but she will be drawn to you if you call for her.”

The griffon in front of her huffed quietly. “I cannot guarantee your safety until you reach the lands under my absolute control. Snow Mountains Hold. Fortunately, Luna is busy, and you are not the only griffon she must mind.”

“Didn’t she see my dream? I mean, if The Sisters hid everything that happened, she would recognize stuff in my dreams.” Gilda asked. Not nervous, but curious instead.

“Good question. Luna believes that the individual begins and ends with birth and death. She believes that memories that are imprinted into the soul are ‘leftovers’ of past individuals who ‘used’ that soul, for lack of a better term. She is not wrong, as they usually remain separate from the memories of the individual. They can be brought to the surface, however. And that is what I did for you. To help you remember.”

Well, supposed that to her the soul made the individual… In reality, it was a bit of a strange conversation. But she also supposed that she wasn’t in a position to argue. Maybe it was the whole point of view thing, but Gilda was convinced that girl was herself. Ugh… Never in her life she’s had to deal with that sort of stuff. Sounds like ‘pony nonsense’.

“I spent my whole life thinking that The Sisters were good… You know… Nice…” Nevermind that talk of ‘older than time’… Whatever that meant. Gilda simply stared down at her glass with the wine. “I guess you helped me so you’re nicer.”

The other laughed. “‘Nice’ is a word Celestia taught the word so that she could tell her children what she wanted them to like. I am certainly not ‘nice’. My Son has described me as brutal and cruel at times and at others he found me caring, gentle and generous. I am what griffons need me to be. Like a good mother. Luna, though, is ‘nice’ to use her invested powers to protect her little ponies’ fragile minds. And those of other creatures, as well. But you will agree with me that the psychic monsters which attack minds and cause nightmares find her a nuisance, to say the least. And I am sure Luna has an unflattering opinion of me.”

Yeah… Sides.

“But how did you get into my head?” Gilda frowned.

“Why, you opened the door for me. You rejected Luna’s protection.” The larger griffon grinned. “It was an act of your free will.”

Yes… She did. She supposed she chose a side, right back when she punched that jerk in the beak.

Actually more important, she mentioned ‘that’ city. It caused Gilda to stare up at the great griffoness. Battlehorns seemed, obviously, as combat-trained unicorns… And she supposed that she wouldn’t talk about that anymore since she expected Gilda to remember. But did she live there? And…

“You have a son?” For some reason she thought that was interesting. There was some stuff about her being the ‘mother of all griffons’. “As in, your actual son?”

“Grigory. You will be delighted to meet him. Such a far cry from that impudent creature spawned from Griffonstone’s mayor and his mate.” She smiled. “A future king in the making.”

“Hum… I guess we’ll see. What is the deal with Grunhilda?” She frowned. “You’ve been talking to her too, haven’t you?”

“Oh, the poor girl.” The great griffoness grinned devilishly. “She is a poor creature lost in a scary world who has found an anchor and an example to follow when hers were taken away. She owes her life to you, and she understands that. She also has an understanding of what would be of her had you not interfered. What will you do with her? Will you become endeared to her advances? Perhaps you will accept the servitude she offers so openly? Will you use her as a tool? Does she have skills that you are willing to make use of? Or will you grow tired of her thralldom, and she will become a burden? Still, will you be willing to carry that burden? Or will you leave her to fend for herself? I am curious to see what you will do.”

“Is this supposed to be a game?” Gilda growled again.

“Hardly. This is very much as serious business as the hostile takeover of a nation. If anything, this is an evaluation.” She didn’t like hearing that, but the bigger griffon didn’t care and actually seemed to take some delight in Gilda’s anger. Much like Gladys… One paw washes the other, indeed. “If you expect me to sponsor you, you must prove your worth. You were born with the right soul, but what you are is a product of many things. It would pain me to reject you, but if you failed to impress, I would have no use for you. In the coming conflict and beyond.”

“See it on the bright side, Child.” She gave Gilda another devilish grin. “I will not punish you for defending what is yours, and I will welcome you when you have proven your worth.”

Then She became serious, and it made Gilda certain she ought to pay attention. A lot of it. “You have chosen a side, My child. You are not the same you were in this dream. But your soul is dear to me, and I find it difficult to dissociate the soul from the individual. You have another choice to make. You will be useful to me, and I am very generous to those who serve me. You already started on the path back home. Do not falter.”

Well, she supposed she couldn’t really ask for more. Especially when if she showed up again ‘in the system’ she was liable to end up in Shatteredrock. There was also Grunhilda… She didn’t feel like leaving her to fend for herself after what happened. But something cropped up in her thoughts as the conversation seemed to be wrapping up.

“What do I do if Luna shows up in my dreams again?” It didn’t seem as though there was a lot she could do if that happened.

The great griffoness shook Her head, however. “You will be in trouble. As long as you do not draw her in, you have virtually become invisible to her. The technicalities are pointless to discuss, and my magic is complex… You will not understand them for now. Unless you seek her assistance, she will not come. Unless you do something witless, she will not come.”

Yeah… There was also the problem that Luna was likely to have Gilda under arrest, like she did to that old griffon in the hospital. She didn’t know if she could, somehow, find where she was via a dream, but she wasn’t willing to test that.

To be honest, she didn’t know if she would be okay with the things that Gabriel guy told her. It involved a cult that included whatever the heck it was that happened to her with all that talk of souls and past lives or a heart-eating… Whatever the fuck that griffon lady was.

Heh… Who was she lying to? The truth was she didn’t have a choice and the reality was there was no other viable way for her other than siding with The Lion and with the big griffon lady.

At least she had a clear path ahead of her. She even had stopped caring that she was taking a side against her old friend. She wondered if Rainbow had gotten her letter. Maybe they’ll have some opportunity to have a conversation eventually. Maybe sort that out.

“One other thing.” The larger one added. “Do not mention my name. The success of our plan depends on The Sisters not knowing I truly exist. Do not refer to me outside of Snow Mountains hold. And even in there, do not do it trivially.”

She simply nodded. Gilda understood discretion seemed to be important in that whole business. And she had, indeed, chosen a side. At least for the time being. She should focus on finding Gerdie, anyways. She could figure out the rest from there. If She wanted Gilda to prove her something, she would give her a show!

“Our time is at an end, Child.” The big one told her with a caring stroke with the back of Her paw on Gilda’s cheek. It was kind of surprising… Gilda just didn’t know what to make of that. “Remember you are expected to succeed, and I will be waiting for you. Do not disappoint.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Gilda yawned into her paw, suddenly taken by drowsiness. “Sure.”

She supposed the conversation was over, since the large griffon lady simply watched as she surrendered to an inescapable slumber.

Author's Note

There was a line in the Harpy's dialogue where she refered to King Grover, but the text said Grigor. I fixed that.

Thriving in Adversity, Pt. 02

Gilda woke laying on her side on the couch with Grunhilda staring at her from the other side of the table on the middle of their cabin. Did there exist anything creepier than watching someone sleep? Gilda didn’t know, but her mood had improved significantly after a good sleep. The dream also helped a lot, despite the content… Which possibly was creepier than watching someone sleep, but gave her some confidence.

“Hey, Grunhilda. What’s up?” She sat and yawned. The window showed a blue sky and soft green plains as far as the eye could see.

“I found a few tables with ponies playing cards. And a bar. But nothing really important.” She said in her soft voice.

“It’s just a small airship going to a small town full of pony farmers.” Gilda shrugged. “They’re not going to invest in a lot of fancy stuff. Most of these ponies don’t really have a lot of money anyways. It’s just some stuff to pass the time.”

“Oh.” The big griffoness acquiesced with a soft nod. “There’s a pretty view from the main deck, though.”

“Yeah, let’s go check it out.” Gilda stood and climbed down the seat, smiling at the other. “It’s supposed to be a short trip. Maybe we can see the city already.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda said simply and followed Gilda out.

She led the way, walking out while Grunhilda donned her backpack. Looking back from the door, she took notice of the griffon’s blank expression as she did so. What went on inside her head?

Memories of the dream returned again. That… Thing communicated with her and put a lot of light over some of the weird stuff she’d been experiencing. Better not to bring up the subject with Grunhilda again. She did warn Gilda not to use her name outside their lands. Avoiding conversation would be a good idea until they were clear.

Speaking of the dream, apparently her kind wasn’t very nice in the past. Although… ‘Nice was a word Celestia invented’. Gilda wasn’t convinced what they did to Ghadah, or to her could be justified. It really felt like they had taken a side… It had become a theme.

Although the pony whose every single pony in existence seemed to know about… The one with the cape and the hat. He tried to stop it. Gilda sighed, no point on lingering thoughts about that stuff. She should focus on the moment and meeting Gerdie. Then figure out a way to take Grunhilda with her to Griffindell. All that stuff about the past could wait.

A few ponies lounged about on the corridor but made way for the two griffons. Grunhilda’s size likely intimidated them, and ponies would prefer not to see her angry. And Gilda was already big compared to most ponies.

A cheap rug ran along the corridor and varnished wooden walls made up the cabins on both sides. A bit of a cramped corridor, lit with candles on the walls. Beyond, they entered the lounge Grunhilda had described, with a few tables for card games and a small bar. A cute pegasus mare selling drinks and many ponies spent time there playing cards or at her bar.

A set of doors led outside to the foredeck and many ponies talked close to the safety railings. The wind caused by the airship’s flight fluttered her crest and the air smelled of grass. More ponies walked around or just sat and talked under the sun. Nothing important seemed to be happening, so she made her way to the bow and Grunhilda followed.

The typical blue skies of the Equestrian Heartland above, a bit of a harsh wind blew at them due to the ship’s cruise speed. It navigated much higher than most griffons or pegasi would fly. The city itself was in view too. A small town, about the size of a single neighborhood in Griffonstone and even smaller in comparison to Baltimare. A gargantuan blob of farms and their associated productive lands surrounded the city, intent on taking over the soft hills and prairies that surrounded it. Deep green, green, and more shades of green along with browns, yellows and golden in patches.

“That is a lot of pony stuff!” Grunhilda declared with huge, impressed eyes while the wind fluttered her ears-like crest.

“You never left Griffonstone, right?” Gilda chuckled.

“Mamma and Pappa died when I was too young. I don’t remember a lot… There was a lot of snow, though.” She told Gilda as though she had done something wrong.

“Well, griffons have farms too. They’re not that close to Griffonstone, though. They’re closer to the west, towards Beachhome. Something about the soil. Stuff you can’t change with a weather team. There are also dairy farms, but they are a bit to the north, closer to the other farms because they need to grow food for the cows and stuff. I don’t know a lot about it.”

Leaning on the railing, she could see the dairy farms dotting the sea of cultivated lands. There was also a double rail line. It was interesting the city itself wasn’t that big, but it had a large rail station associated to it and the individual properties had agglomerates of buildings. She didn’t know how in the heck a farm worked other than it produced stuff to eat, but she could imagine the farms housed their employees. Meanwhile the city aggregated the whole and provided services.

Farmers needed horseshoes, after all. They needed to get their produce outside. As far as Gilda knew, the railroads belonged to the Crown and companies operated them, similar to the freight teleporters, but teleporters were expensive and trains could move huge amounts of goods relatively cheap.

While they looked, the airship had started its descent and Gilda could actually see the green corn stalks. Further ahead an airship occupied a single berth on what seemed like a ridiculously small station with a few additional berths which held a pair of airships. They likely didn’t get many travelers, or fancy ones.

***

Landing was straightforward once the berth was free, and the other airship maneuvered away from their flight path. It was the middle of the afternoon when the airship was finally secured on the dock and deboarding the ship was even faster. The crewponies took them to a different side of the platform once they disembarked, away from the passengers waiting to board.

A single berth made up the station along with a covered platform and a building which seemed to exist solely to assist with operations. A few families and friends welcomed ponies they traveled with. No one paid the hens much attention. Only a pair of earth ponies wearing a leather barding with a golden badge showing a figure of a rectangle.

Just great. They had barely arrived, and the local militia already eyes them. It probably had something to do with the military airship she had heard about.

She did her best no to stare and, fortunately, Grunhilda either didn’t notice or refrained from staring too. The ponies left them alone as they walked out of the station into a dry dirt road. It led into the city itself in between two wooden fences identifying grazing areas dotted with black and white cows lazily munching at the grass while calves followed.

Gilda didn’t know the flying etiquette in the city and would rather draw as little attention as possible. Her feet remained on the dirty ground.

“I’m kinda hungry.” She told her companion and the big girl immediately sat to pick her backpack and opened it. Dug a pack of dried meat from it for her and another for her.

“Hum… We don’t really have a lot of food Miss Gilda.” She stared back inside.

“Yeah… I suppose that Gladys wouldn’t help out too much.” Fair enough, she supposed, with all she had already done for her. “Chill. We’ll figure something out.”

Their beaks teared the dried meat easily enough. Gilda thought it salty, but satisfying, if a bit leathery. Not that it mattered much because they swallowed pieces whole anyways. Funny she would think of it. Little griffons instinctively knew not to bite off morsels too big to swallow.

Once done, they resumed their walk towards the city and Gilda didn’t mind the scenery, but Grunhilda seemed curious about everything and often hovered a few feet above to see further for a while until she saw a couple of cows near the fence.

“Oh! Cows!” Grunhilda squealed like a child and promptly propped herself on the fence. “Hi cows!”

Gilda stopped and watched. She had probably had never seem a cow before. Gilda hadn’t either, but she worried about other things. She didn’t really care much for them and their constant munching.

Then the cow talked. “Mooooooo-cho gusto, meeting you!”

Grunhilda gasped profoundly with huge, surprised eyes that would’ve been more at place in a child along with her comically open beak. “Ooooh! It talked!”

Gilda scratched her head. She hadn’t really spent a lot of time thinking about cows. “Uh… Yeah. I guess they do talk.”

“Young lady, I should say! Of course, we talk! What an idea!” The cow by the fence moo-talked back to them in the most offended of tones.

Another cow giggled and hoofed at the grass. “Don’t mind her. She’s like that. Most creatures don’t really know a lot of cows!”

Holy cow… They could talk! Gilda never thought those things actually had enough intelligence to hold a conversation! Why in the feathering world would they just let other creatures own them?!

Whatever… She had actually important things to mind. Rolled her eyes at the fact she was going to ask a cow for directions but did anyways. “Hey. We just arrived and need to find someone. Where should I go?”

One cow looked at the other and the more friendly one answered. “The farmhooves talk of a place called ‘The Barn’ in town. They go there after work, and it seems that everything happens there.”

Well, at least she had the name of a place where to start… “Thanks. Come on, Grunhilda.”

“Okay. Bye cows!” The other jumped from the fence and fell in line with Gilda’s hurried pace. “Do you know the place?”

“No.” Gilda said without looking at her and kept her eyes on the dirt path between the fences. The small town sat in the distance. “If it is a popular place, we will find it no sweat.”

Grunhilda didn’t answer. Instead kept close to Gilda and looked over the fences, curious at the cows, the farmponies working on the fields, doing their farm chores. None of it particularly interesting to Gilda.

They walked for a fair while until they finally reached the city proper. As one would have imagined, it smelled of grass, cows, and ponies. Basically a collection of little houses organized in random dirt streets radiating sloppily from the central area with a market. The only building taller than two stories was the town hall, made with masonry while all the rest had, at best, stone foundations, a wooden structure, and thatched roof.

Colorful ponies talking and walking everywhere with the usual cheer of pony cities, especially in the market. The standard fare, simple stores, and a few specialized ones. Nothing fancy or even remotely large as the bigger stores in Griffonstone.

The only thing she knew of farmers was that they weren’t particularly good fighters when the Emperor’s finest came demanding tribute. She supposed it didn’t change at all.

“Alright… Now all we gotta do is find this ‘Barn’.” She grumbled, looking one way and the other until Grunhilda poked her shoulder with a talon and pointed at an actual barn. Smack in the middle of town, in front of the central area, dominating the market with its presence and its red wood walls and white roof. Complete with a window above the large doors and a crane-thing. “Right. That does look like a barn.”

She grunted and Grunhilda giggled. Of course, the thing looked like a barn. She just didn’t expect the damn ponies to make a bar out of the place they worked at to begin with! A bar barn? Stupid ponies.

She started on her way there and Grunhilda followed. Inside it looked like a decent enough rustic restaurant with a bar. Or a large bar with many tables, a few ponies serving up food and drinks. All sorts of ‘farm decoration’, such as hoes, forks, and stacked bales of hay occupied every open space. The floor remained beaten dirt covered with straw for flooring. ‘Horse stuff’ and it, honestly, irked Gilda. She felt as though she’d catch some disease if she stayed there too long.

She went straight to the bar, where an earth pony mare gave them a concerned glance. A fit-looking white and red earth-pony mare wearing a green handkerchief around her neck. Still, the pony did her best to sound welcoming and friendly. “Hi! Welcome to The Barn. Do you all need anything?”

“Yeah. Uh…” Gilda sat and put her paws on the table, trying to keep a reserved tone and at the same time not sound too suspicious. “I’m looking for someone. A friend.”

The mare squinted at her and hummed. It always amazed Gilda how transparent ponies could be.

“Let me guess…” Gilda grunted. “You think this is related to the griffon airship…”

“Well, you all will forgive me…” She spoke in a ‘farmpony accent’. “But it is mighty suspicious. I mean… Them high and mighty princesses show up, and then them royal guards come and get everypony to hide. Then some high faluting griffon military airship shows up with a Celestia-damned storm… And when it’s all said and done, we hear them griffons ponynapped the Prince-Consort. And as though all that weren’t enough, Goldies told us that Princess Twilight and Princess Cadance are to be apprehended by the local militia if they show up again. In the end, they took off with the princess’ friends.”

The pony said nothing new, and Gilda resisted the urge to sigh. Not to mention that she knew nothing of some Prince-Consort and she didn’t care anyways.

“Yep. You’ll forgive us for being distrustful of outsiders.” The mare concluded. “But let it not be said that Haybale was found remiss in our duty to visitors. You said you all looking for somepony?”

“A griffon.” Gilda explained. “Gerdie.”

The mare hummed again and nodded. “Yes. She was here alright. Met the princesses and some of their friends, but I don’t know the details. Royal Guard took her with the princesses’ friends to Canterlot.”

“What!? Canterlot?” Gilda cried and drew the attention of all the ponies enjoying their drinks and meals in the place. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Well, that’s what them royal guards said.” The mare added. “It seems your friend is deep in something dirty.”

“Well, thanks.” Gilda distanced herself from the bar, towards the exit and Grunhilda followed.

“What do we do now?” She asked.

“We have to chase after Gerdie.” Gilda grumbled. “We need to find her if we… You know.”

She stopped short of mentioning being accepted with the northerner griffons, but she wasn’t sure Grunhilda understood it all, and more importantly, it was better not to voice some things.

“But how are we going to Canterlot?” Grunhilda whined.

On their way out, and before Gilda could respond, a griffon sitting by a table drew her attention. Another grin on a beak she classified as highly punchable. Black coat on a medium built body and a light tan plumage with sly brown eyes. He wore a light tan, sleeveless leather jacket he kept open to show his chest and even had a belt with a holster that held a revolver. Sitting at the table with his hindpaws resting on it, he held the back of his head with his forepaws.

“Hey, sweethearts. Need a ride?” He grinned at them, all suave.

“You’re going to take a ride to the hospital if you call me ‘sweetheart’ again.” She stopped to look at the griffon and Grunhilda, next to her, squinted distrustfully at him. To Gilda, he smelled of douchebag all the way from the other side of the table. “I have to go to Canterlot. Without anyone nosing about in our business.”

“Hey. Discretion is my family’s name!” He still grinned at them and rested his hindpaws at the table, sitting straight. “Lucky you, I got an airship at the docks.”

“Yeah…” Gilda made sure to let him know she wasn’t happy. “A griffon airship just happens to be here when we need it.”

“Canterlot isn’t your typical hamlet where you can just stroll in. Or fly in with an airship… Any airship coming to their airdocks needs a permit and a registry.” He took her distrust in stride and explained with some gestures. “I run supply routes between Haybale and Canterlot. Some rich ponies will pay ridiculous amounts of money to get their peas as fresh as they can be. The stores where they buy from need daring captains with fast ships to get stuff there as fast as possible.”

Okay… Sounded reasonable. She let him talk further.

“It just so happened that the load of oats I was supposed to carry got a fungus, or something. The other hauls already being taken, I can’t make a profit if I don’t take anything out with me… I’m stuck in this place until I get one of the expedite loads or a pair of cute passengers who need a ride to the capital. What do you say? Quick trip for some Bits. No questions.”

“We don’t have any money, Miss Gilda!” Grunhilda announced and Gilda had to suppress the urge to thank her sarcastically for the reminder.

“Hey…” The griffon guy didn’t let that disturb him. “We can work something out.”

“No.” Gilda cut the conversation short. “We’ll figure it out ourselves. Creep-o. Come on, Grunhilda!”

He blinked his surprise and sat straight. “Hey! That is not what I mean! Come on!”

She stormed out the doors and Grunhilda rushed after her. Still, she heard that guy from inside the Barn. “Fine! Be like that! I’ll be in the docks, sweetheart!”

“Unbelievable. As though I was born yesterday…” She grumbled to herself as Grunhilda walked up next to her.

“What do we do now, Miss Gilda?” She sounded so worried. “Can I help, somehow?”

“Don’t worry, Grunhilda. We’ll figure something out.” Gilda calmly waved at her. “Well… First thing, we need to make some money. I doubt we’ll be lucky here as we were in Baltimare. Maybe we can find a job. Or something.”

“Okay.”

Grunhilda seemed to trust her, but it was easier said than done. With the barmare so uncomfortable with them, the local militia might as well get involved. They would ask questions, talk to their pals in other places and Gilda would end in Shatteredrock. Whatever she could do, she ought to get it done quick.

What sort of job could she and Grunhilda do? She could bake, but she doubted she could earn enough in practical time. She needed something, like a task someone needed done in a hurry.

Looking around she saw ponies minding their own business, but a large placard shone like a beacon of hope: a bulletin board! Right there, in front of The Barn, which was, anyways, the best place to put it after all.

She allowed herself a grin and walked over to it to see many posts. Mostly bullshit such as invitations for birthday parties, invitations to fairs, competitions, whatever… She also found notices from farmers hiring help for the season, hiring permanent workers, offering jobs on the fields… Nothing really convenient or anything she would be willing to do. Yeah, she was kind of screwed, but her dignity forbade her digging around in a manure pit.

She sighed with the sensation she, again, looked at an unsavory list of jobs. In her past life she had gotten used to fine wines and quality meats!

Of course, it couldn’t be so easy as looking at the damn board and picking an easy job! She sighed again as Grunhilda stared at her, at the board and then at Gilda again.

She hummed to herself, calming her nerves, and thinking as clearly as she could. “Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s see if we can’t find a job the old way… Talking to ponies.”

“Okay.”

***

Of course, it couldn’t be easy.

They spent the rest of the day looking for some opportunity, some job with an immediate pay. It seemed farmhooves and helpers with a reputation for themselves got all the jobs. Not an attic to clean, or a porch to sweep. Not even a cowshed that needed someone to shovel the cow dung into storage.

It seemed the city was full of ponies who already knew how to do the stupid jobs. If the farmonwers didn’t have some employee or a son/daughter to do these sorts of tasks, they knew someone. None of them would trust a pair of unknown griffons to get close to their precious cow shit.

Damn dirt eaters, good for nothing other than paying tribute, indeed. As though the waste from the cows was made of gold, or something. Not even the mare in the Barn had a job for them.

The day passed and turned into night. At least the night air didn’t get too cold or anything like it could get in Griffonstone and Gilda didn’t have to spent the night alone. It still sucked, though, because even if she never said anything, Gilda knew Grunhilda counted on her to sort out the situation.

It didn’t take too long, and they found a sheltered corner near the plaza, behind the Barn. It felt like they were trespassing, in a way, but it would do. The mare probably used it to store casks of apple cider. A small lean-to against the Barn’s rear wall. Out of the way, and clean enough.

“Sorry, Grunhilda. This is the best we can do.” Her head hanged from her shoulder as she watched Grunhilda making space, pushing casks out of the way next to the sturdy wall. Wind bent the grass under the clear moonlight and only small animals made sounds other than Grunhilda pushing casks. She felt like she had failed, somehow.

“It’s okay, Miss Gilda.” The other, at least, didn’t seem fazed. “It’s not so bad.”

Once Grunhilda finished, they entered and laid on the dirt, side by side. Grunhilda undone her backpack and pulled out the last two meals of salted meat.

Gilda took hers. It tasted as it did the last time: not particularly tasty, but the meat calmed her stomach. “Make sure you keep the leather wraps. We could use them for something.”

“Okay.” The big one stashed away the wrappings back into the fox pelt backpack. She seemed calm and collected. Gilda took some pride in the idea the other was convinced that she had got the situation under control. Despite them laying to sleep with some casks of cider.

“We’ll figure this out.” Gilda spoke softly. “Even if we don’t find a job, we’ll figure this out.”

“I’m not worried, Miss Gilda.” She tied the lips closed casually before tearing into her share of the meal.

They didn’t talk, and at the same time enjoyed each other’s company. A warm camaraderie had bloomed while Gilda wasn’t looking and it made the situation a lot better. The Harpy’s words kept coming back to Gilda’s thoughts as she watched the bigger one calmly pecking away at the dried meat.

She was kinda beautiful though. Her size shared some of the great griffoness of her dream’s innate majesty and Grunhilda surely could rip a lesser griffon or a pony apart so strong she seemed. It must have been hell, growing up the way she did, though.

Grunhilda noticed her staring and made herself smaller, literally looked like she had shrunk, somehow. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No!” Gilda gasped and coughed with her cheeks going hot before she devoted her full attention to the piece of meat as though it could hide her from Grunhilda. “I was just thinking.”

Silence followed other than the rustling leaves, and the soft sounds of them eating.

When they were done, Gilda’s overdue sleep caught up with her and she didn’t mind when Grunhilda snuggled up to her. She did the same.

***

Gilda had almost expected it and it didn’t surprise her at all when she occupied Ghadah again and found herself in a wide hall. Walls made of sandstone surrounded her, adorned with tapestry full of imperial heraldry depicting the local ruling houses under the Emperor. A floor of beaten dirt had a large wool rug of multiple colors, damaged by use and time.

The noises of griffons living through the day entered from the open windows and doors as much as the harsh desert daylight. The typical dry air from the desert entered too and the heat bothered her somewhat, but the exercise included enduring it.

She stood on her hindlegs and held a metal rod with her forepaws stretched forward. Like posing with a sword, but without a cool sword to make her look awesome. She looked like nothing more than a kid training her muscles. Accurate… But…

The training center of the Emperor’s Guard in Aen Hader, trained his warriors born in the city to become the fierce warriors the Empire needed. Part of her training required her to learn the skills required to fight and the place already had the infrastructure, making it an obvious choice. Not to mention Ghadah had learned The Harpy liked putting her new favorite griffons to show.

All that explained why the future Swordmaidens of The Harpy didn’t have their own barracks and instead she had to stand there in the middle of those males pretending they didn’t stare at her. Of course, the actual Swordmaidens had their luxurious quarters, but Ghadah had to earn her place.

Gilda mentally noted her own situation made a lot more sense with this new information. It all made Ghadah conscious, but she took a childish pride they stared at her.

Anyways, she had to develop the muscular strength required to properly wield a sword. But, of course, they wouldn’t trust a complete beginner with true, flesh-biting steel. Her mother had explained to her… What? Did she think herself ready to hold a real weapon like an adult because she had given her sacrifice to the Harpy and laid with a male? Please…

The last part was totally worth it though, but she rather not think about it or her body might give some of the males unwanted ideas.

They busied themselves with their own drills and conversations, but she supposed a young female like her, posing in such an exposing way would draw attention. They knew who she was, though, and wouldn’t bother her.

She wondered if the exercise included all of it. Or maybe she started to become delusional from the soreness and the heat.

Another griffon approached and came into her field of vision. It almost freaked her out she didn’t even hear her approach.

An amazonian griffon female circled around her and gave her a continuous appraising glare. Orange in her coat and teal in her plumage, her brown eyes kept on Gilda’s, or Ghadah’s form until she stopped in front of her with a big friendly smile and a long sword on her back.

“Looking good, cub.” She chuckled with a voice much too soft for her size. Her sing-song language didn’t help much either. “Soon you will be dancing with your sword and chopping down some poor bastards that find themselves on the wrong side of a battle!”

“Yeah… Could you tell that to my mother?” Ghadah struggled with her voice, given the effort and the soreness in every single muscle in her body and the annoyance of the sweaty fur. “I don’t think she agrees.”

The other chuckled. “No, no. She’s just doing the ‘harsh mistress’ thing. Your mother is quite proud of you. You have a bright future in the Order.”

Hearing so didn’t surprise her. She did know her mother after all. And it didn’t make the rod any less heavy or gravity any more forgiving on her muscles.

“You’re supposed to struggle, Ghadah. Your muscles won’t grow stronger if you don’t push them. Your mind won’t get sharper if you don’t challenge it. Believe it or not, this exercise is for both.” The other said as though she knew exactly the thoughts going through the young one’s mind. Then she changed to a teasing tone. “By the way, Empress Geneviere came down to the temple this morning. Said the Emperor was quite pleased with your performance and that she wanted to take part in your training. Now, that is how one acquires prestige.”

She was supposed to be training Ghadah but treated her like a friend. Even if she was a full-fledged Swordmaiden of the Harpy and Gilda/Ghadah was but a wet-beaked neophyte. The day they will fight side-by-side would come, after all, and it made her feel a little respected.

Still, last night and the Emperor were exactly the things she was trying to avoid thinking about. Knowing she had caught the Empress’ eye did give her a lot of strength, though.

Her Sister Under The Harpy smiled at her. “Come on, let me see those moves. Have you memorized the routine?”

She sure did. Her mother would whip her if she hadn’t. Thoughts aside, she did her best to ignore the soreness and brought the rod back to her body, swinging it like a sword (one day…). Shifting her hindpaws on the rug and flowing into the different motions and stances the exercise required.

Her teacher looked pleased.

***

Hooves against the grass woke Gilda. She had sat with her wings around her body and her fur stood in the morning chill. Nothing compared to Griffonstone, though. And Grunhilda had, somehow, managed to snuggle under Gilda’s wings. Her body’s warmth did a lot to warm her too, even if Ghadah’s thoughts about the Emperor in her dream made her feel awkward things about physical contact.

Her eyes found the mare who owned The Barn and she rose a hoof as though she had been caught. “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s cool.” Gilda spoke softly not to wake Grunhilda too harshly, as she stirred awake too.

“Not a whole lot of luck, huh?” The mare rolled one of the casks on the grass. “Sorry I couldn’t help. I can offer you some food if you want.”

Gilda didn’t feel like pony food, even if she was already peckish. She simply shook her head softly. Too proud to accept help from a pony, she and Grunhilda would make it through. They were made to thrive in adversity, after all.

Sleepy, Grunhilda produced the canteens from the backpack for them to drink and the mare stared at them in a weird way that almost made Gilda ask what she stared at. But before she rolled the cask away, she spoke again.

“Guess you griffons really are tough, aren’t ya?” The mare let her head tilt to the side. “Well… Don’t let up. Ponies in this town are a tad mistrusting of strangers, and there’s the issue with the griffons… But they’ll treat ya fair ‘n square!”

Gilda simply nodded. Finally, after the mare rolled the cask away and Grunhilda had properly awakene, Gilda spoke to her. “You okay? Slept well?”

Grunhilda nodded with heavy eyes and Gilda continued. “Come on, we gotta see if we can’t find us a job.”

***

After a short stop to empty their bladders in some inconspicuous corner out of sight and away from the denser part of the small town, they made their way back to the bulletin board.

The day got warmer in a hurry and after a few hours of stalking the plaza a pony in leather barding came to them. Earth pony, blue coat and darker mane cut medium, enough it swayed with his gait, and wearing the city’s Local Militia’s leather barding. He even had a stupid white cowpony hat. He seemed nice and he spoke respectfully with them.

“Ma’am, I’m mighty sorry to disturb, but you’re not from the area and some of the ponies are getting nervous with your kind coming around these parts not a week ago to cause us grief.” He spoke seriously, though, for all his respectful stance. “Do you all mind explaining what you actually are doing here?”

Grunhilda acted up a bit. “Miss Gilda, I don’t like these ponies treating us like we’re doing something wrong just by standing here!”

Gilda waved at her to calm down. “Chill, Grunhilda. Ponies are just scared of everything and the kitchen’s sink.”

The pony blinked at her words and rose an eyebrow but didn’t seem willing to argue about it. Gilda turned to him. “We don’t want any trouble. I came here looking for someone, but they left. A friend of mine, none of those griffons that gave you trouble.”

“Can I have a name?” He asked in his ‘Applejack accent’. “I mean to help.”

“I’m looking for Gerdie.” Gilda thought it would be best not to make a scene by refusing to give him a name. She got happy enough he didn’t ask her their names. “But I know she already left with the Royal Guards and I gotta find her in Canterlot. We have no money and we’re looking for some job.”

The pony nodded. “I see. Good to know you’re well-meaning griffons looking for honest money. I’ll tell you what, Mister Corn Cob went to the central last night looking for help with some rats in one of his barns. Darn pests ruined his harvest last year and he’s got no money to pay the usual helpers. Might be you can work something out.”

Then he hoofed her a paper.

Mister Corn Cob (what a name) wanted help dealing with some rats in the barn before the harvest. Yeah… Catching rats probably wouldn’t be too hard and difficult to mess up. Also, predators and such. Yeah, easy ten Bits and it might be enough for a crappy trip back to Baltimare.

She had no idea on the fairness of the deal, but it she would take it. Then figure out the teleporter back in… Wait! She couldn’t go back to Baltimare! She needed a direct travel to Canterlot. Well, one problem at a time.

She showed the small paper, mouth-written with a pencil by an earth-pony. “Let’s go, Grunhilda. We gotta get this done ASAP, get paid and then get our asses to Canterlot. With some luck, we can finally get back to Griffonia and to Snow Mountains!”

“Yay!” The other cheered with a small hop and a flap of her wings.

“Cool. Let’s find this guy.” Gilda grinned at her excitement and then turned to the pony. “Thanks sir.”

He tipped his hat.

***

Turned out finding the damn pony took more effort than expected. ‘Corn Cob’s Farm’ for directions felt about as useful as diving gear to a seapony. But through questioning distrustful ponies and after a couple of hours they found his farm. Nothing more than a bunch of land taken by corn stalkds and a couple of pony buildings. An isolated medium sized wooden house with a rosy hoof next to the barn in question.

His entire damn family met them as they approached, with him at front followed by his three wives and a small army of what Gilda assumed were his children and grandchildren. Almost intimidating if they weren’t a collection of many-colored equines who seemed more scared of the griffons than anything else.

“Greetings.” The oldish pony with green coat and blonde mane cut short greeted them with not a lot of friendliness in his golden eyes. “Can we help you all?”

“Yeah.” Gilda tried her best to be friendly and not intimidating at all. She supposed she could only do so much with the monster Grunhilda must have looked like to them, standing next to her. “We’re here about the job you told the local militia. Catching the rats in the barn?”

“Ah!” He immediately lightened up with a grin and perked pony ears. “Sorry, for the cold welcoming, ma’am. We’re a mite scared with the griffons and that talk of military airships flying around and ponynapping the Prince-Consort. And that is not even mentioning the younger princess doing nonsense!”

“Ah, it’s cool.” Gilda grinned her best at him. She didn’t care about griffons, airships or whoever was that prince consort. “So… Job?”

“Right, right!” He pointed a hoof at their barn. Brown wood, a darker arched roof and large doors made of misfitting unvarnished and unpainted planks. “We got ourselves a bit of a rat problem, you see. They ate through some one fourth of our harvest last year and they gotta go or we won’t have any money to last the season.”

“Well, we’re here to deal with that.” Gilda encouraged him, struggling to keep her patience. Hunger didn’t really make her more patient, and she pointed at the barn. “That the place?”

“Yes!” He grinned. “I’ll go with you all.”

The two griffonesses followed the now cheery pony to the barn. From up close, that thing looked huge and the two of them stared up the thing as the pony unlocked the chains holding closed the wooden doors.

No wonder rats had taken residence there! They filled it with food and let open cracks and mismatched planks everywhere. But she wasn’t there to judge Haybalian architecture. She was there to catch rats.

Once he opened the door, the smell of hay made Grunhilda sneeze twice and Gilda surely would catch something more than rats in there. But if the ponies lived with it, their griffon selves would survive.

She also realized she hated farms.

Daylight flooded in with the open doors and revealed a few cages and rods with nets resting by the inner wall. It seemed to hold a lot of hay or straw, or something, on the other side.

At least the place had so many holes the sunlight filtered in enough seeing was easy. A black rat scurried out of sight past a hole in the inner wall.

The pony scratched the back of his head. “We’re supposed to clean the old hay to store the grain, but uh… We don’t like rats. You know?”

“Uh... What do we do with the rats?” Grunhilda asked the pony while Gilda regreted the whole thing.

“Well, use these.” He showed her the cages. “We gotta set them free in the woods nearby.”

Fine… “Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s get to work. The sooner we start, the sooner we can be on our way.

“Okay.”

They grabbed the nets and set to work. How hard could it be to catch some rats?

Birds of Prey

Turned out catching rats wasn’t as easy as Gilda had thought. Damned things were quick, and smarter than they had any right to be. They also seemed to be everywhere at the same time to the point Gilda was becoming convinced they could teleport.

Nobody ever taught her how to do it, but she caught herself standing still and listening, watching the irregular small mounds of straw. If she paid attention, she could hear their little paws in the dirt below, the small stalks of straw shifting. Even over the pony’s incessant prattling and clumsy stomping around while swinging that stupid net of his.

Paying attention, she could smell the musky aroma from the rats over the irritating smell of the straw. Or the pony’s grassy aroma or even Grunhilda’s and her own ‘haven’t bathed yet’ smell. She could even see the shifting straw where they ran underneath.

Time slowed for her to catch one of those irritating and squeaky little fuckers. But then, whenever she swung her net, it would get caught in the straw and the rat would escape, squeaking as tough they laughed at her. She wanted to scream.

Or maybe the problem laid with those awkward nets and the straw in the floor getting in the way. She growled and threw her net aside. “Come back here you little!”

She cut herself short when she reached with a forepaw and managed to grab one of the rats scurrying around under the straw. She stared at the black rodent squeaking and squirming in her paw, pinned under her talons. She blinked, so surprised she was she actually managed to grab it just like that.

“Oh, okay, that works.” She congratulated herself, dropping the rat into one of the cages and quickly closing the little clasping door. “Hey, I got one!”

“Great!” The older pony cheered. “Er… Just don’t hurt them, okay? I mean… They’re just doing what rats do.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She waved her paw dismissively at the pony, focusing on finding the next rat running around.

She also noticed Grunhilda paying attention and then mimicking her after ditching the rod with the net. Well, good. Surely Grunhilda could pull it off too. But a small rat rushing past close to her drew her attention and then bam! She got it too.

Fluffy, graying out belly, squeaking and thrashing helplessly under her fingers. It gave her a sense of pride and accomplishment. Catching a rat was probably something pathetically amateurish, as her ancestors used to hunt caribou and elk. Heck, they still hunted those in Snow Mountains. It was where the game meat came from. Or, used to come from anyways.

Gee, their kids probably learned how to hunt big game. Probably learned how to load muskets and shoot game by the same time Gilda learned how to preen. Or even archery, rather than firearms. She didn’t know. How pathetic was she? Hunting rats was probably used as a joke for incompetent hunters, or something.

The truth might surprise you, My Child.

Gilda gasped quietly at ‘the voice’ in her head. Surprised it had returned, and she could still hear Her ‘properly’ as though She stood standing right next to her.

Hunting rats is a common game among young cubs. Encouraged by their parents, they help keep houses and food storages free of the pests. It is often their first source of income; they feel proud at doing something helpful. It teaches them many of the important skills young griffons ought to learn moving forward into maturity, such as patience, focus, and the worth of their work. Not to mention, rats are prey, and prey is food. Nothing more satisfying to a predator than sating their hunger with prey they caught themselves. It is also the first prey they learn how to clean and properly prepare.

“Gee, next you’re gonna tell me it’s all going according to plan.” Gilda murmured to herself under her breath with a smug chuckle.

Do not be silly. Such would be an absurd claim. However, it would behoove a wise griffon to make use of opportunities which present themselves, regardless of the ponies and their opinions.

Huh… What did she mean? Gilda stared at the rat on her paw and suddenly became very aware of just how hungry she was. But… Come on… That thing was dirty. Yeah… She had heard that rats were actually very clean animals (Fluttershy certified information), but… Eew! They were still shuffling in the dirt and in the smelly straw!

Her mouth watered, though. The dried meat didn’t exactly fill her stomach and days had passed since her last decent meal. Did she just start salivating at a freaking rat?

“Hum… Are you feeling well, miss?” The pony frowned at her when she snapped to look at him.

“Yeeeah… Sure.” She quickly let the rat into the cage and looked elsewhere.

Afterward, she resumed her hunting routine. Yeah, it could be called hunting. She spent a few seconds looking for another rat to grab when she heard the pony screaming. She sighed and imagined it before she even turned to see. Grunhilda with huge eyes and a rat’s tail hanging from her beak only for her to slurp it in.

“You’re not supposed to eat the rats!” The pony neighed. Particularly angry, and if he were a dragon, he would have roared, but he was a pony about half of Grunhilda’s size and sounded like a pony. “That is barbaric!”

Grunhilda said nothing and just sat on the floor, blinking with the dumb stare she gave when she didn’t know what to do. Gilda tried reasoning. “Listen dude, we’re hungry and we have no money. We’ve been through some bad stuff… Just cut us a slack will you? If you ponies can’t get real food, you can just… Graze. There’s food everywhere for you because you can literally eat grass. We need to get our food from a store or something because we can’t go around hunting stuff.”

She could almost hear the gears inside his head. The deep frown, the pulled back ears. Until he sighed deeply with a hoof on his forehead and shook his head. “I didn’t know you were struggling, miss. And you are right. I overreacted. I suppose your friend caught the rat fair and square as a cat or… Something might do. I apologize.”

What? Gilda feared he would freak out. What a pleasant surprise.

“If you promise not to hurt them needlessly, I’ll let you keep some. If you also promise to let them go once you’ve worked out your issues.”

“Yeah, I’m not proud about eating rats…” Gilda said calmly. “We’ll let them go when it comes to it and we won’t be hurting them for no reason. I mean… I’m hungry… I don’t hurt creatures for no reason.”

“Fair enough.” The pony said. “I’ll leave you to it. Step on by our house once you’re done and I’ll pay what you’re due.”

The pony left and Gilda stared at the open door, a little numb for a second. “Well, that went better than I expected. Guess the pony really understood. Huh…”

Then she turned to Grunhilda and winced. “How’s it taste?”

The big white griffoness made a face and put out her tongue with a ‘bleh’.

Gilda got one from the cage and stared at it.

“It’s not so bad.” Grunhilda shrugged. “These rats are much better than the ones in Griffonstone. I usually found them in the gutter, and they were filthy.”

Great. Hearing that Gild felt like a privileged jerk.

Then she stared back at the rat. She hated the way it squirmed and squeaked. But she was so hungry. And Grunhilda ate one of those no problem… Heck… Sounded like she had eaten worse things.

Maybe she started to rationalize, but the rat really started to look rather pathetic. Come on, she had caught it and kept trying to escape. Had it no dignity? Well, duh… It was a rat. Even when she thought about the dumb cows, they were smart enough to hold a conversation. That rat was a pest, and it was food, even if she wasn’t proud of it, she had caught it fair and square. Even the pony admitted to it. Why was eating the damn rat so hard? She had eaten meat that used to be a cow. She had never even thought about it, and she had eaten the meat of a creature intelligent enough to hold a conversation.

There was something profoundly messed up in that system and she wasn’t sure what it was, but she was sure the ponies were at fault. They were the ones whining about carnivore diets, hunting regulations and griffons being too damn griffon for their sensitive pony tastes. Just, what the hell?!

You are starting to open your eyes, My Child. Gabriel was right. Some creatures existed originally as sources of nourishment. They ought to be happy they were given time alive and be prepared one day they would die. It is the future of all creatures to expire one day, and some are given purpose to their empty life. Conflict is the verb of Creation.

Finally, Gilda snapped the rat’s neck and it finally stopped struggling. It seemed right, for some reason. But once she had done it, raising it up and then letting it down her beak came a lot easier than she had thought.

It was furry and a bit disgusting, it tasted like muddy fur, and it was a bit too big. It came down scratching, but it seated well enough in her stomach and in the end, she felt like a fool for overthinking. For feather’s sake, she had gone past killing griffons already and second-hand experienced murdering a zebra and harvesting his heart. Yeah, she would be fine.

“Well, let’s get this done. He’s paying and we’re supposed to catch the rats.” She set back to work, looking around for another rat to yank out of the straw. “We can eat more later.”

Do not fool yourself. That pony did not ‘understand’. He thinks killing an animal for food is revolting and immoral. He thinks your race inherently tainted for your need to do so. Not only he is also prey, but he is an uneducated farmer who should not ever been give free will. Far from the great pony universities and high-ranking schools. His kind is, however, wired to seek peaceful resolutions to conflicts and he was also afeared. Had he chosen otherwise, there would be nothing stopping two griffons from ripping him apart and then doing the same to his family. He saw a fearsome and dangerous predator in you. Memories as old as the mountains, ingrained in his blood told him to be aware of the danger you represented.

Fair enough. So long as he didn’t become a problem, he was fine in Gilda’s book.

***

It took them a long time, but they managed to get all the rats with a good level of certainty.

Grunhilda jumped at the straw on the other side of the inner wall and made enough of a mess she scared the rats out of their nest. Then Gilda closed their entry way back into it and they managed to catch all of them. At least she couldn’t hear them scurrying of shuffling the straw around anymore.

Tiresome work, but it satisfying when it ended. “Great job Grunhilda!”

The other grinned at her, with some straw in her crest and they bumped their closed fists. Then they heard it…

“Ma’ams, come out of the barn with your wings up!” The militiapony from before barked outside.

Gilda frowned. “Well, damn. It was going too well to be true.”

It almost worried her, but rather than doing her typical concerned expression and whine, Grunhilda frowned like she was getting fed up. And angry Grunhilda was fucking scary.

Gilda also noticed she was fed up. She grabbed one of the two cages with the black furry creatures by the handle with her beak and made her way towards the door with her wings up. Grunhilda followed suit.

Outside, the day threatened to end and four ponies wearing the Haybale local militia leather barding surrounded the barn’s entrance in a semicircle with enough space to keep them safe. Mister Corn Cob sat there too, a while back from the ponies in barding. Three of them had wheellock pistols trained on Gilda and Grunhilda. The pony model, with the lever rather than the trigger, that they held bending their hooves around. The fourth was the one from before, with his white cowpony hat and holding one of those magical stun batons.

All earth ponies. Not a single pegasus or unicorn in sight. Some dumb shit wasn’t doing their job right… In an instant of pure anger, she wondered just how easy it would be for the two of them to turn that into a bloodbath. Escaping should be easier and carry less repercutions, though.

“I should have known better than to trust you varmints! You all are wanted in Griffonstone for evasion from the Law, aggravated assault of a minor and assault of a militia officer while under the influence! You all are screwed in my hooves now!”

Grunhilda let go of the cage she carried and growled. “Miss Gilda, I really don’t like the way these ponies are talking to us!”

“Chill, Grunhilda. Pony is just nervous. Let’s not do anything too harsh.” She didn’t either, but she would rather not get into further trouble. Because if it came to a fight, the only way out of there would be spilled blood and those ponies were in way over their heads with Grunhilda around.

Still, Gilda frowned at Corn Cob. She didn’t expect it from him. She started walking towards them. “Hey, calm down, alright? We just want to get out of here and nobody needs to get in trouble because of that.”

“Don’t move!” One of the panic-prone equines screamed at her, emphasizing his pistol trained on her. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot!”

She didn’t want to get shot, so she stopped, but much to Gilda’s surprise, Mister Corn Cob walked towards her. “Hey now. Let’s not do anything crazy.”

One of female ponies watching from the distance, near their house, screamed and the militia officer almost freaked out. “Sir! Don’t go near the griffons!”

She had no idea what went on inside that pony’s head, but she pounced and grabbed him to hold before her. “Drop those things! Now!”

More screaming from the house and desperate stares from the locals to their boss, who himself didn’t seem too confident.

“I’m sorry, miss…” Corn Cob muttered to her. “I didn’t bring them law-ponies here. I meant to pay you too… But… I just hope you get things sorted out.”

She frowned a little and said nothing. White hat screeched at her, though. “Ma’am let him go! This is just getting worse for you!”

Suddenly, she had control of the situation and made a flamboyant display of her talons, putting them to Mr. Cob’s neck. “Throw those things here or Mister Cob ain’t gonna see next season!”

Good thing these ponies were so panicky, because such a bluff might not have worked in Griffonstone. The pony in the white hat winced and stuttered. He swore something and stuttered again with a background of panicked cries from the farmhouse. “Fine! Alright! Don’t hurt him! We’ll do it!”

The ponies under his command didn’t like it, but they threw their pistols in the grass towards Gilda. And she noticed Grunhilda had grabbed her cage full of rats too. She smiled a little. Clever girl.

Then Gilda shoved the pony forward and flapped her wings with a jump. “Let’s go, Grunhilda! Let’s go!”

She squawked with that thing in her beak but managed to lift off the ground. She flew awkwardly, but she was so big she managed to fly straight while carrying the extra weight. Meanwhile, Gilda didn’t look back to see what happened, but no shots were fired, despite some screaming and confusion. She just flew, as fast as she could, towards the airship station and Grunhilda kept up with her.

Plan? She didn’t have one. Maybe she’d get a ride on an airship. Maybe something would happen. All she knew was that it was either that or a fight, and she wasn’t pissed off enough that she’d get herself and Grunhilda deeper into trouble yet. She didn’t even think she might have flown to the train station. Maybe hide in one of the cars, or something. The idea came too late, as they descended into the airship station. Also, the trains wouldn’t be going to Canterlot.

The main platform was empty, and an airship seemed to be maneuvering to land, so she steered towards the secondary ones which had airships docked and landed anywhere. She scared a pawful of ponies working on their hulls.. Dock workers cleared away with a few panicked cries, but nobody seemed to know what was actually going on. Gilda had some time to think as Grunhilda landed next to her still carrying the cage with the rats in her beak.

“We gotta get out of here!” Gilda yelled at her! “One of these airships’s gotta have a crew we can get to take us with them!”

She looked one way and the other. No militiaponies yet, just panicking ponies running away and wooden airship hulls, but also no ideas.

“Hey, you’re back, Sweetheart.” She looked up the wooden hull of one of the closest airships to see the griffon from the Barn. His elbow rested on the safety railing, and he grinned mischievously at her. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”

He vaulted over the railing in the most ostentatious way she could imagine, but she didn’t have time to complain as he landed with his wings open to soften the fall.

“Take us to-” She started, but he closed a paw around her beak.

“Shhh… Lots and lots of ears here, babe.” He held a finger over his own beak.

She wanted to punch his beak in, but he had a point. “Just get us out of here before the local militia figures we’re here!”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I offered you a ride earlier and now you look like you have some issues.” He kept calm expression and voice, but with a superior air about him which threatened to drive Gilda mad. “And I seem to remember your friend saying you have no money.”

“I’m working for a guy, and I can get you paid later!” She begged.

“Yeah?” He wasn’t impressed.

“He’s rich!” She grinned.

His eyes focused on her and grew wide. “Rich?”

“Rich, powerful.” She waved her paw around and grinned even more. Grunhilda just watched. “Listen… If you were to help me, your reward would be…”

“What?” He subtly shifted his eyes.

“Well, more wealth than you can imagine.” Gilda nodded and grinned at him.

“I don’t know, I can imagine quite a bit.” He frowned.

Screaming ponies interrupted them and the small curious mob of dock workers who had remained quickly dispersed. A pair of ponies in militia barding galloped onto the platform carrying their pistols with their mouths and jumped behind some barrels.

The griffon shoved Gilda aside and stood on his hindlegs, drawing his revolver from the holster and trained it at the approaching ponies. “Alright, get aboard!”

Two shots and the ponies ducked behind their cover. Gilda flew up to the deck raised above the platform and Grunhilda followed her closely. The wheellock pistols fired, but the griffon soon returned with a pirouette over the railing and got himself down to the clear wood deck. The two females did the same as he yelled at someone else. “Chewie! Get us going!”

In the back of the airship (Gilda didn’t know aeronautical terminology) was a sort of house with a door, and some paws in front of it were some stairs leading down. A unicorn pony poked her head out of there, pink with a white, red-stripped mane cut loose and somewhat long, with big red eyes.

“What do you mean get us going?” She screeched. “Was that gunfire? What the hay is going on?! Engines are dark! We can’t just go!”

She looked at Gilda and Grunhilda. “Did you just get us in trouble for some cute tail again?”

The griffon stomped on the flooring and a rectangular piece of it sprung up to the railing, making a metal-reinforced protection for him to lean against. He held his revolver in a paw and yelled at his friend. “Well, then get them lit! We have to go or there are going to be some ten angry local militias comming aboard pretty soon!”

The unicorn cursed something and retreated down the stairs while the griffon looked back at Gilda and Grunhilda. Grunhilda hugged the cage with the rats as though it was worth a million Bits. “I don’t suppose either of you can shoot a gun?”

Gilda didn’t have the mood for a snarky reply and Grunhilda just shook her head helplessly.

“Great.” He grumbled. “Better get down there. I’m likely not to get paid if you two get hurt.”

Gilda nodded as he turned around to shoot down from his protection. She nodded to the stairs for Grunhilda and rushed ahead hearing the other follow. The musket fire and that griffon’s revolver made a racket, but she still heard the ‘sheriff’ yelling furiously at the griffon guy.

Down the stairs, the inside of the airship had enough space for one to go around toward the front on both sides and white crystals lined on the walls provided light. Gilda went towards the back where she could see the unicorn in a cramped room. Large blocks of crystal shining pink hung from either side of the room and beneath them her magic messed with large and complex magical machinery.

The pony had a little piece of bubblegum and flying sparks for cutie mark. The thing on Gilda’s head was that, at least, the Harpy never made griffons wear a mark on their asses telling the others what they should be doing with their lives.

As gunfire noises still came from outside, the pony grabbed a large lever in the back with her legs and pulled it after some struggling. Sparks flew and then she interacted with the machinery using her magic again. Much like the unicorns in the teleportation facilities. She lit up her horn and all sorts of crystal bibs and bobs lit with pink light while the crystal blocks shone brighter. Several gauges and a series of buttons lit up and Gilda’s wings itched as the thing wound up. The engines sounded like a low growling cat steadily become louder and higher.

Finally, the pony magically grabbed a bell-like thingy hanging from a tube and spoke into it. “You at the helm, Grahan?”

The griffon’s voice came back from the bell. “Yeah! Let’s go!”

The pony sighed and summoned her magic again, directing it at the machine. The airship started moving forward with its engine’s making a different sound, graver and faster.

“Hold on!” The pony stared at them. “She’s gonna pick up speed in a hurry.”

“What?” Gilda asked and just as soon as she closed her beak, she and Grunhilda got shoved to the back of the airship and into the floor when the ship picked up speed. The pony held the cage with the rats with her telekinesis, though.

Gilda grunted under Grunhilda’s weight and rubbed her head with a frown. “So, what? Is this the fastest airship in Equestria, or something?”

The pony grinned like a dork. “Oh, no! That would be Princess Twilight Sparkle’s cutter ‘Magic of Friendship’, followed by Princess Luna’s frigate ‘Lacunae’! It’s all in the power to weight ratio!”

Gilda just stared at her, trying to convey her actual profound disinterest. But the pony kept prattling on about hull classes, magical induction engine technologies, engraved gravity cancelation spells…

“Chewie, are our guests with you?” Thankfully, the griffon’s voice came from the bell-thingy. “Get them up here. We gotta talk.”

She grinned friendly. “Let’s go.”

Gilda was just glad she shut up. Ponies… Always like that.

She and Grunhilda followed the pony up the stairs back to the deck and to the ‘house’ at the back of the ship. It flew fast and quite a bit high above the ground already. She couldn’t see Haybale because the ‘house’ obstructed her vision, however. Just the sprawling fields surrounding it.

“In here.” The pony opened the door for them, and Gilda could already see the griffon on the other side of the glass, on the right side of the ‘house’.

Inside, a small corridor led to a sort of living room with couches nailed to the floor, more lighting crystals, a few stands on the wall with books strapped to them. A door to the front opened to a small room from where the griffon came out to meet them.

“I hope that was worth it!” The pony complained. “The engines lost a few running years because of that.”

“It will be!” The male griffon grinned. “She is Sparkly Chew. I’m Grahan. Best airship thaumatoengineer and pilot in the world.”

Yeah… Sure they were… Anyways, Gilda touched her chest. “I’m Gilda. She’s Grunhilda.”

“We’re out of their range.” He said with a cocky grin. “Even if they have airships, they’re not fast enough. So, we’re going to Canterlot?”

He stopped for a second. “What is with the rats in the cage?”

Gilda looked back to see Grunhilda dutifully carrying the cage with the squeaking creatures.

“Uh…” She looked back at the griffon the pony had called Grahan. “They’re sort of snacks…”

He rose an eyebrow at her. “Snacks?”

“Maybe she’s from Greenleaf.” Sparkly Chew offered with her silly pony grin. “They eat a lot of rats in there. Brilliant play by the Dairy Farming Association. Even the ponies of the region hunt the rats around the farms and sell them to the cooks.”

“Are you kidding me? The pony I was working for almost lost his mind because Grunhilda ate one of the rats.” Gilda growled.

“Well, they’re served cleaned and roasted, not to mention that the local branch makes sure the rats are well cared for… Uh, before it’s their time… And Haybale is kinda not ‘in’ with the times.” The unicorn explained with a hoof up. “Most ponies only have a problem with slaughtering hooved animals like deer and cows because they’re actually intelligent… Just not quite as intelligent as we are. And ponies in Greenleaf live with griffons… You know… It’s a griffon city. In Griffonia. It’s a farming city, but larger and more developed than Haybale.”

“That said, game hunting is allowed in the Snow Mountains Hold of Griffonia because griffons would downright starve up there if not for it. There is some political stuff that gives the northerner griffons a lot of traction. And even then, hunting is still regulated.” She took a second to breathe. “Royal Justiciars go there, foaming at the mouth, to catch some slaughterhouse doing wrong.”

“Chewie, shut up one second.” Grahan gestured shutting her mouth with his paws, then he pointed at Gilda. “Are you taking these rats to some crazy rich in Canterlot? Some griffon representative in the Hall of Friendship or some stuff like that? You said you work for someone rich and powerful, but I sure don’t want to get caught smuggling feathering rats into the royal capital! I have a reputation!”

“Yeah… We usually smuggle oats.” The pony giggled.

“I thought your business was legit.” Gilda deadpanned at him.

“It is legit!” He gasped, so offended he was. “It’s not my fault the large companies don’t like that I take liberties with safety they can’t, and thus I get my stuff to its destination quicker. It’s just a bunch of documents and cold receipts for the dock authorities in the end anyways.”

“Fine, whatever. That is not it. It’s… Uh… No. I don’t work for some griffon representative in Canterlot.” She stammered much more than she would have liked. Then she inhaled sharply through her beak. “Yeah… I work for The Lion. I need to find someone in Canterlot and then report back.”

“You are kidding me!” He cried. “The freaking Lion? That guy is bad news all around! If I knew I would have told you to take a hike!”

Grunhilda angrily put the cage with the rats in the floor and flared her wings at the male. “Hey! He is going to be the Griffon King!”

“We haven’t had a king for centuries!” Grahan yelled back. “We don’t need a king. They probably took the crown and made a doorstop at the Chancellor’s Office!”

Grunhilda huffed like a child about to throw a tantrum, but before she said anything Gilda rose her paw and spoke first. “Listen, dude. I don’t care what you think. All we need is a ride to Canterlot. Do that and when I get to Griffindell, once my job is done, I’ll get you paid.”

It was probably not a good idea to mention an ancient goddess and secretive cult, though. Well, it was not like she was lying. The Lion’s wife wanted the Harpy’s cult to return, and he was okay with that too. She was, technically, working for The Lion.

“Yeah, and I’m supposed to go with you all the way there so that I can be sure I’ll be paid.” Grahan held his head in his paws. “Fuck me! I did it again! I let some tramp with a cute face rope me into some crazy nonsense! I’m kicking you out of my ship!”

Gilda just stared at him, but Grunhilda gasped. “Did you just call Miss Gilda a tramp?!”

“Actually, a tramp…” Sparkly Chew started, but Gilda shut her mouth with her paw before talking to the other griffon.

“Dude, you were going to Canterlot anyways!” She growled. “It’s not that big of a deal. And I am going to pay you. Just not immediately!”

“You don’t get it!” He cried with panicky eyes. “I owe the Archduke a boatload of money and that stupid load I lost was meant to pay him! Now I’m going to Canterlot without it, and without any money! His goons are gonna take my airship! I’m gonna have to hide and I’ll be stuck in Canterlot without a way to make money!”

“Archduke?” Gilda took a step back at his outburst.

“Archduke Blueblood.” The unicorn explained helpfully. “Surely, you’ve heard of him. He is the archduke for the entire region of the Equestrian Heartland. You know, above the dukes and duchesses of each individual duchy and under Princess Celestia.”

“Dude, I have no idea how the ponies hash this stuff out and I honestly don’t care either.” Gilda glared at her. “The important thing is that-”

“Well, it all started with the Everfree Diarchy after the Princesses arrived, took control of the sun and the moon, and returned the unicorns of the Mage’s Guild their magic. At the same time King Grover unified the griffon independent city-estates into one single kingdom. The Equestrian Confederation grew from their alliance and other nations joined along the way. Why, just the other year the Changeling Swarm joined. The point is that it is all the same… One Majesty that rules the individual nations in the Confederation with several provincial governments and then with elective representation in the Hall of Friendship presided by the Princess.”

Gilda just let her talk, but she knew whatever official history said was a lie. Grover took the Empire from the Emperor with Celestia’s help. She took the griffons from The Harpy and in the aftermath, Ghadah was stranded helping her isolated Sisters. She got raped and burned alive. Important to note that it was by other griffons… But still…

The unicorn still prattled on, though… “And then in Hippogriffia you have Queen Novo that represents her queendom in the House of Majesty with the hippogriff elected representatives in the House of the Chosen. But since her domain is so small, it is actually divided into urban districts and-“

“Dude, shut up.” Gilda said casually, then turned back to Grahan. “Listen… I can’t pay you now. And I can’t pay you in Canterlot. But I can make a promise I will pay you once I get to Griffindell.”

“Do you even know where Griffindell is?” Grahan’s shoulders slumped, and he glared at her. “It is one of the most isolated cities in the world. In one of the most desolate regions of the world! It is on the border of the Frozen North. You know, the place the ponies keep under control on the other side with a legendary magical artifact? That is where you want to go, without a legendary magical artifact to keep you safe!”

“I don’t even know how is it that griffons manage to live there! That place must be full of monsters that drift from the Frozen North.” He poked his own temple with a talon. “That is why sane griffons know The Lion is full of shit! That place is a literal hell hole! A frozen hell hole full of frozen monsters and dumb griffons!”

“That is not true!” Grunhilda cried and flared her wings again. Gilda never seen so upset before, tearing up and frowning so angrily. “Whenever the Windigos send their spawn from the Frozen North the Lord of the Black Gates rallies the Children of the Harpy. They will hunt and destroy the monsters before they can get to the lands where our southerner brethren live! Ever since times immemorial, when the Eternal Winter befell our lands, and our ancestors fled the Stormy Eyrie. The Astrani Lords of the Skies fortified the Valley of Griffons and stopped the Windigos there!”

“Is this a feathering fairy tale you’re feeding me?” Grahan growled, but his unicorn friend seemed curious, and only too late it occurred to Gilda maybe she should have stopped Grunhilda.

“It is in the Cry of The Harpy!” She whined, then she straightened and started reciting as would a child that had something repeated to her countless times.

Under the angry clouds they marched past the outer gate. Undefeated Griffindell at the edge of the world, her black walls sang to them the chant of our ancestors. At the deep of the valley, the mighty mountains from where we came guarded her entrance.

Magic-scorched and combat-scarred, her walls stopped the malice of the Windigos and the ravings of the Mad God. The might of the Sun could not best her nor could the raging sorrow of the Moon. And when the whole world turned against her, not a step further was taken.

Deep snow, cold to the touch, covered the valley, yet griffon paws walked over, fleet footed.

The wind carried the Windigos’ mocking neighing, even when friendly faces warmed their hearts. He saw Lord Graham and his fair Lady Geena with her cape of cyan and white feathers of the swans. In the wind their banner with the white field and spotted trout hailed from Frozenlake. Near the blue and gray rock of Brokenhorn from where Lord Griskjal too brought his host.

Three banners united, no greetings were needed. His father’s axe rose to the sky. He stood on his hindlegs and he cried, his wings flared and voice mighty.

“Dity Harpiyi!” Gilad’s father cried as did his father before him, and so did his under the Black Gates of Griffindel.

The mocking wind wailed but silenced when four thousand strong chanted and the thundering clouds responded.

“Harpiya vymahaye!”

They flapped their wings like a hurricane and took flight like the coming storm.

They kept silent for a couple of seconds after Grunhilda was done reciting the words.

“There is a guy with my name in a legend from the northerner lands?” The griffon deadpanned. “And what is it with the foreign words. Just speak Common Equestrian.”

“No! His name is Graham! Not Grahan!” Gunhilda whined again and flapped her wings. “And Lord Graham is real! He is the Lord of Frozenlake! It’s a city near the border! I know him and Lady Geena! And you’re not supposed to translate those lines! Because-”

“It’s okay Grunhilda…” Gilda touched her shoulder and spoke softly. “He doesn’t understand. He can’t hear Her.”

That calmed Grunhilda, but she kept pouting and glaring at the male griffon.

“This is nuts!” He massaged his temples. “They can write any dumb story they want. Like that stupid nonsense that was in the news some time ago that The Lion had destroyed a dracolich summoning lightning from the sky!”

Gilda never saw it. She had heard of the Lion, but never read that piece of news. Too busy trying to make a living.

Surprisingly, it was the pony that spoke then. “Grahan! Calm down and listen to me! What if this is all true? Either way The Lion is gonna be crowned eventually and… What if this is all true? I mean… There definitively is something going on if Celestia gives them so much leeway on game hunting and their independence from Griffonian law. Most creatures barely even heard of the Snow Mountains Hold… Think about it! How badass is that? Griffons that fight the monsters the Windigos send before they can reach the nicer southern lands. So the other griffons live in peace! She mentioned Gilad. That’s The Lion! The next Griffon King is gonna be some hardcore northerner monster hunter!”

“She’s spouting bullshit.” Grahan grumbled. “It’s gibberish. Some nonsense her parents told her.”

Gilda felt a strong urge to punch his beak into his skull, but it usually brought her problems, and it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know Grunhilda was an orphan.

“Not to mention you’re not even a griffon, Chewie.” He went on.

“But what if this is all true? What if he can use magic? What if he can kill a giant undead dragon with lightning? Don’t you want to be on his good side?” The pony started grinning wildly. “The griffons talk about the ponies and the Elements of Harmony and the Princesses! This is as awesome as the griffons can get and as soon as he stops being some distant guy, griffons are gonna flock to him like he’s made of candy. And we have a chance to help that fat cat, by helping his agent!”

Grahan blinked at her words and thought for a second before smiling. “Yeah… I see what you mean.”

Gilda smirked. Typical griffon, the greedy motherfucker. Just like the Harpy said.

“Alright. Let’s make it to Canterlot and see what we can do from there.” He breathed out a sigh.

Sparkly Chew squealed. “I’ll make sure the magical engines are running shipshape!”

Maybe Gilda should have mentioned to her The Harpy ate ponies… Nah, she was cool. Time to enjoy a calm cruise to the City of Princesses.

Maybe do something about those rats…

Eternal Recurrence

Gilda sat on the bow of the airship (Sparkly Chew had told her the name of the airship’s front) and let the wind caress the feathers on her crest. I felt like flying, only more annoying because the airship’s magical engines did something weird to her wings. They itched all the time, though barely enough to notice. Enough to drive her crazy but vanish as soon as she tried to do anything about that.

She flapped her wings slowly and let the wind take care of the problem for her. She noticed the unicorn approaching her but pretended not to.

“Are the ship’s magical engines bothering you?” She turned to see the unicorn standing behind her, holding the cage with the rats with her telekinetic magic. “They radiate a lot of background thaumatic radiation, but you’ll get used to it in a few hours. Just be glad you don’t have a horn. Some unicorns just can’t take it.”

“The airship I traveled to Haybale didn’t do that.” Gilda countered.

The unicorn shrugged. “Commercial airships have a lower power to weight ratio and the engines are better shielded. Regulations, regulations…”

Then she showed Gilda the cage with the rats. “We’re gonna declare the rats as payment if that’s okay. It’s gonna raise a few eyebrows, but the Dockmaster should have more important things to worry about. It would be worse if we were transporting someone to Canterlot for nothing.”

“It’s okay.” Gilda nodded calmly. She would rather keep them, but she understood and didn’t want Grunhilda walking around Canterlot carrying a cage full of rats.

“Yeah, so… Hum… We can’t feed them, and thus we can’t keep them. I’ll make dinner with them.” The pony’s ears flopped as she talked.

“You don’t mind?”

“Well, I don’t like it, but I live with a griffon. You know. Usually he eats fish, and they’re already dead and cleaned from the market, but I know how to do it.” The pony looked at the rats sniffing about in the cage.

“Do you want me to help you?” Gilda rose an eyebrow. Not that she had a lot of experience, but she wasn’t squeamish about it.

“Ah, no. I’m just telling you what’s for dinner, and if anypony asks, that’s how you paid us. Say, did you like the room? We usually have passengers that want to get to places discreetly, so it’s not very cozy or luxurious, but it’s a place to rest.”

“I haven’t seen it yet. Grunhilda’s there but I stayed here.” Gilda explained. “To think.”

“Well, just tell me if you need more hot water.” The unicorn went on. “The engines heat a lot of it.”

“Wait… You use water from the magical engines to bathe? Is that safe?” Gilda grimaced, but the unicorn just shrugged. In the end, Gilda didn’t know the first thing about how those things worked. “Fine. I’ll let you know.”

As the unicorn turned to leave, Gilda noticed Grahan at the ship’s helm. She stood and made her way to the ‘aftercastle’, as Chewie had called it. She met him in the small living area, sitting on the biggest and comfiest couch. He smiled at her and patted the cushion next to him.

Gilda made a point of giving him a blank expression and sat on one of the leather armchairs in front of him.

“Are we gonna have any trouble when we arrive at Canterlot?” She asked, ignoring his sad puppy expression.

He sighed. “If he’s suspicious, the dockmaster will want to know what you’re doing in Canterlot and why did you hire a private airship. I recommend saying that you were in a hurry for private reasons and that there are no commercial lines from Haybale to Canterlot. I recommend high tailing it out of there ASAP. They’ll take a few days before they figure out what’s going on with you. You should be fine if all you want is to find your friend and have a quick chat.”

“The problem is that my ship is gonna get locked to the dock…” She concluded with a sigh.

She intended to be entering Snow Mountains in a few days, certainly using Canterlot’s teleporter to get as close as possible as soon as she’s checked out on Gerdie.

“So, what’s the plan?” He asked her so innocently she figured he knew she meant to ditch him… “I’ll have to vanish before Blueblood’s goons realize I’m in town. It’s gonna suck.”

She sighed… “Do you think you’ll be in danger if you have to stay in Canterlot for a while?”

"Yeah…” He actually seemed pretty chill about the idea, though. He probably anticipated the situation. “Blueblood is gonna have the Century Hawk chained to the airdock and will eventually impound her. Once in Canterlot, she’s not taking us anywhere until Blueblood’s been paid.”

But… “What the heck is a Century Hawk?”

“Airships’s name.” He offered an open paw.

“That is one of the dumbest names I’ve ever heard.” She frowned.

“Hey, it’s a great airship.” He grumbled, all offended. “I won her in a bet in Las Pegasus.”

“So, what is your brilliant plan?” He finally asked again after a few seconds of silent glaring.

“I need to find my friend, and then, I’ll teleport from Canterlot to Griffindell.” She didn’t want to give him too many details, but then again, her plan didn’t really have a lot of details…

He chuckled with a playful grin. “There are no teleporters in Snow Mountains, babe. Closest one is Thunderpeak, frontier city in the south side. And there are no teleporters in Canterlot either. Closest one is Ponyville.”

Then he gave her a cocky smile. “You don’t really have a clue what you’re doing, do you?”

“It’s complicated, alright?” She growled at him, but he only laughed.

“Well, since I’m stuck with you, might as well help you. Why don’t you open up a little?” If she didn’t need him, she’d leave at that asshole smile he kept in his face.

“Fine.” She growled. “As I told you, I need to find someone and then report to the northerner griffons. Eventually make it to Griffindell because my life got fucked in Griffonstone. I punched a jerk and turned out his parents were powerful. They burned my house, threatened my friends and I had to flee because they were going to kill me. On the way I killed two lowlives they sent after me, hooked up with Grunhilda and eventually got into contact with the northerners. They want me to go to Griffindell after figuring out what happened to one of them.”

“Let me guess, she was involved with that mess with the military airship…” He rubbed his beak. “Damn, sweetheart. You don’t have a clue what is going on and you just dove headfirst into history in the making. I’d be scared if I were you.”

“Yeah… I didn’t have a choice.” She remained as calm as she could. “Why don’t you educate me?”

“A few days ago, Princesses Twilight Sparkle and Mi Amore Cadenza went to the Changeling Rock and had a chat with Queen Chrysalis. I don’t know what they found in there, but the queen went to Canterlot and Princess Celestia freaked out of her mind. She’s ordered Ponyville’s local militia to apprehend both of them, but they escaped. The very next day a group of northerner griffons hijacked Baltimare’s freight teleporter and ‘ported in a warship from feathers know where. The airship went to Haybale, where some Gerdie gal was meant to meet the princesses with information about their research. Name rings a bell?”

Gilda simply nodded and he continued. “But the griffons didn’t find them in Haybale. The Prince-Consort got there first with a Royal Guard frigate and shuffled the princesses out of there. Then they set out to chase the princesses. Word around the street is that Celestia mobilized the First Equestrian Armada along with her monster new airship and probably engaged the griffon’s own monster somewhere between Haybale and Manehattan. But, Gerdie was taken to Canterlot to have a conversation with The Mare.

He took a second to sigh. “The good news is that the Royal Guard uses a private hotel where they stash that sort of creatures until the Princess has decided what to do with them. It’s a simple hotel, nothing out of the ordinary. They’ll be curious about some griffon gal wanting to meet the griffon that was involved in that mess, though.”

“So, do you want my professional opinion?” He asked, making himself comfortable on his couch, setting his back against the soft backrest and his paws behind his head. “As in professional scoundrel that hasn’t done a day of honest work because I can’t stick to a place?”

“Let go of that mess. I don’t really know you, but greeting cards aren’t common in my business… You got yourself out of some muddy waters, and that takes some oomph. You and your friend can learn your way around the airship, and we can work something out. I mean… The airship is a bit too big for a pony and a griffon. And Chewie isn’t into griffon guys, you know?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She told him. “I gotta do stuff. It’s not that simple. Not to mention that I don’t feel like integrating your own personal pride with Grunhilda.”

He sighed, frustrated. “Geez. Come on! Don’t tell me you buy into the Lion’s bullshit!”

“You really don’t understand. I don’t have a choice.” She glowered at him.

He sighed again, even more frustrated. “Come on, girl… The Lion’s bad business.”

“Just get us to Canterlot, will you?” She grumbled at him and walked out the door, back to the airship’s deck.

She found herself a spot at the safety railing in the back of the ship, above the aftercastle, and propped herself on it. She stared down the green prairies and spots of trees along the soft hills. Soon the princesses would change the day for night.

“This douchebag is gonna betray me!” She growled to herself, and her paws held the railing harder than she wanted. “There's no way his ship was just sitting there without a job!”

Maybe she was paranoid, but she had no reason to trust that griffon and even then, she had thought she could trust Gary. She worried about Grunhilda and feared without her the big girl would get herself into trouble. Gilda hadn’t suddenly become great at decision making, but she could swear there something was wrong with Grunhilda. Something that made her vulnerable. She had to be careful, not only for herself, but for Grunhilda too. The Harpy’s words about Gilda deciding Grunhilda’s fate returned.

Maybe it spoke poorly of her, but she rather beat him to the punch and come up on top. Although she doubted she and Grunhilda could get the airship to work, or that they could force his unicorn friend to reliably work for them if she got rid of Grahan.

She could only deal with Grahan after getting done with her deal with the northerners. Then again, she might not even need him at all. She needed to think on it some more, but other thoughts intruded into her head.

Rainbow Dash… She had worried but it seemed she never needed to. How silly, Rainbow Dash ever needing her help… Maybe Rainbow could afford to worry about Gilda a little? In reality, she didn’t know if her letter had even reached her friend.

On another note, she doubted the Harpy would appreciate her friendship. A griffon friend would be more appreciated. In fact, did she… Watch? Like, right as Gilda stood there on the airship?

She listened for a while. Paid attention, eyes shifting one side to the other, but The Harpy never responded. Rather than calming her nerves, it made her even more nervous. Gilda probably was under near constant observation… Somehow. The Harpy had said she would evaluate Gilda.

She sighed to herself. She could only keep going forward. If she stopped, Shatteredrock would catch up to her and she couldn’t let it happen. Or maybe even worse.

Her muscles complained and se stretched her neck up with a groan. It would be a great time to check the room her hosts had for her and Grunhilda.

She went down the stairs and to the front of the vessel. As a converted seafaring vessel, the airship had some significant space under the deck. She walked past a galley where the unicorn had left the caged rats and busied herself with something else. Next Gilda found a small office of sorts, and then a small cargo area ending in a plain wall of planks with a door.

Beyond she entered a wedge-shaped little room within the hull forming the bow. It had a bed and some storage space up top in the form of small cabinets filled with ‘airship stuff’. At least Gilda and Grunhilda had no luggage to concern themselves with. And thinking of the big gal, there she sat, next to a small tub and with a big goofy smile.

“I’ve prepared a bath for you, Miss Gilda.” She declared with all the joy a small child might show at some minor achievement.

Yeah… Gilda hadn’t asked, but a nice bath would be sweet! She’d ignore the origin of the water for the time being.

“Thanks a lot, Grunhilda!” She pulled the door closed with her tail and approached with a grin. “Good call!”

Without thinking about it, she climbed into the tub and relaxed with her back to the edge, letting out a long sigh. The hot water soaked into her coat and her feathers, and it would be a pain to dry, but she didn’t care. The relaxing effect on every single muscle in her body just made it worth it, as though worries evaporated with the steam rising from the water.

Then Grunhilda’s paws reached for her shoulders and neck, massaging her muscles before Gilda could complain or tell her to stop. She let a moan escape and immediately her cheeks turned hot. Gilda had no idea if Grunhilda knew what she was doing, but she had some strong paws, and her massage melted the muscles into relaxation.

Her talons prickled at Gilda’s skin under her plumage, but not enough to be uncomfortable and Grunhilda didn’t seem to have a lot of experience, or anything. Just another schmuck like Gilda trying to do something nice to her friend. It made her blush even more.

Maybe she should retribute, somehow?

A soft aroma of sandalwood rose with the steam. Her friend’s attentions almost made her forget she traveled on an airship with a shady griffon and a talkative unicorn. She yawned.

She yawned again and Grunhilda seemed happy to help.

***

Gilda occupied Ghadah’s body again, and the relaxing touch of water felt familiar, though the young griffoness of millennia ago appreciated it far more. A pool of running water was a literal luxury in the Hader.

Under the stars and the moon, the cool air of the desert night rushed over the stepped pyramid and carried the smell of sand and the plantations bellow. Despite the incense and the heavy ceramic mug filled with fine beer by the pool’s edge.

She laid on her back with her head on a pillow against the edge. The soft smell of the lubricating oils also made themselves present as the servant by the edge of the pool oiled and cleaned her sword, ‘Commandment’. A young and cute griffon on his way up the steps to become one of the Emperor’s own. Eager to please his superiors, to show industriousness and diligence, happy to earn a smile from one of the Harpy’s Chosen. A free griffon, as some things one would just not trust a slave to do.

Most of her sisters had to prove their skills in some spectacular fashion, and for a pair of seasons, Ghadah fought with The Emperor’s Golden Guard. They dealt with a few bandits here and there and helped deal with a small rebellion. She also participated in a raid to a tall pony city.

She hadn’t done anything truly special in her own eyes, but she had garnered quite a lot of prestige for herself. Being her parents’ daughter, and with her dedication to her training, but also in accounts of her ferocity and skill, wielding Commandment in battle. She didn’t think it so amazing, but she trusted the one doling out privileges and prizes.

She merely followed rules and a training regimen. She couldn’t see herself making any excuses as to why she might have failed when it literally her whole life. But apparently not all Sisters did so. Even among the blooming Loremasters, supposedly smarter and wiser.

Life in the Harpy’s Garden implied privilege. The Emperor had built it for the Harpy to remind Her of the mountains in the Stormy Eyrie. The running waters and the cold desert nightly breeze certainly seemed to emulate the temperate climate She described from the birthplace of their race before the Windigos. So did the flowery gardens and berry bushes. Things which wouldn’t exist in the desert and only came to be thanks to the ingenious Shaddani, the plains griffons.

As an added note, Ghadah couldn’t wait for the day the Emperor would lead a host of millions against the Cold. Griffons from all the regions of the Empire, joining together and marching as one behind him… It gave her warm feelings. She hoped she would live long enough to see the Allmother fighting the Windigos, unleashing all of her power at his side.

Quiet chuckles and hymns to the garden’s mistress filtered above her thoughts. Eventual laughter over the rustling of the leaves in foreign trees and fruitful bushes. The running water cascading down the many pools in each step towards the irrigation system where the slaves were allowed to plant their grains and grasses.

Her gift for their subservience. Some of them, even if most rebelled, understood that life became easier when they accepted their place in life and served their masters with diligence. Why, the Allmother even commanded masters should not abuse subservient slaves. So wise and benevolent when one deserved it.

The Allmother’s residence meant even more. A bustling place, home to all of Her Chosen and a place visited by many nobles and residents of the Holy City. The sounds of life spiced the solemn atmosphere, as She desired it. The Loremasters said in hushed voices She hated being alone.

Sometimes the gasping sounds of lovemaking because the legendary beauty of Her Servants often attracted their lovers to their home.

Other times cracking whips and sobbing, because apparently not all Her Chosen could be as diligent or even had a balanced common sense as Ghadah. Noble girls who thought they’d have it easy because their dad and mom were some important merchant or local governor. No, Allmother wanted results, especially from the privileged.

Discipline shaped them soon enough. The Harpy held Her Chosen to a higher standard. She expected nothing less than perfection from Her Swordmaidens and Loremasters and those who managed owned a place in Her home.

The Harpy called it ‘an empire of the senses’. She expected it of griffons. She accused the hooves ones, and their traitorous griffon sympathizers of wanting lives too long and dull. She loathed shyness and indolence, cowardice, and meekness; while she exalted griffons who indulged in the pleasures they reaped from their industriousness. The Emperor had a literal harem of the most beautiful and skilled servants She could produce for him. They gorged in fresh meat, beers and wines after the exertions of their labor. Be it in the bureaucratic machine of the Empire or the meat grinder of the Emperor’s finest.

Finally, Ghadah allowed herself a small smile at the sound of the whip and sobbing. Because some griffons just didn’t measure up to her.

In the middle of Ghadah’s thoughts Gilda wondered if she would make the cut. Ghadah’s mother, Gulsana, and her own mother had raised them in such different ways. Her mother allowed Gilda to express herself and, in the end, not be anything other than herself. Gulsana never allowed Ghadah much space to do anything other than prepare. Prepare for the day she would present her sacrifice to The Harpy. Prepare for her training. Prepare to fight. She even expected Ghadah to be ready to get laid and make an impression with The Emperor.

In the present day, such a thing would sound alarms all the way to Canterlot.

Gilda just couldn’t imagine herself and her mother having many of the conversations Ghadah had with her mother. Much less sharing in many of the things they had, from opening up slaves and scooping out their hearts to megalomaniacal orgiastic festivals. So much food and beverages one might wonder the world would be out of both for the coming years.

To Gilda the most amusing thought had to be Ghadah’s frustration over being relegated to merely watching for so long, disallowed to participate for being uninitiated. It made her think she and the girl really were cuts from different cloths. Products of such different times. Gilda’s stomach turned just at the idea of slavery.

Who was to blame? Was anyone to blame? If so, it would certainly be the griffons who decided to ruin her life for a petty reason.

Yet, as Ghadah and Gilda both appreciated the warm bath and sandalwood, the later also figured The Harpy had once again enamored herself to her. They lived in different worlds. Despite the gossiping about the Bordello of Candy in the Crystal Empire, Gilda doubted they reached the same levels of indulgence of the Empire in its peak. Of course, Gilda never reached the levels of prestige necessary for an invitation to the Bordello anyways.

Then something which had been festering for quite a while seemed to take root. Rainbow Dash was her friend and even though they even went to the same school in their early childhood, their lives turned out so different. Gilda certainly couldn’t blame Rainbow Dash for her life amounting to nothing. She never cared until recently, but while she baked scones, Rainbow Dash became known around the world. She had accrued for herself quite the fortune and a comfortable life due to her position in the pony nobility, even if she didn’t care about it. She became so important the most powerful creature in the world would invite her for all the balls and parties in the capital of the world.

Even if she didn’t care, Rainbow would still eat the best foods and share those with the most important ponies, and even other creatures in the world. Gilda came to a point she ate stale fish and tomato sauce.

Ghadah’s mind pulled her own in a direction and Gilda had to agree. Gilda actually believed the title for the most powerful creature in the world had just been contested… And it meant a lot to Gilda.

Anyways, she had never thought in such a way… But Rainbow not only received a good life on a silver platter for doing what she liked, but she thrived in such life. Her parents gave her all the support, encouragement, and praise to the point that she felt overwhelmed by it.

Truthy, Ghadah had ended up burning alive after being raped and tortured, but because of things which didn’t relate. Right? But, damn, did she lay down the words at her torturers before she died. And even then, Gilda, after the lame life she once thought so awesome, still worried about ending locked up in Shatteredrock. Because she punched a jerk who deserved to be punched.

She half expected The Harpy to talk to her in her head and explain things, but the only sounds were the running water, the rustling leaves. Someone fucking in one of the rooms inside the Garden and some loser getting whipped because of their incompetence. All along with Ghadah’s smug thoughts of superiority.

Holy crap! Ghadah, despite being quite a few years younger than Gilda had fucked the feathering Emperor of the griffon race. She got laid a heck of a lot more, actually was competent at something… She was paws down awesome! And griffons looked up to her, like the dummy with her sword, ogling her teats in the water.

And, once again, old Master Gabriel’s words came to Gilda’s mind. The Chancellor didn’t rule for the griffons. That Gilda was a prisoner and her race had forgotten what it felt like to be free.

Maybe she didn’t believe the ponies unleashed the Windigos as a weapon against the griffons, as Gladys had told her, but she remembered the Stormy Eyrie. She remembered the exultant joy when The Mother of Storms called her kind out to hunt. To dance and celebrate in the rain. She remembered the humbling fear of being Her presence and witnessing Her power.

Ghadah was right to anticipate… Seeing the Mother of Storms unleashing on something would be… Similar to what the nameless cavegriffon had felt witnessing her power in the lightning. Divine.

Gilda remembered the unyielding strength she summoned when she surrendered to her instinct and ended those lowlives in that dirty alley back at Griffonstone. It felt no different to when Ghadah unleashed her sword on those brutes in that awful dream. Even when she knew she wouldn’t win, something inside of her refused to let them win. Even when the flames burned her skin. A pride. A righteousness. Like a predator refusing to be prey. It was the Harpy’s gift… It made her kind into killing machines.

Or at least those who would open themselves to Her gift. Maybe there was a lesson in all that.

Gilda got herself in trouble when she let go of all the ponies wanted her to be. But doing things their way didn’t work either. She would have gotten herself to the most infamous prison in the world, gotten her friends in trouble. Her new friends from the hospital would’ve ended in trouble too. She didn’t even want to think about what would have happened to Grunhilda.

Only after she snapped things worked out for her.

Maybe it wasn’t her mind that had snapped, but her shackles.

Maybe the lesson was that Gilda should become more like Ghadah. Surrender to the Harpy’s might, indulge in her gifts. Make ‘them’ remember a caged predator was still a predator. A hunter that negotiated in blood.

Nevermind the whole political stuff attached to The Lion, the Cult of The Harpy and the civil war threatening Griffonia. Maybe that was not ideal, but that was the right way for the griffons. For once, she was lucky to be able to benefit from it.

Maybe Celestia wasn’t bad. Nor Luna. Maybe it was a difference in mentality. Some things worked for ponies and other worked for griffons. And Gilda was a griffon, not a pony.

A storm approached, and she would get drenched in it either way. Might as well go in headfirst into the dark clouds… For her sake and her friends. She wanted Greta to share in any freedom she might have. Gertrude and Griselda too. She would protect those she loved, and if she could sway The Lion, she would have a few heads rolling too.

Yes… ‘Love your friends infinitely. Hate your enemies infinitely’ sounded right.

The kid dropped her sword with an intrusive clang and interrupted her thoughts and Ghadah’s relaxing mindlessness. Ghadah glared at him but turned to the door once she saw his shocked expression. She gasped.

A large griffoness entered the room. Not as large as The Harpy herself, but big enough she certainly had ancestors in the northerner lands. A fair face and elegantly shaped body covered in all shades of metallic pink, wearing a wondrous multicolored cape flowing about in the breeze.

Gilda recognized her from her very first dream, and Ghadah knew exactly her too. Standing on her four legs in the wather, and letting her wings flare, Ghadah lowered her head in deference.

“Your majesty!” She softly acknowledged the other female, and the boy cried his greeting, much less in control of his nerves.

“Greetings Ghadah. Do you mind if I join you?” She had a strong voice, even she showed a soft smile and her diction flowed elegantly mellow.

“Not at all your majesty!” Ghadah said with all the composure she managed to retain at the visit. She watched as the elegant and older griffon lady undid her cape and wrapped her own clear steel longsword with it before leaving it on the floor. She let all the glory of her lean, yet strong, beautiful body under the metallic pink fur showing.

Ghadah recognized in her all the racial traits of the Shaddani lineage hailing from the central and coastal areas of the Empire to the west of the Hader. Looking at the Empress the rumors about the beauty of griffonesses from the area certainly seemed factual. No wonder she became one of the Harpy’s Swordmaidens before she mated the Emperor. She had sharp facial features, a symbol of the great purity of her ancestors. Alluring cyan eyes to go with the natural highlights of the feathers in her backswept crest.

She walked into the pool and settled laying on her belly, with her head out of the water, relaxing with her calm superiority and eyeing Ghadah playfully. “What is the point of a servant if you won’t have him massage you?”

Ghadah blinked dumbly at her. “He is not my servant… He’s just one of the cubs who follow he soldiers around. He’s oiling my sword.”

Then Ghadah frowned and a series of imprecations rushed past the mind she shared with Gilda. “Mom doesn’t share her servants with me… And I don’t have the money…”

“You need to learn how to lean on your position, Ghadah. I remember Gulsana would always lay with some handsome young soldier after a day of learning the Loremaster arts. That is free.” The empress giggled a little at Ghadah’s helpless expression, but then turned to the kid and frowned at him. “Leave us.”

He rested Ghadah’s sword by the floor as quickly as he could while still being respectful and flew away as promptly as he could.

Ghadah’s thoughts, which ranged from the absurd to the comical to the lewd silenced as soon as Empress Geneviere stared down at the softly sloshing water. “Griffonstone has stopped responding to missives and tribute is not coming anymore.”

Ghadah’s beak dropped open.

“I fear my brother is preparing a rebellion.” She confessed as though she had done something wrong, but at the same time seemed so angry.

“Why would he do that?” And also, why did she come to Ghadah with that?! Both she and Gilda were stumped.

“Gaven has decided he will go there personally.” The other stared back into Ghadah’s eyes.

Gilda knew, through Ghadah, Gaven was Emperor Grigor’s first name, but it didn’t leave either of them any less confused as Ghadah all but whined with a worried frown.

Empress Geneviere frowned too. “Gaven trusts my brother too much and… There are details which make the situation special. But I believe you have impressed your superiors enough you should be made aware of those. Also considering both your mother and your father will be involved.”

She smiled at Ghadah. “Not to mention how much Gaven has endeared himself to you, and so have I.”

Ghadah’s thoughts ground to a halt like a crashing train.

The Empress looked to the sky. “Before the Mad God, but after the Windigos had claimed the Frozen North, ponies ruled their mighty republic from Central Equestria. His arrival upturned everything, and he engulfed the world in His madness. Insane creatures, named by the ponies as the Lost Herd threatened to end civilization. All races found themselves struggling against the Lost and they threatened to end creation for the sake of the Mad God.”

“We all resisted as we could and when their onslaught ended with the Mad God’s defeat, little remained untouched. The Republic’s Mage’s Guild never provided a clear explanation to what had happened. It is possible not even they have a clear record of those events. Many ponies claimed, extra-officially, their Creator Goddesses vanquished Him, but they forced into slumber after the battle.”

“I know the history, milady.” Ghadah shook her head softly. “My mother gave me all the books to read. It is believed the Mad God tried to end Creation for the sins of the hooved. Throughout the months, even the mightiest armies in the world, the Battlehorn Legions were destroyed, one by one, battle after battle. Until only the First and the Fourth returned to the Capital, where they fought again.”

Ghadah frowned a little. “They claim their Goddesses defeated Him, but not before the Mad God ripped out Amore’s heart and crushed Amicizia’s. The Goddesses Sol-Estia and Luccenotturna managed to subdue and turn Him to stone. During that time, The Harpy first walked the realm of the mortals. But She refused to assist griffons in their struggle, for they were too weak, and their weakness disgusted Her. She left for the Stormy Eyrie, where the Emperor later found her, past the Windigos, and brought her here.”

“Also…” Ghadah added with a frown. “The ponies may believe whatever they want to, but The Harpy is the only true god there is.”

Empress Geneviere nodded, pleased at Ghadah, but Gilda’s thoughts stalled at ‘what the fuck?’

Then Geneviere went on. “You were too young to remember, but there was a time after the Mad God when the night was a starless void and the sun became enlarged, bloated, and hotter than it should. Days became hotter and drier each new morning, threatening to bake us alive. Gaven sent the First Airborn Army to Everfree, the city that born out of the ruins of the Capital and where the Mage’s Guild still operated and should care for the sun and moon.”

“I trust you read about the events that followed?” Geneviere tilted her head just a little.

Ghadah nodded. “It is said unicorns gradually lost control of the heavens, until whatever magic they used finally broke and some blamed residual magic from the Mad God. The sun turned black and, for lack of better words from the chronicler, ‘reality began to break apart’. I am glad I was too young to remember. But there was one who put it under control. A winged unicorn who called herself Sunny Days. Daughter of a couple of poor bakers from Everfree. She, and her sister, Moonlit Nights claimed to have the heavens under control. The equines called them Sol-Estia and Luccenotturna, after the goddesses they claimed had been reborn in them.”

“What else do you know?” Geneviere nodded positively at her.

“General Gorhan Blacktalon of the First Airborn Army arrived soon before the event and put the city under occupation as things settled with a new day. He had assistance from both the ruling families, the Bluebloods and the Brightmanes. Archmage Star Swirl protected the two sisters with assistance of Matriarch Cinnamon Flameheart, Legate of the Fourth Battlehorn Legion, supposedly the only Legion which survived. Eventually occupation ended with the return of the First Battlehorn Legion, previously thought destroyed in the battle which occurred in the Capital. Our occupation forces were thus destroyed, and the Emperor’s advisors considered those lands to be too distant to effectively rule, and had nothing of use to us.”

Then Ghadah frowned at the stupid pony nonsense… “Additionally, uneducated pony commoners misunderstood and mispronounced their names and titles. Instead of ‘priestess’, they called them ‘princess’, mispronounced Sol-Estia as Celestia and couldn’t even pronounce Luccenoturna, so they called the younger sister Luna.”

Seriously… Ponies were retarded. Gilda would have sighed if she could and didn’t know if she should laugh or cry.

“I will tell you what you don’t know, then.” Geneviere stared so seriously at Ghadah and Gilda. “The Harpy forbid another occupation. She commanded the Empire prepared for war against all races. To prepare even against those we had already subjugated. What I will tell you, must not leave this pool. Understand?”

“Yes, milady.” Ghadah bowed as much as the water allowed her.

“The world we live at is one of many. Not that there are copies of it, but it has existed countless times before. Every time the powers that be decided Life had become unsustainable, the Black Sun would end it all and Creation began anew. The world first belonged to us, but Creation rebelled. The Children of the Sun led our servants in rebellion, and she destroyed the Allmother, which brought the world to end. But when it began anew the Dawnbringer ruled over the world and remade it so her children would rule it.”

Ghadah frowned and the Empress went on. “The Allmother has withheld the details from us; but elevated to actual godhood, the four goddesses worshiped by the ponies were supposed to remain distant from the realm of the mortals. Much as Our Mother Harpy, neither ever allowed a presence among mortals other than their subtle influence. It was the Mad God’s tampering of magic on the worldwide scale that brought them to walk the world among us.

“So… The ponies are not wrong in claiming… But… The Allmother is the only god…” Ghadah’s didn’t take that well, at all.

“Stay with me, Ghadah.” The Empress urged her. “It falls upon Gaven to destroy the Dawnbringer and her Sister. But for such, the Allmother has proclaimed she must have the unyielding support of all griffons, or She will not be able to lend Gaven the magic to destroy her.”

“But… Grover!” Ghadah growled.

“My brother must be brought to submission, or his rebellion destroyed entirely if we are to survive this.” Geneviere frowned and spoke with such a cruel whim it scared Gilda. “If he has any thoughts of rebellion, Gaven must end Grover and reconquer his subjects, through terror if need be.”

“This is the most important moment in our history. The most important moment in existence.” The empress insisted. “We must keep our race united under the Harpy or the Dawnbringer will again steal the world from us. Therefore, Gaven and the Golden Guard will travel to Griffonstone to put some sense into my brother. Or to bring him to Imperial Justice. I will accompany him as it behooves his imperial consort, and so will our oldest sons. Your father will personally command our escort and your mother will counsel The Emperor. I wish for you to come with us.”

Ghadah blinked at her. “Absolutely, your majesty.”

Ghadah blinked again. “Why?”

“Because your reputation speaks of the necessary skills and maturity.” Geneviere grinned at her surprise. “The Harpy has decided you are to be made a fully-fledged Swordmaiden, and it is now your duty to accompany the Emperor in his journeys. You and the others will be under my command during this journey, as is the norm. And I, with Gulsana, will teach you all you will need to fulfill your duties, as The Harpy commands.”

Ghadah’s beak hung open for a few seconds before she managed to gather her wits. “As The Harpy commands.”

***

Gilda woke calmly and rested, her head cleared and focused. Her coat and feathers had mostly dried off naturally. She felt Grunhilda’s weight and warmness next to her, laying on the small bed. She didn’t know for how long she slept, but it seemed to have been enough to get her rid of the stress of the last day. She held Grunhilda’s paw, draped over her shoulder and softly inhaled the smell of sandalwood.

The big girl mumbled something as Gilda rubbed her cheek softly on her paw. Then she got up slowly and roused the other slightly.

“Chill… Just sleep. I gotta see to a few things, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay…” Grunhilda mumbled in her sleep.

Gilda petted her head and then carefully opened the door to leave the room.

City of Princesses

Gilda walked out of the room she shared with Grunhilda. The chilly air smelled of roasted meat. The only light came from the magical fixtures lining the inside of the airship’s hull. Sparkly Chew sat in front of an oven of sorts, in the kitchen, preparing a tea. Gilda could identify hints of chamomile along roasted meat in the air.

“Hi! Did you rest a bit?” The unicorn piped while stirring her tea. “Things must have been kinda tiring for you and your friend.”

“Yeah.” A small office between them drew Gilda’s attention. “We really appreciate it, and it did wonders for me.”

“Aw, that’s great! We don’t usually get travelers.” The pony ‘ponied’ at her. “Say, would you like something to eat? You skipped dinner… And your friend too! I can heat you some of the roasted rat. I’m going to preserve it in salt, but it’s quite fresh yet!”

“Sure! Just for me, though. Grunhilda’s sleeping.” Gilda smiled, pointing back with a thumb. The pony nodded and turned her backside to Gilda, fussing around with the cabinets in the kitchen.

Gilda took the opportunity to quickly glance around the office and noticed a lot of papers everywhere. Some stuck to a corkwood board, others floating freely on the desk. Names of ponies and griffons, probably contacts in different cities. A calendar with ‘Blueblood’ written on the square a few days away, with griffon characters. An empty mug, a few maps.

She stole a glance at the pony, still busy with something inside the cabinet and shuffled some of the papers around. It netted her quite a few overdue bills. Recharging fees, food, docking fees… Some written with the ubiquitous pony ideograms and others with the less common, but still not uncommon Modern Griffonese. Some of those were written in both, and most of them also had formal ‘threats’ along with the bills from all sorts of origins.

She let a small smile show. Grahan had a lot of creditors from both Griffonia and Heartland Equestria. Manehattan, Baltimare. Phillydelphia. Canterlot. Las Pegasus. Beachhome. Greenleaf. Griffonstone… But one drew her attention: written with Common Equestrian.

Even if Gilda couldn’t read the thing, one could look at the bold wings and ship, the chains and the broken heart said everything enough. Especially signed with the compass rose of the royal douchebag himself.

It seemed Grahan needed a lot of money and had run out of options.

She let the things alone before the cheery pony looked up from the short cabinet and put a few strips of roasted meat on a wooden plate. “Here you go! Magically heated, but I promise it had no contact with the water from the engines!”

Gilda chuckled at the pony and her joke, holding the plate in one paw, sitting on her haunches to eat. The rat, once cleaned, roasted and seasoned tasted much better. She wolfed down one of the strips as the pony went back to her tea.

“Thanks a lot, Chewie. Say, how long have you known Grahan?” She smiled at the pony.

“Oh… Some two or three years. He won the airship from a rich unicorn lady in Las Pegasus and hired me just as soon as we met.” She giggled. “Been working together ever since. Trouble left and right, barely any money and the Princess even bailed us out of jail once. Fun, fun!”

Gilda could see who took care of the bills… The pony was in just for the fun. “Well, I’m glad you two met. He would have some trouble running the airship by himself, right?”

“Yeah! You need a unicorn to talk magic with those thaumatic systems. Universities are cranking out operators and engineers like there’s no tomorrow. Job openings are everywhere! Isn’t that great? Everypony wins! Er… Other creatures too because many unicorns working means everycreature can own one of those and employ a friendly unicorn!”

“Yeah. I’m sure unicorns are happy they’re getting easy jobs and the others are stuck with hiring a pony.” She gulped another strip of meat, which helped her disguise her smirk at the easily manipulated pony.

“Well, plenty of ponies willing to work means everycreature gets access to these neat things such as the teleporters and magical induction engine airships! Right?” Chewie grinned widely. “Oh! Did you know there was one griffon lady who graduated with the best grades in the history of the School of Arcane Sciences for Bay County University? Can’t quite remember her name, though. She’s probably somewhere in Manehattan or the Crystal Empire making millions of Bits designing magical induction engines!”

“Yeah. Sure.” Gilda gave the plate back to her. “Thanks, Chewie. I’m gonna go up there and catch some fresh air.”

“Sure!” She grinned again. “Just be careful your wings don’t get caught in the wind. Ship’s going at full flux and will leave you behind.”

“Yeah, sure.” Gilda waved a paw and walked up the stairs. She didn’t go there to ‘catch some fresh air’, though. She smiled a little to herself when she saw Grahan minding the helm inside the aftercastle, behind the glass. Tiredly hunched over the helm, he looked bored out of his mind. Although he straightened up as soon as he saw her, and that made her grin. The chilly wind in the night didn’t even bother her. It had been some time since the cold had bothered her.

On her way, she overtly smiled at him and kept walking towards the door to the small living room in the aftercastle.

He came out of the room with the helm holding a yellow coffee mug and what she supposed he considered a seductive smile. “Hey.”

“Heya.” She said, walking towards the couch. “Grunhilda’s sleeping now.”

He blinked dumbly at her as though he hadn’t completely understood what she said. Meanwhile she sat on the couch, on her side, letting her tail wrap around in front of her legs and sighed longingly. “I feel kinda lonely…”

“Heeey… I know how you feel.” He grabbed another mug from a counter and put coffee in it from a jar sitting on a magical heating plate. He walked to her, taking his place on the couch right next to her, giving her the second mug and showing off one of his paws in a closed fist. “You bet I feel lonely too. Sometimes the wind becomes a bit harrying, and the airship needs a pair of strong paws at the helm. Airships are kind of like females. You got the needy ones you gotta keep constantly watching over and the mellow submissive ones that will do all you want. But my favorites are the feisty and angry ones you gotta keep on a tight leash or they go all over the place and don’t respect you.”

“But don’t feel overwhelmed.” He proudfully stared at his talons, stretching his fingers out. “I’m quite good with most.”

Gilda simply took a sip from the strong coffee.

Such is what you yield from a young tom living alone with a pony mare. It is most unhealthy…

Gilda snorted-laughed-coughed, almost spit the coffee, and barely covered her beak in time to keep from laughing out.

“You okay?” He frowned at her.

“Yeah.” She coughed and settled again. So now She decided to speak again. Fine… Supposedly, She gave Gilda space to reach her own conclusions earlier. Fine. That worked. With her mind back at the griffon with her, Gilda took care to lay her weight on Grahan. She cradled the mug in her paws and smiled again. “So, how long you and chewie been together?”

“Oh… A couple of years.” He put his foreleg behind her shoulders and held her close. “When I won the airship from some annoying rich unicorn mare in Las Pegasus she was convinced I just couldn’t do anything with it. She just sat there bragging that she’d buy it back from me for a small fortune.”

He chuckled and made some gestures with his paw over Gilda’s shoulder. “Chewie simply came over with her diploma and said ‘Hey mister, did you say that you need a thaumatoengineer?’ I said ‘Yeah’. And thus started a beautiful and profitable friendship. The mare got so pissed she tried to sue us. Don’t even know if she got anything… We were gone in minutes. Hehe. Afterward, we made some modifications to the ship’s systems and Chewie fine-tuned her engines.”

He kissed his fingers. “Turned her into one of the best smuggling- Er… Transport airships in the Heartland.”

Suddenly, the ship pulled to the side, and Gilda startled a little, more because she didn’t want the coffee to spill, but Grahan chuckled full of himself and stood from the couch. “Don’t worry, babe. All she needs is a little of the ol’ magic touch through some bad winds.”

He even wiggled his fingers at her the same way those immature kids would when she was growing up as he went to mind the helm. By herself Gilda gave a satisfied smile and stood too, leaving the coffee on the floor and walked the other way, to the other door.

“Hasn’t that mare tried to get back at you?” She spoke with a raised voice, slinking into the room that seemed like another office and a small bedroom for one.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” He chuckled, also raising his voice from the helm in the other room.

Gilda allowed herself a dirty little grin under the soft light from the white, little crystal on the ceiling. The window’s shutter was closed and the bed still to be made, but it didn’t matter to her. She slowly and softly pawed around the disorganized papers and booklets. One or two actual books. More bills, more unimportant letters. Some niches on the wall, the shelves held more of those.

Meanwhile he still spoke. “I suppose that she tried, but I guess she didn’t quite have the reach, you know?”

She chuckled for him to hear, busying herself. “What a loser.”

“I got some real dicks hunting me every now and then, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” He bragged from the other room.

“Oh…” She added a sultry flavor to her voice, while opening the drawer on the desk. “You have to tell me about that…”

He chuckled. “Most bounty hunters are griffons, babe. Sometimes a pony shows up, though and they can be deceptively dangerous.”

He babbled on as she, again slowly and softly, patted and moved papers and pointless photographs around. She finally found a small leather-bound booklet tied closed with a natural fiber string.

“Unicorns can be the most dangerous, you know…” He went on. “Little bastards can hit you with all sorts of spells that stun or downright burn you. Nasty.”

She unwound the string around the button holding it shut and as soon as she opened it, she found a piece of parchment, folded twice and easily opened.

“But the pegasi are a pain too if they had training. I hear some of them can simply make weapons out of water.” He still spoke mindlessly. “It’s almost like a cheat.”

“Yeah… I can imagine!” She called back staring at her face drawn on the folded parchment.

This broad Gilda pissed off some big birds in The’stone. Tan coat, around 20, pretty hot, white with yellow eyes. Light purple shadow. Just some bitless loser that managed to escape Gui, somehow. Headed to Haybale, fuck knows why. Usual place, 15 Grand. They say she’s with some white retard. Pay is for Gilda only and the other could be trouble cause the mils hate her.

Goy

“Earth ponies usually don’t get into this sort of work, but when they do… Oh boy… They can mess you up.” He still went on.

She allowed herself a cocky grin and didn’t even get angry. She supposed that was how the game was played. But also, that adversity was a good teacher, indeed. She supposed she would help Grahan become a better griffon. With another grin, she returned everything back to its place. “Ever fought an earth pony, Grahan?”

“Oh, yeah! Once.” He called from the room with the wheel as she demurely returned to her place on the couch and grabbed her mug with time to spare. “Big fellow with retractable blades strapped to his legs. Too slow, though.”

He walked out of the room showing off his wings, playfully flapping just the tips. “And… Big guy didn’t fly.”

She gave him a playful chuckle while allowing him to sit again with her. “If we weren’t going to Canterlot, where would you go?”

He thought for a second. “Ah… Manehattan. To refuel and resupply. Got her sails stripped and she can’t gather mana from the wind. If I had money, I’d repair her. It would save me a lot of Bits. Also, gotta fill the pantry. From there Hippogriffia and then Beachhome back in Griffonia. It’s a nice place to get jobs… I’m tired of Haybale. You know?”

“Hmmm. I’ll bet.” She returned the mug to him and shifted around to rest her paws on his chest. “Thanks for the chat, hotshot.”

He held her mug and gave her a puppy stare as she ran her talon across his fluffy chest. “We’ll get Grunhilda entertained with something and then you can tell me all about your strong paws and your tight leash.”

Before he could answer, she climbed down from the couch and walked outside.

She made her way back to the bed Grunhilda still slept on and returned to her place with her. She didn’t see Sparkly Chew along the way and that was for the best. She would need a few minutes… Or hours, planning her next move.

Heck, it wasn’t all bad… At least Goy thought she was hot. Actually, she would very much like to meet Goy one of those days. Maybe she ought to start making a list.

***

No more dreams, Gilda woke in the early morning to the cold which seemed to seep into the room. It didn’t bother her because she had a big warm fluffy Grunhilda to hold onto.

Then she startled at the realization she and the big griffon girl had hugged each other and it felt so nice it was awkward. Big Girl looked too damned cute holding her as though she was her personal griffon plushie… And she was strong! Gilda didn’t really have a choice with her face on Grunhilda’s chest.

Ponies usually smelled of something. Fruit. Some sweet. Minty… Something. Grunhilda smelled of griffon and it worried Gilda how much she enjoyed it and the sensations it caused her.

“Grunhilda?” She tried, but the other didn’t let go. She even squeezed tighter. Instead of becoming angry, Gilda’s beak formed a naughty smirk. “Grunhilda, we got stuff to do… Do I have to get you to let go?”

Big Girl squealed ‘awake’ and let go immediately. “Sorry miss Gilda!”

Gilda sat and grinned, looking at the other griffon, sitting on the other side of the bed, staring down and away. Gilda couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “Come on, Grunhilda… We gotta be ready to disembark as soon as we get to Canterlot. Let’s get up top and talk to our hosts.”

“Okay!” The big griffon girl brightened up. “Are we going to take Mister Grahan and Miss Sparkly Chew with us to see Miss Gerdie?”

Her first reaction was to tell Grunhilda not to be too friendly with the two. But it would be easier to let her encroach to those two and then spring her surprise on the traitorous douchebag when he least expected.

“Just don’t get too attached to them, Grunhilda.” She admonished like a mother talking about a pet. “We’ll have to take care of ourselves without them.”

“Okay.” The other nodded obediently.

Gilda then stared at Grunhilda for a second. She was ‘technically’ clean… As in, her coat and her plumage held no grime, but her coat was messy, and Gilda didn’t even have to look at herself to know that hers was too. They could use a brush.

She sighed. They would draw a lot of attention in Canterlot. Ideally, they should wear something and have their coats brushed, at the least, but she didn’t really have time to go to a damn spa. Maybe they could make a brief stop at a hostel, or something of the sort. There should be one near the airdocks. Probably a bad idea, though.

Yeah… Screw that. Ponies and their frilly bullshit… She didn’t have time to waste. First thing out of the airship should be dealing with Grahan and Sparkly Chew, then talking to Gerdie. And she had an idea. A great idea. But it would require some luck.

“Come on, Grunhilda.” She nodded at the door and grinned at her friend. “Let’s go see Mount Canterlot from the air.”

***

Grunhilda wore her backpack and followed Gilda to the deck. Sparkly Chew never showed up, but she saw Grahan behind the big wheel inside the aftercastle. He grinned and waved at her. She winked at him, unbothered, and then turned, letting her feathers flutter in the chilly wind. Beyond the ship’s bow stood the steep mountain, crowned by the ostentatious pony city.

“How does that thing not fall?” Grunhilda frowned and cocked her head as though she saw something impossible.

“Clever architecture!” Sparkly came from behind. “Good materials and laws upon laws and regulations upon regulations on construction. And on land acquisitions… It’s what makes living in there so expensive. Now there is a princess living in Ponyville, some nobles have decided to move there. But… Canterlot is Canterlot. Hurray for the capital of the world. You gotta see the Harmony Esplanade, with the palace and the Hall of Friendship, all the offices. Harmony Plaza with the statues of the Mane Six.”

Gilda had to admit. It was impressive.

“No magic?” Grunhilda turned to the pony with a grin, almost disappointed.

“Well, they say not as much as most would assume.” Sparkly frowned and turned her stare up, thoughtfully. Then she started talking again! “The truth is most magic in Canterlot are military-grade defensive spells and they don’t like civilian constructors messing up their spells. So, most of what makes Canterlot stay up there is clever engineering. There is actually a crystal mine inside the mountain, you know. Though it’s not good crystal for magical components. Those would be the crystals from the Crystal Empire. Not to mention most modern pony airships will have a hull made of crystalized metal. Crystal ponies are good making it. Ours is just a cheap adapted seafaring vessel.”

Grahan approached them. “Hey girls, we’ll be landing soon in the upper layers of the city. As high as my permit will allow. That is where the rich ponies disembark when they hire transport and the closest place to get us to meeting your friend Gerdie.”

Gilda hummed and her fingers strummed the railing. She nodded. Rich was good. Thus, she turned to him with a sultry smile. “Alright. I’ve been thinking… There is a chance I can summon some favors to get Blueblood off your tail. Plus, they can give us some nice shelter. You now… To rest for a bit before Blueblood and your debt are dealt with.”

She could swear she heard the testosterone-lubricated gears spinning in his head and suppressed the smug smile almost creeping into her beak.

You are fortunate he is so easily manipulated. A cleverer griffon might not fall for this ploy. You are attractive, but you are not a manipulator.

Fair. But Gilda had the cat wrapped around her finger and she didn’t really need much. Just get him to a place where she had the home-field advantage. It could prove to be a problem, but she had been playing a bit of a desperate game for quite a while. If things would go wrong, then she’d have Grunhilda to back her up. Hopefully, the dumbass tom wouldn’t be any the wiser and she wouldn’t need Grunhilda to put herself in danger.

“Alright.” He agreed without much delay. “I suppose I’d rather not be on the ship when the Archduke’s thugs show up anyways. Yeah. For now, I’ll be at the helm. Let Chewie do the talking when we arrive unless someone talks to you. Alright?”

“Cool.” Gilda waved at him, as chill as she could.

Grunhilda seemed to like the wind at her cute ears-like crest, sufficiently entertained to not create trouble, just standing near the edge, and holding onto the railing. Meanwhile, the unicorn mare went down the stairs, no doubt busy with something relating to the functions of the ship’s magical engines.

It seemed Gilda could just relax and enjoy the short last leg of their travel to Canterlot, so she sat next to Grunhilda and let the wind caress her feathers too.

***

Grahan maneuvered the flying vessel around the city, keeping a small distance. It made for an entertaining arrival, so beautiful the city. Grunhilda held at the railing and hopped a little, excited at every beautiful pony structure she saw. They could see well-dressed ponies on the luxurious terraces with fountains and statues of ponies, along with a lot of green. One or two fancy food carts here or there, surrounded by tables and over-dressed ponies everywhere. Most of them unicorns, but the city certainly had a few pegasi that took advantage of the open nature of the terraces to quickly shift between levels. Winds must be carefully controlled around the city, because a weird draft could kill one of those. Lightweight pegasi and airships alike could end up in a weird draft, shoved against the city. Then everyone was going to have a bad day. The ships, and the Century Hawk shared her approach with a few, kept their distance from the city, though.

Lots of many-sized mansions dotted the city, especially in the higher levels. But also, some store fronts. Mostly restaurants and fancy stores with large showcases behind wide clear glass panes with painted decoration and impressive names.

All the white, gold, silver and blue spires drew attention. As though the city existed to support the palace. Probably not the intended effect, but the place dominated the highest level of the city, with the market in a wide alley that started at the palace’s gates and snaked around the city, going down her levels. At the top level, opposite to the palace, though, was a large plaza decorated with six statues of six very well-known mares.

The highest level had a beauty of its own, built not to cast too much shade upon the lower levels. Mostly white, gold and blue, but other colors seemed prevalent. The green of trees and gardens, channels of clear water from the top of the mountain pooled in artificial lakes here and there along the levels of the wide and, literally, tall city. It seemed bigger than Baltimare if one would spread its levels in one single city. An organized and carefully planned city, with clear districts and spanning bridges connecting even more districts which protruded from the mountain.

Soon, the airdocks came into view. Gilda expected something similar to Baltimare, but she she couldn’t be more wrong. The docks Grahan had chosen had a compact shape, denser and more efficient. They made full use of verticality with several ‘stacked’ hangars. Golden hulled vessels, broadsides filled with cannons and white sails watched over the perimeter as vessels went into and out of the airspace surrounding the port. An organized dance Gilda had no idea how it worked. It seemed to involve different flight levels and right-of-passage rules, including keeping to the left or right, coming in or out… Everything just worked. Probably unicorns and their rules.

Green and red banners seemed to indicate free and taken docks, and all the ships kept to low speeds until they cleared the immediate area of the facility.

“This is so cool!’ Grunhilda flapped her wings all excited. “That is a lot of airships!”

Didn’t seem like too many airships flying around to Gilda, but there certainly enough to cause a lot of chaos without those rules. She just smiled at Grunhilda having fun, though.

Soon enough Grahan maneuvered his airship with its stupid name into one of the hangars showing the green flag and the airship gradually slowed into the indoor berth. Her engines whirled down to silence and blue metallic doors closed behind her, pulled by a system of pulleys and ropes.

Light came from gas lamps around the dock and from the large, shining crystal fixtures in the ceiling.

Chewie rushed up to the deck and welcomed a pegasus dockhoof flying close to the airship with a rope and moored her to the berth. A wedge-shaped nook in the end of the dock locked her perfectly into place. Other pegasi placed a fancy plank, complete with edges protected by safety railings. All while a white and cyan unicorn mare with a red and gold cap took notes into her clipboard with a pencil.

Gilda and Grunhilda obediently waited as Sparkly Chew talked to the pegasi dockhooves gathered in front of her and Grahan came from the aftercastle and actually addressed the unicorn.

“Hi there!” He waved.

“Greetings, Captain Grahan!” The mare stopped by the plank. “May I come aboard?”

“Please do!” He grinned and Gilda didn’t know if he was just friendly or nervous, but the pony didn’t seem to mind as she walked and then hopped onto the deck.

“Welcome to Canterlot! Do you need anything?” She smiled all pony friendliness at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded and pointed at his unicorn crewmate. “Talk to Sparkly Chew… But we need her mana batteries recharged and her galley could use a resupply. I’ll pay whatever she asks for. Should still have credit with the port admin.”

The mare looked up the airship’s retracted sails with a frown. “It seems her sails are not in great condition…”

“Yeah…” Grahan scratched his nape. “They got ripped apart. That’s why I need the recharging.”

“Well, I must fine you on flying a damaged airship, mister. Sorry.” The mare let her ears flop.

“It’s cool.” Grahan shrugged. “I’ll get them fixed, eventually.”

“Alrighty then!” Then the mare perked up again, looking at Gilda and Grunhilda after taking some more notes. “Passengers?”

“Yeah.” He waved a paw at the pair of griffon ladies and the unicorn mare turned her attention to Gilda and Grunhilda. The later blinked dumbly at the pony.

“Hi! Welcome to Canterlot! May I have your names?” The pony grinned at them.

“Yeah…” Gilda coughed. “I’m Gilda. She’s my friend, Grunhilda.”

“Okay…” The pony noted that down. “May I have your identification numbers?”

Oh, shit! Flashbacks of Baltimare and the whole shitstorm they dodged rushed back to Gilda’s mind with renewed dread.

“Sure…” Gilda spoke slowly, stuck between not freaking out and trying to conjure up an excuse before the mare became too suspicious. She ended up reciting her number. “It’s uh… Two-four-five, five-nine-five, thirty-nine-four. From Griffonstone.”

She finished with a half-panicked smile, but the mare had distracted herself writing it down on her clipboard and as soon as she finished, she turned her attention to Grunhilda.

“Hum…” The big griffon started with a shrug. “Nnnn… Nine-eight-five… Five-six-two… Uuuh… eighty-nine… Eleven.”

Gilda’s heart skipped a beat.

“Uh-hu…” The pony noted her number too. “Where from?”

“Oh. Thunderpeak?” Grunhilda smiled nervously. The pony didn’t notice or didn’t mind. Maybe she became used to creatures reacting weirdly because they might do something wrong unintentionally… Gilda didn’t know, she just suddenly felt a weird urge of thanking The Harpy.

“Thanks!” The pony pipped. “Where did you come from and was there any particular reason to travel?”

“Yeah.” Gilda did her best not to stutter and managed well enough. “We came from Haybale… For Tourism. You know? Then I decided I’d come to Canterlot to see a friend and she came along.”

The pony nodded and hum-hummed, satisfied. “Enjoy your stay! If you need housing or food the port has both at a discount for tourists!”

And just like so, she walked out the ship and talked to the pegasi bringing stuff over from the dock.

“Wow. Good job, Grunhilda.” Gilda sighed her relief and smiled at the other, coming closer and speaking in a hushed voice. “They should take some time before they realize something is wrong.”

“Thank you, Miss Gilda!” She grinned triumphantly, if also keeping a low voice.

“Well, things are proceeding as planned.” Grahan approached them with a grin and wearing a black leather pouch hanging from a strap around his neck. “I guess we jump ship now?”

“Do you trust these ponies to leave your ship alone with them?” Gilda turned to him.

He simply shrugged. “Nothing of value. Got my money here.”

“I’ll be going too, if you don’t mind.” Sparkly Chew apparently finished dealing with the dockhooves and wore a pair of cute pink saddlebags with her cutie mark. “I don’t wanna be here alone when Blueblood’s ponies show up.”

“Yes. I also don’t want to leave Chewie here alone.” Grahan offered his paw. “Where to, then?”

“I suppose we should go to the hotel…” She told him, though she had a plan. “Where is it?”

“The Harmony Esplanade.” Sparkly pipped. “It used to be called Royal Explanade, and originally the term referred to the open area around forts so wall-mounted cannons and defenses had an open field of view…”

“Yeah, yeah… It’s the large street in between the palace and the plaza with the statues of Princess Twilight and her friends and that goes down to the next level below… There is a fancy market there.” Gilda interrupted before the desire to leave the unicorn in the airship became overwhelming. “Not my first time in Canterlot.”

Not that she knew it enough to know they didn’t have a teleporter, though… She grunted at herself. “How come Canterlot doesn’t have a teleporter?”

The pony grinned at her. “Terrain prices are astronomical in here. Setting up a teleporter is already ridiculously expensive and usually involves grants from city administrations in spacious cities like the Crystal Empire. Ponyville just has everything and is just a short flight from Canterlot. One doesn’t even need much more than a pair of wings or a pegasus and a taxi. You see, these teleporters are usually co-owned by the companies running the individual teleporters, except for freight teleporters… They’re owned by the Crown and a single company operates them with operators funded by the Princess. It’s kind of a mess.”

Yeah… Everything involving ponies had a tendency of turning into a mess. But Gilda supposed that was part of their charm.

Anyways, as the pony still spoke, she concluded the present situation was good enough for her. The fanciest market in the fanciest town in the world ought to have what she looked for. So, walking around the city with them would take her there, and even better the two of them went along. It should simplify things.

They left the ship behind, and nobody asked any further questions. They exited the complex of airship hangars after a few stairs and Gilda liked the lack of bureaucracy. She supposed things went so smoothly because they already knew Grahan and his airship. Not to mention he also worked for Blueblood…

They probably had an office full of paper loving unicorns keeping those records straight and sending them to and from. Who to ignore and who to make problems with. She knew ponies, though… They were too nice for the sort of corruption which ran rampant in Griffonstone. It was one rotten asshole with a name and some obscure reason Celestia didn’t end him already.

She only hoped the unicorns organizing the communication with local militias weren’t so good, because Gilda happened to be one of those with whom to make problems.

The airport turned out exactly what a fancy Canterlot airport would look like. Several levels of fancy. Full of glass, gold, whites and blues, with a small square and a fountain in front of the passenger entrance. An inconspicuous road led to a cargo processing facility. Everything very neat and organized, more so than Baltimare and certainly squeakier-clean than Haybale. Filled with frivolous, if pretty and neat, decoration in the form of flowing lines and some stars, the moon, the sun, hearts, horseshoes… Pony stuff.

Ghadah would have suffered a mental breakdown.

Grahan knew the way, so he led the group. Meanwhile his unicorn friend/employee/whatever the heck she was, talked about every single statue of every stallion and mare they found along the way. Even in Canterlot’s skyways wich stood vertiginously high above the ground below, the city was full of… She supposed ‘history’. In every corner some detail could be found, everything meant an important pony or event.

Sparkly Chew spoke without end. Good thing she had entertained herself with Grunhilda who paid attention to the pony’s prattling. They really looked like tourists and it gave Gilda some time to think as they crossed another skyway into the next protruding plate holding the city on the mountain.

For some reason she thought back to the mess which caused all that. It didn’t escape her that had she remained docile (as docile as she ever was), she would still be living her little life. Baking scones and scraping a few Bits to survive until the war blew over.

Ghadah would have retched at witnessing Gilda just living her life, but she found pride over her life. She did the best she could do with what she had. She survived. Easily while the basic income kept her afloat, but circumstances forced her to adapt, she made it.

The point, though… Griffons had decided they wanted to live easy lives and she didn’t really think it wrong. But at the same time… The Harpy wanted them to experience their lives to the fullest, not accommodate into something. If Gilda had not acted in such impulsivity, she would be safe, but she wouldn’t have experienced what she had. Of course, it worked out until then, but… That’s the point!

She frowned at no one as she walked. Had she experienced it, though? Ghadah did. She just remembered and rode along.

Once again, Gilda expected The Harpy would chime in, but She didn’t. She had an incredibly annoying tendency of silencing Herself when Gilda needed to hear Her.

Gilda just never got used to talking to herself and thinking through to making up her mind. She became used to snapping to reactions instead of hearing herself think. Her impulses controlled her more than herself. Ghadah with her life streamlined for her, had much more control of her thoughts and of herself.

She concluded she should be herself more, and not just let impulses control her. She had allowed her life to blow past her, and she only really felt something when her world turned upside down and she found herself with no option but to fight. When she let go and let her instincts guide her. When she let the most honest part of herself, deep inside her heart, take control… She let go of everything and nothing but herself reached out and acted.

She was so afraid before. When she met Gertrude and Griselda. When she had to face Judge Gracie. When she had to pick a job from the list, and she hated everything in it. When those thugs cornered her in that alley. It took her losing everything to see who she was, and she concluded she passed the test.

That was, exactly, what The Harpy wanted from griffons. That they lived their lives. Not because she wanted it of them, but because that was who they were.

There, probably, was a lot of space to discuss about the differences between how Celestia and The Harpy thought they should live. But… Well… Celestia let the griffons mess up whatever she wanted for Griffonia.

Thinking of Ghadah again, she realized Gilda was her, and was Gilda just the same, but, at different times. Different lives. Nothing wrong in learning from herself in another life, but she didn’t want to let go of everything she was before she met The Harpy and Ghadah.

Then again, she didn’t have to, did she? She only supposed The Harpy would not approve of her friendship with Rainbow Dash.

Could they still be called friends, though? They had grown apart simply because Gilda lived in Griffonstone and the pony lived half the world across from there. They fought once, but the second time they met each other, they worked together in the end.

She kept going in circles whenever she thought about Rainbow. Maybe she feared committing and it either meant dumping Dash forever or going back to being the lame Gilda who thought herself so awesome.

Truth be told, The Harpy hasn’t asked her to do something she didn’t like… Yet.

Maybe she could find a middle ground she could stay on? She wanted to be on The Harpy’s good side. She wanted to keep being Rainbow’s friend… Even if she did believe she had it much easier. Gilda wanted to help the griffons change, but she didn’t want to hate the ponies. She certainly didn’t want to carve out hearts of intelligent creatures, or any creature.

There had to be a middle ground around there, somewhere.

Suddenly they had walked to the top area. Following the wide street past one store or another, and rich mansions all the way. A few ponies walking around greeted them, and they reached the large and luxurious plaza. A large fountain occupied the middle, surrounded by six statues of the very famous ponies who were Rainbow Dash and her friends.

Six individual statues of the ponies as though they posed for a photograph, each with their own walkway that led to the center fountain. Lots of ponies loitering around, talking, just enjoying the nice sunny day. No food carts or any sort of commercial activities whatsoever in the plaza. Just ponies chilling.

On the other side of the wide walkway sat the magnificent Canterlot Palace. Residence to the The Mare and her sister, the two most powerful individuals in the world. And right next to it, the Hall of Friendship where all the nations of the world discussed through their representatives, and on the other side, Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

Grahan pointed to a rather tall building, like a three-story high mansion with countless windows. “That is the place. High Hoof Hotel. It houses rich ponies coming to see the Princesses and it is the place the Goldies stash their charges until the Princess has decided what to do with them. If Gerdie is under arrest, it could be trouble.”

Gilda would deal with it soon. Before, she needed to figure out a way to deal with Grahan and his friend. She hoped her plan wouldn’t flop because she didn’t want to be at his mercy. She’d end up wherever the ‘usual place’ was and Grahan would be getting fifteen thousand Bits richer at her expense. She didn’t even want to think what would happen to Grunhilda.

But so far, things remained under control.

Author's Note

Added a mention that Grunhilda wore her backpack before leaving.

Underneath

The Harmony Esplanade was a great place to drop by if one wanted to meet friendly ponies or stare at their necks. The unicorns put their muzzles up so high near the griffons it was all Gilda could see. It was also great if one wanted to know a rich and beautiful part of one of the richest cities in the world, if one wanted fancy food and ambience, or if they simply wanted to meet the princesses. Or needed to understand why some creatures wanted to murder unicorns.

The doors to the palace stood open. Right there. Gilda almost laughed thinking about Chancellor Gail starting an open doors policy… Griffons throwing stones past the gates would be the least of his problems.

Regardless, if one was afraid The Law might catch up with them at any second, Canterlot wasn’t such a cool place to visit. Fortunately, Grunhilda entertained herself with Sparkly Chew talking on and on about the city. It helped bear with at least one pony in leather barding with a crown in their distinctive at almost every corner. Also fortunately, none of them seemed to be interested on the griffons walking by.

“So… What are we looking for?” Grahan asked next to her, leaving the other two slightly behind them. “I mean… Four eyes can see better than two.”

“Chill.” She waved a paw at him. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

He didn’t like hearing that, but she didn’t care. She had the situation much more under control than when she pretended to be a nurse. Instead of worrying about him, she worried about finding a store, or a restaurant, or anything showing the storm and lightning logo. It felt like a gamble, but better than simply allowing Grahan to take her wherever he would to meet Goy.

Her eyes kept scanning the commercial establishments on both sides of the esplanade.

Quills and parchment store.

Book store.

Library.

Magic components and tools store.

A donut shop.

A fancy café.

Book repair shop.

Another fancy café.

Porcelain store.

Antiques and curios store.

Travel agency.

Yet another fancy café.

A pony owned fancy restaurant.

Hope drained away. Maybe Canterlot was beyond Lady Gwendolen’s reach. Gilda had hoped for a front since Snow Mountains would have an elected senators and staff. Influential griffons and all that. She hated the idea of the whole situation with Grahan and Chewie turning violent at some point. Which it eventually would if she let things progress the way they did.

Then she saw it.

In a corner with a transversal street that exited northbound from the esplanade. A large building, all white with large windows showing the tables inside and with most of the walkway taken by outdoor tables. A few griffons sat there, talking, and eating snacks in the form of finely cut meat chunks and drinking something.

A large glass double door with the name and logo engraved with acid: ‘Wild North – Northerner Barbecue’ under the very same logo of the storm cloud and the lightning bolt.

She grinned and immediately started walking there, followed by the others.

“Wait? That?” Grahan frowned and grimaced. “I imagined something… Uh… More like a… I don’t know… Less conspicuous?”

Gilda didn’t care for him or his mumbling and the other two followed mindlessly as a large griffon in a suit opened the door for them. The smell of roasted meat and fat hit her like a fluffy pillow, and she almost let her tongue hang from her beak.

“Damn…” Grahan gasped at the interior and the pony even stopped talking.

White masonry with decorative pillars made the walls. Arches of gray stone made individual environments. Beautiful black candelabra shaped like small griffon cubs held magical lights. Bronze statues of elegant griffon ladies holding smokeless torches, the same she saw in her dream, occupied niches on the walls. Griffons sat at meticulously organized tables around the hall and shared voluptuous meals. In the center of the room a luxurious and colorful buffet held stuff ranging from all sorts of salads to vegetables and fruits. Beneath it a water tank above three stacks of wood on fire distributed the heat. The smell of aromatic burning wood mixed with the smell of food and did the unthinkable to Gilda’s appetite.

A young and beautiful griffon lady came from an open door from where the smell of a carnivore paradise emanated, following in her wake. She carried on her back a covered plate to one of the tables where griffons waited for their meal. They held forks and knives at the table, cheerfully talking in Common Equestrian, to one of their pony friends.

Black marble with white gold inlays made the floor and in the back a fountain featured a gorgeous griffon lady, large and elegant pointing up on her hindlegs. Above her hovered an actual cloud and it rained on her and the pool beneath, eventually letting off a small bolt of lightning.

Next to it a griffon guy wore a hat with a long green feather and sat at a small stage, playing a lazy song on his flute.

The whole place mesmerized them, and Gilda barely noticed when a griffon lady approached. Large, though not as much as Grunhilda, more like she was ‘normal sized’, but worked those muscles of hers. With a bright green, metallic sheen to her coat and her head covered in bright, colorful plumage. Not to mention she wore the same blue satin cloak and iron link chain that Gladys wore. Gilda had definitively found the right place.

Her bright green eyes scanned the group, and she kept a composed demeanor, approaching them with a calm superiority and secure steps. Large shoulders moved underneath her cape and she reminded her of the old guy, Gabriel, back at the hospital. She was older than Gladys was, but damn… Gilda hoped she would look that badass in her old age.

“Greetings. Welcome to the Wild North. Do you have reservations?” She spoke Common Equestrian, but with a whistly accent and the same calm superiority.

“No.” Gilda spoke calmly. “But I’m looking for some real griffon food. Come on, Grunhilda. Say hi to the nice lady.”

She blinked twice, surprised to suddenly be included in the conversation. But then she grinned and waved with her right paw, jiggling her iron link wristband. “Hi!”

“I see. Hello.” The griffon lady remained stoic and spoke quickly. “But, my dear, can you hear the storm?”

Gilda didn’t have the first idea how it felt to win a million Bits, but she supposed she came close. “I can hear Her cry.”

“Hey, hey.” Grahan interjected where nobody called him. “What’s with the code bullshit?”

The griffon lady ignored him, though she raised an eyebrow at the pony with them.

“It’s complicated…” Gilda tried not to sound too funny, but the other griffon grinned, nonetheless.

“I see. Come with me, please.” She smiled pleasantly and Gilda followed with the others in tow.

“What the heck?” Grahan whispered to her, but Gilda only shushed him with a superior smile.

The griffon in the blue satin cape led them through a different pair of doors, almost hidden from the entrance, behind one of the stone pillars on the wall. It led them to the center of a wide hallway.

A full wall painting on the other wall immediately grasped Gilda’s eyes. Giant and dynamic from the center to the sides, it spanned the ceiling and the floor. Storm clouds dominated the sky in the top and ceiling. A black mountain stood in the center of the composition, surrounded by snow-covered mountains dotted with dead trees.

The clouds spun with ghostly shapes of horses in them, circling around a wide and solid black tower at the top of the centermost mountain. Above it, lightning struck the tower and griffons bearing weapons surrounded it. Everywhere else griffons flew from the mountains and the snowed ground repeated itself in the floor’s white marble. The image continued right and leftward, showing a frozen stream amid the mountains and griffons of all colors flying away.

Adults carried crying small cubs and expressions ranged from apprehension and panic to wrath. They carried bags and bundles of everyday items, and most just fled with the little ones, or helped other griffons, resisting against the blizzard. It threatened to spin them out of control and incrusted ice and snow on them.

On the ground level, life-size images of griffons fought against terrifying cold-blue, fanged equines with ethereal, ghostly manes and cold lights for eyes. Their weapons ranged from spears, swords, hammers, axes, and crossbows, but they were big and fearsome, covered in dark colored coats and wearing ringmail armor with helmets. Their weapons and armor shone with magical light and engraved glyphs, runes, shone brighter still. Blood made red the snow and injured griffons, holding their weapons, fought the equine monsters with broken helmets and disheveled wings.

The whole ceiling depicted rapidly moving clouds with the shades of the ghostly equines in the blizzard. Streams of red flowed into the red marble of the floor where they stepped.

“Whooooa!” Sparkly Chew’s head arched all the way up and then down, staring at the back wall with the door they came from.

“Gee…” Grahan deadpanned. “Someone spent a lot of money painting this.”

They all took a few steps back from it to be able to see the whole thing, and the back wall received a different composition of different paintings. A snowfield before a wide black mountain under the same stormy skies and at the edge of a chain of imposing mountains took the left. In the forefront, a formation of big griffons wearing armor and animal skins, wielding axes and swords shinning with magical light.

The next one showed a sprawling city with great monuments and giant palaces in a vivid green field. Unwalled, instead surrounded in green fields where griffons worked the land and under fluffy white clouds. Before the city, a collection of colorful griffons ranging from the tan and golden to all the colors in an artist’s palette and they didn’t dress at all. They wore hats and professional gear, such as pliers, hammers and stuff Gilda didn’t know the name of.

The third image showed a city made of sandstone in the middle of the dunes in a desert. Blue sky with not even a single cloud above. Bronze and shades of red colored griffons working on irrigation systems while others sang on a stage. At the forefront a group of griffons wore many-colored capes to protect from the sun, Gilda supposed. A group of black pyramids took the background, amid the dunes.

The fourth part of the painting occupied the upper part of the wall, and it showed a bust portrait of The Lion, so serious and stoic against blue and white of the sky in the central image.

“That The Lion?” Sparkly asked staring up.

“Precisely.” The older griffoness said. “Quite impressive, isn’t he?”

“Looks like any other king to me…” Grahan deadpanned. “Equally full of himself and of hot air. Gee… I wonder how much he paid for this painting…”

“Careful, sir.” Their host showed a blank expression, with barely a threatening smile. “He is your future king. And my mate is the senator for Snow Mountains. We tend towards not taking too kindly to those disrespectful of our liege. And if you must ask, Lady Gwendolen, his mate paid for this.”

“See, Gilda?” He tapped her shoulder with the back of his paw. “This is the problem with this whole mess. Griffonia is supposed to have a democratically elected government. No one is anyone’s liege. When he becomes the king, he will throw Griffonia backwards some hundreds of years. I mean, come on… When did griffons get so dumb? This dude is going to rule for life and then be replaced by his son. How is this a better idea than a leadership that changes every four years?! We’re not even sure on what are the details! Will he swear on our constitution? Is he going to uphold it? Will he be allowed to change it? What about a legislative body? Or a Judiciary? Did we just really decide we’ll give him everything? It blows my mind! Griffons just got into the Hate the Chancellor bandwagon, and nobody is thinking The Lion is likely to be worse!”

“Hum…” Grunhilda stared with her dumb ‘I’m not really sure what is going on stare. “I like king. The Griffon King has a cool sound to it…” Then she frowned. “If the ponies can have their immortal princess, why can’t we have our own… Uh… I mean… Our own king?”

“With all due respect for all your life experience, girl…” The male griffon stared blankly. “The point of an elected government like the one we have is to prevent psychotic nutcases from gaining too much power. Or keeping that power to the point no one can get rid of them once they get out of control.”

She puffed up her chest and flapped her wings with the angriest possible pout, but rather than letting her talk, Gilda held her shoulder. “Chill, Grunhilda. He doesn’t understand.”

Hadn’t she told her that earlier?

“What was your name, young tom?” Their host didn’t seem angry.

“George.” He said without a single speck of shame. “Fuck’s sake… I’m not a ‘tom’. I’m a guy, dude, bro…”

“No, it’s not. It’s Grahan.” Grunhilda growled at him.

“Yeah, the idea was to not let these nutcases know my real name…” He ‘explained’ with all the sarcasm he could summon.

“I’m part of these nutcases.” Gilda reminded him.

“Which is why I keep kicking myself at having entered this whole dumb adventure…” He grumbled in conclusion.

“Most griffons are woefully uneducated on the subject of their heritage, Miss…?” Their host turned to Gilda with a curious stare.

“Gilda. I’m Gilda. She’s Grunhilda. He’s Grahan and the pony is Sparkly Chew. She works his airship’s magical systems and he’s given me and Grunhilda a ride to Canterlot. I got stuff to do here, and I could use a helping paw.”

“Very well. I am Gislane.” Gilda had hoped they could get right down to business because she got more nervous every moment she didn’t have Grahan secured under control. Gislane wanted to talk though. “I am afraid The Lion is not particularly well-known outside of Snow Mountains Hold. Even among the griffons. But there will come the day when griffons will peregrinate to Griffindell to gaze upon their king and queen. The crown-prince and his princess. And then they will remember their true selves. You certainly know.”

“Yeah.” Gilda nodded curtly. “I don’t know if all griffons would be chill with it.”

“Oh, they will, once they understand.” Gislane spoke with certainty. “But I imagine I am taking too much of your time. Would you like to talk, along with a proper meal?”

“Yes! It smells delicious!” Grunhilda hopped and flapped her wide wings in the somewhat cramped space and grinned at Gilda like a begging puppy.

“Sure.” She said and Grahan frowned and gave her a hard glare, but Gilda didn’t care. No doubt he would be trying to dissuade her from her quest and finding a way to drag her to the ‘usual place’ as soon as they got out of the restaurant.

Regardless, they followed Gislane through the artsy corridor though a door and into another hallway. A painting on the doorless wall showed a snowfield before the mountains and a large griffon guy in the foreground. He wore ringmail armor and a helmet with openings for his green eyes and a curtain of ringmail around his neck. He sat on the snow, posing with an animal skin over his armor and an axe made of black metal and with silver engravings.

“Is it true that north griffons use axes because they can’t afford swords?” Grahan ‘asked’.

Grunhilda turned to glare at him. “No. It’s because it’s easier to crack you head like that.”

“You really like the northerners, don’t you?” He stopped not to go face-first into her.

“She is northerner, birdbrain.” Gislane didn’t stop, but the tone she used made Gilda chuckle. “She is clearly a Nartani.”

“A what now? And… Birdbrain? Come on… That really the best you can do?” He complained but went unheard as Grunhilda rejoined Gilda and their host opened the first door on the corridor.

It led them to a medium sized room with a table covered with a silky white tablecloth and black sitting pillows. She didn’t count, but Gilda saw some ten of then. It gave her the feeling of a sort of room for the very important griffon costumers. No way they would ever allow a hooflicker to see that mural in the corridor. But also because the room actually had windows next to the table that let them see the rolling hills below. It made for a nice view if one didn’t fear heights.

Heh… Hooflicker.

The walls and ceiling had white masonry for finish, except for one of the walls with another mural. It showed a snow field and the walls of a city beyond. Black, insurmountable walls dotted with towers and a gigantic gateway. So fucking epic Gilda could swear the painting sang to her in a strong choral of manly voices out of a manehattian theatrical blockbuster.

The wall surrounded a large and wide mountain covered in buildings and crowned by another fortress, almost touching the storming clouds. Complete with a single lightning bolt, and if it wasn’t enough, four steep and tall peaks which seemed to be fortified too surrounded the city. It stood at the edge of a mighty chain of mountains covered in snow and showing black stone.

Subtle streams of smoke rose from individual houses. They flanked a wide street running all the way from the black gates to the gates of the fortress at the top.

The actual walls seemed distant from the mountain the city was built on, and that just made everything seem massive while a group of griffons walked above the snow. They hauled carts and cloth packs, marching towards the open gates. They looked like real-sized griffons on the foreground and became colorful dots next to the gateway. The way in was a wide valley protected by the same mountain chain which split to form the valley.

The other griffons and the pony just stood next to Gilda, staring up at the painting. The pony gasped, though.

“Oh my gosh! Is that…” She gasped again and Gislane interrupted her before she could continue.

“Yes… The oldest griffon city in the world. Possibly the oldest city, period. Griffindell. The crown of the griffon race, at the edge of the world and deep within the Valley of Griffons.” Gislane spoke reverently. “The place where the onslaught of the Windigos met pause.”

“Also known as the most inhospitable and unfriendliest place in the world.” Grahan deadpanned again.

“Well, it certainly would be inhospitable for a pathetic and soft griffon who lost their way along the millennia.” Gislane smirked with sparking tease at him.

“Sister, I’m not even thirty…” He smirked back.

Gilda, despite paying attention at them felt consumed, dragged into the painting to the point she could swear the room felt colder than it had a second before. But Gislane distracted her.

“Will you make yourselves comfortable?” She smiled at Gilda. Like she knew something, and it creeped the heck out of her. But she sat her rump on one of the pillows and Grunhilda sat on the one next to her. Grahan next to Grunhilda and then Chewie, with Gislane in front of her, across from the table.

Without her calling, a griffon lady, young, beautiful, tan and pink came from the door. She neatly placed a pair of pitchers filled with water along with bowls and small towels for each of them. Grunhilda immediately watered her paws over her bowl, rinsed them together and dried them off with her towel.

Gilda did exactly as she did, pretending she knew what she was doing while Gislane helped herself to the same. Grahan stared at his own paws and Sparkly chew didn’t know what to do with her hooves.

Meanwhile another griffon girl brought a cart and distributed for them glasses with cold, iced water and small plates with all sorts of small appetizers. Mostly small morsels of chicken and fish. All sorts of sauces too, but also oysters. Tuna too. All of them over resting on small toasts. The griffon girl also brought individual plates.

Grunhilda didn’t even think… She grabbed one of the appetizers and ate the sauce with the chunk of chicken on it, licking the toast. Gilda did the same while Grahan tried chewing the toast along with the rest and it was just awkward.

For Chewie, the griffon lady grabbed a small plate with little ‘huts’ made of hay and served it to her, who grinned at the thing and promptly used her magic to eat one of those whole, happily munching at it.

Gislane watched them and smiled some more, taking one of the fish appetizers for her. “I am glad you appreciate it. Our chefs and firemasters do the best for our customers, whatever their race or origin. A courtesy for one of us and Her helpers.”

“Thanks…” Gilda felt a little conscious she didn’t really know how to behave at a fancy lunch on Canterlot, but Gislane didn’t seem to mind. It seemed to actually amuse her, and it only got worse. Another griffon girl arrived, bringing a weird musical instrument, and followed by a guy. Both wore what looked like rabbit pelt cloaks, white and stormy-gray that went nicely with their own shades of gray coats and plumage.

She strummed her strange and different ‘guitar’. It looked like a very thin and elongated guitar she held on her lap. She strummed her fingers and her talons caught in the metal strings with melodic but sharp metallic sounds. But when she ran her talons along, it generated an eerie sound, like the wind, or a crying eagle. She could make different sounds the way only a true master could make a musician instrument sing. Gilda had never heard anything similar, but then the guy started humming and singing with a deep and thunderous voice, in the language Gilda didn’t understand.

They stood close, but not so close their presence disrupted the meal, but close enough their pleasant music made it to them in its fullest.

“Now, how may we help, Miss Gilda?” Gislane drew her attention back to her.

“I need to talk to someone…” She said carefully. Not sure why, but she felt like a little discretion wouldn’t hurt.

But Gislane didn’t let it bother her. “Would it be about the raid to the Thunderpeak Museum?”

“Actually…” Gilda scratched the back of her head before she caught herself and realized she behaved like a savage. Grunhilda, quietly listening to the song with her eyes closed and a small smile seemed to know how to behave much better than she did. “Yeah. I’m looking for Gerdie. They tell me she’s been brought here from Haybale, after the Royal Guard grabbed her.”

“Hum… This is curious…” Gislane squinted, and her finger rubbed under her beak. “Princess Celestia usually informs us when that happens.”

“Why would she do that?” Grahan asked.

“Because my mate is the senator for Snow Mountains Hold of Griffonia.” She said simply. “And Gerdie was born there, although she lived on Thunderpeak with her father. Very unusual… It might be the Princess knows too much…”

She focused on Gilda again. “Do you have any plan of action?”

“I have to see her and talk to her about her father…” Gilda strummed her fingers at the edge of the table. “Princess Luna kinda messed him up a little… And then I’m supposed to go to Griffindell.”

She meant to say more, but what entered the room demanded her full attention. One of the cute griffon waitresses pulled a small cart with fancy crystal glasses and a bottle of wine. Sweet, but what followed took the situation to the next level.

Another waitress pulled a cart with a wide stand holding a stout metal skewer through a whole cut of meat, standing point first on its support. Roasted meat, dripping grease with a half-inch thick mantle of fat. Gilda almost feared she’d start drooling in front of the sophisticated older griffoness. While the first served the wine, the second unhitched from the cart and stood on her hindlegs next to it. She grabbed a sharp knife and expertly swung it in her paw, to point it at the large piece of meat.

“Rump tail?” She asked with a pleasant smile and voice, with a whistling accent.

While Gilda still gathered her thoughts and Grahan stared at the piece of meat as though he was ready to jump on it, Grunhilda giggled and nodded. “Medium rare, please!”

The waitress nodded and grabbed a two-pronged large fork she poked the meat with. She cut a slice along the actual meat and fat with the knife. She kept it under the thick slice to keep the grease from dripping on the table and left it on Grunhilda’s plate.

“Me too!” Gilda blurted out. “I mean… Medium rare, too.”

Grahan and Gislane wanted it too and she cut slices for them while Grunhilda merrily grabbed the meat in her paw and her beak tore a mouthful of it and Gislane did the same. Gilda nor Grahan even thought about it and also did the same. Forks were left forgotten on the table.

Salty, fatty, roasted, and meaty, but, above all, it melted inside Gilda’s mouth. Grahan, as testy was he was before, delighted himself with the food. Grunhilda tore another piece of the meat and it initially struck Gilda as a bit uncouth, but Gislane did the same. She didn’t expect, since she seemed so sophisticated, but if she could tear into the food, so could Gilda.

Before she even noticed, another of the waitresses brought a large green salad with more types of greens she could identify. Yet another waitress smiled at them with thick slices of roasted meat stacked on a skewer. She smiled. “Lamb sirloin and mint gravy?”

Did she even have to ask?!

More cute griffon waiters and waitresses brought large roasted sausages smelling of delicious spices and also chicken wrapped in bacon. Thick, and Gilda meant thick rump practically wrapped in its own dripping fat coat. A fatty and flaky meat she didn’t even know what was called. Thick medallions of fillet mignon also wrapped in bacon. All of that as bloody and rare or crusty and well done as she asked. Seasoned with rock salt which seemed to make the meat even better.

Not to mention a large cart with a whole roasted ribcage.

Different slices and chunks of meat started piling up on her plate, but she didn’t care.

Garlic bread, spiced mozzarella cheese balls, rabbit hindleg, honey-crusted ham, pork ribs, chicken hearts (she never thought she’d like those). Sticks with cubes of different meats and seasonings in between pieces of colorful bell-peppers, all combining into a marvelous sensory experience.

And the wine… She finally understood what The Harpy meant with her talk of Gilda’s brain not knowing the language to properly experience the wine she offered in the dream. Simply divine.

Then she mimicked Gislane, licking the fat and juices off her fingers. “I am glad you appreciate our hospitality, Miss Gilda.”

Before Gida answered, she noticed the soldiers. Four of them, close to the table, inconspicuously pretending they weren’t there. Covered in heavy cuirasses and body armor made of black and gold, complete with helmets, black capes. All wearing red scarves around their necks, one leg draped from there, showing the symbol of the pair of griffon wings. Most important, they sat on their places, holding short firearms, strange metal guns. Not muskets nor pistols, something in a strange in-between. Gilda smiled back at the sneaky old griffon lady.

Meanwhile Sparkly Chew was more than happy with her salad, Grunhilda wolfed down the meat with gusto and even Grahan surrendered to the food. He blinked at them when Gislane talked, despite ripping into a slice of meat and some fat stuck to his plumage and beak.

The old griffoness wiped her beak with a napkin before sipping at her juicy, lividly red wine. “So, kindly disclose the details of how we can help you, Miss Gilda…”

She held a small and black roasted chicken heart in her talons. “As I said, we came in Grahan’s airship. But I’m afraid he may be interested in more than transporting me.”

“Gee, Gilda…” He chuckled, cleaning his talons and fingers on his napkin. “I mean… I don’t mind, but I didn’t expect you’d front and center ask for a room, or something.”

Then he noticed the soldiers and his eyes glazed. “What the… Wait…”

Sparkly Chew noticed too and stopped in the middle of chewing a branch of arugula sticking out of her mouth. Grunhilda noticed too, but just swallowed another mouthful of meat.

Grahan tried to stand, but the soldier behind him poked his back with his gun. Another reached into his jacket and took his revolver, speaking with the northerner accent and a domineering tone. “Remain seated, sir.”

Gilda loved the aggressive and bossy way he said ‘sir’.

“Oh, come on! What is going on?” He even raised his paws a little. “Oh shit… You found Goy’s note…”

“Babe, I wasn’t…” He started but Gilda scowled at him.

“Stop calling me ‘babe’, dude. It’s fucking annoying.” She suddenly felt like she had control of the situation. It emboldened her and it felt awesome. “And shut your beak.”

“Alright. Just chill.” The stare he gave her... He was afraid. “I swear! I didn’t… Gilda! I wasn’t going to…”

The soldier interrupted him, hitting the back of his head with the butt of his gun. She almost felt the cracking sound it made. “Milady ordered you to shut your beak, peasant. Stupid hooflickers…”

“I had taken him for lecherous, not for traitorous…” Gislane held her own paw, intertwining her fingers with amused delight. “My, my…”

“Yeah…” Gilda spoke again. “I gotta see Gerdie. Mind taking care of Grunhilda for me for a while?”

“Oh, I would be delighted! I’m curious about your northerner friend.” She smiled at the big girl. “What about this sneaky hooflicker and his grasssbreath friend?”

“Yeah… That is the thing.” Gilda frowned a little. “I could use him… So, I’d appreciate if you took care of him while I see Gerdie and also while I go to Griffindell… It could take a while. And can you deal with Blueblood? He’s got a debt and his airship will be impounded. I can’t use an impounded airship.”

“Oh! Delightful!” Gislaine cheered without losing her elegant composure. “I would love the opportunity to irritate the Archduke. And as for our friend here, we should have a pleasant chat about being a proper griffon and respecting his forefathers. The pony, I suppose, could learn a thing or two as well.”

“Come on, Gilda!” Grahan more whined than anything.

“Quit it.” She growled. “I wasn’t born yesterday. You wanted to get laid then you’d drug me, and I’d wake up in Griffonstone, at the ‘usual place’!”

“Feather’s sake! You’ve been reading too many bad spy books!” He cried. “If I was going to drug you, I’d have spiked your coffee! Come on!”

“Yeah, yeah… Be a good boy and I’ll take care of you. We’re even gonna clean your airship for you.” She waved a dismissive paw at him, addressing Gislane again. “Please take care of this bird for me, and I kinda need his friend for the airship too.”

Gislane confirmed with a nod and a smile, but Grahan held his face in frustration “What? I’m a prisoner now?”

Gislane smiled all condescendence at him. “Mister Grahan, please, consider your situation. Can you afford to leave? I do not believe you can. Mind not the soldiers, but consider the Archduke’s influence… His goons would find you. Can you fly your airship away? No, you cannot. And, at the same time, you were caught sneaking second intentions in your relationship with Miss Gilda… One of us. I believe she controls your fate and that the fact you are still breathing… Mind you, a northerner Lady of the Land would already have ordered you beheaded, if not worse. Consider that you are in debt to her, and it would behoove you behave as a guest. We will take good care of you, and your equine friend, on her behalf.”

Well, crap… Everything she said made sense, but then why did Gilda feeling like she had betrayed Grahan? Much more Chewie, so trusting and good-natured, who literally did nothing but try and be helpful toward Gilda. It felt like she had bitten a pine nut only to find its core was rotten. But Grahan could be dangerous if she let him run around. Maybe she would find a way to make it up to him.

Do not fret, my child. A griffon ought to know their place, and punishment is a valuable lesson for both to learn.

Gilda didn’t answer. But her stare drifted downward for a second. She was probably right. “Well, please keep them safe… I’m gonna go see Gerdie. She’s supposed to be in a hotel nearby.”

Gislane nodded again. “If she was brought to meet the Princess, she ought to be in a hotel right next to the palace. High Hoof. Cannot possibly miss it.”

“Thanks.” Gilda stood and felt a bit heavy, but she could manage a short walk.

Out of the restaurant, back into the wide walkway, life in Canterlot continued oblivious to what happened in there. A unicorn couple gave her a disapproving stare, no doubt at her not perfectly preened coat. She didn’t care and resumed her way towards the big reference in that place: the palace.

Sunlight shone on its white and gold or blue and silver walls and adornments, domes, and tall spires. White masonry walls surrounded it, but a wide gate remained open and flanked by two pony royal guards. On the other side, two more guarded the palace’s invitingly open doors and grand hall with a red carpet.

For a brief instant Gilda contemplated going through and seeing the Princess. Explaining to her all that happened. Maybe she would help. But the thought died quickly… Imagined visions of Shatteredrock haunted her and thoughts of Grunhilda relegated to the psych ward made it even worse. To top it all off, she didn’t want to disappoint The Harpy.

Yeah… Sides.

And what was she even thinking? Celestia would probably be too busy chasing Rainbow’s princess friend in whatever stupid pony princess game they had come up with.

Instead of going in, she looked around for the place she actually wanted to find. And she found it because it had a wall and looked like a small palace by itself. But the gateway changed to a golden arch that cheerfully declared ‘High Hoof Royal Hotel’.

Gilda had made it to Canterlot, despite all odds. Managed to get the traitorous wormy dick under control and found the place the Royal Guard had stashed Miss Gerdie. Her key into Griffindell stood at her paw’s reach.

Had someone asked her a few days ago if she would have made it, she would probably have laughed and asked them to buy a scone. Staring at the pretentious hotel that wished it was a royal palace, she sighed.

Hopefully, she had left the worst behind.

Conversation

The stupid hotel looked like the owners were jealous of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna’s palace and for some reason it just irked Gilda. It was one of those ‘pony things’…

It had a wall and looked like a small palace by itself. But the gateway became a golden arch cheerfully declaring ‘High Hoof Royal Hotel’. To its side a fancy golden plaque read in black cursive griffonese letters under the pony ideograms and in other alphabets she didn’t know: “Proudly serving Her Royal Highness since the year 728 of the Age of the Sun”.

She wondered for a second if Celestia even knew the thing existed and for how long it had served her. Such a ‘canterlot’ thing, she sighed.

Ponies and griffons, divided history in ages. The Primeval Age being the time before recorded time. The Age of The Three Tribes included the time when the three pony tribes lived divided (and apparently, they thought it was the only thing worthy of note happening in the world). The Age of Friendship began when ponies figured out not to hate each other or they would be made into popsicles. Followed by the Age of The Royal Pony Sisters, followed by the Age of the Sun after Nightmare Moon got banished to the moon. And then came the present Age of Harmony, ushered forward by none other than Rainbow Dash and her friends with the reunion of the Royal Pony Sisters.

Although, given Celestia was full of horseshit, the whole timeline probably was too, and most likely a lie. But Gilda didn’t truly care how the ponies divided time. She was curious about griffon History. She wondered how did the griffons, the real ones, divided History.

It is good you crave for understanding, My Child, but you must focus your efforts towards reaching your home. There will be plenty of time afterwards and much yet to learn in the comfort of Griffinsky mansion.

She nodded mindlessly. One thing at a time.

Walking past the gates, the building itself looked like a stupid copy of Canterlot Palace if it was a dumb building made to house as many copies of the same rooms as possible. The fancier ones sat the top because the third floor had the largest windows. Between the walls and the building a fancy garden on both sides provided sitting areas. There, richly dressed unicorns sat at their tables and stared down at Gilda, drinking their stupid teas, whispering to each other about the filthy barbarian.

She could hear them. When had her hearing get so good? She didn’t know but didn’t care anyways. All the perfume and colors sapped away at her patience with the fact they valued her inferior. But she pushed it to the back of her mind.

Walking into the building she entered a large hall of white masonry, a few colorful banners hung from the white ceiling. Checkered white and gray floor under the long rugs which showed the way and potted plants dotted the room. A few doors led to the wings and a double arched stairway behind a counter led to a garden. Behind a desk sat a unicorn.

A mint-green with a darker mane arranged in a spiraling tower of pony hair, complete with a couple of white flowers. Gilda wondered how in the ever-loving world she didn’t have critters living in the thing. Maybe the minty smell she exuded repelled pests.

Gilda frowned, walking to the unicorn behind the counter who talked to her. “Ma’am, should you be here?”

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I should. I need to talk to Gerdie. She’s a griffon and the Royal Guard brought to see Princess Celestia. It is important.” Gilda controlled her fidgeting limbs.

The unicorn nodded and hummed, magicking to her a book she glanced over for a few seconds. “Aah-ha. Miss Gerdie of Thunderpeak. Yes. She is here. Would you mind waiting in the hall as one of our employees summons her?”

“Cool.” Gilda turned and left the unicorn to her job, quickly scanning the hall for a place to stay and settled on one of the sofas. She sat and did her best to ignore the shocked stares some unicorns shot her on their way in.

Lucky Grunhilda got to stay in the restaurant and eat some more… She couldn’t think of another time she had eaten so damn much and such good food.

One of the stupid unicorns approached her, though. “Hello!”

A cheery gray-green coated unicorn with a pristinely combed purple mane grinning too much. She couldn’t see his cutie marks because he wore a pair of obnoxiously large white saddlebags. Not even one of the custom-made ones with his cutie mark. Cheap little jerk. She didn’t even know him, but just the way he approached and talked to her was enough to annoy her.

“Hey…” She said as drily as she managed.

He grinned and produced a folded map from his saddlebag he opened in her face. “I’m travelling around the world, and I plan on going to glorious Griffonia! You wouldn’t happen to be from Griffonstone, would you, ma’am?”

Sheesh… “Nothing glorious about Griffonia, dweeb. But yeah… I used to live in Griffonstone. What of it?”

“You look like a well-traveled griffon lady!” He cheered. “What other places of this beautiful world have you been to?”

“Dude, piss off…” She growled at him.

“Oh, come on! Please! Ever been to Baltimare?! I mean, they have a teleporter there! And a teleporter in Griffonstone! Ever used a teleporter? I mean, how did you get here in Canterlot? They don’t have a teleporter here!”

“Airships are a thing, you schmuck.” She growled again. “Will you piss off already?”

“Oh yeah!” Instead, he grinned further. “Airships are cool! Do you have one? Or did you hire someone? Did you come from Griffonstone in an airship?”

She meant to shove him away and make him eat his stupid map, but someone called her. “Hello? Miss Gilda? Did you want to see me?”

She turned to see a little old griffon lady of soft voice and a cute short beak. Not very old, but ‘getting there’. Mister Gabriel must have had her very early in his live, or something. Soft green eyes behind a small pair of reading glasses and shades of gray in her fur and feathers. She had the ‘looks’ but at the same time didn’t really seem like a northerner griffon. Maybe she led a different lifestyle?

“Hello?” The griffon lady smiled at her.

Gilda turned to see the pony, but he had left without another word. She hopped off the sofa and looked at the other griffon. “You Gerdie?”

“Yes.” She nodded still smiling, but a little confused. “That’s little old me.”

“I’m Gilda.” She pointed a thumb at her chest. “And we gotta talk. But it would be better if it we could get out of the way.”

“Well, there is my room…” Gerdie offered, uncertain.

It would have to do. If the Royal Guard kept Gerdie under watch, it would be as good as any other place with the benefit she wouldn’t walk out of the hotel. “Awesome.”

“This way.” Gerdie smiled and led Gilda to one of the hotel’s wings on the ground floor. They passed an archway into a long corridor with several doors intertwined with potted palm plants and red and gold tapestry hanging behind them. Also, hearts, horseshoes, stars, suns and moons everywhere. Because of course…

After a walk through most of the corridor, Gerdie opened the door for them, and they entered a nice room for a hotel. Nothing too fancy, with a glass door and curtains leading out to a garden behind the building. It had a nice bed, with white and blue sheets, a reading chair, a small siting area with a small wood table, all in the ‘Royal Canterlot’ style. A potted flower and white sitting pillows, a wardrobe and a door wich led to a bathroom. Just enough for the not so big payers and the Princess’ guests.

Gerdie interrupted her thoughts, sitting on one of the pillows. “Is this about my father?”

Her eyes glistened and she joined her paws as though she braced for the worst news possible.

Gilda took her place across the table. “Yeah. But your dad is fine… They had to operate his forepaws, but he’s not in danger.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Gerdie gave a nervous smile. “What more can you tell me?”

“I can tell you he fought with Princess Luna. She really messed up his paws.” Gilda said carefully. “I worked at Griffonstone Hospital, as a nurse for community service and he was one of the patients they had transferred because of the raid at the museum…”

“Raid?” She almost cried. “Princess Luna said she wanted to talk to him!”

“I guess things didn’t go very peacefully.” She did her best to sound respectful. “By the way he spoke, he is a very proud griffon.”

“Yes…” She rubbed the back of her paw. “That is a good word to describe dad.”

“He made me see some things I wasn’t aware of… And he told me to come see you. Told me to tell you that he, Master Gabriel, had sent me… And that you would help me.”

“Help you?” She became worried. “What do you need? Oh… You said you were a nurse for community service… What happened?”

It surprised Gilda that she wanted to hear her story. Maybe it was because she had told her of her father, and it got her some sympathy for Gilda. Or maybe they had done this before. Impossible to know. All Gilda knew was that she should do as he told her.

“A dude stole two Bits from me while I was selling scones, and I punched him. Turned out he was the mayor’s son. His mother decided she would mess up my life after the judge got me the community work. It was either that or paying a fine I didn’t have the money for a trip to Shatteredrock…” She sighed, recalling the whole ordeal. “They burned my house and tried to kill me… I’ve been on the run… But your dad told me that I should go to Griffindell.”

Gerdie frowned and nodded a little. “I see… Can… Can you hear the storm?”

“I can hear Her cry.” Gilda spoke in a controlled manner and Gerdie nodded again.

Then she stood and quickly grabbed a folded map from her saddlebags in the corner, opening it on the table for Gilda to see. She showed her a map of northern Griffonia. She pointed at a drawing of a mountain surrounded in a storm cloud labeled Thunderpeak.

“Thunderpeak is the ‘frontier’. It’s the last city before Snow Mountains. Half the population supports The Lion and the other half supports Chancellor Gail.” Gilda followed her talon all the way north to a drawing of a wall and a gate on a mountain area. “You can’t go straight to Griffindell. You’ll die. It’s too inhospitable and the roaming monsters will get to you. Even hardened survivors keep to the trails and flightpaths… The Windigos’ cold will chill your blood and you’ll lose your will to live. It is impossible.”

Then she showed a traced line. “Instead, first go west to Wayfarer’s Rest. It’s a roadside inn a day away from Thunderpeak and it is where caravans often form up to travel to the north. Even if there isn’t one, the way north is relatively safe because the northerners keep that trail protected. Even if something happened, someone would find you soon enough.”

“Make yourself comfortable, buy some supplies and warm up. Wait for a clear day because a blizzard in the north is likely to get you of course… Then go northwest to Frozenlake. It is a three-day travel.” Her talon followed the traced line to a drawing of a trout midjump. “Did they give you the red scarf?”

Gilda nodded and she went on. “Wear it. It says you are a member of the Court of The Harpy. Look for soldiers wearing the scarf. They are the Sky Sentries, Lady Gwendolen’s chosen, and they will help you. As soon as you arrive in Frozenlake, ask to see Lady Geena, and tell her I sent you. Not my father. Tell her my name… Gerdie.”

“Alright.” That seemed important. Probably part of the ‘secret way in’.

“Don’t be shy… Accept her help. Freshen up and prepare for a two-day travel. If you can, wait for a caravan. This stretch isn’t so hard, but you will know cold like never before. Monsters may attack, but chances are any caravan will be guarded by the Sky Sentry.” Her talon traveled further north. “You will go to Brokenhorn. If the caravan arrives at night someone made a mistake, and they will leave you outside.”

“Wear. The. Scarf.” Gerdie insisted. “Ask to see Lord Griskjal. Say his name. The night is dangerous, and the Windigos grow more powerful. You may as well just save the lives of everyone involved if you get them to open the doors.”

“Now, pay attention.” She made sure Gilda looked at her. “Lord Griskjal will provide supplies and shelter, as demand the laws of hospitality, but he lived his whole life in the north. He resents the griffons in the south. He doesn’t show The Harpy’s iconography in his town because he wants to catch some dumb bird complaining of Her or the cold… He thinks the southerners are weak and disloyal… All he needs is an excuse.”

Gee, what a dick… Anyways, she supposed The Harpy would be pissed off with southerner griffons and it was just natural… She still paid attention to Gerdie.

“If you wear the scarf and convince him you are a faithful of The Harpy, he will help however he can. But still, be prepared… The last leg of the journey is… Lady Gwendolen of Griffindell says The Harpy will allow griffons to suffer and die because they must be tested, and that adversity makes us stronger. It’s a seven-day journey to Griffindell… It is the coldest place in the world, and you will literally feel the hatred of the Windigos opposing you every step going forward.”

“It is an unfathomable, ancient evil. Pure, unadulterated hatred you can’t comprehend. And they don’t just hate us griffons… They hate you. The legends the Astrani brought from the Stormy Eyrie when they fled spoke of the Windigos as a world-ending force that should have destroyed the world because the ponies broke the Ancient Pact. The only thing that kept existence going was the dumb luck that a group of ponies managed to summon the Fire of Friendship. It gave the Windigos pause and allowed our ancestors to reach Griffindell and fortify the city and the north as a whole.” Gilda nodded, but didn’t quite convince Gerdie she understood. The old little griffon shook her head. “Princess Luna can’t reach you there. They say The Harpy’s magic shut the entire hold off. You will not see the sun or the stars. Princess Twilight and her friends won’t show up with the Elements of Harmony or the Fire of Friendship. The ponies have the Crystal Heart protecting them… The only things in the north are the Windigos and the Allmother. If you believe in her. It is what the northerners say, anyways.”

The conversation started to sap on Gilda’s certainty, and it creeped her out, but she nodded again, despite intrusive thoughts she had a pony friend. But didn’t Gerdie… Uh… Believe?

“It is the ancestral land of our kind, though.” Gerdie spoke again, seriously. “Northerners say if your faith is pure and you ask of Her the strength to face the challenges ahead, She will gift Her power to you. Most griffons don’t understand what this means, and I’m not sure I do either, but there is a strange and powerful magic in that place. You’ll see things. You’ll dream. And She will speak to you. If you’re not careful, it will sap your sanity. I’ve heard of griffons that killed themselves and others went insane and disappeared. It is a dangerous and difficult travel, but caravans make it to Griffindell almost every month, and many of them take neophytes. It can be done. All of them say that it will change you forever, though.”

“I already have dreams.” Gilda told her dumbly.

“You do?” Gerdie frowned. “Huh… Like… The dreams that come from the storms?”

“Yeah.”

“They are often the first thing that motivates the griffons to travel north, other than the whole drama with the Chancellor.” Gerdie hummed. “I never had the dreams. My father did, though. Maybe if I returned north… But I don’t know if I can. Just… Be careful, Gilda.”

“I’ll be…” She smiled a little to Gerdie and her worried frown.

“Here… Take this.” She gave Gilda a large brooch made of electrum, round and about the size of a closed fist. It had the symbol of the pair of griffon wings. “Show this to the manager in the Bank of Thunderpeak. She’ll ask you the password, and then ask your name. Tell her I sent you. There is a sum of money that is going to help you.”

“Uh… I don’t mean to bite a helping paw, but why do you have money in the bank behind a password and such?” If they wanted to keep their money safe, they could just keep it like normal creatures do.

“It is meant to help special griffons on their way to Griffindell.” Gerdie smiled. “Daddy saw something in you. Something that made it worth a lot to him.”

Well, let’s hope Gilda wouldn’t disappoint him… “Thanks a lot, Gerdie.”

“Thank you, Gilda.” She offered her paw for Gilda. It was awkward at first as Gilda’s first instinct was to bump her fist with hers, but she held her paw and shook it. “For telling me of my father… Uh... One last thing, though… Griffons in the north… They’re different. You must make sure they understand your limits… Most of them are honored and respectful, but… Uh… A young pretty lady travelling alone must communicate clearly… Life is hard in the north and males and females try to make it the most of their lives. They can be overeager.”

“Ah… Don’t worry…” Gilda laughed awkwardly with the other, although she believed it had more to do with the Harpy’s commandments. Then she pointed at the door with a thumb. “I better go… I can’t stay in any one place too long.”

“Good luck, Gilda.” Gerdie smiled, walked her to the door of her room and friendly opened it for her.

She walked out with a nod, but stopped, and then turned to her. The look on her face must have been something, because Gerdie tilted her head slightly and frowned. Maybe her own insecurity dragged her back, but Gilda stared at Gerdie. “You don’t believe The Harpy, do you? The Allmother.”

Gerdie hummed and stared at her forepaws. “I don’t know… I don’t have the dreams. Maybe she does exist, but she doesn’t want to speak to me.”

Of course, she didn’t speak to Gilda then. Damn… Was she actually going insane? No, it would be ridiculous. Grunhilda heard her too. She had dreams and she even dreamt similar things. She had said they were coming for her, when Gilda couldn’t have known.

But whatever… It wasn’t her place to talk Gerdie into going back to the north and telling her to believe The Harpy, or something like a crazy zealot.

Although…

“Maybe you should go back north…” She said, finally and the other made a curious expression. Gilda could have said the cryptic ‘there is a storm coming’, or some shit, but no. “I don’t know what is going on… But there is something going on. And it involves The Harpy and Griffonia. I have a friend who has the dreams too… And we never met before, we never talked… But our dreams seem to align together. Things are about to change, and I think it’s gonna be big. Like… Worldview changing. And the ponies may not like it.”

“I see…” Gerdie frowned a little. “Maybe I will.”

Gilda just nodded. Maybe she wanted to help Gerdie as she had helped her. Or something. Maybe she had started believing in something more important than her problems. Ghadah believed so… She wouldn’t have been caught trying to help her sisters otherwise.

Anyways, Gilda walked away and back to the hall. The annoying pony vanished, fortunately, and nobody bothered her. She carried the brooch Gerdie had given her on her beak and completely ignored the stares she received from the unicorns and their hushed comments too… What sort of barbarian would carry things in their mouth instead of using saddlebags like a civilized creature!

Stupid ponies.

Back at the restaurant, Grunhilda sat by the external tables, waiting mindlessly. As Gilda approached, she covered her beak and yawned profoundly, but turned to Gilda and smiled as soon as she saw her. Gilda couldn’t suppress her own smile.

“Welcome back, Miss Gilda!” The big girl stood and flapped her wings happily. “Miss Gislane sent Mister Grahan somewhere else with his pony friend! She also gave us a lot of food for our travel and some money!”

“That’s great!” Gilda sat too and took the brooch in her paw before giving it to Grunhilda. “Keep this safe for me.”

She looked around for a second while Grunhilda sat again and unslung the backpack to stash the brooch in it and then wore it again, waiting for another command. None of the leather-wearing local militias seemed to be looking for them. They had to leave before it became a thing. She turned back to Grunhilda and she just sat there, paying attention to her.

“We’re gonna take a short flight to Ponyville and we’ll use their teleporter to go to Thunderpeak. Then we’ll follow a trail to Griffindell.” Gilda explained. “You cool with that?”

“Okay!” She grinned. “Oh! Wait! Are we going to through Frozenlake?!

“Uh… Yeah.” Gilda rose an eyebrow at her sudden excitement.

“Nice! Are we going now?” She hopped once.

“Yeah. We should go as soon as we can.” Gilda had to chuckle at her excitement. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing! I’m just happy you’re back!” She grinned even more. Somehow.

“Alrighty, then.” Gilda thought it a bit weird, even with how awkward Grunhilda could be, but she wasn’t going to complain she was in such high spirits. “Let’s wing it.”

The two griffonesses hopped and flapped their wings, but Gilda looked back to Grunhilda, as they gained altitude to fly above the buildings. “How high have you ever flown?”

Grunhilda touched her beak with the tip of a talon. “Uh… When we flew to the teleporter in Griffonstone?”

Oh boy… Gilda turned on her wings, hovering above the ceiling of one of the many fancy mansions to stare at Grunhilda stopping right next to her. “Right... So, Canterlot is little bit higher. Just don’t freak out, okay? Just keep gliding and keep close to me. We’ll spiral down around the mountain until a more comfortable altitude. Alright?”

“Okay!” The other replied calmly enough.

Gilda nodded to her and resumed the lead. The flying griffons drew attention from the canterlotian ponies on the balcony. Surely, greatly offended commentary by the unruly griffons, but she didn’t care.

Flying past the edge of the balcony, the abyss gaped beneath them. Canterlot sat at the top of a surprisingly tall mountain and measuring the altitude from the safe ground of the balconies didn’t help. It confused the senses. Beyond their edge, the height suddenly became too much. It took experience not to panic.

Gilda banked left and let herself lose altitude, turning to follow the shape of the mountain. With a quick glance backwards, she saw Grunhilda balancing unsteadily on her wings and staring down at the ground way below.

“Hey, you’re doing alright.” She shouted over the wind. “It’s easy. Just slide on the wind and let your wings do the job!”

“Okay…” The other said with a frown.

They spent several minutes spiraling down around the mountain and Gilda avoided losing altitude too fast not to scare Grunhilda. Not to fly too fast, also not to scare Grunhilda. At the same time, she kept thinking she really should have spent the time thinking the plan over. Maybe find a way to walk down the mountain. It must have land access routes to the city.

Out of nowhere, a sudden pocket of turbulent air forced Gilda to flap her wings and control her flight before she lost too much altitude. Before she even noticed what had happened, Grunhilda shrieked. Gilda looked back to see the former wildly grabbing at the air and flapping her wings in a panicked flurry.

“No! No! Calm down! It was just some wind! You’re making it worse!” She cried, but instead of listening the bigger griffon grabbed at her waist. Her weight pulled Gilda off-balance and down. Worryingly fast and gaining speed while Gilda’s wings just couldn’t sustain their combined weight.

“Grunhilda! Chill! You gotta let go and let your wings catch the wind!” Frantically flapping her wings didn’t help and the other grasping at her like a panicked cub didn’t either. Before she noticed she screamed too, with the wind rushing past her ears.

She flapped her wings with all her might against the rushing wind and she swore it would rip them right off her shoulders by how much they hurt. No idea if it helped, but she wouldn’t stop because every time she tried to catch the wind, her wings pulled up uselessly.

Grunhilda’s panicked flapping didn’t help any more and they spun out of control amid panicked shrieks. Suddenly she crashed against the grassy ground with a loud grunt and Grunhilda fell on top of her and her wing. Both knocked the wind out of Gilda, and she could swear broke something. It didn’t hurt so bad, but something snapped. She still yelled at the pain and tried pushing the other away, limp as a sack of flour.

“Get off!” She snapped at Grunhilda and shoved her away, trying to stand, but she stumbled because her legs hurt too much, and her joints gave against gravity. It took a second try before she managed to stand unsteadily. “What is wrong with you?!”

“I’m sorry!” The other gasped and sobbed at her outburst, stepping away. “I was just so scared! I’m sorry!”

Damn! Her wing hurt more than the time she managed to get it caught in a door frame running out of the house, way back when she was still a dumb idiot kid! She tried moving her wing and just the pain shooting through it made her grimace. She quit the idea to just let it hang limp.

It was meant to be a simple, short flight to Ponyville! She turned to Grunhilda again. “I told you to just let the wind catch on your wings and glide down around the stupid mountain!”

Only then she saw the big griffon hiding her face with her paws and her white wings, bawling like a scolded child.

Gilda sighed. “Grunhilda…”

“I’m sorry, Miss Gilda! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She screeched, more than spoke and reached to grab Gilda’s paws. “Please don’t send me away! I’ll never do it again!”

“I’m not…” She started and pulled her paws away. “Will you calm down? I’m not going to send you away!”

“You’re not?” The other sobbed and panted, holding her paws together and clicking her beak nervously.

“I’m not… I’m not.” She spoke softly and hugged Grunhilda awkwardly, trying to console a griffon actually larger than she. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s nothing… We’ll just walk to Ponyville. Now, don’t cry, alright?”

She stared at the other griffon sniffing and wiping the tears off her eyes and… When in the hecking word did she ever get so damn sappy? Suddenly it was like taking care of a big child. Wasn’t that the reason she had decided she didn’t want a husband, or some shit like that? What the hell?

Then Grunhilda hugged her back and her wing hurt like she had just hit with a sledgehammer! “Oow! Wing! Hurt!”

Grunhilda squeaked and let go immediately. “Sorry! Sorry, Miss Gilda!”

She should have stopped there and waited as Canterlot’s emergency services had ponies watching for accidents exactly like hers. But she couldn’t wait for help, and it likely would get her on the spotlight. The authorities would catch up to her.

“It’s alright. Let’s go.” All the way to Ponyville would be a bit of a walk but flying just wouldn’t be an option. She took a few seconds reorienting herself, then gestured the way with her head and started walking, closely followed by the other.

“Shouldn’t you see a doctor, Miss Gilda?” She sounded so worried it was cute.

“Yeah…” She nodded as they walked. “I should… But I don’t want to go back to Canterlot. We gotta keep moving or they’ll catch us.”

She couldn’t hold her wing up and fold it or it hurt like hell. Walking by itself hurt her wing and shoulder, not to mention every bone and joint in her body whined annoying pain at her every time she moved anything. Her gait became awkward. She really ought to see a doctor, but she also couldn’t just afford to go back to Canterlot. Not to mention, flying up there, much less waste the time looking for a land route into the stupid pony city. So high up it should be a pegasus city.

Then Grunhilda whined and Gilda squawked when she shoved herself underneath her and stood to walk with Gilda across her back.

“What the heck?!” She cried but couldn’t really do anything about it. Her dignity prevented her from squirming. “Put me down!”

“No! I’m carrying you! Trying to walk is hurting you!” The other growled and just kept walking.

Gilda almost complained, she looked stupid like a rag across the other’s back, but it was easier on her everything. At least Grunhilda walked in the right direction…

***

She never noticed when she fell asleep, but she clearly had. She was in a stony castle with griffon guards while Ghadah walked with her calm superiority in their midst. Their bronze scale armor and ogive shaped helmets made Gilda’s metaphorical skin crawl.

It was a grand castle and she walked on a hallway leading to the throne room. Great and beautiful colorful banners hung from the side walls, and they represented the noble families of Griffonstone. What Ghadah didn’t see was any of the red tapestry with the pair of griffon wings, and it bothered her, but she didn’t say anything.

Next to Ghadah, her mother also seemed perturbed by what both she and Gilda supposed was the same reason. In front of them walked her great father with his golden armor, oval shield and spear on his back. On the other side Empress Geneviere walked with all her calm serenity and multicolored cape under her longsword.

And in between then, the mighty emperor with his red cape and his iron crown of upward spikes. He was a head taller than her father and he carried his sword on his back too, but under his cape.

Their escort of the Emperor’s Golden Guard remained outside the castle, as they would never be under threat in there.

They walked past large open doors into a wide gathering hall with a stone throne covered in rich and colorful fabrics and a sitting pillow. Above and behind it a pompous tapestry hung from the ceiling in shades of green and gray behind a griffon’s head on its side and with a crown.

Two windows flanked the throne and let in the humid and hot air. Ghadah could even see the green-covered mountains of Griffonland, so different from the Hader. Three soldiers on each side of the room, all of them wearing the bronze scale armor and ogive helmets, sitting at their stations, and holding spears and shields of bronze-reinforced wood planks.

A high ceiling made the room quite cool for the tastes of a Haderani, but it was still the Harpy’s domains. The lack of Her icons in display bothered Ghadah, though.

A griffon she knew well waited for them. Brown coat with a richly adorned bronze armor and diadem on his head, the symbol of a king under the emperor. And upon seeing each other, The Emperor walked faster, one smiled at the other. They stood on their hindlegs and brotherly hugged each other for quite a while and the Empress approached, but the others remained a respectful distance away.

“I will never understand how you can stand this humidity, Grover.” The Emperor stood a head taller next to Grover, but he laughed jovially talking to the other once they parted, now holding each other’s paw by the wrist.

“Someone has to watch over Griffonland. At least I don’t have to live in the Eternal Winter.” King Grover laughed, and the emperor laughed too, in his coarser voice.

“My brother.” Empress Geneviere approached him with a small smile on her beak and he bowed respectfully to her before he also hugged her, and his beak brushed softly on her cheek.

“You look as wonderful as the day you left to Aen Hader, Gen.” He smiled again, holding his paws, but then he turned to the emperor. “Gaven, what is wrong with you? How come you traveled all the way from Aen Hader and didn’t bring my nephews?”

“We decided to travel with a small caravan.” The emperor spoke as Geneviere gave them their space. “We hurried… You see. Some of my scribes insist Griffonstone isn’t sending due tribute to Aen Hader. I wanted to be here and see you as soon as possible to clear out the misunderstanding.”

Grover hummed and walked to one of the windows. “Have you been attacked on your way through the countryside? Brigands with stolen arms and armor?”

Grigor walked over to Grover. “I don’t mean to complain. But we have been attacked, yes. By two different groups and my captain is certain we’ve been scouted by a third which decided for waiting until an easier target presented itself. What is the matter?”

“And did you notice anything peculiar?” Grover turned to stare at him.

The emperor didn’t have an answer ready. Ghadah’s mother spoke in his place, next to her daughter. “Young griffons. Males too young or too old to serve. And young females.”

Grigor looked at Gulsana as she spoke and then back at Grover. “Are you accusing me of taking all able bodies to serve?”

“No… Not accusing.” Grover again turned to the window. “I am saying soldiers die. And when they do, there is no one to work the fields and care for the family. Young mothers and fatherless cubs find themselves struggling to pay tribute and to sustain their young and old.”

“This is why the slaves work the fields…” Grigor frowned.

“There are no more slaves. They too have been drafted to shield our soldiers and those who remained have been slaughtered for rebelling or on grand festivals to The Harpy.” Grover allowed a small pause. “You will notice none of the noble families have come to meet you.”

“I supposed you meant to have a personal reunion.” Grigor shrugged.

“They are afraid.” Grover frowned more intensely and showed him a letter. “They are afraid that if they leave their estates their guards will be overwhelmed by an angry mob of peasants. They are afraid they couldn’t gift you with enough tribute because all their gold is spent on keeping themselves safe. I have just sent an envoy to verify rumors that the Sharpspire Manor was invaded and sacked this night. This morning I received a letter from Duchess Grena saying her husband had committed suicide after selling his son’s armor and weapons. To pay for his family’s debt before his creditors led my own soldiers into his home to repossess their belongings. He put a dagger through his heart!”

Grigor seemed to have trouble processing the information and Grover went on, allowing his voice to raise. “His son died protecting me in the last war you waged against the minotaur. Do you remember? The Harpy wasn’t happy about the chest of gems they paid in tribute!”

“But this is outrageous! Why didn’t you protect Duke Grimm? There are many ways you could have resolved that!” Grigor took a step back.

“Because I don’t have gold anymore!” Grover shouted. “You are sucking your vassals dry to pay for your wars… Those wars ‘The Harpy demands’, and the poorest pay for until they can’t anymore! Then you start seeing nobles killing themselves because they don’t have any gold left either. Desperate mothers and cubs rob travelers to survive! Not even the mercenaries will take jobs from the noble because they can’t lower their wages enough!”

“I don’t hear of such complaints from the northerner lands!” Grigor shot back, but Grover dismissed his reply with a wave of his paw.

“All they care about is hunting monsters and their own subsistence.” Grover shook his head. “We should be glad they don’t charge us for fighting the spawn of the Windigos.”

“This is childish.” Grigor laughed. “Come on, Grover. You have stronger mettle than this, and I am sure you can deal with the situation. Enforce The Harpy’s Commandment. Forgive debts and make them work harder. Raid the lesser nations and bring riches back. Prospect for more mines and get the diamond dogs to work!”

“There are no more diamond dog burrows.” Grover didn’t find it funny. “There are no more riches in the lesser nations!”

“What?”

“They are all dead or they are already working the mines!”

“Well, then make them work harder!” Grigor shouted.

Before he spoke again, Geneviere approached them, speaking softly. “Grover. Gaven. Now is not the time for schisms. The time comes when the most important battle of Creation itself fast approaches. The Allmother calls Her Children to unite against our true enemy and our material disagreements must be given pause. They can be settled later with the untold riches that await at the end of the Last Great War. Once The Sun and The Moon once again serve us and our kind again reigns supreme over All. It shall be a time of endless riches and there will not be a single poor griffon and even the subservient slaves will enjoy the luxuries meant for kings of our time.”

She stared up at the ceiling and stood on her hindlegs, opening her forelegs. “It is our destiny, as ordained by The Mother of Storms Herself. That Gaven, once a slave should be elevated to King and then Emperor and to God among the mortals, will be the one to unleash her might against the Dawnbringer. Conflict has always existed, and it is Her way of educating Her Children. So we are strong as She had made us in the Stormy Eyrie and we can then take our place at her side! We are so close… Griffons must heed her cry! Peasant to noble, to petty king with The Emperor, all united under The Harpy!”

“Your majesty should have called for help.” Ghadah’s mother, Gulsana, skillfully followed suit after the empress. “Not only would his Grace happily oblige to assisting his own family and beloved vassal, but the Mother of Storms would delight in seeing Her Children rallying together against a most detested foe.”

Griffons made silence and Gilda watched the whole thing unfold with a certain anxiety she shared with Ghadah.

Sitting next to the window, Grover let his head hang and closed his eyes so painfully. But he turned outside again and took a deep breath. “There is another way… And I have called for help. But not from the Holy Emperor.”

Silence reigned again, until Grover turned to them. “As you had requested, my liege, I kept my eyes on our enemy. And what I saw changed me. The independent city of Everfree rose from the ashes of the Old Republic under the banner of the Sun and Moon. The Sisters bested the Mad God and extirpated the evil of the unicorn patriarchs from the noble pony families. They have thrived well past our occupation of their lands, while all we got from it was yet another graveyard where our kind shed its blood for The Harpy’s megalomania.”

“King or not, watch your words!” Gulsana berated him, but he didn’t care.

“While cities all over the world shrivel and die of starvation, under The Sisters, Everfree has thrived like a scion of hope for this dying world. Queen Sunny Days of Everfree called for an end of hostilities among all noble families. She offered amnesty for all who joined the Diarchy of Everfree and swore fealty to The Royal Pony Sisters.”

The expectant silence from before turned to shocked silence until Geneviere slapped Grover with a sound that reverberated on the stony halls like a trumpet for the end times.

“Traitor!” She shrieked shedding all her majesty and composure. “My own blood a traitor to Aya Harpyja! Mother would kill herself in shame!”

She screamed and lunged, talons first at Grover, but he didn’t react. He closed his eyes, sad, defeated with red marks where her talons ripped out his gray-brown plumage as Emperor Grigor held her.

“End him Gaven!” She tried to reach Grover past his shoulder. “He will be the doom of us all!”

Amid all that, what stuck with Gilda was Ghadah’s panic. She remained stoic by her mother and father’s side, and they seemed so tranquil, but perhaps they shared in Ghadah’s apprehension.

“Grover…” The Emperor spoke calmly. “Reconsider.”

“The Harpy and Her Chosen speak of endless riches and of plentiful lives…” The other sighed. “As we send our children and our faithful vassals to die in endless wars and revolts for vain glory and dirty gold while Queen Sunny Days sends settlers to forgotten badlands. They build successful farms where there once was nothing but dead lands. Royal sponsored knights protect villages and roads from brigands and monsters and the Battlehorn Legions sweep clean any armed resistance against the cries of unity among the populace.”

“The ponies have survived the freezing cold of the Windigos, the mad ravings of Discord and the ravenous greed of the Unicorn Kings.” Grover shook his head. “They will survive the Griffon Scourge and we will be undone if we stand against them, but welcome if we stand with them.”

He stared squarely at Gaven. “That is not why I decided to contact Queen Sunny, however. It is because the Harpy keeps demanding more and threatening us with damnation if we don’t measure up. While all the Dawnbringer asks for is that we stand up for our subjects and ease their suffering and allow them decent lives.”

He showed Grigor the letter and let his voice raise again. “I do not ever want to know of a friend ending his life because his family can’t pay their debts! Or of a young father who left his new family to die in some distant land for the glory of some egotistical bird with too high an opinion of herself!”

A Day of Gilda, A Day of Grunhilda

Coarse sand brushed against her coat. Her chest couldn’t seem to draw in air and its hot unpleasantness hurt her dry throat. Running water murmured nearby, not a large river, but a small, noisy stream. She could smell the water, but she couldn’t see it, and it made breathing even harder. Her body didn’t respond, and pain was a distant memory, but still a constant reminder. She could also smell blood but couldn’t see it either.

Her body simply refused to do anything but suffer in silence.

How could she be so cold under the sunlight? Her feathers held a stickiness, but the hot sand felt dry on her paws.

She was dreaming. Or rather, remembering… She could feel the oneiric quality of the scene she found herself immersed in. That was not what happened at the present. But she also wasn’t Ghadah, neither was she Gilda.

What was her name? She searched her memories, but she couldn’t remember. She didn’t know what a name was. She didn’t recognize others by name. She knew what a river was. She knew what sand was, but the being Gilda shared her mind with didn’t have words to categorize such entities.

More an animal than an intelligent being, but capable of rational thought. A ‘cavegriffon’ again, fully ‘equipped’, but lacking civilization. A bizarre experience. The closest she had ever experienced was the cyan griffon living in the cave, in the Stormy Eyrie. Yes. That was who she was, but something went terribly wrong.

Her body refused to obey. Her throat felt parched, and she could hear the water, and she wanted to go there, but she lacked the physical strength, and everything hurt, much like her real body in the waking world.

What had happened to her? Gilda knew her real body suffered a crash with Grunhilda, but she experienced a different set of memories and body. She searched memories and got no answer. Her mind didn’t seem to work right, and she slipped in and out of consciousness.

She was afraid too along with the griffoness she inhabited. She hurt all over, nothing worked, and everything felt wrong... She was supposed to be flying home with her dinner and nobody came when she cried. A faint, scared cry, alone. Panic set in, but even then, nothing worked.

Nervous neighing and nickering sounded nearby. Her head refused to raise and let her see but she smelled them above the water. The prey. Nearby. She heard their hooves on the grassy ground, and at the same time so distant. Everything seemed distant. The water, the sand, the warmth of the sun.

Her eyes stung and wetness blurred them. Something was terribly, terribly wrong and she knew it. Won’t anybody help her? Mother?

Finally, she managed to see one of the ponies as it came into her view. A green-yellow young earth pony mare, staring at her with huge, curious, and worried lime-colored eyes. She smelled at the air, her head hung low, ears perked up in worried curiosity. Another joined her. A male pegasus, cyan and blue, just like she was. He too, stretched his neck, torn between worry and curiosity, plagued by fear.

Then another joined, coming from outside of Gilda’s field of view. Large. Tall. Elegant. White, with mighty wings flared on her back and an elegant ivory horn on her forehead. Terrible like a spearpoint. It stared at Gilda with the same huge and scared magenta eyes. Nickered at the smaller ponies and ushered them away.

She stared at the griffon Gilda shared her body with. Head hung low too, she snorted and hoofed at the grass, where the riverside sand shifted into the green.

Thinking was too damn difficult, and Gilda knew there was a meaning to that dream. It was The Harpy trying to tell her something. Or maybe… It was herself, trying to tell her something.

Consciousness slipped away into cold darkness.

***

Moonlight made the grass dark and cold air surrounded her. It hurt her throat. So cold. She shivered and let out a moan barely noticing it herself. A warm body moved beneath her, and it hurt a little. Movement was a little jerky, but the soft griffon pelt felt nice, even if nausea and exhaustion dominated Gilda’s senses.

“Don’t worry, Miss Gilda. We’ll make it to Ponyville!” Grunhilda told her with frantic excitement and panting breathing. “I saw some pegasi flying above!”

She hummed, tried to speak, but strength left her and just trying to do anything hurt. Grunhilda would take care of things and she could rest for a bit. Just a little bit.

***

Gilda soared among the infinite blue. She really ought to fly more often… It was awesome. The wind under her wings, carrying her forward, way above the emerald prairies. A small stream crossed it, almost large enough to be called a river, though she didn’t have such names in her head. It was a course of water that divided the wide prairies where the ponies grazed. It stood towards the sun in the afternoon, and that was all she needed to know of the place. Going the opposite way would take her home.

The Allmother had called to them earlier that day as she was used to hunt in the twilight, but it made no difference. The storm brought the rushing euphoria with it and prompted griffons to leave their homes and seek food.

Other griffons flew with her, but they had their own techniques and their own preferred hunting grounds. The common knowledge told them to avoid each other and not stray too close from one another when they flew to kill. Tempers tended to rise, and talons often flew around with little regard for consequences. Gilda didn’t want an ugly gash on her neck to disturb her pretty plumage.

But it all concerned her little as soon as her keen eyes found her prey dotting the green bellow. Colorful coats under the sun and flamboyant manes in the wind, a herd followed their matriarch around, surrounded by the bulkier males.

All the colors in the rainbow and some more, they barely paid any attention to the sky above. Even their winged ones flew low, close to the safety of their numbers.

They really ought to look up more often, and they didn’t live long enough to learn the lesson.

She circled above. Wings wide open, silent in the wind. She watched. Studied. Identified the older ones, the foals. Did any of them have a limp? Which were the ones least likely to resist? Or even better, a young pegasus mare, distracted with whatever stupid thing she saw in the grass.

She smiled and anticipation grasped her chest as Gilda banked her flight to the left and started on a downward spiral. She oriented herself on her target before finally letting her wings close and allowing gravity to give her speed. Fixated eyes on her unknowing target and wind rushing past her ears.

A loud thunder cracked. Or something resembling thunder. It smelled like thunder too, with the rainy aroma which usually followed one of the storms in the Stormy Eyrie. Even in the bright day sky, there was a flash, but it all happened so fast she barely understood anything.

All she managed to grasp was that something had struck the side of her chest and threw her flight off course. She tried slowing down, but her wing didn’t work right anymore. It hurt too much. She realized she couldn’t breathe, and panic dawned when the ground approached much too fast.

***

Gilda woke to her own screaming. She laid on the grass, dark all around and still so cold, despite the characteristic fluffy warmth from Grunhilda’s fur against her back and her wings wrapped around her.

Did she scream, or did she merely dream it?

Above, the starry night showed the moon, but little else. Not a tree in sight in the dark, but her blurry sight couldn’t be truste, and she failed to raise her head. Too nauseous and too weak. She wanted to ask Grunhilda where were they, but her voice failed too. Her heart pounded fast, and her fingers trembled. A wave of shivering washed over her with an involuntary moan and air refused to flow into her. It seemed insufficient and it also hurt, stinging rasping against her throat and stinging at her lungs.

She heard Grunhilda snoring softly next to her and felt her chest moving against her back.

The dark became darker and colder.

***

She rolled on the grass, down the gentle slope towards the small stream after she impacted. Everything hurt, but she stood. Fury barely described it. Something had collided into her as she launched towards her prey, and someone was going to pay for it! It certainly one of those too playful youths that had no understanding of the unspoken etiquette of hunting!

Her head swiveled around, but she found no other griffon standing up from the grass she could scream at.

She smelled blood and it only made her snappier than her anger already did.

Then she noticed her chest was wet, and that the blood she smelled was her own.

Her head spun and her balance failed her. She spread her paws to keep from collapsing. What had happened? She had nothing but angry confusion.

Hooves trampled the grassy ground and approached her. Male ponies. Earth ponies, pegasi and unicorns. They reared and neighed, snorted angrily, but kept their distance, afeared and nervous. Even if they taunted and challenged her. Earth ponies stomped the ground and neighed noisily, pegasi flapped their wings and snorted while unicorns hoofed at the grass and their horns let fly harmless sparks.

None of them had the tools of a killer. Square and dull teeth, blunt horns, and pointless, cutesy flashes and colorful sparks. Pitiful wings and small hooves… She was the one with the meat-tearing beak and the flesh-rending talons. The instinct of a killer and thirst for warm blood.

Her cry failed her as her voice didn’t come out as it should. Her chest hurt so much she cut short her cry into a pathetic whimper. Her head spun again, but she stood her ground.

Then she saw it.

It came from behind the taunting ponies.

It was an abomination.

Too tall and too bulky. It had ample and strong wings, opened in full display against the flare of the sun. Long legs and a sharp horn, terrible as the talons of her own kind. Her big magenta eyes, full of fear and of hatred shifted for a while before fixing on Gilda. It nickered and snorted, approaching slowly, and kicking the ground, throwing its head menacingly.

But Gilda, or whatever would her name be, was the one supposed to be feared in that place. Anger gave her strength, and it took some effort, but she overcame the pain which came with moving her wings. If anything, the pain gave her focus and her anger directed her thoughts.

Did that thing attack her? She would shred it to bits and try its meat. It looked like prey, it smelled like prey, and it sounded like prey, therefore it must be prey.

She lunged. Sluggish, but moved by anger.

The creature’s horn shone as bright as the sun itself and its shine kicked her back, burned plumage, and fur. Her breath filled with burnt flesh, and she tumbled down the slope to the riverside in a storm of searing pain.

Then hooves came down with the sound of angry neighing and the last thing she heard where bones cracking.

***

Gilda startled awake again. She laid on the grass under the morning sun. The air still had the same chill from the night. Or she was sick. Something definitively wasn’t right. She was dreaming a while aggo, but it came close to reality… Damn dreams.

She’s been slipping in and out of consciousness and those stupid dreams made it all worse. Did she just witness Princess Celestia murdering a griffon? Or herself in another life? Was that princess Celestia? They behaved more like animals. She didn’t know… Her mind constantly lost itself in a fog, and every thought became a derail-prone train ready to cause a disaster.

She could remember she dreamt of dying, In some bizarre life before civilization. Or something of the sort. She didn’t understand the details and she didn’t know enough to understand. It was just a stupid dream that hurt too.

She also dreamt about Grigor and Grover. She didn’t remember much of it other than the fact she hadn’t liked it at all. It showed her the beginning of the fall of the Empire, right? Something like so. Due to The Harpy being inflexible, or something… Nah… Surely it was the disunion Grover sowed. Everything would still be cool hadn’t he been so damn incompetent.

The grass felt nice and soft against her body, anyways. A gentle stream flowed nearby with the unmistakable sound of running water.

The sun warmed her, but she shivered. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt. Her mouth was dry. She groaned… She wanted those thoughts out of her head and her bladder must be full because her loin hurt as it did whenever she really needed to go to the bathroom. Particularly after drinking way too much alcohol and spending the whole day sleeping in and out of dreams.

“Damnit…” She whined softly to herself, so much it hurt. The pain pulled a soft and sad cry from her, and she almost gave up. She really needed to go, though.

She found Grunhilda’s backpack nearby, but not Grunhilda herself. The meat smelled from inside the backpack, but she didn’t care about that.

“Grunhilda?” She called but her voice came out too soft and cut by the pain in her chest.

She made a herculean effort to raise her head just a little and managed to see the stream under a small collection of modest trees and some greens. By the stream she finally found Grunhilda in the shade.

She sat on the water and pawed it at her fur, glistening under the sun like a freaking silver coin. Her huge frame didn’t steal from her distinctive elegant feminine shape. Her white fur and feathers helped a lot, looking so pristine and so fluffy. Gilda supposed it came from her northerner heritage.

Griffons were elegant creatures, in the way they walked and moved, with their feline bodies and their dexterous forelimbs, no surprise Grunhilda would too.

She had the natural ‘eyeshadow’ in a darker shade of gray which made her seem so… Wild? She had fierce eyes, despite her usual dumb stare and submissive behavior. It went well with her backswept feathers that emulated fluffy ears. Gilda supposed her eyes were another characteristic of the northerners.

Her wings were something else too… If she had more practice, she should be a great flier, with big and powerful wings enough to brave the heights.

In the end, she was built like a fighter; one who could fly, and she wasn’t even trying. Her strong physique lent to a powerful and elegant body of a hunter, and it was also feathering sexy.

What the actual fuck? When did the big girl get to look so damn sexy? Gilda had to be hallucinating or some shit. She laid half-dead in the damn grass and caught herself perving over her friend.

Forcing her forelegs to the ground, she managed to raise enough she could smell urine soaking her own coat. Just great.

She managed a couple of steps, but had to stop because her breath came too short, cut by the pain every time. Not only her joints ached when she had to support her own weight, but her wing hadn’t miraculously healed either. Her chest hurt like a hammer hit her every time she drew in air, and she had to give in and lay down again with a sobbing whine.

Grunhilda gasped and hopped off the water, rushing to Gilda with her childish panicked stare. She helped Gilda stand, carefully supporting her chest with a foreleg and clicked her beak nervously.

“Miss Gilda? Are you okay?” She whined nervously.

“I’m cool, Grunhilda… I’m just a bit sore… And tired. I just gotta go to the bathroom.”

She whined and looked one way and the other. “There are not bathrooms here, Miss Gilda.”

Gilda chuckled at her friend and winced at the pain which followed. Still, she smiled. “Just help me get out of the way. And be careful, alright?”

Gruhilda whined and placed herself by Gilda’s side, supporting her weight with a wing and walked her to the trees where Gilda found a patch of dirt rather than grass. She squatted on her hindlegs and the other turned away, distancing herself a few paces. Relieving herself hurt about as much as everything else and she could swear she felt too weak even to take a piss.

Then she smelled blood and when she looked at her puddle it looked more like blood than urine, despite the strong smell. Well, shit. And she had thought the thugs in Griffonstone were scary.

“Fuck…” She whimpered to herself and Grunhilda gasped when she arrived, just in time to hold her because Gilda swayed to the side. Grunhilda panicked and gasped a whine, but she held Gilda. Then everything went dark.

***

She came to again and worried it was another dream, but she could see Grunhilda grabbing water from the stream. She left Gilda leaned against a tree and apparently, she couldn’t even dream straight anymore. Her head spun as the other griffoness brought something to her and took a moment to understand.

Grunhilda had brought her water in a cup made of leaves. It leaked, but it worked well enough. She let her pour the fresh water into her mouth and chuckled internally, imagining when did Grunhilda learn to make such a thing.

Anyways, the water washed away the bad taste of dry mouth and even made her feel a little better.

Her friend even offered her a cut of cold meat. The grease tasted buttery and clumped, but it smelled of good food. She held it, teared a beakful of it and swallowed. It tasted like paper, and it didn’t seat very well in her stomach, but she knew eating something would probably be a good idea.

Just moving her paws around challenged her willpower, though.

Grunhilda sobbed and whimpered next to her. Teary eyes again and the same childish expression of sorrow from before. “I’m sorry, Miss Gilda! I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“Chill, Grunhilda…” Her voice came out weak and it came to the point it scared Gilda just how numb she felt to the very fact she had literally pissed blood, and everything seemed broken. The fact she wasn’t scared, somehow scared her. “It’s gonna be alright.”

A branch cracked behind her and Grunhilda heard it too because she snapped to the direction and gasped loudly with her teary eyes suddenly becoming glassy with fear. “Go away! Leave us alone!”

Someone approached and Gruhilda stood protective over Gilda, but someone laughed. It sounded like a pony, but strangely mocking. Three of them circled around and Grunhilda hissed like feral cat, flaring her wings.

“Go away!” She cried again, close to Gilda, shivering against her. “I’ll… I’ll hurt you!”

Three ponies, indeed. The first was the annoying cheery gray-green unicorn with the purple mane that disturbed her at the hotel. Still with the same dumbass saddlebags, but with a superior smile and condescending stare rather than annoying friendliness.

“Told you guys it was her.” He chuckled. “Also, that every dumbflank going from Canterlot to Ponyville stops here. Only reason they haven’t built an inn yet is because the Archduke is a cheap asshole.”

“Shit…” Gilda groaned. “I should have known.”

“Oh… What was that? Did you manage to get yourself half-killed already?” He laughed. “What the hay did you do?”

He touched a hoof on Gilda’s shoulder, but she didn’t have the energy to react.

“Get away from her!” Grunhilda’s voice broke and tried lunging at the pony, but a big earth pony shoved her on the ground.

“Hey, stay there! Nothing needs to be harder than it already is.” His voice carried a bizarre mixture of sympathy and hardness. A bulky draft dude, like Rainbow Dash’s friend’s brother. But olive-green with a black mane cut very short and wearing a black leather and metal barding. Custom fitted. He carried a massive, spiked hammer on his back, and to wrap it all up, he wore a black mask with a grill for him to speak and holes for the eyes.

Motherfucker looked sinister as heck for a pony.

Grunhilda shuffled on the floor and started crying, covering her eyes, the same way she had done before.

“Hey… It’s… It’s cool…” Gilda breathed heavily. “Just don’t hurt, her, okay? She’s… fragile.”

From the other side came another pony. A large unicorn mare, dark brown with a long dark blonde mane, wearing the same mask the other wore but painted in a fiery pattern. She had four ‘fire ornated’ wheellock pistols attached to the peytral, and she laughed. “Geez, what did you do? They won’t pay us like that. This is too easy.”

“Hey, twenty-five thousand Bits is twenty-five thousand Bits! Easy or hard.” The green unicorn chuckled. “I’m not complaining if it’s easy, right sis?”

“Shut up, bub.” The unicorn female growled at him. “You’re getting five.”

At that, Gilda started laughing. It hurt and her short breath almost blacked her out. “Twenty-five? Man, Goy was ripping off Grahan!”

She winced at the pain and sighed. If Grahan was there he would probably have wasted those three dweebs already.

“Alright, enough talking.” The big male returned and nodded to Grunhilda curled up and crying in the grass. “Get the other one. I’ll deal with this one with River.”

“Right-o.” The male unicorn male walked over to Grunhilda, who sat and cried, trying to distance herself from the unicorn, but his horn shone, and he held her with his magic. “Hey, come on…”

Grunhilda screeched and squirmed but couldn’t move away.

“Hey, don’t hurt her!” Gilda tried to stand, but her strength failed her, and she collapsed on the unicorn mare who shoved her to the ground and Gilda cried at the pain. It hurt so much she almost actually wept for real.

“What the fudge! You reek of piss! Eew!” The mare’s horn shone, and she pulled a rope from the saddlebags in her barding.

“Witch, this is messed up… She’s done for…” The male pony told her with some empathy.

“Not our problem, River!” She shot back while Grunhilda screeched so loud her voice started getting hoarse. The only thing in Gilda’s mind was telling then not to hurt her, but she didn’t have the wind to speak through the pain. It remained from being shoved to the ground and the way the pony mare put a hoof on her. “She’s the one that got herself in trouble. We’re here just to take her to that fat griffon.”

Funny enough, in the situation Gilda found herself in, the pony just feigned very well, but she didn’t like what she was doing. Gilda understood. Taking lives went against the wiring in her stupid pony brain. Lucky her, Gilda couldn’t show her how it’s done.

“Get away!” Grunhilda shrieked and then she cried. Not in pain, or in fear. But in the ‘I’m gonna rip you apart’ way.

The green unicorn flew above them and crashed into the tree with a loud ‘thunk’ and the violent rustling of the leaves. His spine snapped like a twig and his legs flew around, as he spun away and dropped to the ground by the next tree like a sack of lifeless meat.

For an instant, Gilda thought she had drifted into dreaming again.

“What the hay?!” The mare screamed and pulled one of her pistols from her barding’s peytral. She shot reflexively at Grunhilda, who seemed to have come out of nowhere.

Gilda didn’t know if she hit her, but Grunhilda had pounced a distance of some twenty times her length. She tackled the unicorn mare with enough momentum she dragged her underneath, past the grass, dirt and roots with a sound that almost drowned out her terrified scream.

The big earth pony screamed, more scared and surprised than anything. “Witch, no!”

Gilda was half-dead, blacking out of consciousness. But she still could see the terror in that big dude’s eyes, past the sinister mask he wore, at the shrill cry from his partner.

Grunhilda turned to face him, low on the ground. Her fluffy chest stained red like her paws and her beak. She hissed and her muscles tensed like they were ready to explode in movement. Her wings opened low when the pony stood on his hindlegs, holding the hammer. He attacked her with a step forward, putting all his weight on it.

The weapon swung in a diagonal, in a difficult angle to dodge, aiming at her chest and it glanced loudly off her wing with a flash and magical sparks. It sounded like a blacksmith had just hit a piece of metal with their biggest hammer.

Shocked, the pony let the thing slip from his hooves and stood there, staring, confused, still on his hindlegs, slightly bent forward, with his forelegs dangling helplessly. As though his brain just stopped working at what had just happened.

Grunhilda’s face contorted into a furious scowl. Gilda imagined someone trying to hit her with a giant hammer would piss her off… The griffoness screamed and pounced the earth pony. He even tried dodging her, but her speed and weight brought him to the ground.

A piece of his barding flew away, and he screamed. Seeing exactly what happened proved difficult. He screamed again, but not the same scream from before. He screamed a third time, each time less composed and more horrified than the last. A fourth crying scream made Gilda’s stomach drop and he just kept screaming.

His hooves tried batting at the large griffon, but she didn’t even seem to register, and his screams turned to gurgling whimpers and fleshy noises.

A shot rang and apparently went wide. Grunhilda’s head rose and turned to stare at the unicorn. She sat by one of the trees and held one of her pistols with her failing telekinetic magic. Gilda didn’t really feel bad for her and found a streak of dark humor in the thought that ponies apparently needed both eyes to aim correctly. Intestines being on the inside probably would’ve helped too…

She might have found some sympathy in another situation, but found it really hard to feel bad for someone ready to sell her to the wife of a corrupted politician. Even when her face had been turned into so much blood and gore it became difficult to identify where her face ended, and the mask started.

She really could have afforded to just lay there and die, though. Because Grunhilda turned and rushed at her. The unicorn did grab another of her pistols and shot Grunhilda at point blank, but the sound which stayed with Gilda was the sickening crunch. Grunhilda grabbed her by her barding and shoved her against the tree. Then she grabbed her neck in one paw and pierced the flesh with her talons, squeezing bubbling blood out until the pony stopped squirming and went limp.

The only sound left came from the rustling of the leaves in the breeze, the stream and one or two birds chirping.

Gilda slipped between dark and a blurry Grunhilda coming to her. Blood stained everything red and all she could think of was whether or not her friend had been shot and how injured she was. But Grunhilda eased Gilda into her back and grabbed the backpack with her beak to resume her walk.

A stray thought had Gilda worrying she smelled bad, and she wouldn’t want to stink on Grunhilda, but she blacked out again with the griffon’s rhythmic gait.

***

At some point she heard thunder and the sky became dark. It had started raining and there she also heard plenty of screamin. She got jerked around, but she eventually woke up again in a bed, covered by white sheets and had a door on the other side of the light-green room. She also had a window next to her bed, showed a green meadow and a cute small pony city.

Most importantly, someone had stuck one of those tube-things to her right foreleg. She supposed the name for it was an intravenous access and it dripped a softly glowing pink stuff into her, and on her left foreleg they had stuck her with a blood bag.

It also seemed as though they had bathed her because she sure felt much better.

Everything seemed peaceful and dark, other than the artificial magical light on the corridor beyond the door. She couldn’t see Grunhilda, though. But Gilda supposed she could take care of herself, after all.

She surrendered to the drowsiness.

***

She woke slowly to see Grunhilda, looking much better without all the blood covering her plumage and her fluffy chest. Her feathers had been shaved in some placed and she had bandages stuck to her skin. She stared at Gilda with her big dumb worried eyes until she looked somewhere else.

“Please, Mister Doctor… We can’t stay here. Can’t you just give her more of the healing potion and let us go on our way? They’re waiting for us in Griffindell.”

Gilda wanted to berate her for telling anyone where they were going, but… Oh well… She could barely keep awake.

A male voice, spoke to her, patiently. “It’s not that simple, Miss Grunhilda. Your friend had several fractures and ruptured organs. We gave her a potion to save her life, but in the present situation, we are disallowed to give her more of it. They are awfully expensive, and we must keep them for other emergencies that may come to our hospital.”

“We have to go!” Gunshilda insisted anxiously. “Miss Gilda needs to get to Snow Mountains. The magic in our ancestral land is going to heal her.”

“Sweetie…” A female voice spoke too, also a pony. “You admitted to murder and that is serious. There is a custodian coming from Canterlot and she’s going to take you and your friend to a larger hospital. When you are healed, you can wait for an audience with a judge. And that is if Princess Celestia herself doesn’t feel the need to intervene. They identified both of you as fugitives from Griffonstone, and Haybale and your situation is delicate as can be. Your best bet is to wait and ask her for clemency.”

Grunhilda just whined quietly, and Gilda didn’t feel strong enough to even make them know she listened in. The whole thing worried her, but consciousness slipped away again.

***

She woke to the sound of glass breaking and someone screaming. Darkness shrouded the room, darker than before and so it did the corridor, which seemed strange to Gilda. The artificial magical lighting didn’t work, and she heard someone crying in the distance.

Someone shouted, something heavy dragged abruptly. One shot echoed, two shots and someone screamed, but it ended abruptly too.

Gilda noticed a small and yellow earth pony with a beautiful red mane and a big bow on her head. She had curled and shivered in the corner of her room. Whining quietly.

Lightning flashed over the meadow outside and thunder followed soon after.

The little pony startled and whimpered when someone in the corridor tossed glass around and it shattered noisily. It sounded again, and again as though someone tossed flasks around, looking for something. Ripped fabric, doors slamming until it all went silent again. Eerily silent and the only noises came from the raindrops splattering at her window and someone sobbing in the corridor.

***

Gilda didn’t know how long passed and she probably slipped into slumber again. But she woke to Grunhilda in the dark, holding something that seemed like a small vial to her beak.

“Drink this, Miss Gilda.” She spoke softly.

Something smelled of blood, but Gilda didn’t really pay a lot of attention to it. The other gently put something to her beak and poured a warm liquid into her mouth.

It tasted of grape juice and burned a little going down, but it immediately made her feel stronger. Then Grunhilda snapped open another vial and poured it the same for Gilda who took it compliantly.

It was a difficult thing to explain, but it made her feel better, less tired, and just stronger. But at the same time, it made her feel relaxed, as though it somehow pulled all the anxious fear she had been feeling because of her injuries. She could finally breathe a lungful of air again. Those little sips had blown away a deathly miasma hanging over her. She could finally rest for real, and she just smiled.

Grunhilda tossed the empty flask away and repositioned herself so she could drag Gilda onto her back. She wore her backpack and just let Gilda rest there for the moment.

“Hold on, Miss Gilda. We can’t stay here. But rest all you need. I’ll take care of everything.” She said as she made her way to the door.

“Thanks, Grunhilda.” She mumbled without thinking. “You’re awesome.”

***

Gilda finally slept. She didn’t slip in and out of consciousness as though constantly about to faint, and startling awake what felt like every five minutes.

She stared at the wood ceiling and blinked. Turned and sat in the middle of the bed. Cold gripped her, so she wrapped herself in the blanket. Made of deep brown rabbit skins. She held the thing and looked at it. If she didn’t feel very awake, she would be convinced she had fallen asleep and dreamt again.

Soft green linen covered the fluffy mattress she laid upon. Solid wood made up the bed itself while gray stone and mortar made the walls. Windows to outside showed a griffon city covered with fresh snow still falling from the sky.

It took her a while, but she got used to the cold and barely felt it anymore as she climbed down from bed to the wood floor. An actual bear rug caressed her feet, but she wanted the bathroom, nowhere to be seen.

She found a bed pan, though. It should be enough.

Damn… Not even in her shitty house she needed one of those, but at least all the pain and the bloody urine were a distant memory. She squatted awkwardly over the pan to relieve herself. Like a nightmare she had finally woken from, urine flowed easily. It felt like a blessing, just to be able to piss again. Her body finally felt like it had rested since the whole mess started. How long had it been? She even let a soft moan escape.

Just being able to breathe again, she felt like singing!

What was that place, though? Out the window, it looked like a griffon city in the distance. Stone buildings, thatched roofs, a crossroad just outside the yard with a fountain and a griffon standing on his hindlegs. Dark, overcast sky of a late afternoon, just before the Princess retrieved the sun above and snow everywhere below.

A pair of griffons in wine-colored heavy armor stood guard on the yard enclosed by an iron gate. Each carried a bulky black musket and a halberd.

The arching door out of her room had a latch she released effortlessly. The door revealed a fancy and rustic living room with other doors and a stairway downward. A pair of rustic couches, heavy-framed, and covered with thick black fur stood next to a short table, close to a fireplace. The air smelled of burning pine and the heat radiated a comforting warmth. Something stirred inside of her. The rustic place felt particularly cozy.

The table had bottles of different drinks, dried fruits, and several cuts of dried and salted meats. Her stomach complained at the sight, but she controlled herself… She was clearly a guest in someone’s house.

Almost on cue, a cute griffon lady, about as young as herself, climbed up the stairs. Yellow-lime coat and green plumage with a short beak and golden eyes full of calm happiness and a blue satin cloak over her back. A delicate chain of iron links held it in place.

“Morning, Miss Gilda!” She said. “Please, help yourself to the food. I had it placed there to wait for you.”

“Thanks.” She said, making her way to one of the couches and sitting to choose something from the table. “Where’s Grunhilda?”

“She’s resting.” The griffon girl sat herself on the other couch and helped herself to a pawful of toasted peanuts. “Do you remember anything?”

“I guess I remember enough.” Gilda let her stare drift down for a second. But Grunhilda did what she had to do… She turned her attention to the table and the fancy small vials with purple liquid drew her attention. Three of them, wider at the bottom and thin at the pinnacle, made of fancy crystal and sealed shut by a snapping top.

She took one in her paw. Less than a cup of liquid inside, but it sizzled with magic when she disturbed it. Its magic seeped into her paws like sticking her paw into a cup of soda.

“Miraculous little things.” The green griffoness said, but then shook her head. “Each one of those is worth a small fortune. Princess Celestia will hunt you and your friend down to the ends of the world now. Our informants say the changeling medical advances they are bound to share, now they are a part of the federation is bound to lower the prices on these things… I suppose we’ll see. Right now, you could buy this manor with these three.”

“Nah…” Gilda put it back on the table. “I’ll hold on to them… We’re likely to need them in our travel. Where am I, by the way?”

“Stormrend Manor. Thunderpeak. You might have guessed already, but among friends for now. I’m Gia.” She added with a smile. “You can stay for however you like, and I would advise giving your thrall a day or two to rest. She’s a loyal and dedicated one.”

“She’s my friend.” Gilda frowned.

Gia nodded. “I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. These things are normal in the north.”

Gilda didn’t really make much of it, but she didn’t want the other to think that Grunhilda was a servant or anything of the sort. Also, she found chunks of ham incrusted in honey and she remembered she was hungry. So, she took one to eat.

“If I understood correctly, you lived in Griffonstone and Master Gabriel recruited you. You ran away from some problems and that has put you in contact with his daughter…” Gia spoke calmly as Gilda’s beak teared at the sweetened meat.

“Yeah… I told her about her father and Gerdie told me a few things to help me get to Griffindell.” Gilda stared for a second, pausing with the meat. “You should know he is still in the Griffonstone Hospital and that Princess Luna messed up his paws. I don’t think he’ll be leaving any time too soon. Especially if they don’t give him one of these.”

She hummed as Gilda returned to her food. “These potions are meant as life-saving measures. Griffon paws are special too… So specialized, and nerves make things difficult. These things will mend organs tendons and vessels, but they can’t fix nerves so easily. It takes time. And surgeries. But the best would be to take him to Snow Mountains and let Lady Gwendolen, or one of my high-ranking sisters see him.”

“But I must switch subjects… I need your help. If I understand correctly, you are not officially a Swordmaiden yet…” She started.

“No, I guess I’m not.” The question piqued Gilda’s curiosity. “What do you need?”

“You are certainly aware of the raid on Master Gabriel’s museum…” She teased. “I believe it is provocation enough to move the population of the city to a revolt. I would like, very much, to recover the lost items, but I am rather young and quite new at my profession… The resident northerners appreciate my job, but in order to fight the powers that be, they need some extra encouraging and Lady Gwendolen has left me to fend for myself…”

“I hear griffons thrive in adversity…” Gilda grinned a smug grin.

“Indeed.” The other responded in kind.

“I guess it would piss off the Chancelor…” Gilda’s grin grew up a notch. “Do you think if he knew the ‘fugitive from Griffonstone’ got involved, he might be motivated to ask Griffonstone’s mayor a few questions?”

“I will tell you something even more interesting… Imagine they had to store the items from the raided museum somewhere.” The other grew mysterious and mischievous.

“Alright…”

“Suppose the only place they had in town was the city hall depot.”

“I’m following.”

The other then spoke with a lowered voice and even more of a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Suppose the mayor was involved in helping the Chancellor in hiding his stolen money…”

“Oooooh…” Gilda almost giggled. “I guess that would piss off the Chancellor. What would happen to said money?”

“It should mostly go to the cause. You know… The lascivious and pompous meetings in honor of The Harpy aren’t for free just because Lady Gwendolen is our future queen and her high priestess. But I think neither would object to a portion of the money rewarding her faithful. Especially if that netted The Lion an important town right at the doors of a civil war.”

"Sure.” Gilda agreed. “Take everything, give nothing… Right?”

Big Cat League

Gilda thought wine would be the best thing she would ever taste, but then she found mead. There was a dumb joke somewhere, about liking mead with meat, but she decided she liked the fruity and sweeter taste of mead. Apparently, it could also be a dry drink, and the idea of a ‘dry drink’ completely baffled her at first. Gia’s explanation that griffons usually preferred the sweeter meads made her imagine dry drinks were not sweet. Or something. She didn’t really care. All she knew was that she liked mead. The sweeter, the best.

Gia had a long-winded explanation about how griffons aren’t supposed to eat sweets because their digestive system blah, blah, blah. How The Harpy yadda, yadda, yadda, pony foods whatever, and blood sugar something, something…

The gist was that the only sweet things griffons should eat, or drink, were fruits, fermented fruits, bread, corn cookies (scones were okay if not too sweet). And also, copious amounts of meat. Gilda could get behind the idea.

And one of the favorites was mead. Made from honey and fruits. There was also mead made with grains and spices, but griffons liked the ones made with fruits. Gilda’s favorite was the one made from raspberry. It went ridiculously well with the juiciest meats.

The young Loremaster liked to talk about stuff, and Gilda decided she needed an education since she meant to do her part for The Harpy. Obviously, Gia would be a good friendship.

Gia also welcomed Gilda in her home and she didn’t want to seem rude, even if the green griffoness reminded her of Sparkly Chew. She did feel much better than the last days and she was fine just talking for a while. Especially because Gia seemed alright.

“Can I ask you a few things, Gia?” She worried she might offend the other, for some reason. A silly thing to worry about, but Gilda also realized that she didn’t really have a lot of experience meeting and dealing with different cultures.

Fortunately, the other grinned, holding a small cup with some cherries dipped in something alcoholic. “Absolutely! Teaching griffons is my job, after all!”

“It’s what Loremasters do?” Gilda tilted her head slightly. “I mean… I’ve found a few who really sounded more like they were managers.”

“Lady Gwendolen puts us in important positions… The Loremaster who helped our local leader here in Thunderpeak passed away a few weeks ago, and she’s sent me here. Then our local leader got arrested… You know… Master Gabriel. And since I’m so young, most of the older northerners tend to not put a lot of stock on me.” She strummed her fingers together. “Here’s the thing… Loremasters… We have ranks. And when you’re beginning, you’re supposed to teach because you can’t… Really… Do. The other stuff… Not that teaching isn’t important… But that also requires trust.”

“Got it.” Gilda suppressed a chuckle. “You’re a noob.”

Why was it so easy to be friendly with her? She was so different from Gislane and that old chick in Griffonstone, Gladys.

“Well, that is one way of putting it!” Gia didn’t like it, but she took it like a champ and chuckled, teasing Gilda right away. “I mean, so says the Swordmaiden who got herself dragged half-dead across Canterlot County by her thrall! The thing is… One of the things a Loremaster is supposed to learn, what Lady Gwendolen can’t teach us in a classroom, is how to earn the trust of distrustful griffons.”

Absolutely. If she meant to teach griffons things, especially things going against the grain of stablished History, she had to earn their trust. Especially with things like the Empire and the origin of the Windigos. If anything, Gilda had the hearthwarming feeling she ended up with a competent group. If what she had heard of Lady Gwendolen was true, she knew what she was doing.

“Anyway…” Gia went on, making spinning gestures with her paw. “Loremasters will first and foremost teach griffons about The Harpy and our customs, our history. As we grow old and experienced, Lady Gwendolen will put us to manage stuff for her. So, I suppose I’m moving up being here. Other times she’ll get us married to some important guy she needs to control or because he’s gonna make some good cubs.”

“That… Uh… Sucks…” Gilda tried not to show it but ended up grimacing and recoiling a bit. It didn’t bother Gia. She just shrugged.

“It’s not that bad.” Gia frowned a little. “I mean, Lady Gwendolen got Lady Geena to marry Lord Graham, and now she’s one of the most beloved ladies of the land in Snow Mountains. They say he loves her to death. And Frozenlake is a cool place too, with their delicious grilled fish.”

Yikes. Hopefully the Allmother won’t get the Swordmaidens married to some northerner griffon lord.

Please… You are not so daft. You know you are reserved for a much grander fate.

It didn’t even surprise her anymore when She talked to her, out of nowhere like that.

Gilda hummed noisily. “Say… Where is the Harpy?”

“That is a question I get a lot! It’s a great question!” Gia seemed so cheery, compared to the other loremasters Gilda had met, but then again, she was noticeably younger. And a bit clueless at the moment. “I… Uh… I don’t know…”

Gilda just deadpanned at her before Gia decided to amend that as quick as she could. “I mean, I asked Lady Gwendolen, and she gave me the superior grin she does when we ask something stupid and told me I would figure it out.”

Despite ‘the voice’ chuckling inside her head, Gilda managed to not show the bubbly giggling she almost let escape at Gia’s distraught expression. No, she didn’t know the answer either, but the other’s annoyed expression was so funny.

Suddenly one of the doors flew open to reveal Grunhilda. Leges spread apart and flared wings, gasping upon seeing Gilda. “Miss Gilda!”

“Hey, big gal.” She barely had the time to say anything before Grunhilda pounced her like a snow leopard and Gilda found herself in an inescapable hug. Strong forelegs and wings squeezed the air out of her, but the warmth of Grunhilda’s fluffy chest and their camaraderie made it worth it.

Gia let out an amused chuckle while Grunhilda let go of Gilda. “So, now we are all here, how about we get down to business?”

Gilda coughed discretly, regaining her wind and put a fist before her beak. “Yeah! Sure! How can we help?”

“Come with me.” She gave both a smug grin and nodded to the stairs down.

But before Gilda even took a step, Grunhilda ‘eeped’ and rushed inside her room to promptly return after having donned her backpack. Gilda supposed it was a good thing… At least she wouldn’t be forgetting the thing anywhere. Once they were ready, she followed Gia and caught up with her down the large, theatrical staircase. It landed on a grand hall out of a medieval novel. Manehattan theater blockbusters could never compare.

Complete with an exquisitely carved wooden throne at the top of five steps and flanked by burning pyres made of stone. A large pit occupied the center of the hall, holding a flame fueled by entire broken logs. Other furniture provided sitting space around the hall and a few bookstands, but the pair of long tables awed Gilda. They flanked the fire, both occupied by a rich selection of fancy tableware.

Tall windows held glass and iron fittings, too thin to let anyone inside if they broke and mostly provided external lighting. A giant iron candelabra hanging from the triangular ceiling and provided additional lighting.

Gilda had considered herself a cosmopolitan griffon her whole life, but she didn’t know she could get away with rustic and city life, much less that she’d like rustic. She hoped one day she could afford something similar.

Even if it meant using a freaking bedpan… She supposed Gia had servants or something of the sort to get rid of those. Having money sure was nice.

Distractions apart, a young griffon guy waited for them. He bowed to them and other than an iron wristband, he wore a fluffy animal skin scarf and cloak for going outside. Seemed as though he had just arrived as he shook snow off his cloak by the main door. Underneath, his coat showed a pretty shade of brown with darker plumage on his head and green eyes. Also, a huge friendly smile and a waving paw.

“Hey! I have one of those too!” Grunhilda showed the griffon her iron wristband and he gave Grunhilda an annoyed expression, speaking in a language Gilda didn’t understand.

But Grunhilda gave a small, excited hop and also spoke in that language, all warbly and song-y, to what he lit up with a grin. Gilda was left to wonder what had just happened.

Gia hummed… “You… Don’t speak High Griffonese, do you?”

“I took Griffonese classes in school…” Gilda let out a frustrated sigh. “And like everyone, I totally bombed on it. Nobody cares because everybody speaks Common Equestrian anyways!”

Gia facepalmed and grunted. “Griffons speak High Griffonese in Snow Mountains. They’re just going to ignore you if you can’t talk the language The Harpy taught us!”

The male griffon cleared his mouth and drew attention back to him, speaking in Common Equestrian. “I called all of them, Miss Gia. Went personally to their homes, as discreet as I could be! They’ll be here within the hour!”

“Good job, Geary!” She cheered and smiled at him while gesturing a paw to Gilda. “This is Gilda, the swordmaiden I told you about.”

“She doesn’t even speak High Griffonese! Uh… Where’s your sword?” He gave her a judging stare with a frown. “Lady Gwineth has a magical sword. Why don’t you?”

“Her sword is still being forged.” Gia grumbled and glared at him.

His brow made into a confused frown as he sat on the floor. “Can you be a swordmaiden without a sword?”

Gilda kept staring at him and imagined she made a faithful facsimile of Grunhilda’s dumb stare, but she just couldn’t come up with an answer.

“Just get the servants to prepare the meeting room, Geary.” The young Loremaster snarled and massaged her brow before waving him away. Obeying immediately, he bowed again and rushed out one of the side doors, leaving Gilda with her host. “Don’t worry… That probably won’t be a problem. He’s just smitten with Gwineth since she’s been here and gave him a little smile.”

“I don’t know them.” Gilda looked at her after the male was gone and could swear she saw a jealous frown on Gia’s brow.

“Oh, right. You’re new. Well, never mind her. Some toms forget that she would use them and then just throw them away as soon as she became bored of them. She’s just vile.” Gia waved her paws dismissively. “Never mind her we have more important matters to tend to.”

“Sounds like a jerk…” Gilda agreed, despite Gia asking her to forget that Gwineth.

“Well… I’ll make sure everything is prim and proper for us to meet our cats.” Gia grinned, making more appeasing gestures. “Just don’t do anything awkward, alright?”

“Anything I should know?” Gilda sat on the floor by the large table and listened to the crackling fire. The heat bothered her a little, but not much. Grunhilda took her place by her side like she was her bodyguard and Gia started pacing around nervously.

“Well, they are kind of distrustful of newcomers and of outsiders…” Gia grinned sheepishly, still pacing.

“Everything I am…” Gidla sighed. “I don’t even speak their preferred language.”

“We’ll figure something out.” Gia stopped, pursing her beak. She sat and made even more appeasing gestures, this time with both paws. “It will probably be alright.”

Grunhilda stroked Gilda’s back as though she was a child in need of reassurance, but she preferred not to say anything.

***

The meeting happened, unsurprisingly, in a meeting room next to the great hall. It followed in the same style, with a lit fireplace and a large central table with a model of the city and Stormrend Manor. Not as large as Canterlot Palace, for sure, but it looked damn impressive in the model. The manor stood at the top of a small hill, with a cliff on one side and connected to the medium-large city on the other. A straight path met with the fountain in front of the gates and divided into paths that went into dairy farms. Nothing as gigantic as Haybale, though. And the city itself also seemed smaller than Griffonstone. But then again, Griffonstone had become a monstrous overgrown beast simply because griffons hated actually having neighbors.

Manehattan probably held the title of largest city in the world. All those ponies, ready to support their princess at the drop of a hat. And there was Gilda, conspiring with griffons whose language she didn’t know.

You should not overestimate ponies and their ability to mobilize in defense of the Dawnbringer. Most of them are too cowardly. And Manehattan counts with a sizeable griffon population, among which I too have my agents working, even now, to ensure our designs are not disrupted.

Gilda frowned at the words inside her head. No way Princess Celestia wasn’t doing anything about it.

Of course, she is. She is busy with her wayward princesses. By the time she realizes what happened, we will be ready to strike.

Unfortunately, Gilda didn’t feel exactly confident yet, and her inability to speak the local language greatly contributed.

She stood next to Gia and Grunhilda, with Geary next to Gia by the table surrounded by other griffons. They watched as one of them pointed at the scaled model of the city. Some big and intimidating griffons, but most of them looked ‘normal’ under their decorative collars and capes. One or two even wore tiaras as though they wanted the whole room to know they had money.

Gilda supposed she would too.

Yet, at the moment, they had another problem… She didn’t speak the local language and only after Gia reminded them and asked that they spoke Common Equestrian Gilda even understood what they talked about. And the guy speaking didn’t like it at all, almost as though he took offense.

“As I was saying, I agree Princess Luna’s attack must see retaliation. But five divisions from the Griffonian Standing Army will be ready to siege the city as soon news of its fall reach Griffonstone.” One of the big northerner griffons, all light gray and snowy-white on his plumage, with serious and piercing blue eyes sat on the floor. He crossed his forelegs and spoke with a coarse and serious voice, riddled with accent. “They’ll storm the city, and we don’t have enough fighters to repel an attack. Our supporters simply will not stick their necks out if there is no chance of victory. We’re talking about farmers and artisans, not cold-hardened warriors, or honor-bound soldiers.”

One glance at Gia told Gilda all she needed to know on how she felt about the whole situation, but the griffon didn’t stop there. “We might have the numbers, but they are not motivated. And we lack weapons. An assurance of support from home would help too, but I cannot see Lord Graham or Lord Griskjal bothering to defend a city half-filled with hooflickers.”

He offered a paw up and reproaching stare. “If you meant to do anything of the sort, you should have acted while the Swordmaiden was still among us. She is now gone, with a good portion of our trained agents and fighters. Once again, your inexperience is a burden for us to bear, Gia.”

The question in Gilda’s mind was just how naïve he was. Then again, that guy might not fully understand one of the reasons for taking over the city was the money the Chancellor had stashed in it. The real problem was that Gilda couldn’t speak the local language and it sucked because she could understand it in her dreams. Though not as the northerners kept talking in between themselves.

Although… Gilda had never killed before, but she knew what to do to those jerks in Griffonstone. Grunhilda certainly hadn’t either. Still, Gilda deflected a bullet with her wings. She was half-dead, but she saw Grunhilda do something similar. It was different than going wild. There was something in her that knew how to use magic. The magic in her wings. The same which made her fly.

As Gilda lost herself in thought, the others had started arguing among themselves. Gia lost her patience, banging on the table, trying to get them to listen to her, but she clearly didn’t have the gravitas. Grunhilda certainly understood what they said, and she kept shifting from staring at one side and the other with her beak half-open in an almost panicked expression. She could translate back and forth for Gilda, but it wouldn’t garner Gilda any respect or patience.

Gilda frowned to herself. She had no idea what Gia expected of her. And she could just leave to deal with her own problems, such as getting to Griffindell. But screw that! She liked Gia and she was supposed to be on their side now. The Harpy sat above those petty squabbles. She meant to be a team player now she had found a place where she belonged.

Not to mention there was a boatload of money to be made in that place. Gilda spent enough time shuffling with the plebeians. She had to do something. Gia clearly needed help urging those griffons to get things started. She didn’t need to know much to see they disagreed on how to proceed moving forward. She wondered if the missing piece wasn’t the leadership from one such as Master Gabriel. Or maybe a symbol of a higher power uniting them. Money should do, but she supposed the northerner lords didn’t care for it. They needed leadership, assurances of victory.

Gilda took a deep breath and thought to herself if The Harpy could hear her thinking. She shut away the noisy griffons screaming and warbling at each other.

She grunted internally after a few seconds without an answer and kept her irritation under control. What did She want her to do? Kill a moose and burn its bones or some shit? Come on! Help a girl out!

Why, the burnt bones of a fresh kill. A sacrificial offering of its heart. Those used to please me greatly.

At least she answered. Well, Gilda didn’t have a fucking moose she could burn, much less a heart she could put in a plate for Her to eat. She felt silly, thinking to herself and expecting an answer, but it worked.

The voice in her head laughed for a good while though, during which Gilda suppressed the intense desire to swear at it.

You need not my help, Child.

Yeah… She did. She could understand that language of theirs in her dreams, but she couldn’t understand them talking. She needed it for the whole thing to work.

You do not need my assistance, Child. I would rob you of your greatness and that I cannot abide.

Yeah… Right… But Gilda’s ‘greatness’ wouldn’t be very impressive to those birds as a Swordmaiden without a sword who couldn’t even speak their language.

The foolish of mortals often amuse me to the point I cannot even become angry. You have been listening to me speak in the language I have taught My Children and that of the Old Empire. I would not ever tarnish my tongue with the language of the hooved ones. You can hear me and understand me right now.

Gilda just… Stopped. Her mind went blank, and she blinked at nothing in particular, with Grunhilda staring expectantly at her while the griffons around her argued.

The time has come you realized how special you are, Child. But you will do so by yourself, and I will not dampen your greatness. It is for my own glory and your benefit.

Alright. She’s got it. Gilda’s been dreaming stuff. Remembering stuff, in a way, right? All she had to do was figure out how to remember stuff without being asleep.

That sounded, at the same time, easy, stupid, and impossible.

She stared at Grunhilda, who stared back at her.

Easier said than done.

Gilda frowned…

Then she growled…

“Can I help, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda whined.

“I don’t think you can, Grunhilda.” She whispered to the other and clicked her talon on her beak.

Of all the problems she thought she’d have in her little adventure, language was one of the dumbest. How come she could channel her inner badass and defend herself, but not understand their stupid language. Her language. It seemed like an unnecessary sting she could understand it in her dreams. Anyways, better to try anything than just waiting for things to happen.

“Hey!” She waved a paw but went unheard.

She tapped the table with her paw a few times and shouted louder, but it didn’t seem to help either.

Then Grunhilda, next to her, banged her fist on the table and yelled at no one in particular. Curiously, she got their attention, but the male guy who spoke earlier rose a finger and pointed it at Grunhilda. He said something Gilda still didn’t understand, but she really didn’t like his tone.

However, when Grunhilda frowned painfully and recoiled… That was when Gilda’s blood boiled. “Hey, birdbrain! What did you tell her?”

He smirked maliciously at her and repeated it, but in the language that just made Gilda angrier.

She took a deep breath… Letting her temper get the best of her didn’t help earlier, and that guy was important. It was best not to create additional problems when they were quite abundant already.

But he had hurt Grunhilda, so screw it! Sometimes violence was the answer.

Gilda walked around the table to the guy, a few fingers taller than her, as he stared down his raised beak at her. “Listen here, you jackass… I know you understand me, but I know an argument that truly transcends the barrier of language.”

He meant to say something, she was sure of it, but he didn’t, because she held his fluffy chest and punched his beak. So hard she could swear she heard his brain going pinball inside his head when he reeled. “Talk to her like that again and I’ll tear your fucking tongue out!”

“Do you understand that, or do you need someone to translate it to you?” She barked while he laid in the floor and stared at the ceiling, surprised out of his feathers. The others just stared with different levels of grinning behind their paws or with plain hanging open beaks.

Gia shrieked and helped the griffon to his paws, but he shoved her away. Once he had his paws under him, he laughed and rubbed his beak while Gilda stared daggers at him. “Now, that is some mettle I didn’t think I’d find in the middle of all these hooflickers. Last one who punched me like that was my mate when I told her that her dress indeed made her look fat.”

“Well, that is a dumb thing to say.” Gilda retorted and he laughed again.

“It so is. What is your story, Gilda?” He rubbed his beak one more time as though he put it back in place. “I heard your thrall dragged you from Canterlot to Ponyville’s teleporter facility and along the way ripped apart a hospital to find you some life-saving potions.”

She noticed she kept a frown and relaxed it a bit. “I used to live in Griffonstone and I got screwed by some piece of shit politicians because I punched the mayor’s kid. He actually deserved it, so I don’t feel bad. But then they burned my house and put some lowlives after me. While I was working at the hospital, I met Master Gabriel and he talked to me about things. Things I had been blind to. I decided things needed to change and that I wasn’t going to let those birds end me. I killed them when they ambushed me in the streets. Then I got her out of the hospital before they could send her to Shatteredrock . She’s got the dreams from the thunderstorms, same as I did.”

“Now I gotta get to Griffindell and our travel brought us here. Really, I don’t have to sit here and listen to you dweebs shouting at each other. All I really gotta do is stop by the bank, grab the money Miss Gerdie said I should and them paw it off to Griffindell to meet Lady Gwendolen.”

“What is a dweeb?!” One of the rich griffonesses in a fancy coat frowned at her.

Another one of them gasped and shoved her out of her way, approaching Gilda. Rather old, cyan with a glossy, fiercely blue plumage and green eyes, she wore a rich purple cape, complete with a raised neck behind her head. Seriously, she looked like a caricature of a vampire or something.

“Did you say that Miss Gerdie told you to get the money?” She asked Gilda and the others remained silent. Gia, fortunately, decided to let Gilda talk it out with them.

“They put me on community service, and I saw Master Gabriel as a nurse in Griffonstone Hospital after he fought Princess Luna. He told me what happened and saw something in me while I tended to his wounds. Told me to meet Gerdie in Haybale and that she would help me get to Griffindell.” Gilda told her straight as it was, and the older griffon lady frowned a little. “But she wasn’t in Haybale. I had to hitch a ride with a pervy guy and his pony friend all the way to Canterlot just to talk to her. But I explained to Miss Gerdie what had happened to her dad. Gladys, from Griffonstone asked me to… And… I mean, it was the decent thing to do, anyways.”

“I apologize.” The big northerner male told her. “I didn’t know of this. They are my close friends, and you have my thanks for checking on Gerdie. How is she?”

Moods had calmed, so Gilda calmed herself too. “She’s fine. She’s on a hotel the Royal Guard put her after she talked to Princess Celestia, or something. She got really thankful I told her about her dad.”

She paused for a second. “I suppose I should tell you guys too… He wasn’t too bad, but Princess Luna messed up his paws… Like… She stabbed and crushed his paws. True, he shot at her, but… It didn’t seem like it actually had hurt her.”

Gia became furious. Or at least showed enough fury it seemed to convince the others. “The unneeded cruelty of it! Cursed equines envy the delicate instruments that are our paws, and it is evident.”

Silenced claimed the room and Gia’s words bit deep. Gilda suppressed a smile and went further thinking of one specific thing she had heard Grunhilda say. She even let a sad little hue into her voice. “They didn’t even get him a griffon doctor, you know. I mean… It’s an old dude… Not like he could cause much trouble. They could take him to Snow Mountains… Let the magic in our old home heal his wounds… But I suppose Princess Luna loathes us and Our Mother too much for that.”

“You see, friends?” Gia took the word. “The Allmother sent her Swordmaiden to free our beloved friend Master Gabriel from the hooves of our enemy and then another so we can free our city from their yoke.”

Griffons exchanged stares and glares ranging from the angry to the assertive and some heads nodded while they spoke in hushed voices.

“What was your name, again?” The older female asked Gilda. “Gilda? You speak of things important to us, but I do not believe you are one of us.”

Gilda inhaled profoundly, but it didn’t help her become less angry. She put out her paw. “Give me the scarf!”

Her big friend promptly obeyed, giving her the red scarf with the symbol of the griffon wings. But it was all greasy and had a few buttery lumps of fat in it.

“Grunhilda…” She turned to her big friend. “You’re supposed to keep the items of clothing separated from the food inside the backpack.”

“Sorry, Miss Gilda…” The other whined sheepishly, wings sagging and with a helpless frown.

“Anyways…” She turned back to the other griffons and showed them the red scarf. They could see it before, but the gesture mattered.

“How can you be a member of the Court of The Harpy?” One of the females behind the blue one cried and pointed a finger. “You’re a pony-loving southerner!”

“Quiet.” The older one snapped at her then turned back to Gilda. “How do you know of the money Master Gabriel set aside with his daughter?”

“She also gave me this.” Gilda put back her paw, expecting Grunhilda to give her the brooch, which she did, and it also was covered in grease, but she showed it to the older griffon anyway. “Told me how to get the money.”

Blue plumage there squinted and examined the brooch with the griffon wings sigil on Gilda’s paw and hummed to herself. “Well, I can say Master Gabriel indeed thought highly of you. Interesting.”

“He told me of The Harpy. He told me I was a prisoner and he set me free. I saw things I was blind to. I met Her in a dream, and She told me I was dear to Her and that She waited for me. I dreamt of past lives and when I was alone with three malicious thugs in a dark alley of Griffonstone, She awakened me the power to defend myself. So, I either go deal with my own problems and leave you dweebs, or we can get started on returning this city to Her.”

Again, silence claimed the room. She could almost hear their heads, calculating.

“Do you even know what the scarf means?” A young female who took after the big northerner male groaned at her and took a step forward, only for him to block her way with a paw.

“Quiet, Gneia.” The male barked at her and even startled her. She didn’t take it poorly, though. Gilda quite liked those griffons and the brutally honest way they spoke, in contrast to Gia’s dissimulated encouraging. But then he directed Gilda’s attention back to the model of the city. More specifically, to a large building which might as well be the teleporter facility, but it wasn’t… The actual teleporter stood on the other side of the town. “They haul chests back and forth from the teleporter every month. We don’t know what happens to them once they’re inside though. It is likely they simply store the Bits in there. We believe they have a safe.”

Well, she seemed to be getting somewhere now she had convinced the big dude she was special. But Gilda knew politicians enough from the countless scandals in the news they didn’t hoard the money they stole. They put it on stuff that couldn’t be traced back to them.

Gia spoke next, falling in line. “So… In Griffonstone we have a few infiltrated agents who direct part of the money our stalwart government steals directly to Griffindell through here and it comes straight to Stormrend.”

“Wait… What?” Gilda glared at her. “You mean there is more than one group stealing from Griffonia?”

“No.” The Loremaster stared nonchalantly. “There is one group stealing. The money we ‘redirect’ belongs to us as The Lion is our rightful liege and King of the Griffons.”

Oh yeah. There totally was a difference there, but Gilda kept her sarcasm to herself. “What happens to the money? The one we rightfully reclaim.”

“Why, Lady Gwendolen sees it is put to serve The Harpy’s designs and preparations for the war. It’s mostly used to support our operations and we built an entire airship armada with it.” One of the ‘noble ladies’, a haughty blue and white griffon lady with a silver tiara explained. “While most of our brave warriors in the north were bred and raised fighting the Windigos’ evil spawn; axes, armors, muskets and our more advanced weaponry cost money.”

“Yes. Almost every single Bit which comes out of public coffers already have a rightful owner in The Lion…” Another griffon lady, but a large northerner, all white under a blue cape explained. “Our brothers in the north pay in blood so the Windigos’ spawn is kept away from the peaceful cities to the south while Griffonstone demands more taxations. That money is rightfully ours.”

Yep. Gilda wasn’t going to disagree. Especially when the Chancellor would mobilize the Griffonian Standing Army against the North behind their allies’ back.

“So, I guess our goal is to take what the Chancellor sends here and put it to better use than collecting dust in the city’s storage…” Gilda concluded and earned a few nods and grins. “Are they just leaving the money there? That’s not very clever.”

“They seem to be storing it.” Gia frowned. “It is strange, but they are likely having trouble acquiring properties, gold and stones. Valuables. The Royal Justiciars are keeping their eyes on them. Fortunately, their eyes are on the Chancellor and his helpers… We should be able to swindle the money away. And the best way to see it done, in my educated opinion, is to take over the city. It’s bound to happen anyways… And I believe that Princess Luna’s attack on one of ours was provocation enough.”

“As I said before…” The big guy said. “Lady Gwineth made away with our best warriors, and we would be hard-pressed to resist an assault from the nearby GSA forces. It would be a matter of days until they were sent to deal with us. However, our population is angered at Princess Luna’s assault on the museum. Even among the loyalists. They might be numbers enough we can hold until help arrives. If they can be motivated.”

“What are they even doing here?” Gilda asked. “Five divisions sound like a lot of soldiers…”

“Five infantry divisions. Thirty thousand griffons, at least ten artillery battalions, to be exact.” Gia explained. “The Chancellor launched an attack on Snow Mountains. His forces were supposed to spearhead the assault towards Griffindell and these divisions were supposed to follow behind and cover their flanks, holding cities in their wake. But they were ambushed near Frozenlake because the GSA actually sucks. The attack stalled. The only reason they weren’t all executed was that Lord Discord happened to be nearby and negotiated with Lord Graham. Lady Geena insisted that they should be kept captive at Frozenlake.”

“Huh… I think I read about that in the newspaper.” Also, hadn’t Grunhilda mentioned that name before? Gia too.

“These five divisions then camped nearby when the whole operation halted.” The big male explained. “They await new orders. The Chancellor wouldn’t hesitate to send these soldiers against us as soon as he heard the city rebelled, and that his money was in our paws.”

Gia showed a nasty smile. “What makes your lordship believe they won’t side with us, once they know of the things the Dawnbringer’s pet has been hiding from them? All the money he stole from them, and all the love the Allmother has for them?”

“If our new friend here is so blessed by the Mother of Storms…” The older griffon lady with the ‘vampire cloak’ and the shiny blue plumage raised a paw. “Gungnir… Do you believe our supporters would be willing to fight… To follow forth a faithful of The Harpy if they also had… Superior weaponry?”

He frowned and cocked his head. “I… Believe that would help… Yes…”

Gia frowned and deadpanned at the same time. “Do you suddenly have weapons we didn’t know about? Hiding somewhere?”

“They are not my weapons, Gia.” The older griffon lady replied all elegant insolence. “They belong to Lord Gilad, and I am not supposed to give access to them if I believe they would be wasted on the… Insufficiently talented. I believe Miss Gilda should address our faithful in the city. To stir the raptor in them. Next to a box of revolver muskets right out of Stormvalley Armory.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do…” Gilda blinked at the griffon lady.

“Wear the scarf and speak to them.” Gia smiled. “Common citizens, concerned for the future of the city and the nation. Give them a few reasons to hate the Chancellor. To hate Griffonstone’s mayor. You are a chosen of The Harpy, after all.”

She smiled. A poisonous smile as she sat on her haunches and opened her forelegs in a grand gesture. “Tell them of what The Harpy has told you and inflame their hearts towards what is better for them. They are griffons, after all… It is better for them to follow the Allmother and support The Lion. Isn’t it? After all, where Loremasters teach and educate, Swordmaidens destroy enemies. And both warm the hearts of the Children of The Harpy with words and examples!”

Gilda grinned. It must have seemed wicked because the Loremaster liked it.

She then chuckled and offered her paw to Gilda. “If you will… I should get my servants to clean your scarf. One cannot serve the Harpy with dirty attire.”

She gave it to her. “Thanks, Gia.”

Well, things seemed to have moved in the right direction, and Gilda was satisfied. “So… What do we do now?”

“Now we get ready to take over the city…” Gia still smiled at her, handing the scarf to Geary. “We let our friends do their thing, and you get prepared to address the Harpy’s faithful. Be prepared to put a fire in their hearts.”

Oh… Yeah… There was that. What had she exactly gotten herself into? Last time she spoke to a crowd she was at school, and it was a terrible presentation about flight dynamics.

“Well, it seems we have preparations to enact, queens and toms.” One of the better dressed griffons, complete with a top hat and a black smoking above his gray coat bowed to the others. Then he held Gilda’s paw. “See you later, milady.”

She didn’t know what amused her more. The way such a simple gesture made her feel dirty or Grunhilda’s angry jealous stare at him. But she didn’t have a lot of time to process. The ‘vampire cape lady’ talked to the big northerner and Gia called her apart for a conversation as the griffons in the room said their good-byes and then left in a hurry.

“I need to talk to you, Gilda.” She said in a reserved tone. “Stick nearby once they all left.”

She did and Grunhilda stood next to her like a loyal bodyguard. Once they had all left, Gia closed the door and turned to her, flaring her wings. Suddenly the façade collapsed and she let a nervous twitch in her left eye show.

“This is real, isn’t it?” She glared at Gilda and approached with prowling steps like a lioness about to pounce. “Did you really talk to the Mother of Storms? Did you dream those things you said? About past lives?”

“Yeah.” Gilda nodded, unfazed. “It was for real. Is something wrong?”

Gia stopped close to her and frowned. “This isn’t normal! Only an old and experienced Loremaster can recall soul memories! What is the deal with you?”

Gilda shrugged. “Beats me! As far as I knew those visions were normal because Grunhilda has them too.”

“Griffons dream, yes. The stormdreams. But not like the way you described.” She counted on her fingers. “Shadows that speak to them, a large creature trying to enter their homes, an alluring female voice inside their heads… But the way you described even convinced Lord Gugnir. Did you really see your past life in a stormdream?!”

“Yes, and no.” Gilda recoiled a bit at her nervous questioning.

“I swear I will have you tied to a pole and your coat flogged out of existence if you are lying to me.” Gia growled at her and closed her fists.

“I’m not!” Gilda cried and shook her head. “Listen… When the storms started in Griffonstone, I saw Emperor Grigor in a desert, talking to King Grover… I was one of his Swordmaidens. That wasn’t really a dream, though… I was awake and just saw that. Then I saw the same Swordmaiden fighting against some nasty griffons that ended up killing me! Or her… And then I saw some griffon in a cave… In the Stormy Eyrie! I had a few dreams… Saw Ghadah, the Swordmaiden, sacrificing a zebra and giving his heart to The Harpy! Then she talked to me! Like you and I are talking right now!”

“This is crazy!” Gia frowned and held her beak thoughtfully. “You’re supposed to be a Swordmaiden! The only Loremaster I know that managed to reach these memories is Lady Gehenna. I also never knew of Her talking to someone like that!”

Gilda didn’t really know what to say. She just shrugged and stared helplessly at the loremaster. “So… Uh… Is that bad? Good? What do I do about it?”

“You gotta practice some mindfulness.” Gia said, sitting down and taking a deep breath, urging Gilda to do the same with her paws. She gestured with her paws, the air flowing into and out of her lungs with each breath. “This is one of the first things a Loremaster is taught. Emptying your mind and paying attention to yourself.”

“Is that like what that friend of Fluttershy’s talks about?” She frowned at Gia.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Gia closed her eyes and gestured her insistence that Gilda did the same. “This is serious. Both Loremasters and Swordmaidens must learn to understand what their bodies are telling them, so they may learn to tell their bodies what to do.”

“Okay…” Gilda had force herself into what she called self-help bullshit and closed her eyes. Calmed her breathing. “Alright.”

After a few seconds of that exercise of breathing rhythmically and emptying her mind, Gia spoke to her again. “Practice that. If what you say is true, it should allow your mind access to those deep memories normally not available. Find your own routine. And understand you already achieved that, without noticing.”

Gilda opened an eye to see Gia staring at her, and she spoke like one of her teachers back at school. “What your friend told me was a beast that freed itself of its shackles. But I have the feeling that it was different from what happened to you in Griffonstone.”

Gilda nodded. She wasn’t wrong. “I knew how to fight them. Even though I had never fought in my life.”

“You are a natural. Learning to fight becomes second nature to the fighter, as much as flight becomes second nature to us and the motions of taking a life become practiced and efficient. To a Loremaster, memories of past lives become second nature and skills and abilities are kinds of memories. I believe something in you allows you to channel the memories, and thus the training of that Swordmaiden you once lived as. Mindfulness, Gilda. Clear your mind, so that it may guide you through those deep and hidden memories.”

“As you learn, you must force yourself to act instead of reacting; until you have made yourself an expert. Then you must allow yourself to react, allow your subconscious mind to provide the answers to you and trust your own abilities.” Gia explained. “If you are indeed as you claim, you already know, and must trust yourself, raise above the doubts that hold you back.”

Gilda nodded. It was a strange feeling, recalling memories of the fight in Griffonstone. It really was as though she suddenly knew what to do.

“And remember… The Allmother made you a natural killer. You were born with weapons. She also made you a survivor, as you were born with instincts. And she made you an intelligent creature, a complex mind to rule over a complex body. Your mind is independent, and you must direct it, or it will direct you.” Gia smiled. “I’ll make sure that everything is ready, and tomorrow morning you should address the townsfolk. I’ll get you a guest room to rest and prepare yourself.”

Gia concluded. “One fitting of your status.”

“Alright.” Gilda took a deep breath. Whyd did she feel as though Gia was distilling at her everything she remembered from her training?

"Also…” Gia grinned at her. “Remember me when The Harpy talks to you again!”

A Glance Inside

Gilda decided to take Gia’s advice to heart and tried finding a peaceful place to… Quiet her mind… Whatever that meant. She had told Grunhilda she was free to take care of her own business and she figured the young Loremaster would be busy too.

Originally, she thought of the meeting room once all the griffons had cleared out, but it would be just awkward to stay there and… Sit on the middle of the room and think. It would look stupid if someone happened upon her.

Walking back into the hall she found Grunhilda talking to that Geary guy. She couldn’t understand them talking in that language of theirs, but Grunhilda held her backpack and listened to him making gestures about the fox pelt accessory. He was probably teaching her how to organize stuff inside the thing and Gilda decided against interrupting.

She frowned a little. Gilda really ought to have a straight talk with Grunhilda thought. Her talk of being a thrall, or slave, always left Gilda with an unsavory aftertaste. Gilda wasn’t even sure what the wristband meant, but it bothered her. Grunhilda certainly was old enough to understand quite a bit of their culture before her parents died, and Gilda didn’t like the big gal thinking of herself as Gilda’s property. Like that was the big take away.

But it was best left for another time. She didn’t want to interrupt their… Packing lesson.

Before Gilda should figure out what exactly she was going to do with the griffons of Thunderpeak. She was supposed to be special, or something, but still had to figure out what it actually meant. If anything, Gia, at least trusted her.

Her new room might be a good place to get some peace and quiet. She could compare it to her old home, but the only way it did compare was in the fact that it was about the size of her house before it turned to cinders. With levels of luxury she had never seen before.

Gilda realized those thoughts distracted her, but she loved it! It wasn’t even ‘her room’, per se. But it would be until she left for her next destination. Wayfarer’s Rest, if she remembered correctly.

A living area with fancy, rustic furniture, and some books in that stupid language she didn’t understand occupied the entrance. After that, it had a giant ‘princess-size’ bed presently covered in a heavy red-brown pelt blanket which seemed ridiculously warm. Reasonable, considering Thunderpeak looked like it could get frigid. Not like Griffonstone.

A fireplace settled against an external wall, with a stack of wood. The luxury levels peaked beyond what Gilda ever thought possible in her entire lifespan. A giant and bulky wardrobe for all the dresses she didn’t havestood against the opposite wall next to a coat stand for the coats she didn’t have. An armor stand for the armor she didn’t have waited empty in a corner with weapon stands for the weapons she didn’t have.

Did she even belong in that place? Probably not, but soon she would be to one with all the fancy stuff. Maybe her room would be even bigger once she arrived at Griffindell. If felt so petty, because the money was only part of the problem as she wasn’t sure she belonged in the culture.

Anyways… Wooden floor and ceiling, made of well-placed and seated planks which didn’t squeak or even move. A door showed a bathroom beyond, with a nice tub. Cool! A stone tub, like her own personal pool. She had to find a way and use that thing before she left!

A little cabinet with bottles of different sizes and colors waited use next to the toom’s entrance, and she recognized the mead in one of the bottles. With a cheeky smile she picked it up and pulled out the cork but stopped just short of taking it to her beak. Soon to be a rich griffon lady, she poured the thing on a mug before she tasted it and grinned at its sweet fruity taste.

The room also had a balcony past a double glass door with black metallic framing. It sounded like a good place to try that meditation thing. But rather, she put a talon on her beak with a grin. As she recalled, Ghadah did so lying on the pool. Now, that sounded fancy.

As she took another generous sip from the mug, her mind wandered to an image of herself lying in the stone pool in the bathroom. Filled with scented hot water and dotted with rose petals. Her head leaned against a folded towel on the edge and Grunhilda’s weighted on top of her, with fingers pressing and slowly massaging her face. Gilda’s paws massaged the others hips…

She coughed and hacked the mead out of her, almost dropping the expensive bottle and mug to the floor. She coughed a couple of times more before she regained her breath and the voice in her head laughed at her distress. “What the heck?”

Grunhilda, probably the last griffon she wanted to see, opened the door to her room and peeked inside with a worried frown. “Miss Gilda, do you need anything?”

“No!” She hacked, waving her away with anxious paw gestures.

“Okay!” The other cheered and closed the door again.

“Geez!” Gilda chastised herself and put the bottle back in the cabinet. “What the heck, get a hold of yourself, Gilda!”

It has been some time since you have indulged in the pleasures of the flesh.

Yeah, such a conversation would not be happening, and Gilda frowned to make a point.

Why do you flee from the subject? You are a mature adult and even in the hooflicking culture you used to live the subject of sex was openly discussed. I loathe to accept ponies will enjoy such pleasures more than My Children.

Not the problem! Gilda knew prudes and she wasn’t one of them. She had her head on other things she couldn’t mess up. Or, rather, should have. But also Grunhilda thinking of her as her master. She saw Grunhilda as a friend, a partner in her travel.

Ghadah would not hesitate to indulge in a willing partner’s desire.

Gilda imagined for a second if Ghadah would hesitate to indulge in an unwilling partner… But inside she knew Ghadah enough it would be crossing a line for her. But, well, that is the thing. Gilda wasn’t Ghadah. Gilda didn’t want to put up with slavery in any way, shape or form. She simply wanted to ensure Grunhilda and she saw things eye to eye. If anything, she needed to make sure Grunhilda understood she could say ‘no’. To anything.

Gilda had gotten distracted again and rolled her eyes at the realization. The weeping wind outside drew her attention and her eyes turned to the balcony past the glass door. She notes in a passing thought the thing was so well constructed the wind didn’t rattle the door or glasses. She supposed with a chuckle the cold would do her good, though.

She found chilly wind outside, but it not as bad as she had thought. It fluffed the feathers in her chest and her inner furnace could keep her warm. Her fur stood at the cold too, and could feel it, but it didn’t bother her: it helped her focus on her thoughts.

Supposedly, she had just found her ‘thing’. Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could hear her heart thumping; she could feel blood propelled forth, and she heard it as a river running inside her ears. The cold had become a part of her, and the wind silenced as though she had literally turned inward. Suddenly, she was a griffon sitting on a rocky outcrop of a mountain. She had the carcass of a small earth pony at her paws, broken pink coat exposed bones and entrails. Its blood tinted the feathers in her face and her paws.

The smell immediately picked at Gilda’s senses and tingled inside. But she had become used to the sensations of sharing the mind of one of her past selves. It felt odd this nameless one would die in such a dramatic way, but even if she could communicate, her animalistic mind wouldn’t comprehend what she would show her.

Hopefully Gilda wouldn’t ever know the day she would die, or even worse, how.

Yet, she had learned from her ancient self. Listen. Pay attention. She talked to her, and Gilda must listen.

Even then, the thoughts which came to her were of curiosity. She saw Princess Celestia, surely. She didn’t have her royal regalia, or even behaved like an intelligent being. Funny. Something didn’t seem to connect in the whole thing. Did she see a beginning? Animal-like ponies and griffons? Maybe it would make sense, but something seemed off. Something she hadn’t quite remembered yet prevented she understand the situation as a whole. And just such an insight unsettled her but carried truth with it.

Regardless, she was the griffon sitting on the stone with a full belly, squinting at the wind and hearing the distant thunder in the fading daylight.

Other griffons arrived and they brought prey too. They shared with their family, with their friends and potential mates. One of such landed close to her, depositing a dead opossum by her feet and holding his wings high. Pushing forward his fluffy gray chest with a gravely serious frown, parading in front of her and grumbling deeply in his throat.

She didn’t care for the opossum, but the griffon guy, with his strong back and stony gray fur and feathers…

No! She distanced herself as far as possible from the memory.

Everything seemed perfectly fine, as far as the fact she could, apparently, attract the memories to recollection. Maybe it had been the cold that brought that memory. She should be happy she managed to invoke the memory at all, though. It seemed Gia was right. Maybe knowing she could do it helped.

The only problem seemed to be that her mind insisted on raunchy thoughts!

You need release, Child. Even I must. It is our nature. It will clear your mind.

NO!

She needed Ghadah… Come on…

She thought of the fierce Swordmaiden and her elegant skills, so badass and secure of herself. It didn’t even take so much effort as she had expected. Much sooner than she assumed and more subtly, her mind shifted in an almost confusing way.

The stone and cold wind shifted into the dry air of the desert she then knew as the Hader. Into cool black marble beneath her feet. She stood on her hindlegs and moved swiftly with her sword in her paws.

She wasn’t fighting, though. Slow spins, wide sweeping arcs and fancy flourishes. Swirling and twirling her sharp magical sword too close to her own limbs. It left behind a trail of yellow magical glow in the dim light. She danced, spinning on her hindlegs, with her tail trailing behind her, but her partner was her weapon.

The black marble walls of the temple surrounded her and the burning pyres at the legs of the statues provided the unsteady illumination. Rustic musical instruments in the form of flutes, drums and lyres sounded delighted and portentous at the same time, much as Ghadah felt and so did Gilda through her.

Long tables with good food and drinks surrounded her with respectful voices. Compliments to her prowess amid the music. Lewd comments as eyes burned over her like the fire on the pyres. The language of the Empire in more ways than one. The smells of lovemaking invaded her nostrils despite the strong aromas of finely spiced foods and roasted meats. And yet most eyes on the room fell on her form, shinning with sweat in the flickering light of the burning pyres.

She danced in front of a particularly luxurious table, black as the marble from the walls, covered in a strip of golden fabric and lit with candles before the Emperor and his mate. She was both her sister under The Harpy and her superior. Their numerous family of sons, daughters and grandchildren stood along the table.

But behind them, black marble made the steps of a tall staircase and led to a round opening flanked by the black statues of the great griffoness. Mimicking her wings stretched upwards and condescending posture, staring down. From the opening came the nightly desert light against Her figure as She stared down at Her gathered Children.

Then She said a single word. Gahdah understood it, but not Gilda.

Ghadah finished her dance with one last flourish and let her sword stand, point down against the marble, under her paws. As she breathed heavily, one of her sisters entered the ‘square’, carrying her own sword on her back. One of her younger sisters, her name was Grana. A dark shade of bronze covered her body and a soft golden her head, but she lacked the typical crest of feathers. It only made her seem exotic. A good few years younger than Ghadah, she bowed respectfully before she rose on her hindlegs and drew her sword, glistening in the flickering of the flames.

The drums rose to a dramatic staccato as powerful male voices joined in song in a similar fashion. Strange to Gilda’s ‘ears’, but at the same time familiar through Ghadah’s own. Her sister’s sword arched forward with a short motion aiming at her face and Gilda’s heart raced at that alone.

She spun to the side and brought her sword in a sweeping horizontal arc the other caught in her own sword with practiced ease as they spun past each other. Griffons clapped in tempo with the drums like a frantic heart to the beat of their weapons whistling and clacking, sizzling with magic.

A wide swing from the other’s sword came and she bent backwards, in a most impractical fashion in a sword fight. It elicited whooping cries from the audience, and her sister followed with a spin and a downward cut Ghadah dodged with a pirouetting backward jump. A flap of her wings and a swing of her tail in a sequence that sent the watching griffons in a frenzy of cheers. Even more when the tip of her sister’s sword scratched the marble with magical sparks.

Even the Emperor slammed a fist on his table and cried something Gilda barely understood. Something about letting her guard down and laughing. By his side his mate sat in her place and clapped her pink paws together with a wide grin.

It surprised Gilda how much of the scene around her Ghadah managed to capture and with such level of details while keeping the other and her weapon closely under watch. Her heart beat furiously in her chest and the hotness of her own body radiated around her. Her breath came fast and very conscious in the dry desert air. Giddy nervousness took over her body, but her steel nerves held limbs stout as she caught the other’s sword in a wide horizontal sweep when she spun again. Then she caught her sword several times as her sister launched a series of quick jabs.

Once, twice, thrice. By the fourth time Gilda figured Ghadah could’ve ended in in the first strokes of the fight. But Ghadah grabbed her opponent’s paw and their bodies clashed together. They spun, like mirror images of each other, grappling and twisting their swords amid the whooping cheers and wild excited cries. To Gilda’s despair, as clashing warm bodies felt like the last thing she wanted. Ghadah greatly enjoyed that, however, even as she let herself slip and fall on her back. She stared up at her sister’s control of her own spinning body, shifting her head to the other side and sitting next to her, the tip of her sword to the cold black marble while Ghadah’s laid flat.

It was stupidly dangerous, and at the same time Ghadah never felt so safe in her whole life.

Their audience exploded with cheers and laughter as shiny coins were exchanged among paws and the Emperor talked to one of his sons with gleeful gestures.

Her sister helped her stand, and in Ghadah’s place Gilda looked up, above the stairs behind the Emperor’s table to the black figure of the giant griffoness. She was still there, inscrutable, unreadable expression shrouded in darkness against the moonlight.

There was a lesson Gilda was supposed to learn. What was it?

The cold marble stone became the cold air again and she stood below King Grover’s statue. She was no longer Ghadah, and whoever she was, she inhabited an older body. Griffonstone’s central square looked different too. Empty space replaced the hospital and the doors to the Chancellor’s Palace stood open, with a tall and very displeased tan and white griffon wearing a heavy cotton coat and spectacles. He was escorted by a group of griffons in metal plate armor who sat holding pikes or crossbows before the mural which commemorated Griffonia’s unity.

A confused crowd of cheering and booing griffons had taken over the plaza. None of them had the courage to openly agree with whoever Gilda shared her mind with, or to throw the vegetables they held in their paws.

Old snow covered most of the walkways and cold water ran in the central gutter of the streets. Stormy clouds above her growled with thunder as she stood on her hindlegs above a soapbox and pointed ferociously at the assembled hundreds. Her voice carried with magical power which both terrified and marveled her audience.

She spoke in the ancient language and her old voice still rose above the thunder.

But Gilda couldn’t understand what she herself said.

On her back a tattered and dirty blue cape made of fine silk which one day had looked brilliant and rich. A poorly fixed iron link chain had snapped several times, but also been fixed several times and held the cape in place. Her white paw with talons like daggers seemed as though they would pierce as much as her words to the enthralled audience.

Some shouted at her to shut up, too afeared to show themselves, or made crass jokes about her appearance or her bare stomach as she stood on her hindlegs. Others cheered at her words but also didn’t show themselves as she delivered vociferous word after word in a furious speech. Lines above her held colorful carnival banners, fluttering in the strong winds as did the wide banner. ‘Welcome Princess Celestia’ it declared in the large and bold letters the equines used for such festive greetings.

The local law enforcement in the form of the Chancellor’s own soldiers stood there too. Some fumed under their open helmets while others barely kept the façade of stoicism as her words did indeed cut deep.

A little griffon girl watched, and her gray eyes sparkled behind her big glasses at every word. Pristine white plumage on her head and shiny silvery fur on her body, her little silvery beak hung open as she listened. The griffoness knew she wouldn’t be leaving that plaza alive, but her heart warmed knowing others would follow, and her message reached across the generations.

Gilda repeated the foreign words in her head, as they felt eerily familiar. A harsh impact at her back interrupted her. She dropped from her box to the cold and dirty, stepped on snow. Her old body quickly exhausted all its strength and sounds of fighting surrounded her. Angry shouting, but the shocked gasp of the small griffon child reached for her. An adult, a scared male of brown shades stopped her the cub from coming closer.

Gilda waved the infant away. The words eluded her, but the thoughts stung like incandescent steel: the little one must not be made a sacrifice to her enemy. She must survive. Her follwoers must survive. She alone would be sacrificed for The Harpy’s glory.

The adult grabbed the child and vanished withing the mob as it either fled or resisted futilely against the Chancellor’s guards.

The cold of death burned the life out of her, and her breath became short and painful. She chuckled blood, Mother waited for her. Something stuck to her back, but, she laid on the snow until a shadow covered her. She whimpered as the object was torn from her and what remained of her warm blood wet her coat.

“We got you, fucking witch.” The tall griffon stood before her and held her shoulders, pure spite in his voice before he looked up. “Grab the others.”

He held her shoulder with one paw as the other drew a dagger he thrust into her stomach. The stinging pain didn’t bother her, dull and distant. But she grabbed his lapel of soft cotton and pulled herself closer to him.

Glassy scared eyes, he let go, but she didn’t, with a fierce scowl and croaky breath out of a nightmare even as she tasted blood in her mouth.

Words echoed in a concordant choir of different voices, consonant as the beating heart to the rhythm of ecstatic drums. A song repeating its chorus incessantly until Gilda finally grasped the meaning of the old griffoness’ fierce words. They scorched her thoughts like lightning carving the stone brighter and hotter than the sun.

She finally let go and her eyes found the cloudy sky. Lightning crisscrossed the violent clouds and darkness ended her pain.

Gilda opened her eyes to the echoing sound of cracking thunder. Lightning flashed above her and sent pieces of the tallest tower in Stormrend Manor flying below.

She closed her eyes again and let her head hang. Her wings opened. The cold air of the mountains comforted her. Then she pulled a lungful of air and every nerve ending in her body lit up like she had inhaled pure lightning. Petrichor reinvigorated her. She felt as though she had slept for a thousand years and even the healing potion with its powers felt negligible by comparison.

The clouds rumbled and the wind howled, suddenly picking up. They called to her.

An undefinable tension rose, as though reality stretched, and the feathers in her wings filled with magic. Every bone in her body resonated with it. So powerful as it meant to burn out of her same as lightning raged across the sky.

Thunder rumbled above and she stood in a single fluid motion, pouncing out of the balcony. The wind caught in her wings, and she beat them, powerful as the storm winds and her tail balanced her flight. Natural to her as her limbs moving in harmony as she walked.

She spun in the air and shot up, towards the violent clouds and the air, filled with static, thick with unyielding magic. Reality stretched further and further until it snapped and she reached out with her paw.

But the blinding flash didn’t blind her. The deafening crack didn’t deafen her. Her fur and her feathers smelled clean, sweet, and pungent like chlorine. She had caught it as she stood at the barrier between dream and reality, staring at it, taken by childish curiosity.

Impossibly hot, undefinably bright. It shifted faster than the eye could see, but it rested in her paw as her wings instinctively beat to keep her hovering. It calmly waited as though she had caught a complacent animal that would submit to her will.

The light it cast illuminated the town below and the clouds above as though the sun had come out in the brightest day of summer.

She opened her fingers and it stood there, balancing on her palm, as a nervously shifting staff of unbound light while she stared curiously, tilting her head. Finally, she willed it free and it exploded to the clouds above. They met it with a bolt of its own, exploding with another resounding crack.

Was that a dream? Was she awake?

The city fell into darkness again. And the clouds above rumbled and twisted in the stormy winds.

She beat her wings stronger and stronger, fighting gravity, higher and higher until she touched the cloud’s blurry edge. Lightning flashed and she found herself before giant polished iron doors as they opened themselves to her.

The smell of roasted meat and mead invaded her nostrils and beyond the doors she found a roaring fire with a pair of giant boars spinning above them. A crowd of griffons, different sizes and colors, all welcomed her with respectful bows, but her eyes were drawn to the giant throne made of iron in the back. At the top of the stairs and flanked by the ever-present statues of the griffoness, laying on her belly and with her wings pulled upward, and a golden halo around her head, shimmering in the fire.

At the throne sat the great white and black griffoness. She welcomed Gilda and the griffoness of her dream with a proud smile. “Rest My Child, that your soul may rejuvenate, and you may continue your endless journey. You have made me proud, yet again.”

Thunder distracted her and Gilda found herself hovering above the clouds. They illuminated with lightning below. Her body was covered in cold water, and it refreshed her. The cold was there, but it didn’t bother her. The night sky above filled with Luna’s stars felt distant and alien to her.

She let her wings point to the sky and fell on her back against the cloud, letting her wings rest against it too. The searing heat of lightning washed over her, as did the loud thunder, but neither bothered her. The smell of thunderstorm rose from the cloud and intoxicated her like the mead she wanted while the taste in her mouth was metallic like blood.

Thunder distracted her again and she stared at the same night sky. It was peaceful and she felt safe there, but she supposed there were things she ought to tend to.

She closed her wings and let herself fall through the clouds as their violent and cold winds massaged her. Free from it, she allowed herself to fall for a few moments before she skillfully reoriented herself and allowed her wings catch the wind. She calmly spiraled down toward the balcony in the manor, beating her wings a few times to decelerate and land gracefully.

Her feet touched the cold stone, and she wondered once more if where dream and reality met. Had been real? But she didn’t have the time to ponder as she opened the glass door and closed it with a push of her hindleg. Something had changed, but she wasn’t sure what it was.

Then she saw an obviously Grunhilda-sized lump under the blankets in her bed. With a groan and rolling eyes, she walked over to pull the heavy blanket and found a goofy grinning griffoness staring at her.

“What are you doing?” She asked plainly.

“I’m warming your bed!” Grunhilda declared cheerfully. “It gets cold at night in these places and Geary said I should!”

“Get out of there.” She ordered with a nod, which the other obeyed, but then Grunhilda looked at Gilda and her wings flared open with red tinting her face.

“Oh! Should I fetch a towel, or…” She started but Gilda cut her off.

“No. Pay attention.” She snapped her fingers at Grunhilda a few times. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“Do you understand that you are my friend?” Gilda asked with a frown.

“Yes!” Grunhilda giggled and Gilda didn’t feel particularly secure she had understood her meaning.

“I mean…” She joined her fingers. “That I don’t own you.”

Grunhilda frowned. “Of course I do! That’s not how thralldom works!”

Gilda massaged her temple to quell a rising headache. “Grunhilda, pay attention. I want you to be my friend. Not my sla… Thrall.”

“But I am your friend!” The other whined confused.

“Take that thing off, then.” Gilda pointed at the wristband at Grunhilda’s wrist, but the other held it defensively.

“No!” She cried. “I need it!”

“No, you don’t! Give me that!” Gilda reached forward to grab Grunhilda’s paw, but she curled up into a ball with a shriek. Even jumping on top of her and trying to reach didn’t help. “Grunhilda! Give me that!”

“No!” She squeaked again.

“You don’t need that to stay with me, you dummy!” She kept trying to reach and the other shrieked again.

Then Gia cleared her throat from the open door and frowned all her annoyance at the two. “Do you need a moment alone, or something?”

“Didn’t your parents teach you to knock?” Gilda let go of Grunhilda and sat, staring at the door while Grunhilda hid behind the bed.

“They did, but I heard struggling and your thrall screaming ‘no’, so I took a peek, and it sorely disappointed me.” The green griffon deadpanned at her.

Gilda simply sighed. Enough of that, already… She fixed her eyes on the young Loremaster. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Actually, yes!” Gia made her a big grin and flapped her wings. “It’s time!”

“Oh…” Gilda shifted a little. Thankfully Gia didn’t seem to notice her nervousness. “So, what is the plan?”

“Our supporters are getting the populace to gather in the central square so we can address them. Get ready. We’ll be leaving in a pair of hours. Be sure the town’s militia are going to be an issue as soon as the population starts getting antsy. And that is when we make our move.”

Gilda really hoped whatever she had done sitting on the balcony had worked, but she nodded, nonetheless. Before she could say anything Grunhilda flapped her wings a little too excited.

“We’re ready! Right, Miss Gilda?” She yelled and cheered, hopping like an excited bunny. “Woohoo!”

“I don’t think that you should be going, Grunhilda.” She looked at her friend. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Grunhilda immediately deflated. He crests of feathers like little ears flattened and she just sat and pouted in the cutest way possible. “I’ll carry stuff for you then!”

Gia shrugged. “She should have a weapon to defend herself if she needs. I mean, she’s a northerner… You don’t grow up in Snow Mountains without knowing how to fight. And you’re gonna need something too.”

“Grunhilda didn’t grow up in the north.” Gilda growled and pointed at the white griffoness. “She was a homeless kid in Griffonstone who ate dirty rats.”

At the same time, Gilda had to admit Grunhilda was an absolute unit by herself. And she had the feeling if she left Grunhilda alone in the manor she’d sneak out and get herself into trouble, anyway.

She stared at the big girl pouting at her. For feather’s sake, she didn’t have the right to tell Grunhilda stay when her experience in fighting was a past life and desperately snapping at three thugs. And that was not even considering that Grunhilda had saved her ass. And she had just told her she didn’t have to follow her orders.

“Fine! You can come with us.” Hopefully, Gilda could channel Ghadah again if she needed.

“Yay!” the big white griffoness cheered, clapping her paws.

Gia hummed quietly at the scene they made. “Follow me, we should find something for you two in the armory!”

They went downstairs, spiraling down the tower to the main structure of the manor and then they went underground. Walked through a torch-lit corridor until they reached a room with quite a few gruff and mean looking griffons of many sizes and colors. They all stopped what they were doing with Geary, grabbing weapons from the stacks. The room smelled of smoke from the ash torches, the beaten dirt, straw, and testosterone.

Several stands for all kinds of weapons took the stony walls, most of them vacant. Pikes, long spears, halberds, muskets, and more muskets. Bulky ones, with the revolver mechanism she had heard about. Beautiful designs made of clear steel inlaid with silver and blueish wood. Most looked as works of art as much as tools for killing.

They occupied not only the walls, but several ‘aisles’ for lack of a better word, lined with swords of different kinds, shiny under the light from the torches, tall or short.

“Things are going smoothly, Miss Gia!” Her thrall grinned triumphantly and the griffons around them nodded or grunted in agreement. “All the manor’s griffons-at-arms are accounted for, and most have already assembled outside!”

“Excellent!” She grinned at him and then frowned. “Where is Master Galahault? I need him to find some fancy weapons for Gilda and Grunhilda.”

“Hum…” The griffon frowned and deflated to the point his wings sagged from his side. “He’s being moody again… He at his forge. Outside.”

Gia groaned and rolled her head along with her eyes. “Come on…”

She turned and just left Gilda staring at Grunhilda who gave her the typical confused dumb stare but followed. They skipped up the stairs again and Gilda caught up with Gia. “What is going on?”

“Our blacksmith is a moody old griffon who acts out sometimes.” Gia stopped and let out a deep sigh before she made calming gestures with her paws. “Eeh… Things are under control! I just need to talk to him and I’m sure he’ll have something special and worthy for you and your thrall. Er… Your friend.”

Why? Whenever someone said they had things under control it felt like the opposite?

Mythical

Gilda followed Gia through the main hall and outside, into the cold windy air smelling of thunder and fresh snow. They walked over the fluffy snow and the sounds of soldiers preparing to march reached them. A grindstone squeaked and grated as Gia hurried like she feared the end of the world. Gilda did the best she could so the other’s nervousness didn’t get to her, while Geary and Grunhilda mindlessly followed them around the manor.

A few soldiers congregated next to a small wooden house leaned against the manor’s stony walls. Horizontal planks scaled on one another to make its simple, but sturdy wall and tiled wood made the roof like feathers on a griffon’s wing. A simple little room past a simple door, and it had a small window with finely crafted iron fittings and intricately cut glass. More like a simple bedroom, the closed house flowed past a roofed open area. A wide chimney stood above a forge radiating enough heat that the snow melted on the roof and collected in gutters draining it into a barrel.

The furnace itself resembled a great stone oven. Its base held a bright flame behind a stone top at the proper height for the griffon shoving the metal inside of it. It counted with a bellow and a reinforced door which would allow for feeding the fire. It looked like it would burn for quite a while yet, and a reverent silence remained over the cracking of fire. A vivid cerulean griffon had their back to them, watching a blade inside the furnace.

“Galahault?” Gia called softly, but he raised his right paw. Her face scrunched, but she made silence.

Gilda and Grunhilda sat nearby, paying attention, a bit off from the soldiers with Gia in between them, and under the covering roof.

“He’s been working on that thing for a week now.” One of the soldiers in cuirass armor whispered with a paw to his beak.

“To be fair…” Another added in whisper. “That is an impressively quick forging for such a sword.”

“He’s supposed to be making muskets!” Geary followed in the same tone but frowned. “‘Good enough’ muskets, not perfect ones that take too long to be ready.”

Then the griffon by the fire sighed audibly and they quieted for some four seconds before he pulled the metal from the fire. A bright hot blade for a greatsword, with its tang exposed and still missing its cross-guard, but with the pommel forged into the tang.

He slowly put it on the anvil and grabbed a hammer. White wood with a black head in the shape of a ball adorned with an elaborate pattern and two sides, one square and the other a ball. But Gilda couldn’t make out the details.

He looked at Grunhilda and spoke with a deep voice for such a small griffon. “You have to listen to the metal, kitten. It will tell you when it’s ready for the hammer.”

She just gave him her typical dumb stare and watched as he felled the hammer on the still bright metal. “Okay.”

That griffon didn’t look… Normal.

A short griffon, but not small. Bright yellow feathers and fur, with a black-blue glove on his paw he held the incandescent metal to the anvil with. He wore a heavy, brick colored leather apron in front of hum and a white metal necklace held something behind it. His short black beak remained shut in focus, and a stipe of azure crossed over his black eyes. The top of his head didn’t have the typical crest of feathers, but vividly blue feathers. His wings carried the same incensed blue in its feathers.

A striking stripe of darker blue feathers contrasted with his yellow chest as a collar of glossy feathers.

Then Gilda almost screamed when he held the searing bright metal in his left and right paws, noticing neither had any coverings but his natural skin. Every hair and feather in her body stood as though she expected some sort of delayed reaction, and she let go a breath when nothing happened. He simply stared down the blade with a content smile.

He seemed old, older still than Gabriel. But he also seemed so goddamn strong like a contradiction. Like one of those freaking unicorns who looked like they were going to live forever because they were so damn epic they didn’t give a feather about getting old!

“Galahault, we need a weapon for her.” Gia respectfully, but impatiently gestured to Gilda and Grunhilda. “Do you have anything special for a swordmaiden and her thrall?”

“No… I don’t.” He frowned a little and ground something off the blade with a file he grabbed from a box of tools with his tail and delivered to his paw, without looking at it.

“There he goes again…” One of the military types groaned to himself in a low voice and the one next to him hushed him with a grin.

Gia meant to speak again, her raising temper visible in her scowl, but he spoke first.

“The fledglings will laugh at me for saying this again.” He laid the slowly dimming sword against the anvil again. “They don’t pay attention to the signs anymore and this is why we find ourselves in our present situation.”

He spoke to Grunhilda, grabbing his hammer again. “And when history happens right under their beaks, they don’t see it and then they make fun of their elders.”

The way he spoke silenced the soldiers, made them cease their snickering and listen, while Gia waited with ostensive impatience, but in silence.

The old griffon smiled and raised a finger with a deep azure talon. “It's modernity. The magical letters, for example. They used to be the privilege of kings and queens, and the general populace knew how to wait. They pondered. They witnessed and held testimony in their hearts. Today they want everything fast and solved. They have teleporters. Some years ago, it was the muskets. Now it’s the rifles. They lack rhythm… They hurry when they’re supposed to wait, and they wait when they’re supposed to hurry! Noisy things, not like the hammer against the hot metal.”

He banged the hammer at the sword, hard, and sparks flew. Magical sparks. Gilda could swear she saw bolts of lightning between the metals just before it hit the metal. She could smell it in the air, like the storm.

He paid her no heed, though, and just proceeded with his work.

Bang!

Then he smiled at Grunhilda. “Like the rhythm of life.”

Then he left the hammer again and held the sword. Gilda still cringed at the old dude holding the hot metal with his bare paws.

“And… Perfect…” He smiled again, staring down the length of the blade. “It just takes patience. Some care. Love. Like everything.”

“Hum… Nice little house you have here, mister.” She spoke happily and Gilda noted Gia’s intolerant impatience and the soldiers’ growing contempt, but she decided to let Grunhilda and the old griffon talk. Let him work. She was in a hurry, yes… They couldn’t afford to lose the meeting, but her own little voice in the back of her head reminded her patience was a virtue sometimes.

“Thank you Grunhilda. I made it myself. A smith will often find himself in need of woodwork, so he better learn it.” He smiled a little more at her and his eyes grew wider. “Wood is a different creature than iron. It is less forgiving and sometimes you must work it into a scabbard, or a grip. Leather too. You better learn how to treat them.”

He held a strap of tan leather he had nearby and showed it to her with a smile. It almost seemed like an old dude that was happy he had someone listening to what he had to say.

“You are a good listener. That is good. No griffon has ever caught their prey by being noisy. It’s a shame our youth is like that. There is a time for talking and another for listening.”

She gave him her dumb look again. “Hum, how do you know my name, mister?”

He let out a sigh and left the hot unfinished sword rest on a double rack. Its heat seared the white wood, adding another mark to the several others. “She needs to rest for a bit… Wait here. I have something for you.”

He entered his little home. Gilda stretched her neck to see nothing more than a small table, some drawing supplies and a bed covered in a rabbit skin. Gia drew her attention with some angry whispering.

“We’re wasting time.” She sighed. “At least he seems to have something for Grunhilda… We just need to get him to give you something too.”

Gilda meant to scold her, but the old griffon’s voice came from inside. “Ah! Here it is. Do any of you know the story of the Glass Dragon that terrorized the White Desert?”

He didn’t wait for an answer and spoke from inside. “Oh, it happened some sixty, seventy years ago. Lord Garet was just a wee little milkling. But he was fierce already.”

He laughed. “His poor mother.”

“Who’s Lord Garet?” Gilda asked softly.

“Lord Garet.” Grunhilda whispered. “Son of Lord Gildon, father of Lord Gilad and Lord of the Black Gates before him!”

“Isn’t it your job to know these things?” One of the soldiers frowned and whispered to Gia, who just shrugged.

“Our Loremaster sucks…” Another soldier complained under his breath.

By then Galahault slowly walked back to them, carrying a flat and wide box on his back. He dropped it on the beaten dirt floor. It didn’t bounce, subtly eerily. It just stuck to the ground with a loud ‘thud’ as though that thing was just too heavy and awesome to give physics any regard.

Griffons just comically crowded around the thing.

Made of white wood, long on one side, it had been scorched and carved with so much detail and subtlety it reached ridiculous levels. But the engraving itself really caught Gilda by surprise more than the fact it sported so much detail.

A wide composition showed a mountain in the middle and a starry sky. Smaller mountains around it had been carved into palaces and giant mansions, almost like the spires and mansions in Canterlot, with wide arches and ample balconies. Griffons flew everywhere and an image of the great white and black griffoness hovered atop the tower in the central mountain with her wings wide open in a stripped pattern.

Her eyes snapped back to the old griffon as his voice brought her from the sculpture on the box’s lid. “The Windigos were inspired. They had come up with a nasty behemoth. The Glass Dragon the people called it. It was actually made of ice and malice, but they called it Glass Dragon. You know… Ice dragons tend to be chill.”

As she recovered from the physical pain the joke imparted on her, the old griffon continued. “The wicked monster slaughtered the entire Sky Sentry and the hosts from Frozenlake, Brokenhorn and Stormvalley in one epic battle. The griffons of Frozenlake escaped… Brazen warriors… They covered the retreat of their lieges!”

“Well, it seemed as though an army was not the answer for this one… So, Lord Gildon called for heroes who would help him slay the beast!”

The griffons listened to him with their jaws hanging as he recovered his breath. “Five great heroes answered to his call, and so, The Six of Fate, as they were known, set out to hunt the frost wyrm! Lord Gildon Thundercry, the Lord of the Black Gates; Lady Gaharjet Stormborn, the Astrani Star; Master Gembert Steelbender, The Runemaster! And Princess Celestia, the Dawnbringer!”

While griffons gasped in comical unison and loudness, he quieted his voice and pointed up at the stormy sky to then hide his beak behind his paw. “She didn’t like it at all…”

“But what was she going to do, right? That thing was trouble!” He nodded in self-acquiescence. “The Allmother is proud, not stupid.”

“You said five heroes!” Gia gasped nervously “You only mentioned three!”

“Oh… There was also me… I was Master Gembert’s apprentice, and Princess Celestia’s apprentice too… Shimmy… Sunny… Something. I don’t remember her name.” He frowned. “We really didn’t like each other.”

“The important thing…” He regained his excitement. “Was that they tracked down the monster and after a short battle, they concluded that they needed a legendary weapon, something out of the olden tales to destroy it, but they didn’t have it.”

He grinned and pointed a finger. “They had a blacksmith, though! So, Princess Celestia gave Master Gembert sunfire with which he forged an arrow of stellar steel that he gave to Lady Gaharjet! Then they tracked the monster again and they fought it one more time until she managed to aim a flying shot, straight at its bitter heart and it died at the edge of Frostpeak mountain!”

“The sun is not a star…” Gia groaned at him.

“It so is!” The old griffon shot back. “Celestia said so herself! Do you presume to know more than she?”

“You can’t remember what happened last week!” She accused him with a scowl. “What did you eat for breakfast?”

“Your mom.”

“Wait! What did you and Shimmy-whatever do?!” Gilda cried.

“Ah, we watched.” He grinned. “From afar. It was one of the worst monsters the Windigos had conjured up and our masters didn’t want us to die, or something.”

They distanced themselves from the old griffon while Gia screamed and pulled at her crest feathers. “Why did you tell us this stupid story?! We need you to give weapons to Gilda and her thrall so we can get over with taking over the city!”

“But that is what I am doing! Patience!” He defended himself with lidded eyes and a raised finger. “You see… Lady Gaharjet and Master Gembert mated after that. She said she really liked the arrows he made. But… Uh… The Griffonian Standing Army kept watching the Northern lands for ages and they concluded they were too dangerous when Lady Gaharjet and Master Gembert moved to the south! They feared they were involved with something. They murdered them. They derailed a train so that they wouldn’t have help and to hide the murder.”

You… They…” Gilda stumbled with the words, and she almost cried with anger. “You can’t be serious! They murdered them?! Wait… WAIT!”

“Very disloyal… Very… Ugly. But the GSA agents didn’t have the heart to murder their cub… They took her. And I tried to help, but I couldn’t protect her.” His gaze lowered. “I was just a mediocre blacksmith that didn’t have a talon of Master Gembert’s talent and didn’t know how to fight. I almost died myself, but I was there with them when they died. For all the good that I did.”

Gilda shook her head and her beak hung as he reached inside his apron to pull a shiny white crystal, breaking the collar and offering it to Grunhilda. “They wanted you to have these.”

But Grunhilda shrieked and pulled away from it. “I can’t! I’m... Indebted to Miss Gilda!”

“Greatness is calling, cub.” He held the crystal to her, pending from the broken chain he held in his paw. “You are the child of legends. Your mother wanted to teach you the bow. And your father wanted to teach you the hammer. But you were beyond my reach, and I did the best I could. You must find your own path. It is the life of a Child of The Harpy.”

Her scared eyes found Gilda’s and she nodded softly. “Take it Grunhilda. It is yours.”

“You will do great things, Grunhilda.” Galahault smiled. “I know you will.”

She held her white paws to herself, stare shifting nervously between Gilda and the crystal. Finally, with another encouraging nod, she took the small crystal and stared at it. Then at him, who nodded down at the box. She stared down at it and approached the crystal to it. As it came closer, it shone with a clear cyan light that reflected on the engraved image and painted it with light, as though it filled with light turned liquid and entered every little cranny.

The lid popped. Grunhilda blinked at it and lifted it bare. Inside, the box was padded with a soft filling covered in blue satin that fit a hammer. White wood handle and a black rectangular head, the side adorned with an image of a forge like a mountain. And next to it a dark metallic bow. It had at least seven feet in length, and it looked like iron, but with an eerie shine to it. Beneath, the case held a quiver of black leather and elegant iron fittings carved in knots and adorned with diamonds. It contained several arrows which actually seemed made of iron, but exquisitely made and adorned.

Honestly, the thing contradicted everything Gilda thought she knew of bows…

Grunhilda reached forward, but Galahault held her paw. “This is an Astrani Thunderbow. Most things you hit with it will not survive. This is an ancient legendary weapon of the sort only a pawful exist in the world.”

She blinked and nodded respectfully before she reached forward to it.

Then Gilda held her paw. “Be careful!”

“Okay.” She promised with her typical stare that made Gilda uneasy she hadn’t truly understood and reached forward again.

But Gia held her paw. “How about we practice with a traditional northerner ash hunting bow first?”

“Can I pick it up or not?!” Grunhilda frowned and whined.

“Sorry, Grunhilda…” Gilda smiled. “This is yours.”

Grunhilda reached forward again, and Gia meant to stop her, but Gilda slapped her paw away and scowled at her. Finally, Grunhilda held the hammer. She frowned, holding it up in her right paw. “It’s heavy.”

But then her beak opened a bit with a smile, looking up at it. Her eyes gleamed like a pair of stars.

“Of course, it is!” Galahault laughed. “Iron has a strong soul! It needs to be hit hard so it will turn to whatever it is meant to be. Much like griffons themselves.”

“Thanks, Master Galahault!” She cawed happily, still staring at the thing like it was… Well… An epic item of legend, and a gift from the parents she barely knew. Gilda smiled too; her happiness was too infectious.

Master Galahault too smiled, looking at Grunhilda, until he turned back to the sword he had left ‘resting’ in the wood stands. “Well, I think she’s ready.”

Then he laughed. “You see… Some of Master Gembert’s knowledge rubbed off on me. I had shamed myself, and I turned all my being into becoming the best smith I could.”

The metal had, indeed, cooled to the point it looked like black iron instead of an oversized surgical instrument for cauterizing wounds. But maybe, the best thing in the whole situation was he turned to Grunhilda again and showed her the weapon. Then he turned to the grinding stone and sat next to it. He reached with a hindleg and stepped on the wood pedal to spin it while holding the weapon to it with his paws.

“Normally you will temper steel before sharpening it.” The big griffon girl paid attention, half-way through donning the black quiver across her back with the bow. She had found a belt she hung the hammer onto, but her head snapped to the old griffon when he talked. “Not so with Astrani steel. It can’t be bent, molded, or ground at all once you have tempered it.”

“Most magical weapons were normal quench-tempered steel with a multitude of spells shoved into them. They made them more durable and gave the weapons any effects as they were desired.” He held the blade and stroked it with a thick leather. “That is not the case with magical alloys. They must be ground, cleaned, and engraved or carved before tempering.”

“You see…” He put the blade back on the wood supports and fussed around until he found a small, folded leather tool kit he opened and picked a small hammer and a delicate chisel from. “Two ancient techniques used a magical tempering, and the additional spell ought to be done with those. The processes didn’t add to the metal. They changed its very soul.”

He sat with the blade on his knees and took a quick glance at Gilda, muttering something to himself. “Yes…”

He repeated, whatever he had said and took the chisel to the blade. Tapping it with the little hammer, he made sharp tick, tick, ticks and Gilda could swear she saw little fiery sparks jumping off the thing.

It looked normal, but… Magical. Chisels didn’t make sparks.

Curiously, the others didn’t seem impressed at all. The soldiers just watched, bored out of their minds, waiting for the old smith to be free to do whatever they wanted… Maybe repair a piece of armor, or sharpen a pike head, or a sword. And Gia. She resigned to just watching and hoping it would be over soon.

Gilda enjoyed watching the griffon talking and working. Maybe it was what he just did for Grunhilda and maybe they didn’t understand, or didn’t care, but Gilda did. What he had just done for Grunhilda… Not the sort of things griffons did out of the blue.

Not to mention it was way too much of a coincidence the guy who had Grunhilda’s stuff worked with a Loremaster in that particular city with the unrest after the whole thing in the museum… It seemed as though something was going on and it was bigger than her helping Gia get some money while taking the city and it was larger than Gilda getting a cut in it.

It sounded like History happening.

Then the griffon held the blade again and blew over it. “The Battlehorn smiths, the Ordo Ferrarius, were an arm of their auxiliary forces… They had giant cities filled with earth ponies that dug thousands of cubits under the ground, to the bones of the land, from where they drew a dense metal called thaumatonite. Their smiths used concentrated sunlight to fuel the forges that could work it. Giant halls with countless enchanted lenses and mirrors focused the sunlight and the magic it carried into their smelters and furnaces. Only those reached the necessary temperatures and magical flux. They called it Sunforging.”

“Entire families dedicated their offspring to the several steps of the process. Earth ponies dug the land and coaxed the ore out of it, pegasi chased the clouds away and unicorns urged the magic to do its thing. Just as the Battlehorn noble houses and their vassals brought up their children to the task of proudly wearing such armor and arms into battle.”

“You’re seriously telling pony tales now?” Gia stared blankly.

“They are not ‘pony tales’.” He focused on his work but talked back to her. “These are the tales of the land. Battlehorns fought Emperor Grigor wearing that armor. Those leaf-shaped shields held against griffon weapons, and their long, curved blades trespassed many of them.”

“We were different.” He smiled again, cleaning the carving he had just done on the blade with an oily cloth. “Those who became the Astrani had one mighty forge whose ownership passed from parent to child in the form of the master smith’s hammer. And while the ponies dug into the earth, we extracted our iron from the mountains of the Stormy Eyrie...”

He showed his forelimb and held it in his paw. “The same iron in the blood that runs in our veins. We like using the iron from the place we live. Its magic is the same as ours, and the one from the Stormy Eyrie was the best.”

“We acquired the heat and magic necessary in our own way too. There was one large oven that supplied heat for the smelters, and furnaces. It trapped lightning inside and it was the only way to reach the temperatures needed to forge Astrani steel: fifty thousand Imperial Degrees. Any colder and the magical alloy wouldn’t form correctly. It became brittle and disintegrated inside the furnace.”

“And everyone would laugh…” He chuckled.

“Master Galahault.” Gia started with fake patience. “Is there a point to this other story?”

“The point is that muskets, cannons, and airships won’t win us anything.” He turned to her. “It is the magic! The iron that our ancestors dug out of the mountains where we were born! You see… The Astrani smiths believed that every one of them had one single legendary weapon in them…”

He raised one finger. “One that would be the highlight of their life and then there would be no point in living because then their purpose would be fulfilled, as they would never make anything of the same caliber. Hum… Unfortunately, I don’t have a flashforge…”

He stepped outside the ceiling above his forge. “But that is the nice thing about Our Mother. If you do what she asks of you, and if you ask nicely, she will do anything for you…”

“After all…” He stood on his hindlegs and thrust the blade into the sky. “This is how the myths of Her Children are born!”

It happened so fast it caught them by surprise, but Gilda saw every flashing instant. Lightning came from the snowed ground and the snow simply disappeared around him. It entered the blade by its exposed tang, following his foreleg and in between his fingers. The metal lit white as the brightest daylight when a bolt of light flashed from the clouds and met the tip.

The following boom resonated inside of her and the heat flash-burned the support structure of his home into ashes and scorched the stone of the manor. Glasses shattered and a few bushes covered in snow caught fire as his little house collapsed.

The blast of hot air pushed them into the air and back. It stole their breath and the sound echoed in the distance. Grunhilda stared with her surprised dumb stare and Gilda dragged herself to her feet. She blinked, jaw hanging, and dry mouth. The short griffon held the blue-white incandescent metal in his paw and cheered with whooping mirth, standing on a circle of soil turned to shattered glass. His right foreleg had burn marks where the lightning snaked up and so did his chest and his face, dark blemishes in his perfect plumage.

The blade was ridiculously hot and staring at it hurt her eyes while the air threatened to burn her nostrils, as vapor rose from the snow as he moved the blade above it.

He brought the thing into what remained of the forge, and the wood the surviving wood supports caught fire when the thing came closer. Galahault kicked open a long metallic container filled with white snow and shoved the weapon into it.

It sizzled and the snow slowly turned to water, letting off steam. The metal ringed a clear note like a harp. Gilda wasn’t sure she wasn’t just dreaming again.

“What the heck just happened?” Gia got back on her feet and cried before she even gathered the scene before her and her soldiers did the same, shaking their heads and groaning, gathering helmets and weapons that flew off. Geary shook his head and covered his ears.

“History, Lady Gia!” Galahault cried, pulling the clear metal from the container full of boiling, steaming water. “The birth of a myth!”

He rested the sword point down into the beaten dirt and fitted the cross guard, slightly bent towards the blade, with a few hammer strikes and followed by wrapping layers of tan leather around the sword’s tang. Having done that, he skillfully wrapped a similarly colored string.

Finally, before Gia could gather her wits and say anything else, he pulled the sword from the ground with a clear twang and grinned widely. He held up the sword before turning it to hold at its blade and offered the hilt to Gilda. Somehow grinning even more, pulling at the fresh burn scar.

How in the feathering world did he withstand the pain?

“Mythical.” He let the word roll off his tongue and her eyes caught the engraved runes near the guard. They shone in gold made light, fiercely, and the blade vibrated subtly, as though the word resonated in it. Everything else seemed less important than him giving her the weapon.

“The first Swordmaiden dancing sword made in the last two thousand years.” He told her proudly. “Astrani steel, made by Astrani, of the iron from the Stormy Eyrie our ancestors brought with them. It waited for you for millennia and it let me forge it into biting steel. Beautiful. Deadly. As the Chosen of the Harpy.”

She held the sword and raised its blade. It was as though the weapon had grasped her paws right back, if it even made any sense. And that was the first time some old dude called her beautiful and it didn’t feel creepy. When she came to, she still kept the thing up, staring open-beaked at it and found herself lost between contemplation while the others batered between themselves.

“Uh… Lady Gwineth…” Geary stood and pawed the snow off himself. “She’s a Swordmaiden and she has a sword, and she dances with it.”

“Let me tell you something, tom. The power she has over you is not the might of the Raptor Queen.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Well, ultimately, it is. But it’s different.”

With that he turned to what remained of his home, not a hint of sadness or regret in him as he started shuffling around the wreckage.

“All that so that you could make a sword for her.” Gia complained. “I mean… You could have just said…”

“Gia… Your lack of faith is disappointing. You are a Loremaster, for feather’s sake. Lore is your reason for existing.” He groaned, but then let out a happy caw. “Ah! Here it is!”

Meanwhile, Gilda kept sitting on her haunches, staring at the sword. At her reflection on the fuller. Without thinking, she stood and spun it in her paws and around her body, feeling its balance and length as it whistled through the air with a yellow tracing gleam. A greatsword of perfect size, made of pristine white steel with a golden pearlescence to it. She grasped the string in the grip, and it perfectly aligned to the blade’s edges. She grasped at it quickly a few times and could feel the leather cushioning underneath the tightly woven tan string. The perfect placement of the pommel, a medallion showing a relief of a pair of griffon wings.”

She launched the blade on a diagonal upward cut and it moved as though she was born with it. Cutting the air anxiously and whistling like a bird but growling like a lioness when she held it close, point forward.

She couldn’t see it with her eyes, but somehow, it shone with magic. Like a blinding light she could almost see, as though lightning filled it and rested nervously on her paws. Just about to unleash.

When had she learned how to evaluate a sword and what even was a fuller? And when had she learned to read runes such as those?

It hit her like a hammer when she realized he had been speaking High Griffonese the whole time and she understood it all.

“Mythical.” She whispered to herself. The word echoed in her mind, like her dying words in other lives and her heart burst in flames inside her chest. Little Gilda from Griffonstone, a Chosen of The Harpy. She didn’t even know anything a couple of days ago, and suddenly she’d been granted magic like she’d never seen before.

“Mythical…” The word rolled in her mouth like mead and tasted of lightning.

Legend beckons, My Child. You will both make me proud, and I will gladly share the most precious bounty of your race with you.

Her voice drew Gilda out of her reverie, and she saw Master Galahault wore chainmail armor, complete with a chainmail hood. He drew a sword and a heater shield (which she somehow knew what was) from the wreckage, both of which he put behind his back.

“Let’s go!” He walked heavy, determined steps despite the scorching scars. “Legends will be born this day and this city won’t take itself for The Lion!”

Grunhilda gave him a worried frown. “Master Galahault… Are you sure?”

“My purpose is fulfilled, kitten. I have made my mark and my name will echo in the halls of Griffonia. From the southern heathen bars of Griffonstone and Beachhome filled with scared unfaithful birds to the mighty mansion of Griffinsky and the lordly halls of Brokenhorn and Frozenshore. The skalds will sing of me to My Mother!” He cried with a grave frown and a fist up. “Now… Our Mother calls me to her hall in the Stormy Eyrie!”

“Do you realize you just said you are going to die?” Gia deadpanned.

“Gia…” He talked patiently and put a paw on her shoulder. “Everything dies. Commoners die. Soldiers die. Kings and queens die. Heroes die. You will die. Do you know what will never die?”

She blinked at him, as he pushed a closed fist at her chest. “Deeds never die! The names of the great heroes who answered to the call of greatness! The ones tested in the fires of strife and found excellent! Like Master Gembert and Lady Gaharjet! What you did with your life will never die and it is in death that you are tested. The defining moment! Now come on! One must not leave the Allmother waiting!”

He turned his hind to her and just walked, to what Gia cried with a raised finger and a scowl. “Hey! Wait a second! I am the one in command of this mission! I get to divide the Bits we’ll get!”

Gia was so worried about those stupid Bits she didn’t even notice Gilda spoke the same language they did. It drew a sneaky smirk into Gilda’s beak. Then she looked at her and finally at the blue and golden griffon walking past. “Let’s go, Grunhilda. Come on, Gia. It’s not about shiny coins with Celestia’s face on them. It’s about griffons! Our brothers and sisters under the Mother of Storms.”

And then she left her sword on her back, back to her fours. She didn’t even think about it, but it stayed there.

Huh. For some reason, thinking of the sword as ‘it’ seemed wrong. But she didn’t think about it for long, fearing the thing might fall and stop working if she doubted it.

“Ugh…” Gia whined, then she shouted at the soldiers walking past them after Master Galahault. “Wait!”

Gilda smirked at her and followed the others, hearing Gia’s steps on the snow rushing after them.

Stealing Souls

Fortunately, Gilda didn’t have to walk to the meeting. Not that she couldn’t walk for a bit. She did a lot of walking back in Griffonstone, but… Heck! She was supposed to be climbing in life! Once she made it to Griffindell, she’d make sure to set some money apart to buy a nice carriage for her. Maybe hire one or two servants.

But she hadn’t reached Griffindell yet. An irritating aroma of citronella hung in the air inside the carriage, but she tolerated it. It seemed to come from the red satin on the walls and she made a note of not having such things on her carriage. She sat on the reversed front seat, in front of Grunhilda, springy and jumpy for her tastes, covered in tacky red velvet. The big griffon lady kept looking at the hammer she held with her paws, though and didn’t seem to mind.

Two earth ponies pulled the vehicle. They even had decent coverings against the cold. They kept a steady pace and the carriage bumped here and there on the way. They kept a slow pace and Gilda could see the stony griffon houses passing outside the rectangular windows in the doors. The only noise came from the squeaking springs keeping their vehicle reasonably stable and the wheels and hooves on the stony street.

Dark and cold claimed the street outside, most buildings lost to the shade past the gas public illumination. Workshops, warehouses and small stores, closed for the night, not a griffon outside.

The green Gia sat next to her holding a frown and a pout which almost reached ‘cute’, staring at the red satin finish of the inside. Grunhilda quietly examined the hammer Master Galahault had given her and Gilda mostly stared at nothing in particular.

“Where’s Galahault?” Gilda turned to Gia and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t need no carriage!” She mimicked his deep voice with profound consternation and arrogant gestures, imitating his beak. “I was born with wings!”

But then she silenced after, glaring out the window on her side.

Why was she so angry? If things worked, Gia would get Chancellor Gail’s money, after all. Maybe she wanted it to be her grand moment, and Gilda had stolen her spotlight. Whatever… Gilda had no time to worry about Gia’s pettiness.

Her eyes fell on Mythical, leaned against the wall, point to the floor. She constantly occupied Gilda’s mind after Galahault gave her the sword. When she noticed, her paw made soft strokes, petting the sword on its pommel.

“Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda called her softly, though. She held a frowning stare at the hammer, still holding it with her paws.

Something about the way she spoke made Gilda worry and she turned her attention to her friend. “What is it?”

“I feel weird. I’m holding this hammer… It belonged to my Pappa… But I don’t even remember his face.” Her frown deepened. “I don’t remember Mamma either. I don’t remember anything… Just that they taught me some things…”

Great… Gilda could never stand sappy talk or deep conversations, but hearing Grunhilda didn’t bother her. She just didn’t have the experience in dealing with others grieving. She spoke slowly, carefully. “What happened to you was… What they did to you was messed up, Grunhilda. Really… Messed up.”

Gee… Profound, Gilda… Smooth too, dumbass. She kicked herself. Both at her lack of tract and the awkwardness. Her chest hurt at her lack of something… Anything better to say to her friend. She never experienced it before. At the same time, she found herself frowning. They really screwed up Grunhilda, didn’t they? Even more so than they did to her. How vile… The griffonian military made an actual operation to murder a couple travelling with their cub.

Gilda’s tax money hard at work for the safety of Griffonian citizens… Sure, Griffonstone’s mayor was a corrupt prick, and so was his wife, but they reached another level of… How to define what they did? Murder? Murder meant someone got killed, sure. But what word to use when one killed a cub’s parents? So young she couldn’t remember her parents’ faces anymore.

Suddenly Gilda heard whimpering, and a sob followed. Gia startled and stared, but Gilda simply reacted. She stood on her hind legs and hugged her big friend’s head against her fluffy chest. What had gotten into her? Gilda had never done anything like hugging someone crying before. She’d probably find it annoying to hear someone crying.

Of course, Greta would never need Gilda to ‘be there for her’ and Rainbow Dash would have died before she admitted needing a fluffy chest to cry on. But Gilda stood there for Grunhilda.

What they did to the big girl made her angrier than what they did to her. Ultimately, though, the problem remained: Chancellor Gail gobbling up their money. But Gilda could at least blame herself a bit for losing control of her temper and punching that little prick all the way back in Griffonstone.

But Grunhilda? They caused a train accident. How many did they kill? How many little Grunhildas lost their parents or how many parents lost their cubs. And for what? Because they worried the heroes from a story mostly unknown moved to the south. They probably wanted a nice place to raise their child, away from the monsters and the cold. Maybe so Grunhilda could have an easier life than they did.

After they slayed a monster which would likely have reached the southern cities and caused all sorts of havoc before the powers that be managed to deal with it.

Gilda found a word for it all: wrong.

“I feel angry…” Her friend snuffled at her feathery chest and Gilda lowered herself to her sitting height.

Tears wetted Grunhilda’s feathers, and she still frowned, but it a different frown from when she made her ‘dumb face’ of confusion.

Gilda let herself frown too. “You should be angry.”

Gia cleared her throat quietly, looking out her window. “We’ve arrived.”

“Yeah? Well, chill.” Gilda snapped at the green griffoness and didn’t care for her surprised wince.

“I don’t care.” She told Gia and then turned back to Grunhilda. “I want to help these griffons… I want to get this city for The Harpy. But if you’re not cool… I don’t really care. If you need to, we’ll walk on out of here. We’ll just go to Frozenlake right now.”

Fortunately, Gia didn’t say anything, or Gilda might have forcefully shut her beak.

The carriage stopped, but Grunhilda didn’t answer immediately, and it gave Gilda some time to think about what she had just said. She had committed to help Gia and the others take the city. But Grunhilda came first. So, she waited. Gia could go screw herself and the others would have to take care of themselves. She would apologize to the Harpy later, Gilda supposed, but Grunhilda took precedence.

The big white griffoness sniffled again and cleaned the tears with the fluffy feathers on her forelimb. Then she sucked it up like the tough girl she was and finally squared her shoulders, returning the hammer to its belt.

“I’m okay, Miss Gilda.” She grinned but didn’t quite convince Gilda.

“Alright them.” Gilda smiled back anyways. “Do you want to stay back?”

“No… I want to stay with you.”

“Alright, let’s get this done.” They shared a smile and Gilda opened the door for Grunhilda while Gia left via the other door.

Hopping outside, she kicked the door closed with Mythical resting on her back. Her feet met the wet cold snow on the walkway and the chilly night breeze washed over her. Grunhilda stared up at a four-story building made of red bricks and dotted with rectangular windows. Gilda couldn’t see the roof and the street was mostly dark, but she could see the building went on and on.

The same stony griffon buildings crowded together as though they had been pressed against each other on the other side of the street with windows that offered no light. The public illumination provided enough light, and it easy to see the straight street. The cobblestone tiles of the road had been completely freed of snow, but ice had claimed the shallow gutter on the center. While Griffonstone dwarfed Thunderpeak, the latter had a more active services department.

Or an actually active services department, Gilda groaned as her eyes rolled.

Meanwhile Gia gave instructions to the ponies pulling their carriage. A white and fancy thing with gold and decorative nonsense Gilda didn’t care for. It drew too much attention to her and to the other carts just arriving. Pulled by some of the manor’s soldiers without their armor, they made a line of ten covered carts under rough white cloths. Conspicuous, but she supposed it would be worse if they wore their armor or openly carried piles of guns. They looked like nothing more than a bunch of griffons minding their own business of carrying cargo for someone rich.

Grunhilda still stared up at the building.

“It looks like a manufactory.” Gilda explained. “They make… Er… ‘Stuff’ in there.”

“Like carts?” The other shot her curious stare.

“Yeah.” Gilda nodded. “Carts are a good example.”

“They make woodworking tools here.” Gia approached them as the ponies left with the carriage and the griffoness waved a paw around. “You know… Saws, hammers, they even smith some nails in here… It belongs to Gilberto, one of our supporters and we use it for our meetings. The Local Militia started messing them up in the Stormrend Manor after we had to move from the public areas.”

“How did they mess up meetings in a private place?” Gilda turned to Gia.

“They’d harass our not so rich supporters out of participating in the meetings.” She explained. “When they were on their way.”

“So, we’re not meeting in the central plaza?” Gilda also frowned at the sudden change of plans.

Gia shook her head. “One of our guys said the local militia was on to it. It’s not ideal, but I sent Geary to talk to the others and tell them the meeting had been cancelled. Then sent a less obvious messenger telling them to meet here. This is where our supporters meet anyways, while our leadership meets in the manor. It’s a private place, though not as outstanding as the manor. They haven’t caught up to it yet and locals are used to seeing many griffons here, anyways.”

“That sounds like a violation of civil rights.” Gilda cocked an eyebrow. “You know… A crime.”

“Gee…” Gia gave her a condescending smile. “I hear embezzlement is too.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Gilda sniggered back at her.

Meanwhile, a bunch of seemingly random griffons with all sorts of accessories such as cloaks and capes converged on the two. The drivers of the carts, once they had set their vehicles at the edge of the street, out of the way so that they didn’t look more suspicious than a nightly delivery of supplies to the manufactory.

“Make sure none of the locals come too close, but don’t draw too much attention.” She told them with a conspiratorial grin. “Most of the griffons in the area will be in here anyways, but you never know. If all goes right, we’ll march straight from here to the main square. The most important thing for you to do is to get them the weapons and keep snoopers away.”

“Sure thing, Lady Gia.” One of them grinned and bowed a little. He seemed the gruff military type. Probably part of the manor’s soldiers. The others waited somewhere else, keeping eyes oin all directions. Including up.

Gia then led Gilda and Grunhilda to the entrance of the structure. The trio reached a wide double door, striking and well-kept, in addition to the large carved wood sign above. ‘Gilberto’s Woodworking Tools’, it said in fancy letters, stuck to the brick wall.

She unceremoniously pulled the doors open to a humble hall with a welcoming desk and one of those punching time clocks. A closed wide door on the other end and smaller doors to the sides. Galahault sat at the desk, armor and all, weapon still on his back with his shield. He was calm, despite the heated arguing Gilda could hear from the other side of the door.

“What took you so long?” He directed a bored glare at Gia.

“We’re normal…” She didn’t miss a beat.

Regardless, while Grunhilda closed the door coming in last, he nodded at the other wide door. “Well, come on. They’re waiting on the floor.”

Galahault stood and led them through the forementioned doors to a wide indoor space. The ceiling reached about three stories above ana magical crystal lights illuminated it well enough. Although some lights have been removed and the dimmer light gave the space a secretive feeling beside the sheets over the windows.

Sturdy steel beams held the ceiling and supported the whole structure. The floor contained countless different machines of manual operation and workbenches, pushed aside to make way for thousands of griffons waiting for something, anxiously discussing amongst themselves.

But they all silenced when Galahault and Gia entered first, followed by Gilda and Grunhilda. They made way and stared. Mostly at the newcomers Gilda knew she and Grunhilda were. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to confusion as Gilda made her way among them. Many seemed angry.

Their number might be enough to take over a city, as Thunderpeak’s size implied not professional defenders on the government’s side. Not many local militias. After all, most of the population wouldn’t actively fight to protect the city, or avoid it being taken by the present leadership’s opponents. If Gilda’s side had an advantage, it was how much griffons disapproved of the present leadership.

Maybe they would be enough to fight the city’s own public order forces, but not five divisions of the Griffonian Standing Army. Gilda really hoped there were more of them. Or, at least, that Gia actually had a solid plan for dealing with an actual army.

Piled crates against the white-painted masonry made for an improvised stage at the deep end of the factory floor. Those important griffons Gilda had met at the manor had come, and one spoke. The one with the smoking and the top hat talked to another well-dressed griffon at the front of the assembly. The big northerner guy sat next to them, and not only wore an armor covered in white fur, but also looked incredibly bored. And so did the beautiful lady with the high-neck cape.

Of all the feelings going through Gilda, concern reigned. It seemed as though the city’s defenders were already onto them, and they hadn’t even started the damn meeting. Things didn’t look so hot. If they wouldn’t meet opposition before the meeting was over, then certainly once they made it to the central square.

That is why you are there.

She didn’t stop, or say anything, but she did frown at The Harpy’s voice inside her head. A different point of view, and an empowering way of thinking about her place in the whole situation. Especially when Gilda could consider herself ready to be of significant help. In fact, it wouldn’t be news to her The Harpy demanded service for her sponsorship.

When they finally reached the stage, the griffon in the front, one of the particularly well-dressed ones talking to Top Hat pointed at Gilda. “What is this? What are you up to, Gia? And is this what you made me come here for, Gilberto?”

A blue griffon, with a light cyan head and sapphire eyes. Dressed in rich, fancy clothing with so many silks, satins and fluffs he looked more like a Canterlot unicorn than a cool northerner griffon used to harsh living. But then again, Thunderpeak technically sat south of the border. Not all griffons could be badass survivors. Some of them had to be bureaucrats and capitalists too.

“Why don’t you ask the lady why she’s here, Gaunde?” Top Hat told him with a grin.

The griffon in question did stare at Gilda, but he only blinked. She didn’t wait for him either. “I will help, however I can in taking over the city.”

“Do you even understand what you said?” The griffon recovered fast enough to give her a petulant answer.

“Yeah.” She shrugged, half intentionally being a jerk and half actually believing what she said. “You keep killing the ones that don’t want to give over the town until their friends decide it’s not worth to keep fighting for the town and die too.”

She wasn’t entirely sure she liked it, but griffons laughed around them. He lost his composure, letting his wings flare and pointed furiously at her, screaming. “And I suppose you are going to kill the local militia and the Chancellor’s goons protecting the town hall and the mayor?!”

“Yeah.” She kept her solid and self-important tone. “That is kinda what I plan on doing. My intention was going straight to Frozenlake. But I kinda want to help you guys take over the town for The Harpy. It sorta comes with being the Chosen of the Harpy thing, you know.”

Heavens forbid she let her own insecurity show through, but her words sounded about right. And griffons seemed impressed by her words, so she liked it.

She did her best to block off Grunhilda’s giggling from behind and started dropping some names too as memories of the unnamed Loremaster in Griffonstone came back to her. Names held power and even non-Loremaster griffons knew it. “Lady Gwendolen is waiting for me, but Master Galahault is kinda good at rallying griffons for the cause. I suppose I owe him something after he forged my sword. Also, I kinda liked Master Gabriel and Miss Gerdie. I want to help their friends.”

She noted how a Loremaster wouldn’t use words such as ‘kinda’, but it worked. It wouldn’t hurt to allude to the fact that friends of the beloved Master Gabriel and his daughter would want to pick the right side. Funny how their faces grew more and more shocked as she added one name after the other. “But… If you guys ain’t interested; I guess I’ll be on my way to Griffindell. It’s what Madam Gladys told me to do, anyways, now that I checked on Gerdie and made sure she’s alright.”

Gia must be satisfied since she shared her superior grin when Gilda turned to leave via the stairs on the side of the stage and didn’t interfere.

“Wait!” One of the griffon ladies, quite young and cute, cried for her among the older griffons at the front. “Lady Gwineth came from Griffindell, but in less than a day she left to rescue Master Gabriel, and she didn’t tell us much more!”

“Yeah!” Another griffon among the crowd spoke too, the manual laborer kind. “She freed Master Gabriel’s griffons from jail but left us hanging! She just pulled her strings with the Lord Protector and didn’t do anything to help us.”

Gia cleared her throat. “Lady Gwineth wasn’t very forthcoming with anyone. All she wanted was to get those griffons out to help her free Master Gabriel in Griffonstone.”

“So…” Gilda turned to her ‘new friends’ and rose an eyebrow. “The Lord Protector of the city is on our side?”

“Well, slightly, I suppose,” Gia started with a grimace. “Although not exactly.”

Galahault scoffed. “Loyalty is not particularly a priority for some griffons, Lady Gilda.”

She liked the sound of that… ‘Lady Gilda’.

“It seems,” Galahault went on. “Our stalwart Lord Protector believes letting go a few prisoners behind the Princess’ back, and not getting split in half by a Swordmaiden, is acceptable. Helping us win the city for The Lion is another story.”

“Eh… I have it on good faith he is actually on our side.” The well-dressed Gilberto explained with a paw up. “He is just afraid of the thugs the Chancellor sent to watch over his possessions.”

Sounded like a cowardly douche… Seemed to be a theme with Griffonian local militias, but Gilda supposed her view on them contained biases. To say the least. They couldn’t all be bad griffons, but the system, the deep-rooted corruption, and the lack of moral values in their leadership got to them.

If only they had sided against The Lion out of loyalty for the other side, Gilda might have some sympathy for them.

“A coward afraid of the Chancellor’s thugs and afraid of us.” Gilberto concluded with a shrug. “He’s going to fold as soon as the fight gets too intense and too close to him. You see, space is limited. For every griffon here, we have at least one or two more willing to fight for our cause.”

They had popular support, as a lot of griffons got themselves crammed in there. Between those, the soldiers from the manor and the guns the ‘vampire-lady’ had delivered, they should have the city under their wings already. Maybe the populace could use with some encouraging?

What was she doing, though? What did Gilda want from the situation? A combination of wanting to help those griffons and being fed up with the other side getting away with shit motivated her. Because she had come to accept The Harpy had the right idea. She wanted those griffons to side with The Lion as it would be ultimately better for them. They could sort out the bad stuff later…

It also helped she liked the feeling of belonging and having the power to influence them in the right direction.

For a change, she could be a damned hero. She could take part in screwing with the Chancellor. It only slightly bummed her she still couldn’t get back at those jerks in Griffonstone. Eventually…

“All of this is of little consequence.” Gaunde, The Fancy spoke again, more to the crowd than to her. Despite staring at her like he expected her to spontaneously catch fire. “The point remains it is not worth our lives to fight a pointless battle. The military will siege the city as soon as they hear of what happened. We’ll see our children and our families starving and succumbing to disease.”

“I don’t think so…” Gia spoke next. “The brass is offended their political leadership launched a military operation without authorization from our elected representatives in the Hall of Friendship. Celestia is bound to show up any day in Griffonstone and have a few words with our adored Chancellor. Word from Frozenlake is that General Grommer had no idea of all the shenanigans the Chancellor pulled. Somehow, I don’t believe the military will be eager to respond. Even if they are little more than a day’s flight from us, their response, if it ever arrives, should take weeks.”

“You are delusional if you think they’ll take that long, Gia. And even then, what is the point?” Gaunde gave out a frustrated sigh. “What do we gain by starting a revolt in a city both vulnerable and that stands to gain nothing by siding with one or another?”

Plain wrong. Gilda didn’t need to be a trained military leader, to see the city both sides benefited from controlling the city. If for nothing else, for its location, right at the edge of the border. It was likely to receive a lot of attention from Griffindell if it sided with The Lion already.

“This borders on the blasphemous!” One voice cried in the middle of the throng and was met with a strong positive reaction. “You all saw the storm behaved strangely, right after we heard of the northerner girl arrived at the teleporter with Lady Gilda! She says she is a Swordmaiden! The signs couldn’t be clearer!”

More cheering followed and some griffons in the assembly threw hats up in the air, which prompted Gaunde guy to fly above and make soothing gestures. “What is the point? Are you really going to risk your lives on a myth? A fairy tale.”

It didn’t go as he planned. The response came in the form of angry cries and furious birds flaring wings and raising fists at him.

“The point is you are a coward!” The big northerner in armor laughed with his boisterous voice. With his armor and furry cape, he looked double the size of the overly well-dressed griffon.

Griffons not only accused Gaunde, but they argued angrily among themselves, and hearts seemed divided. Why did Gaunde not want to fight? Surely, part of the reason was not enough of those Bits in the depot would go to his name… Gilda doubted the griffons with whose lives he gambled cared.

Talk to them. Their leaders are the problem with griffons nowadays.

The Harpy gave Gilda some moments to ponder on the meaning of those words. Curiously, She had taught griffons they had the freedom to look after number one.

Wealth is meant to serve a need. The meaning of the Raptorial Creed is lost to these griffons who see in the battle for the city an opportunity to acquire more of it and not a battle for the hearts of their fellow griffons. The wellbeing of their kind should be, at least, as important as their own personal wealth.

Oh yeah… A grin almost showed through Gilda’s stoic façade, as she watched griffons argue with each other and Her voice sounded in her head. Griffons ought to be independent, as long as they did what the Allmother wanted. Right? She still remembered what Empress Geneviere had told her, through Ghadah.

You wound me, My Child. It should be better for all griffons once we have dealt with the problems plaguing your kind. Wealth comes with dutiful service, as so does celebrity and power. But most of all, what is good for me, is good for your kind.

Welp... Gilda wouldn’t argue. Specially with the part about the trickle-down economy of awesomeness, given she was one of the top cats.

Talk to them. Remember.

She urged again and memories rushed to Gilda’s mind, but not like a vision. As when she tested the sword and at first didn’t even know what she was doing. As though instinct took over, ancient memories guided her mind and she suddenly knew what to do.

“You are wasting time talking about one dumb detail or another!” She let her voice reach and griffons both startled and glared at her. “You are forgetting what they did to Master Gabriel!”

They exchanged stares and then returned to her. Some nodded at her words but waited for her to go on.

“They took Master Gabriel to the hospital at Griffonstone after what Princess Luna did to him. They didn’t want you to see what happened. They didn’t want you to see Princess Luna impaled one of his paws and crushed the other because he shot at her. Even when it didn’t even hurt her.” She gave her best dramatic flourish to her crude and direct recounting. She didn’t want to sound like Gia. “I was there! I worked as a nurse at the hospital. I saw him! I talked to him! The Princess’ guards kept him locked in his room and under watch like a petty criminal!”

“She tried to destroy his paws!” She put up her own paw, showing it to them, in all its contradictory beauty, so strong and at the same time so fragile.

She allowed them a moment of chagrin and shock at her words. “I don’t know who this Lady Gwineth is, but it is a good thing she’s gonna take him out of there. He helped me find my place. He helped me listen to The Harpy and I don’t want him sent to Shatteredrock. Much less that he remains under their care. He deserves to be brought back to his home!”

Griffons generally agreed and some outright called for a revolt already. Most just listened, but others tried to get their opinions heard with the preferred method of shouting louder than the other side. Some, though, called for calm and for some time to think over the situation with clear heads. Gia rose a paw and called for attention, which she got.

Apparently, despite not being very good at her Loremaster job, she still commanded quite a bit of loyalty and respect.

“We don’t have time to wait! If we allow the Chancellor to realize something is going to happen,” she pointed out with a finger. “And he will as soon as Lady Gwineth assaults the hospital to save Master Gabriel, we will lose the element of surprise.”

Her words seemed reasonable and well-balanced, while the well-dressed griffon called Gilberto nodded emphatically. He voiced his agreement a few times as the crowd also agreed with several calls to action. Immediately.

“Chancellor Gail will send reinforcements via the teleporter!” Gia concluded with an alarming tone.

“Shut up! All of you, stupid birdbrains!” Gaunde took flight above the assembly and yelled at them but barely had any effect. Griffons called for their mayor’s head and for a revolt at once.

They also dragged him to the floor and punched him a few times. He may have suffered injuries, but… Well… He had chosen a side. The wrong one.

Gia stood next to Gilda and looked pleased as punch. She took a few steps forward, raising a paw, talking above the noise of angry griffons.

“Yet again, another assault on our culture and our customs, by one of the beloved pony princesses.” The Loremaster took a step forward, standing by the edge of the crate stage with a ‘oh-so-offended tone’, but the other griffons heard an honest and concerned Loremaster. “I believe the time has come we act. The time for patience is past and we must make it clear, much like did our ancestors, there is a point we are no longer willing to allow them to push us.”

Griffons cheered and exchanged furious shouts of indignation and righteous anger in support. It almost made Gilda feel bad Gia and the others used them and their anger to reach for the Chancellor’s money. Such bizarre conflicting feelings.

“Friends, friends!” Gilberto started with a faux soothing tone. “Save this aggression for those who deserve it. We need dutiful able-bodied griffons willing to wield arms in favor of our cause. We’ll meet in the central plaza and make our desire the town aligns with our rightful liege known to the mayor.”

They were angry, but too many reeled at the mention of actual violence. Their reaction sapped Gilda’s confidence, and the others noted it too. Again, it felt wrong they would use these griffons, afraid, and willing a better life for their loved ones.

It does not matter. I will deal with Gia and with the others when convenient. It is more important griffons side with us. With the city under our wings it will become easier. Moreover, the city and its region are important to us. But above all, it shall be the birthplace of your legend. Talk to them! Reach their hearts! Find the cherished pride that lies inside every griffons’s heart. Call to the raptor and they will answer!

“This is more important than petty politics!” Gilda added without thinking and taking to the air. She hated Gia and the others trying to move the population because they wanted the Chancellor’s money! The Chancellor and his goons did such things! It was disgusting The Harpy had been invoked for a scam. For better or for worse, the Allmother was the reason Gilda even was alive.

Maybe it was foolish, but her chest burned. It drew her back into the storm. Sitting before her cave’s entrance as the rain fell, and thunder called her to reach forward. “This is more important than…”

She held her tongue, just as realization struck her the same way lightning hit her sword on Master Galahault’s paw. It really was no coincidence she had arrived just as all had happened. It was no coincidence Galahault was there. It might not even have been a coincidence that she met Grunhilda.

Never in her life had she ever imagined herself in such a situation. Never, in her wild imagination of a teenager. Much less when she got herself stuck making scones, beating dough to barely make it month after month. She never saw herself doing what she was about to do.

As her fingers wrapped around Mythical’s grip, it’s powerful magic hummed in her bones, and she felt as she did in that dream. She stood on top of a blurry barrier between dream and reality when she held lightning in her paw.

“It is not about money or politics! It is about griffons and their souls!” She pointed her sword down at the assembled griffons, it shone either with magical light, or reflecting from the ceiling. “It is about what those cursed equines stole from you! What they stole from your forefathers, millennia ago! The Mother of Storms calls! She is tired of finding Her Children remiss while in the north our brothers and sisters stemmed the tide of malevolence spilled by the Windigos since times before remembrance!”

“Enough!” She cried at the top of her lungs. They seemed to spit fire into her airways much as they did when they filled with smoke and the stench of her own burning body. “Are you afraid of dying? Are you afraid of losing all? The Children of The Harpy don’t fear death! They don’t dread over pain nor duress and the only enemies they fear are cowardice and indolence! And when they die, she will meet them in her hall in the Stormy Eyrie!”

They cried and cheered; Gilda could even see it in their eyes. The same fire burning in her chest. Then she inhaled deeply and shove Mythical towards the ceiling. “Children of The Harpy!”

Maybe she just didn’t expect it. The answer from the crowd and from the big northerner guy and the older lady with the cape almost stole the air from her.

“The Harpy demands!” Their response thundered in the hall, loud, guttural. A combination of roaring cry and wild cheering, spontaneous and in deep contrast to Gia and Gilberto’s carefully construed words.

She let excitement take over and pointed Mythical to the exit. She flew above the griffons stomping their way out with excited cries to meet the manor’s griffons-at-arms outside with the carts. In them, piles of swords, shields, spears, halberds, and muskets. Many, many muskets, and pouches which she supposed contained ammunition.

Griffons didn’t even question and some of them grinned at the high-quality weaponry at their disposal as they helped themselves to their weapons of choice. Most preferred the muskets. Some of them were experienced fighters, preferred the other weapons.

Things certainly didn’t go exactly according to Gia’s plan, but she didn’t complain as she flew above the mass of griffons with the others and hovered next to Gilda, to whom she gave a dirty grin. “Great job!”

As Gilda remembered she shouldn’t be flaying about with a magical weapon, she returned Mythical to her back and Gia even turned to the older griffoness with the cape. “Excellent. These weapons should be perfect.”

Gilda didn’t answer, nor did the older griffoness. The clouds rumbled above, and lightning flashed over the city. Several shapes of flying griffons arrived from the sky and Gilda couldn’t understand how in the freaking heck they even managed to fly.

Several hundreds of them descended on the street where she hovered above griffons either distracted with the weapons or who stared too. Not only big griffons, but they wore hefty heavy armor. All shiny black and gold, complete with open helms, but their red scarves grabbed Gilda’s attention. They carried themselves like soldiers, strong and proud, wielding firearms and halberds.

One of the griffons in armor approached her. A strong among the strong griffons in full armor, but without the helm, a black and white cape between his flapping wings. White handsome face with a serious stare in his black eyes surrounded by dark plumage. His eyes fixed on Gilda, and on Gia when she approached.

“Greetings, Sky Sentry!” Gilda wasn’t sure what she wanted, but Gia gave him a horny smile. “Were you sent all the way from Griffindell to help us take over the city?”

“I am looking for Lady Gilda.” He gave her a disinterested stare. “And I don’t suppose you are her, Loremaster.”

“Oh…” Gia deflated out of the way, and he found Gilda in front of the others, hovering above a throng of curious griffons.

“Are you Lady Gilda?” He frowned at her a little and cocked his very aquiline brow.

“Uh… Yeah… Gilda’s my name.” She gave him her best smile as Grunhilda gave her the properly cleaned and ironed out red scarf. She wore it immediately. It convinced the griffon guy in armor.

“A gift. From Lady Gwendolen of Griffindell.” He spoke as one of his subordinates approached them and opened a black wooden box for her.

Inside, in the middle of many white satin tissues the box held a pair of golden bracelets with beautiful reliefs of swords engulfed in flames. And a diadem made to resemble a pair of griffon wings that would follow to the sides of her head as they grew from the middle. They sprouted from a golden griffon paw holding an amethyst in its shiny talons. So big Gilda could see her own smile in it. And at the top sat a profile of The Harpy. So meticulous and attentive in its details Gilda could see the small lines in between the soft feathers and the Allmother’s stare in that thing.

I am very wealthy, and I am very powerful. And those are both things which come to the dutiful griffons who use their talents to further my goals.

Hero for the Day; Legend Forever

Maybe she was foolish. Maybe she had suddenly started to believe. Or maybe this whole adventure was some sort of bizarre dying hallucination and in reality, she was still in that dirty alley back in Griffonstone, bleeding out to death after those thugs were done abusing her.

My Child, I find your inability to simply accept your position, outstanding and unexpected as it may be, most frustrating.

Well, She couldn’t blame her!

When that whole mess started, her prospect for the following months were nothing more than baking scones and taking care of patients in Griffonstone’s public hospital. And since that wouldn’t fly in a million years because griffons more powerful than her wouldn’t allow it, her updated plans were being raped and then dying in that place.

Your mind also keeps returning to that event. I will be sure that Lady Gwendolen thoroughly examines the inner workings of your psyche.

Gee… It’s almost as though that wasn’t a traumatic event.

It certainly was, but you are My Child, and you are stronger. Additionally, your thoughts should be on the present.

Fine, fine! Fair enough!

The night was dark, all the stars and the moon hid behind the turbulent clouds that growled and rumbled in the sky. She wore her new tiara, light on her head, and her bracelets that shone with the dim public illumination. She flew slowly, hovering among the soldier griffons that had arrived from Griffindell. They kept close to her, as her very own personal honor guard. Particularly that gorgeous griffon dude.

She resisted grinning at the thought that Gia must be eating her heart out since the moment he gave Gilda those gifts. It was a shame, though. She liked Gia and wanted to be her friend. But… Oh well…

At the same time, she was sure that no one, even with the crazy one back in the hospital, had ever been jealous of her. It gave her a very naughty, but fuzzy feeling.

Grunhilda was there too, and Gilda worried a bit. Seeing the big and white griffon girl with that bow and one of the iron shafted arrows in her paws made her worry. Maybe she was just different, but there was something about her friend that unsettled her. But she just couldn’t put her talon on what it was! That whole ‘thrall’ thing upset her, even if it didn’t bother Grunhilda. Maybe she was afraid of something. Maybe that she would be left behind, or something. Well, she did say that she considered them as friends, so it really was okay.

Well, that probably wasn’t that bad if she wanted it, right? Like roleplaying.

Well, thinking about that wasn’t helping a whole lot and The Harpy was right… She ought to think of the present.

Beneath her and her ‘honor guard’ were the manor’s griffons-at-arms and right behind them the throng of griffons. She didn’t know much about them, but she supposed those were little more than griffons that lived in Thunderpeak. Maybe clerks and whatever professions worked the bureaucracy of the many labors that kept the city functioning. Though some probably had experience fighting in the way they knew exactly what weapons they wanted. Certainly, a lot of griffons that worked at Gilberto’s manufactory. Maybe a few employees that worked in the manor. Most of them must be Gilberto’s workers and a few independents that lived in the city.

Was she responsible for them? That was another thing that would’ve never have crossed her mind. Griffons under her responsibility… Not even when she worked at the hospital… She had a job to do, but nothing that would decide the life or death of another griffon. A father, a mother, a son or a daughter. Although, she did already feel responsible for Grunhilda.

In the short impromptu strategy meeting they held after she had donned her gifts, Gia wanted her to stay behind and not expose herself. She wondered what The Harpy thought of that, but no answer came to her at the time. She could swear she heard Ghadah, though, screaming at her from the depths of her soul, ‘Don’t you dare!’

There she was, then. At the front.

Griffons seemed to agree. Her little worker-soldiers grinned and nodded. The professional fighters approved, and so did Master Galahault, and the big northerner dude, like his caped friend.

However, she did her best not to let it evident, but she barely kept from jumping at shadows and her paws shook a little. Griffons would be fighting with guns. Not the arrows or the slings she had seen in Ghadah’s time. Guns.

Those griffons around her had armor and so did Gia’s soldiers. But she had an idea that any armor but the heaviest was effectively useless against muskets. They were somewhat mystical, but she had a good notion that magical armor was needed to ward off a musket’s ball in most cases.

Gia’s soldiers, for example, wore armor over their chests and some protection from chainmail over their stomachs. The Sky Sentries too. She didn’t know if those were ‘magical enough’ but Gilda, Grunhilda and the vast majority of the griffons that followed them were unprotected.

She didn’t think of herself as a coward, but…

Maybe she was too afraid. Or rather, insecure. She should trust what Ghadah had taught her.

The real point was that her instinct had gotten her that far. She had no idea how that worked, but she also had no idea how remembering or dreaming past lives worked either and those things just worked. They should work when it mattered.

Yet her paws didn’t stop rattling nor did the hole in her stomach fill itself. The worst was the idea that she was, at some level, responsible for whatever would happen to those griffons. Yes… They had their freedom to choose their side, but she encouraged them. She was responsible.

Thinking about that didn’t help a lot, so she shut those thoughts off. Instead, she focused on the actual plan they were supposed to follow.

They didn’t know how the local militia would respond, and only supposed that their mercenaries would either be with the mayor or at the depot with the money. They didn’t have the time to gather information without raising suspicions that probably were already high enough. Although, the dude commanding the Sky Sentries didn’t believe they would be there, and everyone agreed with him rather than Gia that wanted to send the manor’s soldiers to the depot.

Galahault said that the money would probably be in some sort of magically protected vault and that they would need the mayor to open it anyways, or risk spending days in the process.

In the end, the agreed upon plan was to take over the central square, the city hall with all the magical devices that could be used to communicate with Griffonstone and do a headcount on the local militias and mercenaries. Finally, let no one leave the town, if possible, and only then worry about the Bits and about making sure the population understood their new situation.

No one wondered if they could send a message out, somehow, about the rebellion, but Gilda had the feeling that they couldn’t… Not with the clouds up there. There was something in there that was difficult to gauge. There was a presence in them. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it gave her a creepy impression that she was being watched.

All of those thoughts kept her mind occupied and it was good until then because beyond those thoughts was an eerie atmosphere. Silent marching with the heavy combined tip-tap of griffon paws against the stony bricks of the street and the clinking of armor. The wind was violent above and the public illumination didn’t get less dim as they approached the opening to the central square.

The first thing she noticed was the burning bonfire smack dab in the middle of the plaza and that gave off bright light from a tall fire. Little smoke, though. Someone knew what they were doing.

From their approach, past the combination of homes and shops, she could see a building on the other side that matched the description she was given of the city hall.

A three-story building with a central body covered in layered white masonry and adorned with a blue shield with a cliff. It was missing the manor, but that was the hill that overlooked the city. Wings on both sides of the building, each floor with six windows on each side, all of them boarded up with narrow slits. Each of them occupied by a musket trained on the plaza, she was sure.

The flat roof had a white masonry parapet where she was sure they must have put a lot more griffons with muskets too.

The whole building was surrounded by a metal fence on a stone base and metal gates. Not to mention plenty of space to fill with griffons and more muskets. More planks closed off other accesses to the plaza, she could see.

Suddenly, the Sky Sentry commander signaled with a closed fist. They landed among the manor’s soldiers and ‘the leaders’ closed in next to Gilda.

A griffon walked into view from the corner. Old and gray on his feathers with white fur, clad in the local militia’s leather armor, complete with the city’s insignia. Yellow eyes reflecting the light from the oil street lamps, and he carried a white flag in his beak.

“Hey Gia.” He took the flag in his paw and waved it around half-heartedly, speaking in High Griffonese without a lot of effort not to mess it up. “What’s going on? That is a lot of angry griffons you have there. What are you up to, out of your nice mansion?”

Gilda remained quiet and Grunhilda closed up next to her as the other ‘leaders’ came forward after Gia. Definitively the leader, at least in the eyes of that old dude.

“We are tired, Gelen.” She spoke haughtily, stepping forward ahead of Gilda and the others. “Time to change.”

“Yeah…” He wasn’t impressed and made some gestures with the flag. “I know very well the changes you want, girl. Come on… Let’s talk. Let’s avoid unnecessary loss of life and a lengthy sentence in the Shatteredrock.”

Gia didn’t answer, so he kept speaking. “I am talking about some… Hum… I don’t know… One hundred thousand Bits?”

“I don’t know, Gelen…” She gave him a smug look with her short beak. “I mean… These griffons are rather enraged.”

“So they are, aren’t they?” He dropped the flag and turned around, walking around back to the other side of the pass into the plaza before turning back to them, making sure all could see him in the light. “Hey, Gerald. I see you left your pottery.”

Gilda didn’t look back, instead kept her eyes on the old griffon, one step ahead of the others, next to Grunhilda and the Sky Sentry commander.

That Gelen guy sat and held his paws together. “I mean… You left your wife and your kids alone to come here and take part in this idiot game that Gia calls a rebellion. We know you griffons have been meeting. We know that Master Gilberto helped you pay for that nice leg for your little kid. There is a lot that we know.”

He made a sad voice. “What is going to happen to little Gilly if you get yourself shot in this game that Gia’s thrown you into? What happens if you get sent to Shatteredrock along with Master Gilberto?”

She showed his paws in a faux gesture of understanding. “Your poor young wife, with three children… All alone. After your… Hum… Faction failed to stage a coup… Can you imagine all the pent-up anger some griffons might hold? If we lose our strong, the local militia may not be able to assist should they need.”

“We are far, far from Canterlot.” His voice turned melancholic. “Injustices often go unheard.”

“You are vile!” The words escaped Gilda’s beak, but they came from all the way deep within her chest. She didn’t even mean to speak, but… There was something profoundly messed up in the way he callously made veiled threats and she didn’t even need to know the griffon he meant for her stomach to turn.

“Now, now Miss Gilda.” He waved a finger and hearing her name hit her like a brick. “Let us not get ahead of ourselves.”

He approached her, a finger or two taller than she was. A hardened griffon with small gaps in the plumage to the left side of his head and holding a serious tightly locked beak. “Surprised I know your name? The security in Stomrend Manor isn’t as tight as it used to be. Especially when one’s thrall arrives in the city from Ponyville, refuses to elaborate, and makes her way to the manor.”

“Now, look at you.” He nodded curtly. “You made quite a name for yourself in your little escapade. But as soon as the Royal Guard figured it was you in Canterlot speaking to Master Gabriel’s daughter, all sorts of metaphorical alarms sounded. News spread like wildfire when one pisses off the Lord Protector of Canterlot. Just this morning we got the news via magical letter. Your pretty face reached every single city in the Federation, right next to the big retard on your side.”

“Aggravated assault of a minor, evasion from the community service, evasion from Griffonstone’s local militia, association with gang members in Baltimare, threats against the life of a Haybalian citizen, evasion from the Haybale local militia, association with a known airship captain of ill repute, illegal entry into the royal capital, conspiracy with an individual under investigation. And now, conspiracy and treason with the biggest criminal in the nation, Lord Gilad.” He turned to Grunhilda. “And you… Aggravated assault against an officer of the Griffonstone local militia while under the influence, evasion from detention, association with a griffon searched by the law, false identification. Not only that, but you turned Ponyville Public Hospital into a horror scene and stole expensive emergency medical supplies. To cap it all off, conspiracy and treason.”

His beak turned to an amused smile. “There is no coming back from that and you will be lucky if both of you reach Shatteredrock… Unharmed.”

She held the neck of his armor and shook it with all the wrath she conjured up in those minutes he had been speaking. “We’ll add murder of a local militia official to that list!”

But instead of getting to him, her growling words only made him laugh. “You think that you will win? Do you seriously believe that you have any chance? You are a pawn, you idiot. You are being used. Look at all this gold… Do you think that you are special? That Lady Gwendolen cares about what will happen to you?”

He spoke on, before she had time to think and slapped her paws away. “Suppose that you win. That you and your associates manage to take over the city. Do you think that you will make it to Griffindell? You will have spent your usefulness… You will die, both of you, cold and alone in that frozen hell!”

“But suppose that you and your dumb-faced friend do make it there.” He cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Suppose that it is all true and whatever they promised you is true. What then? Do you think that The Lion can protect you from Celestia? Do you think that his wife has the power to shield you from her? Her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia of Canterlot. After you two gave ponyvillians nightmare material for years?”

Well… Fuck. That was a good question. Even if he didn’t know of The Harpy… Could she protect Gilda from Celestia? Protect her and Grunhilda from the most powerful being in the world?

Not a whisper from the voice in her head.

“Celestia will hunt you down like a dog for what you two did.” He laughed. “You should be wary that at any second the Royal Guard might come out of the next corner, and that is if she doesn’t come herself.”

“You talk a lot for a corrupt meanie that helps the Chancellor hide his stolen money, did you know that?” Grunhilda whined and it took Gilda some willpower not to laugh at that.

Not only that, but that prick might even actually be right.

“My dear,” he told Grunhilda. “Even if I am arrested, and if some dutiful Royal Justiciar can prove that I have done anything illegal, I still have not outright murdered my way through a hospital. I will be removed from office and the worst I can imagine will happen to me, is that I will be honored by my fellow militias because after all that, I still fought to protect the city from the likes of you. Nobody is stupid enough to believe that The Lion would be nice to the griffons that sided against him.”

Gilda didn’t want to look back. Their supporters might start to leave at any moment. And had difficulty finding the words to describe the Lord Protector in a faithful manner as he turned around and distanced himself a few steps, only to turn back to them again.

“One hundred fifty thousand Bits, Gia. My last offer.” He frowned. “You can all go home, and we will forget that this happened. No charges of treason; no charges of conspiracy. Nothing.”

Then he glared at Gilda. “And you, and your friend… I’ll take you into custody and I’ll be sure that when the Royal Guard comes to pick you up, I’ll tell them that you are sorry. That you surrendered without a fight, and that you are sorry.”

“That will get you some points with The Mare.” He sighed, and for once convinced Gilda of his frankness. “I actually feel sorry for you, Gilda. None of this was supposed to have happened to you. It was dumb bad luck that threw you into this mess. But I promise that I am sorry. And that I will try to help you with your charges. The Chancellor is bound to listen to me, and it is going to make him look good if he grants you pardon. Then they can even protect you from Griffonstone’s mayor. Gordon isn’t particularly powerful outside his city, and The Mare is sure to see some good in you when it is all said and done.”

“Now, I’ll let you griffons think.” Then he picked a pocket watch from inside his armor. A fancy thing, made of gold and that opened with a nice click. “I’ll be back in some fifteen minutes.”

He turned one more time and walked calmly past the imaginary threshold between the street and the central square.

A serene quiet followed and with only the soft clinking of armor pieces moving as their wearers breathed and also the click-clacking of the many different weapons they carried.

Some griffons whispered amongst themselves, but Gilda didn’t pay attention.

There was one thing in her mind and that was something that griffon had said. He was sorry. She was not meant to have been thrust into all that. And that Princess Celestia would go easy on her because he would help her.

It was one of those moments when time stopped and all of one’s conscience focused on one single thing. She could see the griffon walking towards the bonfire, but everything else seemed to have ceased. Everything lost its color, even the fire in the middle of the square, but that griffon walking away.

They burned her house and stole her chance of getting back to her normal life. The only reason it happened at all was because of griffons like him. And that was why she was forced to sell those scones to survive. All of that because the Chancellor wasn’t happy with his salary as chief of state. Because some crooked judge let the mayor’s wife get away with ruining her life because she did something she ought to have done to her smarmy kid.

They cornered her in a dark alley, and she would have turned her into a statistic. One of those you read about in the newspapers, felt bad for a while and then went back with your day because you had to keep at it, or it would happen to you too.

But he was sorry. And he would talk on her behalf to Princess Celestia.

What snapped her back into reality was the green thing that was Gia walking next to her. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but she didn’t want to hear it anyways. She opened her right wing and Gia let out a yelp, stopping in her tracks when her wing slapped her face.

Afterwards Gilda didn’t even notice she walked forward, but kept going, anyways, because they had murdered Grunhilda’s parents… But that griffon was sorry.

The griffon stopped by the bonfire, and he didn’t notice she approached. Beyond it was the city hall. Many griffons with muskets watched from the top of the building and others from the stone and metal fence that surrounded it. Helmeted heads peeking from behind the hastily thrown together reinforcements.

One of the griffons in the roof shouted something, but she didn’t pay attention. The Lord Protector turned around, big eyes, surprised, unexpecting.

It was written all over his smug face: Gia would take the money, the griffons following them would disperse and their leadership wouldn’t be able to do anything by themselves. Gilda and her friend would surrender and some Royal Justiciar would come and pick them up. He would retire with all the money; his share of the Chancellor’s money and he would even receive great honors for his service. Gail would see to that, and the Chancellor’s friends would make sure that whatever investigation happened bogged down and disappeared.

Gilda and Grunhilda? He didn’t really care what happened to them after they were out of his paws.

However, once his eyes fell on hers… She didn’t know what he saw, but his face changed. He took a step back but not much else because she grasped his armor in her paws and she stood, raising him up with a strength she didn’t know she had. Surprise turned to fear and then to sheer terror when he held her forelimbs and squirmed.

“Let go!” He shrieked like a panicked animal, his claws scratching at her chest when he kicked helplessly without stop. All his strength helped him none.

She saw in him the mayor’s kid. Those thugs that cornered her in the alley. An untrustworthy griffon ready to sell her back to her tormentors. She saw the Chancellor that ordered a family destroyed. The fat mayor’s wife that destroyed her life on a petty whim. The murderous pony mercenaries that didn’t care she was half-dead already. The traitor that would deliver her sisters to the vicious devils that would rape and torment them.

But! That griffon felt sorry!

She allowed herself a grin at his panicked screaming and shoved him into the burning pile of wood.

Fire enveloped him and his armor like a shroud of the burning hatred she exuded. A short scream, more of surprise than anything was followed by blood-freezing shrieks of pain and terror. Oh, it hurt, but she didn’t care. She smelled urine, feces and burnt flesh, but it wasn’t the first time. She knew how much it hurt, but the fire had lost its power over her, and his screams drowned the crackling of fire and other shocked yelps.

He thrashed helplessly in her strong paws and he screamed incoherently. She still found his eyes, though, alive and locked to hers as if through absolute dread and shock. “I don’t care if you are sorry, and The Mare can’t save you from me.”

Once again, she felt lost between dream and reality. There was distant crying, sharp bangs and panicked shrieks, but the only thing in her mind were his coarse screams, the searing heat that burned his feathers and made his skin boil at her paws, but most of all was the delighted cackling inside her head.

When she let go, she didn’t care if he was still alive or dead, but he collapsed with the pile of wood and the bonfire undid itself in pieces of burning wood.

Something snapped at the stone floor next to her while she still watched the burning griffon in the middle of the flaming logs. His feathers were gone, and the only movement was that of the contracting muscles and expanding body compartments. The flame enthralled her, and his deformed body seemed right, somehow.

Something stung her in the chest and the quiet night had turned to a cacophony of screams, bangs, and cracks. Griffons had rushed to whatever cover they could in the open plaza, and those included benches, the small walls before some of the other buildings that surrounded the open area and even their insides. Glasses shattered and windows served as cover for griffons shooting out with muskets.

The manor’s soldiers flew and took cover in the roofs of surrounding buildings, inching their way to the city hall and the Sky Sentries shot their different firearms from the corners of the same street they were in.

“Miss Gilda!” Grunhilda cried for her next to Galahault and the older griffon lady with the cape. They hid behind one of the small stone walls of what seemed to be a private home and he held her behind cover. Griffons with cloaks rushed to them from the inside with muskets and shot at the building, hiding behind the wall to reload their weapons.

Something stung her neck, her face and her left forelimb. She passed a finger over the left side of her face, and she had a cut, or something. A little blood stayed in her fingers, and she finally understood they were shooting at her. The whole roof of the city hall was lined with griffons armed with muskets, changing their spent guns for loaded ones and one of them flashed right at the same time something stung her left foreleg.

They shot at her and she barely felt it. She didn’t know how that was possible, but she also noticed several griffons in the cobblestone of the plaza. Holes in their bodies, and pools of blood in the ground. Most of them fell from above and groaned. Some cried. Most of those fell on their wings and they bent in weird ways a griffon’s wing was not supposed to.

Lord Protector Gelen was dead, but that was not enough. It pissed her off that those griffons would really shoot and kill their brothers and sisters under The Harpy for the sake of the Chancellor and his goons

She didn’t know what exactly she expected, but that made her furious. They needed to stop, and she didn’t know what happened to a griffon after they died, but she knew that the worthy ones found their way to their Mother, and if the only way to end it was killing them until they stopped, then so be it.

The others be damned, she thought when she leaped, and her powerful wings lifted her above. Bullets whizzed by and someone screamed for the others to shoot at her. Above the plaza she looked down at the roof of the city hall and more flashes directed at her shone in the dark. A lot of smoke in the air and the smell of blood already rivaled it.

But she looked up at the stormy clouds and they rumbled at her.

She reached up with scorched skin and feathers in her right foreleg and the clouds responded with a bolt of flashing light, hotter than all the fire in the world and louder than all the cannons, but she held it in her paw as she pulled it down from the clouds and down at the city hall. Several followed and the clouds bombarded the ceiling with magic at her command.

Caches of ammunition, she supposed, sparked and exploded. Pieces of masonry flew from the roof and a wide skylight exploded with melting metal into the floor below and shards in every direction.

“Seize the building!” The Sky Sentry commander’s voice echoed, and he took flight from the street they were in. “Storm the roof!”

Midflight the pointed at the gates below, staring at the manor’s soldiers in the surrounding roofs. “Get that gate open, storm the building from the ground up!

Griffons didn’t wait a second after he ordered, taking flight even under fire from the griffons inside the building and Gilda saw Grunhilda with the big northerner in armor, leaping over the short wall that gave them cover. Other griffons still shot and the building and several of the windows were open and vulnerable. Others threw grenades which exploded in fire or white powder, but even as griffons were already out of their minds scared at the lightning show, panic set in as fire and whatever that white stuff Gilda didn’t know began falling on them in the yard between the building and the fenced wall.

Then Grunhilda and that guy slammed against the gate like they were a train and the thing burst out of its hinges. Several griffons didn’t even bother with them, running away and flying out in the middle of scared screams. Many didn’t make it, either because the soldiers from the manor got to them or because they were unfortunate enough to come too close to the big northerner warrior and his wicked axe. The ones that tried to fly away were shot and joined the mass of crying griffons in the ground.

Others still didn’t manage to escape and burned in the area inside the gated yard in front of, while others writhed in the ground or tried to flee in panic covered in flames, only to crash to the ground but a few yards away.

Their griffons that followed Grunhilda and the others began the process of crashing open the main door, no doubt fortified from the inside, as the manor’s soldiers arrived. Some entered the building flying through the open windows, while others tried helping the fallen griffons in the square.

But Gilda concluded she had been watching for too long and saw that the griffons in black armor attacked the ceiling. She didn’t waste time watching what they did, and instead pirouetted in the air to dive, aiming at the open skylight.

Seconds after she reached the luxurious hall. Works of art in the walls and beautiful gray marble on the walls, but the wide red carpet burned from the globs of molten metal and griffons in black armor already fought with griffons wearing steel cuirasses too, but clear and most of them wielded halberds or swords.

Most of the fighting was comprised of armored griffon grappling against another armored griffon and swords held by the blade and shoved between joints or swords held by the blade with hilts used for violent strikes at the head. Others used hammers straight into armored body parts and the prevalent sound was screaming, crying and the clanging of metal.

She stood on her hindlegs and a griffon, one of the chancellor’s mercenaries, charged at her thrusting the piked head of his halberd. So fast she almost didn’t see it. But she reacted without thinking and spun out of its path to thrust Mythical straight at his chest.

He took an instant to realize what had happened and his eyes filled with confusion at the sword that melted past his armor and into his chest. She aimed at his right side and hopefully he wouldn’t die.

Why that was a concern she wasn’t sure, but her magical sword came clean off as she put it up and parried a downward swing from another halberd. Its head spun off out of control when the magical sword cut it clean off. Then she held Mythical one pawed and batted the butt of a second mercenary’s weapon. Finally, her free left paw held at the guy’s gorjet. He stopped dead with shocked green eyes at her.

“Stop!” She barked and shoved him back, still standing firmly on her hindlegs while he fell on his back with the dull clank of his cuirass on the fancy stone floor.

He stared at her, petrified while other two gasped at the scratch marks her talons left in the steel armor. Ghadah’s memories ‘screamed’ at her, inside her head to split his head open with Mythical before he could stand or his pals recovered from their shock.

“Shut up! I’m in charge here!” She screamed at herself and confused griffons around her.

Still, the ones that still stood let go of their weapons and laid on the floor with some yelps of ‘I yield!’ Maybe it was the blood from the gunshots or the scorched feathers and burn marks in her skin and just having seen a magical weapon piercing steel like it was made of paper… But it was good they surrendered.

The Sky Sentries took their weapons away and rallied them to sit in a corner as more of them arrived and promptly rushed out into the corridor with more sounds of fighting while their commander approached her and she settled on four legs with Mythical on her back.

“So, we’re supposed to ask them to stop fighting?” He stared at her.

“They’re griffons. Whether they like it or not, they are all Children of The Harpy.” She looked at him. “Kill them and they won’t be here to help us when we will have to fight the griffonian army, much less the ponies.”

“Fair…” He admitted with a nod.

Meanwhile his soldiers opened the locked door in the hall and others guarded the entrance to the corridor from where more sounds of fighting came and didn’t seem to lessen.

“Office is empty, lieutenant.” The armored griffon by the door declared.

Gilda turned to one of the surrendered griffons and he spoke immediately. “Mayor’s in the basement! There’s a reinforced door there and a bunch of supplies.”

“The fuck?” One of the Sky Sentries growled and opened his forelegs while sitting, showing all his indignation as he spoke in Common Equestrian. “Are you southerners that retarded? You are out here, dying for a coward that hides?”

“The mayor is not a fighter, dude.” The griffon spat back. “He’s a bureaucrat. His job is to govern not to fight.”

The northerner soldier didn’t relent. “In the north, leaders are warriors. No northerner worth his talons would let a coward rule them.”

“Well, that is because you guys are savages!” Another captured griffon felt emboldened to speak out. “We have a civilized system of professional soldiers and political leaders. Each is best in their own profession.”

“This is stupid.” The soldier that opened the doors complained. “Any idiot can rule over a bunch of idiots, but to rule a warrior you need another warrior!”

Before Gilda could walk away, wondering why she was there listening to those soldiers bickering like a bunch of teenagers when there was still a lot of fight to get done with, the Sky Sentry Commander spoke with that tone that made the subordinates shut up in the theater pieces.

“I once asked my mother who was the best Jarl or King in the world.” He had that same serious deadpan stare too. “My mother told me it was Princess Celestia. Because she’s been ruling the world for thousands of years and not once her armies fought a war without her ahead.”

Well, that stupid conversation did give Gilda something to think about. It spoke about griffons and how stupid they were that they allowed themselves to be ruled by lame politicians instead of badass warriors that put their lives on the line for their subjects and bore the responsibility of their administration. Even the northerners respected Celestia while Chancellor Gail and his cronies fucked everything up.

The thing was… Gilda didn’t think that Celestia was going to fix the issues. She didn’t understand griffons. They needed The Harpy, just as she did.

She didn’t know if the pony princesses were the enemy, though. The whole problem were griffons and their dumb asses fouling up the whole thing for themselves.

The issue, My Child, is that there is only room for one God in this world.

And Gilda had chosen her side… She frowned for a second, at nothing in particular, but then walked towards the door. “I guess not all of them will surrender… But get your griffons to capture whoever they can.”

“Yes, Lady Gilda.” He nodded and she poorly suppressed a smile. Damn… ‘Lady Gilda’ really did sound awesome. Nonetheless, he turned to his soldiers. “Secure this entrance. Try to capture anyone that tries to leave but if you can’t, end them. No one must escape if we can help it.”

They grunted their agreement and he followed Gilda. The sounds of fighting ended in that floor, but muskets still rang, and metal still clanked in the floors below. The griffon followed her, and she knew because his armor made his presence entirely clear.

It was a narrow corridor with fancy wood covering over the walls, golden candelabra and fancy rugs ruined by dirty paws to go along with pretty but broken furniture. Oh well. Protecting the furniture wasn’t exactly a priority.

She found the stairwell in the middle of the corridor, and it sat at the back of the main section of the building. Varnished wood, red carpet held to the steps by bronze rods. That floor seemed to be under control already, with the sounds of fighting coming from the one below. Just a bunch of offices and a kitchen.

“Dude, take care of your guys and the ones from the manor. I’m gonna watch out for the others.” She told him, not looking back.

“Understood, Lady Gilda.” He replied with military brevity, and she grinned to herself a little at how she probably would never tire of hearing ‘Lady Gilda’.

But that wasn’t the time. The wrong griffons were dying and so she jumped down the flight of stairs and flapped her wings to stop her momentum, spring-jumped on the intermediate landing to turn around and then hopped down the other flight to another corridor much like the previous one. The heavily armored griffon followed her, albeit slower.

Right upon touching the landing she found two scared griffons holding muskets. Not the traditional northerner musket that had a cylinder, like a revolver. They shot at her, and she threw herself down to the floor. One missed, the bullet whizzing past her head and the second hit her on her right flank.

“Ow! Motherfucker!” She yelped. It stung more than a needle or something… She didn’t really have a lot of references to compare. One of them froze and the other reacted, lunging at her with a flap of his wings. He screamed, holding his musket, and pointing the long clear bayonet at her.

In the time it took him to do that she stood on her hindlegs and drew Mythical from her back. She sidestepped his lounge and turned, bringing her magical sword on his back. He wore nothing but a cotton coat and the sword split open his back. He screamed and fell to the floor like a groaning rag doll.

The Sky Sentry commander arrived right at that time and the other griffon, sat against the corner in the wall wailed. “Please! I don’t want to die!”

From that far she could already see the tears. She didn’t mean to kill him anyway, since he just gave up, but it took some self-control to approach a griffon that had just shot at her. She touched him, despite him reeling and shrieking.

A young little dude, not a year older than Grunhilda, cyan and gray on his head and chest. Horrified green eyes. His body shook like a juvenile sprout in a storm.

“It’s cool…” She told him. “You’re not gonna die. Alright?” Bizarre… She went from killing a guy to comforting another that he wasn’t going to die.

“I don’t even like the Chancellor! Or the mayor!” He cried desperately. “They said they were going to burn our houses!”

“Chill… It’s alright.” She spoke again in her most soothing voice while the commander went into a room to her right. “Just leave that gun and stay here.”

In another bizarre moment she hoped to whatever she hadn’t just killed his father in front of him, but there was fighting in the room to the left. A small office with an upturned desk and a broken chair. The windows were open with the broken wood they had used to close it. A nice beige carpet was stained in blood and covered in unmoving griffon bodies of many colors.

One of the mercenaries sat in a corner, breathing wildly, on a pool of his own blood, back against the wall and his paws drenched in red, holding a wound on his neck. Two griffons grappled on the floor over a bayoneted northerner musket. A strong, yellow, field working looking male and a smaller-framed mercenary holding the other against the wall between an open and a boarded-up window. The white masonry wall was smeared with red.

The mercenary gained the upper hand, and it happened too fast. Gilda didn’t have time to think. She reacted and drove her sword from one side of his chest to the other as the magic in her sword melted through steel. Her victim didn’t even seem to have understood what happened and fell limp to the floor while she pulled out the sword.

The other griffon sat and drew a long breath. “Thank you!”

Soon after he began the process of reloading his weapon, biting off the paper cartridge and pouring the powder into one of the chambers and pushing the paper and the bullet with it into the opening. Other griffons came inside. Griffons on her side.

She pointed at the door. “There’s fighting all over! We gotta clean this place as soon as we can and avoid losing too many!”

The first one, a young female, gray and white nodded at her and ran out of the room followed by others.

The sounds of fighting reminded her that she was wasting her time and that the wrong griffons were still dying. She gasped and rushed out of the room. There was fighting in the next two rooms, similar offices, but the sky sentries seemed to have everything under control.

She galloped past to the next room and there were three of the Chancellor’s mercenaries fighting in a cramped close-quarters fight against three of the black armored soldiers that came from Griffindell.

In the short time she watched, one of the Griffindellians shot one of the mercenaries through his armor. Then he pulled the… Knob? The thing in his gun and shot another. They seemed to have things under control too, so she jump-ran to the next room on the floor.

A local militia for Thunderpeak stood on his hindlegs and just finished reloading his musket, barely done punching the bullet down with the gun’s rod thingy. In a panic he pointed the gun at her while she stood too and drew Mythical. He shot at her and, in an unthinking reaction, she caught the iron ball in the blade. It exploded harmlessly in shrapnel away from her.

Just the fact that she could see that so clearly surprised her and she didn’t react as fast as she should have. Just how inexperienced she really was almost scared her.

The other reacted even slower and when he cried and brought his bayonet to bear, Mythical cut his weapon in two. The bayoneted point fell to the ground, and she brought the weapon back to kill him.

But she stopped. Tan, large-framed body and a tan head, he covered his face at the imminence of her cutting him open with a sword. He fell back, as griffons usually did when standing on their hindlegs and sat against the wall before he noticed she hadn’t slashed at him and peered in between his forelegs.

Then his eyes bulged, and he gasped. “The nurse from Griffonstone! What? What the fuck?!”

It seemed hypocritical… But it was her call to make anyways. “I’m not killing you, dude…”

His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I… I… What is going on?”

“I don’t want to kill you.” She said, softer than she had meant. The truth was that she didn’t know what was going on! She just didn’t want to kill him. “Just… Chill… Alright?”

He nodded quietly and the noises of the fight returned to her. She stared at him, awkwardly for a second or two, and for yet another bizarre second, she feared The Harpy might be angry at her. But that second passed, and Her voice didn’t sound in her head. Only musket fire and the clinking and clanking of the fight that came from outside through the window.

There was an ugly brawl outside. She felt as though she should help, but she was already fighting inside, and she was wasting time again.

With Mythical back in her resting place, she rushed back to the corridor in time to see four of the black armored sky sentries rushing past the door and down the stairs. She followed then, and in all honesty, she felt tired. Emotionally and physically.

But she couldn’t just stop.

Down the stairs the soldiers took a right in the great hall that was the entrance and there were so many dead and dying griffons in there, piled on top of each other with groans and literal weeping, the sight almost gave her pause. But she forced herself onward. There was heavy fighting in an auditorium to the right, but she took to the left since those soldiers took the right.

Back in a corridor, there were bodies and blood splatters on the nice wood finished walls. Broken furniture and one of the golden candelabra were on the ground and had been trampled. Someone screamed and she arrived at the first door to see an utterly destroyed meeting room. Right in time to see a pair of the mercenaries, one of them cleaving into the neck and shoulder of a sky sentry with the axe of his halberd and spilling forth a fountain of blood. A pair of northerners laid on the floor, already lifeless.

She immediately stood and drew Mythical with a scream. One of them had his weapon stuck to the body of the black-clad griffon, but the other charged at her with the spiked point aimed at her. She batted it away with her sword and he tried to throw his body at her, but she expected that. Gilda used his momentum to throw him at the white masonry wall next to the door and the impact downed a few paintings that hung from the wall. He had his back to her and she thrust her weapon, point first, past his armor and pulled her free, turning to meet the other she was sure was ready to attack her by then.

She was too slow.

He laughed and batted her head with the weapon’s butt. The world spun and her vision darkened for an instant until she found herself on her side, down on the floor. Still holding Mythical flat on her body, though.

The griffon, bulky and heavy. A little fat, yellow on his head, looked fatter than he was because of the armor, and he laughed at her.

“You look tired. That is a big sword for a cute girlie!” he mocked her, bringing his weapon up for an utterly announced downward swing.

In the instant that passed, she supposed that while she had Ghadah’s memories, she didn’t have her years of intense physical training and acquired prowess. She ought to work on that…

She was indeed tired, but not so much that she couldn’t roll away when his clumsy attack came and jumped up to stand with Mythical at the ready. When he tried another clumsy upward swing, her sword came down and cut his halberd clean in half.

He staggered backwards with a scream, losing his balance at the sudden change in his weapon’s weight, but she caught him with her left paw. She didn’t like his jesting at all. It reminded her of some nasty griffons from the past. Her talons pierced his skin above the gorjet of his armor, but he surprised her with the shaft of his weapon to hit her on her side. She screamed and let go, angry at herself for not anticipating that.

He took a desperate step to swing what remained of his weapon down at her. She was ready and cut his forward hindleg clean. In shock and with his balance completely lost, he fell to the ground letting blood everywhere and she ended his pain driving her sword through his armor and his chest.

She really was tired. Against better judgement, she let her sword stuck upward on his chest and collapsed on her back. Less than a second later some griffon with the leather armor of the militia showed up in the door. Sitting on his haunches and drawing his musket at her, yelling at her.

“Get your paws up or I’ll shoot!” He screamed more like he was scared rather than capturing a prisoner.

“Fuck’s sake, dude…” She groaned in a combination of annoyance and tiredness. “You guys lost. Drop that thing and you won’t get shot. I’m done killing griffons today. I fucking hate it.”

Instead, he shot at her, and Gilda folded up at the sharp stinging in her stomach with a yelp. A stray thought reminded her that gunshots were fatal, despite whatever the heck kept her from getting too injured. Still, those damn things still hurt way too much for comfort.

Then he charged at her with a wing-powered pounce and his bayonet forward.

Once again, she reacted. Out of sheer anger.

She jumped to the side and he stuck his bayonet to the wooden floor beneath the carpet and tried to pull it out mid panic. She slapped his face and he let go with a yelp. Three lines of red across his white face, but beyond that she pushed him to the ground, face first and held him to the carpet, holding him behind his head, closing her talons on his skin.

Before she knew, her talons let a magical discharge as though she had just shot out a magical bolt of lightning on him. With that, he just stayed there, limp on the floor and she blinked at her own talons.

“Huh… Alright…” She sat, half confused, half amused and amazed.

She grabbed her weapon and hurried to the other side of the building. To the room across the corridor that had windows to the backyard. The fight still went on and five of ‘her’ griffons shot out the three windows using the walls for cover.

One of them noticed her coming inside and gasped. She hurried to the windows and could see it still was a mess of a fight outside with pockets of fighting, but she could clearly see that while the actual professional fighters on their side dealt with it reasonably well, ‘her guys’ lost way too much to the local militia griffons.

She just couldn’t sit her ass in there and let those griffons kill each other.

She hopped out the nearest window and made her way to the nearest group of fighting griffons. Bayonet to bayonet, grappling for the muskets and using them as blunt weapons or simply a fighting staff to shove at each other’s face, it was a mess everywhere, but she arrived just in time to cut a musket in half before a local militia skewered some kid. She then slashed through the armor, into his shoulder, and he dropped with a pained scream.

There wasn’t much time to think, and she almost tripped over a dead griffoness on the ground with a nasty hole on her chest.

With her hindlegs firmly on the trampled grass, and in the middle of countless asymmetrical fights in the middle of that mess, she caught a spear thrusted at her by some random griffon with no armor. The spear stood no chance against Mythical and neither did his chest, as she slashed at him with the point.

Immediately after, she brought down her weapon on a griffon that had his back to her but clubbed at one of hers with his musket. The magical sword cut one of his wings off and slashed through his muscles and bone before he collapsed without even knowing what happened.

Not time to think, she cut open another griffon that attacked one of hers with the spike in his war hammer. It pierced through the plated armor in his shoulder. While the attacker fell to the muddy grass, she decided that the griffon in armor wasn’t too hurt and minded a griffon that charged at her with a spear.

Before she even defended herself, a griffon by her side shot him with his revolver musket and on the other side, the same guy with the plated armor cracked a skull that belonged to a griffon in the militia’s armor.

She didn’t think much of it. Instead jumped with a mighty flap and fell on one of the chancellor’s mercenaries that raised his heavy polearm to defend himself. It proved no match for Mythical and it was cut clean in half and so was his steel cuirass, the muscle and bones in his chest.

She held the weapon and raised it again with a scream, ready to charge at the next unfortunate soul in front of her and it was a griffon in the militia’s armor. He jumped back and fell on his haunches and much to her surprise, griffons on her sides charged with a mighty battlecry.

Behind some hundred griffons were the solid walls of the houses behind the city hall and the only way out was up and those that tried were shot.

It took seconds before a griffon, dark gray under his leather armor and white on his head, with scared blue eyes threw his musket to the mess of blood, trampled grass and mud. “Enough! We yield!”

Cries of surrender ended the fighting to her sides and only then she realized that griffons had rallied behind her and to her sides. Not only that, but they stopped when she did. Griffons still busy fighting looked her way when the cries of surrender started.

It caught her by surprise. But the guy that threw his weapon laid on the floor on top of his legs. “With Lord Protector Gelen dead, I suppose I’m in charge. Second Lieutenant Godwin. We were just doing our job, alright? This is pointless.”

Others followed his gesture and Gilda had sat on her haunches with her sword in front of her, point down. What in the freaking hell was she supposed to do?! Wasn’t that big northerner dude commanding them, or something? Or Master Galahault?

Of course, both of them just showed up from the ranks of those griffons she didn’t even realize rallied to her in the middle of the fight. They didn’t answer, just stared at her, waiting for her to say something.

“Uh... Just… Sure. Drop your weapons.” She told Godwin and turned to the big northerner. “Get our guys to remember these dudes are also Children of The Harpy.”

He frowned a little, not out of contempt. He clearly agreed.

“Where the heck is Grunhilda?” She asked him after that. “Last I saw, she was with you.”

Galahault, on the other side, answered. “I left her in the auditorium. She’s taking care of some prisoners with our fighters from Griffindell. She’s fine.”

Gilda nodded, but wanted to see her, just to be sure. The northerner guy seemed to read her mind and started picking griffons from their side to mind the prisoners.

That seemed taken care of, so she started on her way back to the building itself and Galahault followed. As they walked in the middle of all those griffons, tired and dirty, some injured; victorious cheers and whoops arose into continuous cheering.

She meant to talk to Galahault, but just as soon the first wave of cheers erupted, the main door into the building exploded out of its hinges for Grunhilda to hop outside and quickly scan the area before she found her.

“Miss Gilda!” Tired and hurting all over, Gilda smiled and raised a paw to greet her friend who tackled to the ground with a… Gilda would have called it a bear hug, but she could swear that Grunhilda was stronger still.

“Goodness, you’re gonna kill her, kitty!” Galahault laughed as he freed Gilda and the other looked her over several times.

Despite her sudden happiness, as she stood again, Gilda noticed the bloody patches in her friend’s fluffy chest. “Grunhilda, you’re hurt!”

“Actually, that is your blood…” Galahault pointed to her own chest covered in caked blood and the streaks of it in her forelimbs, not to mention the scorch marks. Not that he was much better, with several links of his mail armor missing, and some gashes on himself. Damn bayonets, she supposed.

They entered the building, to the corridor on the ground floor to see griffon prisoners escorted out and the injured carried by their friends. “Let’s get you to the doctor. The fighting is done. Time to mind the dead and care for the wounded. You included.”

“You didn’t die, Master Galahault.” Grunhilda mentioned as they walked and the blue-yellow griffon hummed to himself.

They walked out of the building to the front yard, and someone had put some planks so that they could walk above the copious amounts of water they threw at the white powder outside. Gilda hoped they already cleared the bodies or at least carried those that were still alive to help them.

“Huh… I was happy to die getting this battle won. I suppose that I should be happy that I managed to see the city serving its rightful liege.” Galahault didn’t complain, but he did frown. “Gonna have to marry Gia’s mother now…”

The sound of unfurling flags and more cheering distracted them. Atop the building the older griffon lady with the cape and a pair of Griffindell’s sky sentries rolled down a long banner from the center of the building. A blue field and a white rampant griffon with stretched wings and a crown, holding an axe.

Hook, Line, and Sinker

Gilda didn’t remember exactly when she fell asleep but that must have been when she laid on the bed for the doctor to examine her. He said they would give her something to put her out for a while so that they could work. Apparently, she was plenty hurt, despite only feeling tired.

Grunhilda stayed with her, and a pair of their ‘revolutionary’ companions too. Apparently, they didn’t trust the doctor with her. She just wished they stopped staring at her like she was a damn treasure or something.

But the point was that she was asleep and that allowed her to peek into Ghadah’s world once more, as she immediately recognized the familiar oneiric atmosphere of her past self’s memories.

She recapped what had happened the last time she peered into Ghada’s life. Their conversation with King Grover went poorly. Things seemed to have gone downhill from there, to say the least, and Ghadah’s agitation evidenced that they hadn’t improved in the trip back home.

She sat with one of her sisters by the open archway to the meeting room in His Grace’s palace. Each had their swords on their backs, and they stood silently, watching, guarding the entrance to His Grace’s quarters, pretending they weren’t there.

Her sister had her eyes forcefully closed into a fearful grimace and she quivered so much Ghadah and Gilda feared she was about to break down into a crying fit.

Not that she did much better either. Ghadah herself barely held together and Gilda didn’t think that the fearsome warrioress that danced with swords that melt through steel would ever be afraid of something. Even in death she roared fear into the hearts of her torturers.

But she did fear. She dreaded the scene they witnessed, and even if she did her best not to, her eyes kept shifting to the side against her will.

It was a luxurious room in the palace, made of the same stone and iron she had seen before, richly illuminated with oil lamps at the walls and it had a long hexagonal table made of iron legs and black marble for top, but that was barely relevant with all the golden cloths, goblets and plates filled with expensive foods and drinks.

A wide-open window in the stone structure let in the fading daylight and the dry desert air.

But her eyes weren’t on those. They were on the large griffon that sat on the stone floor and endured the fearsome, furious onslaught of raging words the great white and black griffoness had unleashed on him.

She stopped after a while, breathing noisily and ruggedly. Her chest expanded and contracted frantically. She held Her face in Her black paws and even She, the great white and black, most powerful and exalted creature, struggled to control Her nerves.

The big, but not quite as Aya Harpyia, griffon in front of her simply sat on his haunches and stared down, his wings sagged from his sides and showed from under his purple cape.

She had never seen Emperor Grigor I or any of his children in such a dejected pose, such a defeated expression.

The black iron crown was on his head but all the power he typically exuded were reduced to a few trinkets wore by a griffon that had lost all his majesty. A sword laid in the floor in front of him. The emperor’s unbreakable Harpy’s Might. Made of the truest clear steel with a black hilt shaped into the form of open griffon wings and a griffon’s mouth that spit out the blade.

The noble and fair Empress Geneviere sat at one end of the table and held the edge as though she feared she might fall through the floor if she didn’t. Her pink eyes fixated on her golden plate which held a generous portion of roasted meat, potatoes, and tomatoes. The spiced aroma dissonated gravely from the situation.

Grigor finally reached for the sword and held it in his paws, frowning as he spoke slowly. “I will do anything you ask of me. But I cannot kill him.”

The taller griffoness stared into him with the intensity of a raging storm.

“He is like a brother to me, and I cannot bring myself to kill him.” His voice was full of guilt and shame. “I am sorry.”

“I gave you everything!” She screeched, her paws closed tight in fists. “Everything!”

But she didn’t relent after speaking and her voice slowly broke down into tearful sobbing. “I gave you your race! I gave you the world! I chose you to destroy our ancient enemy. I gave you my Children! I gave you myself!”

“My empire would be nothing without my vassals, and you have taught us that yourself.” He spoke sadly. “I will try to bring him back in to our fold and then we will destroy the Dawnbringer. If not, I will destroy her myself and prove to him that his faith in her is folly. Then, perhaps, you will forgive me.”

“You cannot!” She yelled furiously. “You need the support of your race. There is no magic in the world that can destroy that abomination otherwise. You must punish Grover and win back the hearts of his supporters! I demand it!”

He lowered his head again and stared at the floor, holding the sword to himself.

Her reaction stole the air from Ghadah’s lungs and her sister by the door squeaked out a gasp.

It was one of those moments when time stopped, and Creation witnessed.

The Harpy slapped the Emperor and left three angry red marks on his face. The smack echoed in the room and resounded in Ghadah’s soul so loud Gilda felt it herself. His crown bounced on the black marble and its clink echoed too, like a bell that announced doom.

The great white and black griffoness let out a furious and at the same time sorrowful cry as she grabbed the sword from him with a vicious scowl in her face.

Then she closed her striped black and white wings around herself, and she was gone with the flash of lightning.

At the same time, it all happened so fast Ghadah was left stunned. She was there the moment before, and then, in the next, she wasn’t anymore.

Days passed by in a rush of panic and Gilda watched through Ghadah’s eyes as many of her sisters left the temple city and numberless griffons abandoned everything. Emperor Grigor became obsessed with earning back The Harpy’s favor. Numberless slaves were sacrificed, and even loyal soldiers. Countless tall pony cities were brutally raided, but no amount of offered gold and gems surrounding burnt bones and hearts brought Her back.

Many remained loyal, however and Loremasters, as much as Swordmaidens, never left his side, even if their magic faded slowly. The former rallied griffons back to him and the latter hunted down dissidents.

Gilda supposed that also added to the anger griffons had of the Swordmaidens in the end.

Until one day The Emperor met with Grigor in the desert.

Ghadah laid in the shade with her sisters and the Emperor sat at his throne with his children and his fair mate when Grover met him under the sun, clad in bronze armor. Facing the might of Grigor’s empire and his desperate bid to regain The Harpy’s favor, The Traitor King tried to dissuade the Emperor with his few meager soldiers that the Empire was doomed to fail in a changing world.

He begged, but he was alone, and his voice didn’t reach to Grigor.

Despite that crushing blow that almost toppled the Empire by itself, the world all but belonged to the Emperor, and Grover’s rallying went unheard.

The diamond dogs were subjugated, and they worked the iron mines of the Empire until the day they died. The free ones that remained didn’t have the strength to raise arms.

The hippogriffs were broken, and they dreaded his name. The heir princess and prince were his property, and their parents could not save them.

The yaks hid in their mountains and could not escape King Sombra, even if they had the heart to help the griffon king.

The Saddle Arabians and the Kirins paid tribute and they feared too much for their existence: they could be eradicated on a whim if they failed to provide satisfactory homage.

The brave zebra warriors from the savannah gave their youth in hopes that they would be spared and every mother grew numb to the fear that their children might be chosen.

Centaurs and minotaurs hid in their corner of the world and thanked the heavens they had nothing the Emperor wanted.

The dragons paid for their lives with their rich gems while the buffaloes prayed to whatever god they believed the griffons wouldn’t take a liking for their flesh.

Changelings hid in their city and minded their own business, watching from a distance.

Grover stood alone in front of the Emperor in the middle of his desert.

But there was one who came.

Ghadah didn’t fight in the desert. As the faithful guardian she was, she and her sisters escorted the Emperor and his family back to Aen Hader and they waited. The surrounding cities were sieged, and they wouldn’t assist in the defense of the holy temple city when the time came. But her sisters would guard the imperial family and His Grace’s soldiers under her father’s command would guard the city’s walls.

Despite it all, the Emperor was still a brilliant strategist and his strategy was sound. Their enemy was pressed into dividing their forces and siege the surrounding cities or they would be flanked when the faithful came to the rescue of the Holy City.

The stage was set then. Aen Hader, the Harpy’s Holy City would repel an assault from a single enemy force and once they had prevailed, the Emperor himself would lead the relief to the other cities, one after the other and they would end that insubordination.

Grover would understand there was nothing for griffons other than the Allmother. And the Emperor would offer Her the Dawnbringer’s heart.

And then all would be right with the world again.

The night grew old and Ghadah stood next to her father in the battlements. Two of her sisters were with her and the walls lined with her father’s brave griffons. The wind smelled of the desert’s sand and the proximity with the others chased away the nightly chill.

The sun peeked from the top of the dunes and her piercing griffon eyes made out the shapes of pegasi and their flapping wings in the sky. She squinted. One of them carried a tall fluttering banner. Purple field and a winged numeral. The Equestrian number one.

“Scouts… First Auxilia Alae in shades of purple…” He father squinted too, with a frown and spoke grimly. “The First Battlehorn Legion.”

“It’s the Arcani…” One of the soldiers next to them gasped and murmurs spread like a miasma of fear. “The siegecasters!”

“Good…” A deep voice drew Ghadah’s attention and every head snapped to the stairs that led up to the battlements. The Emperor, clad in his black armor and cape walked among them, his iron crown in his head and a northerner axe on his back. “The good thing about those cursed pokeheads is that we always know what family they come from.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that old crone, Matriarch Grimoire after one thousand years just resorted to kidnapping her descendants into her bedchambers.”

The soldiers laughed and his presence made them calmer. Her own father breathed easier. But Ghadah… She couldn’t help the thought that it was all for nothing because he had driven The Harpy away. She hated herself for her thoughts, but she couldn’t hide them from Gilda.

Yet Gilda disagreed with her, but before she could organize her own thoughts the sun grew brighter as it peeked out from the dunes.

It wasn’t the sun.

It was a mighty beast. Alabaster and covered in light as though she had decided to wear the sun itself for armor. She walked on the sand with her wings spread and covered in sunlight, carrying the day under her wings. Behind her a wide line of monstrously large unicorns covered in green and golden armor followed. Long banners fluttered above them. Purple fields behind numbers and the six-pointed star of the house which produced the recruits for the First Battlehorn Legion.

The ground shook under their armored hooves and the sun shied in her radiance, rising above as it was itself her battle flag.

“They will try to breach the walls!” The Emperor cried. “And they will attempt to assault the city… They will regret it.”

“We will resist!” The spoke again, angry. Raging. “And our brothers Children of The Harpy will come to assist us once they have breached the siege in their cities.”

“We will defeat the Arcani.” He roared and they banged shields and spears. “And I will cut up their matriarch for dinner!”

Ghadah was numb though. She frowned at his every word, as the sun shone brighter and the Dawnbringer’s horn shone brighter still.

Pure light exploded in a dull blast and Ghadah woke again several cubits from what little remained from the wall, rubble everywhere. Massive battlehorns in green and golden swarmed the main street and their curved swords cut stunned griffons that fell from the wall with complete disregard for their armor before they rejoined in formation. When the griffons also reformed, she saw shield against shield when the Emperor’s Golden Guard finally gave them pause and stabs were exchanged.

Pegasi flew overhead and griffons dueled with them above the ground in the clear blue sky.

Ghadah stood to see the Matriarch of the Great Herd bring the sun with her into the walls.

“Stop them!” She heard the Emperor cry and soldiers responded above the clashing of shields. “Kill them all! We will prevail!”

Her sisters followed him and threw themselves against the battlehorns that surrounded the white winged unicorn. Older creatures that wore purple capes above their armor. The Emperor pounced over the fray with a flap of his wings, at the Dawnbringer that stood and watched him.

Ghadah’s throat closed, and her eyes stung. Dying was all they would be doing there, and it was his fault!

Gilda suddenly found herself under the darkening evening sky. A red tint took over it and she was alone. Ghadah wasn’t in her mind anymore. Nothing remained of the wall and there was no fighting, only the broken ruins of mudbrick griffon houses and the iron remains of obelisks and towers.

The palace was gone with its black iron and so was the great pyramid. The wide plaza where the sacrifices were offered was defiled with the lesser pyramids gone. Only their foundations remained. The slave quarters was reduced to one or two walls that still stood.

Maybe it was the way Ghadah lost her heart at those events, but it hurt Gilda. The Allmother had told her that griffon souls were what mattered, not the Chancellor’s money. But they had to kill so many griffons just to turn that city over to their side. And it was such an ephemeral thing… Maybe her problem was that she didn’t understand military strategy or something, but at least they didn’t destroy the city. There were still griffons living in Thunderpeak, unlike Aen Hader.

She took some of the sand in her paw. Cold and lifeless when it should be warm from staying the whole day under the sun. Stupid dreams and their metaphors.

Movement drew her attention. The great white and black griffoness sat in the sand that covered the remains of the great central pyramid and she stared down at a broken crystal cup.

Gilda approached slowly, one paw after the other. Respectfully.

“Is this a vision? Am I dreaming?” Her words sounded so stupid as soon as they left her beak.

“No…” The Harpy sounded so sad. So… Mortal. “I am.”

She let the broken glass fall to the sand and it just sat there, lifeless.

“I brought you here to see you.” She explained, her eyes down towards the sand. “Dreams are the only way… But I have my nightmares too. It brought Ghadah’s memories to you. Or vice-versa. It matters not. What you saw was the beginning of the end.”

“You gave up on them…” Gilda didn’t mention it as an accusation. It was confusion that drove her soft words. Curiosity.

But The Harpy didn’t like hearing that at all. She lowered her head and she scowled, but she didn’t raise her voice, or otherwise threaten Gilda. Instead, she spoke patiently. “You are not prepared to understand.”

“No.” Gilda insisted, perhaps against her better judgement, but The Harpy also said that she is important, and that her defiance was refreshing. They were supposed to have some sort of relationship. “No! I killed griffons! I participated in conspiracy! I made my situation even worse than it already was and it wasn’t because I had no choice! I don’t know if I’ll ever forget killing that dude in the corridor, in front of that kid! I’ll never forget that kid! I chose to be on your side! You gotta be straight with me!”

For a second, she feared she had spoken too much. That she might have pushed the other too far. She was a dumb mortal with memories from her past life and she talked to… A Goddess? What that what She was? Was that what Celestia was? Luna too? What did that even mean? Before that whole mess she had gotten herself into that sort of thought wouldn’t even cross her mind!

But The Harpy didn’t seem any angrier than she was before. Instead, she kept her stare down at the sand. “I need My Children. Your faith in me makes me more powerful. The more intimate our connection, the more powerful I should become, and in the same measure, the closer you relate to your ancient ancestors, and the closer you become to me, the more you are capable of channeling my magic.”

“That was why the Empire had so many mating laws, rituals and ceremonies.” She sighed. “They were meant to disconnect from the mundane, tap into the extraordinary, come closer to me. It was an expression of power, having my attention. A manifestation of status.”

“Why didn’t you rule the Empire then?” Gilda cocked an eyebrow. “Like the pony princesses?”

“After I had manifested upon the world of the living, I was disgusted with what My Children had become. He was the first that reminded me of what you were supposed to be. I loved Grigor. I wanted to give him everything, but I could not give him an heir. I mated him to one of my best Swordmaidens. You were always the most beautiful and alluring, and Geneviere was a gift for him. Skilled, intelligent, wise, and beautiful. And capable of bearing his offspring.”

Okay. Supposedly that was important for an emperor.

“My soul was not meant to inhabit the realm of the mortals.” The Harpy explained, sitting and putting her paws over her stomach. “It lacks the magical mechanisms to sustain the soul of an infant and my body reflects that. My womb is as barren as the Hader.”

Well, sure. That all made sense… But still… “Ghadah blamed Emperor Grigor, but you were the one that abandoned them!”

But Gilda regretted her words. The Harpy didn’t have enough griffons on her side anymore, and even Grigor’s unshaking faith in her probably wouldn’t have made him powerful enough to do whatever and actually kill the princess. Apparently, just killing certain beings dead wasn’t enough. Which made sense, with that talk of the world restarting, souls being reborn that Geneviere shared with Ghadah.

“Where does that leave us?” She finally talked again after some moments of introspection The Harpy had allowed her, merely watching, and letting her think

“Exactly where we were before.” She spoke plainly. “You must reach Griffindell so that you may tap into your full potential. Learn what you can along the way and rest assured that if anything, I will have you under my wings and not Celestia nor Luna will reach you.”

Gilda did the best not to show anything, but so said the being that had left her precious empire to crumble and be destroyed because her plan flopped. What would keep her from doing the same again?

Still, the thing that remained on Gilda’s mind was the loss of life. The stare on that kid’s face when he begged he didn’t want to die. What of those in the roof Gilda channeled The Harpy’s magic to kill? She did things she didn’t even know she could, and she didn’t even give them a chance to surrender. She truly had embraced what The Harpy asked of her, and so had Ghada, but what was left of that vision was the despair that dawned on her when she saw the Empire was done because She had left them.

The Lord Protector was right. There was no coming back from that, much less after that fight.

At the same time… They shot at her. What was she supposed to do? It was also her first time in that sort of situation. Before all that mess her life had been thrown into, she had never been in a situation where killing another griffon was needed to save her own life.

It began with those griffons in Griffonstone! Then those griffons in Thunderpeak. Even Grunhilda had stained herself with blood. And it was all connected to that event in the past.

“What I did… Was that right? I had never even seriously hurt anyone before.” Her throat burned and her stomach had a hole in it again. She swallowed saliva, as though that might lessen the undefinable pain that had grasped her neck suddenly. “Could I have spared that soldier I ran my sword through? I… I spared the others… They shot at me, and I kept going. Could I have endured more? Did they deserve to die because they chose the wrong side in this confusing war? When I know that griffons are afraid of Lord Gilad?”

All the air in the world seemed insufficient to wash away the hurt in her chest, but everything seemed easier to bear when a large black paw, even with her sharp talons, landed on her head and petted so softly her crest.

“Do not let it overwhelm you, Child, but I do not wash away the pain of my subjects. It helps you grow, and it helps you understand that consequences are irrevocable.” Aya Harpyia spoke serenely. “But you can put the blame on me.”

Yes! That was true. She was the one behind it all, but most important, it all had a purpose! It was Her responsibility. She put Gilda to do that. She knew what would happen, and Gilda was merely following Her orders.

Her head cleared and the air came easier as though The harpy had simply pulled those feelings right out of her heart.

“You lack Ghadah’s murderous impulse that she had honed from countless training sessions. All the times that she has taken lives in real battles and in duels; it became routine for her. You are the product of a different time when the Equestrian culture has tamed your instincts.” The Harpy told her calmly, pulling her in and closing Her forelegs around her. Closing Her wings around her, protectively. Hiding her in the dark under Her big, stripped feathers.

It was awkward, another female holding her so intimately. Holding her head to Her fluffy feathery chest, permeated with Her own smell of female griffon. It would be too enticing in another situation.

But Her warmth seeped into Gilda’s tense muscles and relaxed them while she hadn’t even noticed they were knotted up. Her smell brought Gilda a peaceful calm and a sense that it would all be alright. Before she even realized she had held onto the other’s sides, holding her the same way she used to hold her mother.

“Another child, lost in the world, because it does not care when it takes mothers and fathers away too soon.” She cooed. “I am here for you, as you are for Grunhilda.”

“However,” The Harpy spoke curtly. “You killed the Lord Protector in a particularly gruesome way. I found it especially amusing and you appreciated it. You delighted yourself in ending the lives of those griffons that threatened you with a ghastly mental and physical torture. You are one of my own furious angels. The only reason you feel conflicted is your insecurity over your right to end a life for different reasons.”

Yeah… That was right. Her chest was still so warm and soft and it just helped her think straight.

“You do not have the right to contest their choices.” She spoke again and Gilda just blinked at her with what she supposed was the second time she mimicked Grunhilda’s dumb stare, looking up. “They chose to fight for their side. They all knew of the corruption in Chancellor Gail’s government. It is not privileged information and if anything, I would respect their choice and their autonomy to deal with the consequences of such choices. More importantly, you are valuable to me. I would not appreciate it if you allowed them to cause you harm out of your fear to deliver them the dividends of their choices.”

“The ones you spared owe their lives to you and were as lucky as you owe the dead nothing.” She concluded with a severe tone.

The Harpy let Gilda think for a second and that made sense. Not to mention that she couldn’t just let them harm her because she felt conflicted. She frowned. They certainly didn’t. She would think that it would be a good thing to preserve life above all, but she would suppose that The Harpy would say that ‘good’ is another of those words Celestia invented to tell her ponies what to think.

The Harpy didn’t tell griffons what to think, but there were consequences for ‘thinking wrong’. Supposedly, she had the prerogative of saying what was right… ‘Might makes right’ style.

‘Take everything, give nothing’ sounded right.

The Harpy looked up at the horizon where the red sun set slowly. “A particularly clever Loremaster once said that maybe some griffons would best understand the Raptorial Creed in another form: ‘love your own infinitely, hate your enemy infinitely’.”

She stared down at Gilda with that piercing and icy stare of hers. “Other Loremasters, centuries past, have been repeating that version of the Raptorial Creed. It has always been an easy lesson for griffons to learn; it is in your nature.”

“I suppose I am not Ghadah, though…” Gilda let her voice trail off, almost as though she felt guilty of something.

“You misunderstand me, Child.” The larger griffon shook her head at Gilda. “I do not wish for you to be Ghadah. You and Ghadah are the same under different experiences and I do I expect you to become her. It would lessen yourself. You are dear to me, and also useful being who you are.”

Gilda let her head down again, against Her feathery chest. It was a surprisingly endearing thing to hear from the ruthless being she talked to.

“You spent much time, once Master Gabriel awakened you to your true self, wondering about the fame and privilege your equine acquaintances experienced.” The Harpy pulled her beak up to stare at her. “But when you saw that you were given the same, you reeled from it. You are insecure and that is not a feeling I take pleasure in finding in My Children. Griffons will recognize one who is meek, and I cannot have them pointing fingers at one of my Chosen.”

Whoa… Why did that suddenly sound like a freaking threat?! Gilda failed to produce a proper answer and her beak hanged open.

The Harpy stared gravely at her, eyes on her eyes and she pressed one of her talons on Gilda’s forehead and it freakishly took her back years into the past as though it was her mother berating her because she had done something stupid!

“Taking the lives of griffons that fail to recognize I Am the Allmother is expected of you. It is your privilege to judge them as you feel better.” The Harpy scowled. “But… All that has been given can be taken back.”

“Stop squandering my gifts, or I will give them to one who will make better use of them.”

Right! Message received! Sheesh!

It was all The Harpy’s will and she was to blame if things got screwed.

Gilda let go a small cough as the other relented, but The Harpy had more to say, stepping back and smiling a superior grin at her. “The griffon you killed in front of the young tom you spared was not his father.”

Oh, thank the heavens!

“The youngling is an impulsive and foolhardy idealist, much as teenager griffons tend to be. Anxious to leave from under his parents’ wings, yet inexperienced in the ways of the world. Quick to action and indolent in forethought.” The Harpy explained with an amused grin. “His parents were careful and preferred not to side with either the Chancellor’s loyalists or with Gia’s revolutionaries, but he escaped his father’s home and joined with the loyalists. I will make sure he is properly educated .”

Gee… Little dude messed up. And caught the attention of one he really could have afforded not to. But that would ultimately be good for him.

“You know… I get the thing about privileges… But I’m not cool with the whole slave thing.” Grunhilda came to her mind as soon as that kid left it.

The Allmother plucked a feather out of her forehead, and she yelped. “You are not paying attention, Gilda.”

Yeah! Definitively like her mother!

“I allow griffons to make mistakes and to deal with the consequences of their mistakes.” She explained again, less patient than before. “Her parents should not have left Snow Mountains. They were naive to believe that their presence would be ignored. Grunhilda paid the price for their insolence, as their place was with the Lord of The Black Gates.”

“Fine. Fine.” Insistence seemed a bad idea. “What do I do with Grunhilda then? It’s awkward as all heck!”

“Why, whatever you wish. She is your thrall.” The other grinned mischievously. “Learn about her rights and your obligations to her.”

Gilda sighed and rolled her eyes. “Rights?”

“You underestimate her too much.” The Harpy laughed tersely. “You should remember she understands our new culture more than you give her credit.”

“Why didn’t you take care of her?” She came a feather’s thickness of raising her voice.

“I would not rob her of her own challenges.” She stared at Gilda as though she was stupid and was that was certainly the impression She wanted to pass along. “Regardless, you should not tarry. Leave Thunderpeak and come into Snow Mountains Hold, until then you will still be vulnerable.”

Yeah. There was that too.

“Do not let your guard down. Celestia has agents all the way through to the border.” The Harpy insisted. “You will only be truly safe when you reach Frozenlake. Ensure you talk to Lady Geena. She is one of my Loremasters.”

“I will.” That whole thrall thing still left a bad taste in her mouth, but at least The Harpy looked out for her.

She suppressed a sigh. She really needed to sort her feelings out of Grunhilda.

Finally, The Harpy petted her head again and she yawned. Before she knew she woke up in a comfortable bed. White cotton sheets, a wool mattress and the distinctive feeling of temperature magic keeping the room at a comfortable temperature.

She had a window that showed light snowfall on the outside and Grunhilda was next to her on another bed, also covered in white cotton sheets with one of those hangers for bags of serum and medications above her and stuck to her foreleg as she slept peacefully.

In a stray thought she wondered if her friend also dreamed similar stuff, though that wasn’t likely, since Gilda was the weird one with the Loremaster and Swordmaiden gig.

At least she felt refreshed and that sickening tiredness from the fighting was gone.

“Lady Gilda.” Someone said and she found the commander of Sky Sentry coming over to her. “I’m glad you’re awake. I’ll call the nurse to see you.”

“Thanks.” Her voice came out relaxed and she laid on her back while the soldier walked out. She too had one of those thingies stuck to her foreleg, but while it was empty, Grunhilda’s still had some of the pink, shiny liquid inside. Something about magic if she remembered correctly.

A nurse came into the room. An older blue, white, and black griffoness with a nurse’s hat and the commander in tow. Gee, she never asked that guy’s name.

“Afternoon, Lady Gilda.” She said, freeing the access to her vein and plucking it out. “Good to see you well. Your friends nearly freaked out that something had happened to you. It’s gonna be a few busy weeks here in the hospital because of that fight.”

She could imagine.

“Well, it had to happen eventually.” The nurse quickly scanned her eyes over Gilda. “You’re free to go, the doc said. Just be careful. We yanked some fifteen bullets and fragments out of you, and I don’t have a clue how that worked, but they were all stuck to muscle. You still have some bumps and cuts, and patches of fur and feather to grow back.

The nurse gave her a happy smile. “The doc was convinced some crazy magic protected you and the running theory with the staff was that whatever it was drained at your body’s mana, because that is how magical shields work. Me, I don’t ask questions when the northerners are involved. The important thing is that you got back to health with a couple of bags filled with condensed magical flux.”

Probably some Swordmaiden thing she did on instinct.

“Your friend should be up soon. We decided she needed some rest too because she didn’t want to leave your side and was clearly tired. She had taken a few dings too.” The nurse concluded. “Well, good as new. Guess you gotta date with the mayor.”

“Uh?” Gilda hopped off the bed.

“He has barricaded himself in a secure room in the basement of the city hall.” The commander explained. “They’re trying to get him out there right now.”

“Hum… I guess I should be there.” She took a look at Grunhilda, sleeping in her bed. “Can you keep an eye on her for me?”

He nodded respectfully and she left after thanking him. It was a ward in the local hospital, much like the one in Griffonstone. Maybe all of them looked the same, since they were publicly owned, or something.

She frowned to herself, not stopping on her way down the corridor with the many doors. She could hear some whining and some moaning. The place seemed to be near capacity, if it wasn’t full already.

But she didn’t waste time worrying about that. She knew the hospital was not only public property and state administrated, but they answered to the Royal House, all the way back in Canterlot… The mare would eventually find out she was around if they gave her some treatment, there was a patient file.

All of those were likely and The Harpy was right. She had to go as soon as possible.

The hospital wasn’t exactly the same as Griffonstone’s, but it followed a similar construction. She supposed there were only a few ways they could build an efficient hospital, anyways. It also had large wooden doors that did a good job of keeping the cold of outside from seeping into the hall. A security dude opened it for her.

She found Gia outside and on her way in with that Geary guy following her. The green Loremaster flashed her a cheerful smile. “So, you’re up! Hum… You don’t look very well.”

Whatever, she felt fine. She was sure she didn’t look very pretty, but she’d take care of that later.

“Hi, Gia.” She responded as one should to a would-be friend.

“The manor’s soldiers found the secure room in the depot with our money. No resistance there.” She grinned even more. “But we need Mayor Grosster to get it open. There’s a magical lock! Think you can pull the lightning thing again?”

“Why?” Gilda stopped next to her, and Geary explained.

“The lock in the secure room of the depot is special. Some fancy pokehead thing. Probably it was the Chancellor’s guys that set it up. But the one in the saferoom under the city hall is more mundane.”

“We could get a specialist to crack it open,” Gia offered a paw. “But that would take time. We’re in a bit of a hurry. Disrupting the magical lock with lightning magic is going to get the job done sooner.”

Nothing forbade her giving it a shot. “Awesome. Let’s see if it works.”

However, the more she stayed there, the higher the chance that someone she wouldn’t like to see would show up. And she still had to pick up the money Miss Gerdie had told her about in the bank. That sounded dangerous. “But I’m going as soon as we are done.”

Wrapping It Up With A Bow

It was morning and a windy one. The clouds remained though, even if they seemed lighter than before and more sunlight filtered through them. The wind whistled on the holes and shapes of the metal and wood plaques that identified individual stores and services. The cobblestone was damp and cold, but Gilda, Gia and her thrall were the only ones out in the street other than a pair of armed citizens patrolling it.

The hospital was built near the central square, which was round. Last night she didn’t pay attention but there was a nice fountain in the middle and it was a sizeable open area. No wonder they had just barricaded inside the city hall and tried to hold their ground there.

Gilda never used a gun in her life, but she could imagine that a place to hide and an open field on which to shoot at was probably a good thing.

The place was now full of marks and holes, the fountain was damaged, but it endured and still poured it water. Fortunately, all the messy stuff had been cleaned away and the wind washed away the smell of blood and burnt powder. Things already felt almost normal.

A circling street covered in cobblestone united four streets which opened out into the city. The place had a few buildings which Gilda supposed served as offices for the city’s departments adjunct to the prefecture and one or two rich mansions.

Maybe she was just callous, but there must be a lot of chairs that the mayor’s friends ought to occupy in those buildings and she was sure at least one lived in those mansions.

She didn’t hurt, and her joints were fine. Nothing was out of place, and even her coat and plumage seemed orderly enough, but walking was tiring her. Just not the physical kind of exhaustion, though. She needed a vacation, or something. Maybe a nice relaxing trip to that inn she was supposed to go before heading north was in order. Hopefully she could relax for a bit.

After last night, it seemed that most of what she might come across, as far as mundane threats were concerned, could be dealt with. She just needed to get out of that city before someone from Canterlot showed up because it could become a liability to Gia and her friends.

“Did anyone actually make it out of the city?” She turned to Gia as they walked. “You know… To try and inform the nearby militaries, or something?”

Gia hummed and frowned a little. “Probably not. Most of the population just holed up inside their homes and only a few came out this morning. You know… Everyone is our friend now and they were all along, but they feared the mayor and his supporters…”

“Anyways…” Gia went on. “I had Lord Gungnir send out some trackers to find any hero that might have felt the urge to fly and get the GSA here. But even if they do, you know how those things are… The GSA is fat, slow and incompetent.”

Actually, Gilda didn’t know. But she supposed it was none of her business anyway and something distracted her.

Sounds of merriment came from a large bar next to one of the rich houses in the square. Music, cheering and giggling.

It was a wide-open front with several doors that allowed a glimpse into the dimmer interior. Fireplaces, many tables, cheering gleeful griffons and copious amounts of booze. And that was not even considering all the tables outside on the walkway where some griffons even danced.

Some of them still had their armors and weapons nearby and mingled with all sorts of griffons, most certainly their supporters or those griffons that ‘always believed’. Small wonder too… The battle over and the winners needed to celebrate; the bar owner and the local hookers would oblige.

Nothing wrong with that, as far as Gilda was concerned. If she wasn’t in a hurry, she might even join. But that made her think of the two prostitutes she spent a night with in Griffonstone. Hopefully Gertrude and Griselda would be okay. And of course, Greta and Gary too. Gladys should be watching over them.

The whole thing in the bar just seemed irresponsible though, but she supposed that those griffons fought and didn’t die. They had the right to celebrate. Maybe it was Ghadah speaking to her through her memories, but she forgave their behavior.

They crossed into the city hall’s foyer past the front yard, and it looked much nicer than the night before. Still full of assorted damage to the walls and broken windows, but they had moved all the trash into the auditorium, and nobody tried to shoot at her. The walls had banners with The Harpy’s iconography: lightning bolts, the griffon wings, red banners hanging in every direction.

A cute, very young guy smiled at her, stopping from his job of picking up pieces of mortar and broken wood furniture along with other things such as padding, glass and assorted stuff, but a nearby Sky sentry, in full black and golden armor slapped his shoulder with the back of his paw. “You’re here to help clean up, cub. Not to gawk at the queens.”

“Sorry, sir!” He immediately went back to his job of grabbing from a pile of trash and stashing it in a bag.

Wait.

“Dude, are you that kid I saw during the fight?” Gilda poked him and Gia stopped next to her.

“Yes… Yes, ma’am.” He looked and nodded shyly. “Thank you… Ma’am.”

Suddenly she gasped. “How old are you?!”

“I’m… Ah… Sixteen, ma’am.” He all but whispered.

“You’re not supposed to be fighting, you little dumbass.” She growled at him.

“I know… But…” He sat and recoiled at her angry tone… “But northerners… You know.”

She gave him the ‘no, I don’t know’ stare, but the soldier spoke next. “In the north our cubs learn to fight from a young age. He’s old enough.”

“Yeah, but I bet that they do that with proper tutoring. It’s part of their education.” Gilda glared at the soldier that diminished a little under her stare. “In here they’re supposed to at school.”

“Yeah!” The kid suddenly had all the courage in the world. “But they were gonna take our city! I mean… They did… I mean… Uh…”

“Shut up dude.” Your parents didn’t want to get involved and you shouldn’t have. You almost got yourself killed. I doubt that these northerner fighters would’ve spared you! It would’ve been better if you had obeyed your parents and stayed safe at home!”

“How… How did you know that mom and dad didn’t want me to fight?” He gasped, reeling back some more.

Gilda just hoped that her huge grin wasn’t too goofy. “The Harpy told me!”

The kid’s shocked gasp was the best thing she’d seen in a while, but then the soldier spoke again, all martial seriousness. “Ma’am, we’re not supposed to discuss The Harpy with anyone.”

“Dude, do I look like those rules apply to me?” Okay, the kid’s shocked gasp was the second-best thing. This big soldier dude’s apologetical stare was the best. By a long shot.

“Come on, Gilda.” Gia called her from the passage that led to the corridor, her waning patience evident in her deadpan glare. “Let’s get this done already.”

Fine, fine. Gee, some griffons were so boring, all work, no fun.

She made her way to Gia, by the passageway and walked with her along the corridor, taking a left near the door to the backyard and down some stairs.

Her thoughts remained though. She could say that she did something good for that kid, couldn’t she? Sure, she was playing for fun with him, but she did give him good advice. Right? Yeah, right.

They went down a couple of flights until they reached a sloppily dug-through room dimly lit with magical lighting crystals on the walls. The floor was lined with planks for flooring, and the room smelled of wet dirt.

Master Galahault was there. And so was the big northerner guy with furry armor and the vampire-cloak lady. But the most attention-grabbing thing in the room was the giant bank vault-style door they congregated around.

“Wow…” She voiced as her eyes scanned the door with all its size and solidness. “So, this it?”

“Yes. This is Mayor Grosster’s little shelter.” Gia waved a paw at it.

Gilda gave her a little nod and the others, by the door gave her space. It was a huge, blue-steel metal door without any sort of keyhole or apparent mechanism, but with a reinforced handle. She really had no idea how she was going to open that, but she supposed that the lesson there was to trust her instincts. She would figure it out.

She walked up to the door and knocked on it. “Hey, dude. Open the door.”

She got an arrogant laugh from the other side. It surprised her that any noise could carry through that thing, but okay. Then came a male’s voice. A bit croaky and muffled by the large door. “You barbarians think you won, but you can’t get to me in here!”

“Come one, man… Enough griffons died already.” She argued with her ear to the cold metallic door. “They just want the money and then you can go to a prison.”

She looked at Gia, who shrugged. Galahault gestured for her to keep going with his paw and the northerner yawned into his own paw. The griffon lady with the cape just rolled her eyes.

“They’re gonna take care of you.” She raised her eyebrow at the others and the northerner made a gesture for flying with his paws. “They’re gonna let you leave. I guess you can go to Griffonstone?”

He laughed again from the other side. “Lady, I’m staying in here and you ain’t getting in. Gail’s gonna send the military as soon as he fails to hear from me, and they’ll save me!”

“Yeah…” Gilda grimaced. “Somehow I have the feeling he’s only gonna be interested in his money.”

“What money?” He cried from in there. “There’s no money! These barbarians are lying.”

“Can you please just get this thing open?” Gia groaned and approached Gilda, pointing at the giant door.

“Did you know you really need to chill?” Gilda looked at her. “I mean, we already won.”

“I’m going to ‘chill’…” The green Loremaster said the word with a very derisive tone. “When we have the money secure and this jerk on the other side of the door is sitting his hind in jail and waiting for a judgement. Preferably followed by a chopping block.”

“Hah!” The griffon cried from inside.

“See, girl?” Gilda waved at the door. “You’re not helping. Seriously, what’s wrong with you, Gia?”

“She’s always been like this, Lady Gilda…” Galahault stepped next to them. “I don’t know why that is. Her mother is much nicer and more reasonable.”

“Just get this open…” Gia begged, sitting, and clasping her paws. “Please…”

“Fine. Fine.” Gilda turned back to the door and held her beak.

Just how could she summon lightning? Not only indoors, but underground? It didn’t really make a lot of sense without clouds.

“You don’t really know what you’re doing, do you?” Gia deadpanned at her.

Gilda hissed at her. “I’m thinking.”

Yeah… No clouds… Just herself and a bunch of griffons waiting for her to do something. She hummed to herself. Stared at the door. Then at her paw she was rubbing her beak with. And while The Harpy kept silent, because of course she would, she wondered if she wasn’t overthinking things.

She hadn’t ever witnessed Ghadah using magic like that, though.

She touched the door again. Cold, solid.

It hummed in her bones, and she had learned to recognize that sensation. It was magic she felt, made into something that impregnated the very materials the door was made of. It wasn’t entirely solid, it seemed. It had internal mechanisms with different sensations. Each thing felt different, and it was a difficult thing to grasp, but she could discern the different ‘magical pieces’ in all the stuff inside the door.

She supposed that what she felt was the magical energy that the enchanted mechanism emanated from its different parts and the different spells each held. If someone knew the right spell, it would open.

She had no idea how that worked, but they had told her that lightning messed with spells, so it made sense that they would get the one that summoned lightning to get that thing open.

She focused on her paw and closed her eyes. The door flooded her mind until it was the only thing in her world. As tough the door had suddenly become more real, a part of her.

She thought she heard Gia saying something and Master Galahault chiding her, but that all seemed way too distant for Gilda to mind. None of that interested her now. What she needed was lightning and frustration started to set in.

Come on, lightning!

Finally, her paw tingled and that characteristic tenseness in the air she felt before surrounded her. Her skin prickled and her bones vibrated. She grinned and guided her mind into more of it. More and more until something snapped and… Crack!

A loud cracking noise rang dull within the earthen walls, and the metal deformed where she touched it, marking it with a diminutive dent of molten metal in the shape of her paw. More than that, the spell was gone, as far as her unexplored magical senses told her.

She blinked at the door, as surprised as the others were. Then she tried the handle and it moved with the clank of its internal mechanism.

“I can’t believe it!” Gia cried with huge eyes. “She actually did it!”

“You really should be more faithful, Gia.” The big northerner spoke mindlessly while the older female grinned with satisfaction.

Yeah… Gia had tried to set her up, or something. She expected Gilda to fail and then she would try and claim credit for the whole thing. Not really a novel concept at that point, and it didn’t even bother Gilda. She just turned her attention back to the door and pulled it open.

Then it all happened too fast…

On the other side was a nice and fancy office with a griffon staring at her behind the barrel of a pistol. There was a bang, smoke. She raised her wing in front of herself purely out of reflexes. When she understood he had shot at her with a pistol, Master Galahault had already rushed past her and knocked him on his face with his shield.

Next thing there was the smell of gunpowder smoke in the air, some old griffon guy with huge eyebrows was on the floor, bleeding out of his nostrils and moaning about something, holding his beak. At least the fancy silk jacket he wore was a similar color. His top hat just got stomped in the fancy red carpet, though.

In retrospect opening the door and standing there like a dumbass was pretty dumb. But that didn’t make her less angry, yet before she could do anything, the big northerner helped Galahault drag the old griffon Gilda assumed was the mayor out of the room.

That gave her some moments to gasp at just how fancy and luxurious that stupid place was. He not only had a giant desk with gold inlays and all sorts of fancy office stuff on his desk, but he had a cabinet filled with expensive-looking bottles, a collection of crystal chalices and cups, fucking cigars, one of those cigar-cutting thingies made of gold, and even an expensive painting of himself, except his eyebrows looked much better than the real thing.

The place even had a luxurious bed and a fancy bathroom!

“Wow…” She deadpanned. “And I thought that me getting money from the government just for existing was stealing.”

Then a young and cutesy griffon lady squeaked, raising her head from behind the desk. “Please don’t hurt me! I’m just his secretary!”

She had a cutesy black bonnet over her head, with a grape-colored stripe and some stones that resembled the fruit. The color repeated itself in her body and her head was pink with deep purple eyes. She held the edge of the desk, hiding behind it as Gilda approached.

“Seriously?” She pulled the cute griffon from behind the desk and glared at her.

“Hey… I gotta make a living!” She defended herself, rolling her eyes. “It’s easy work and good money to write down some letters and put up with a lecherous old griffon!”

“Get lost!” Gilda pointed at the exit with a scowl.

“Come on, Grosster.” Gia smiled triumphantly, ignoring the scene. “At least have some dignity. Just open the vault for us and you can go do whatever you want. Or you can… You know… Stay in jail for a while so that the angry plebs don’t rip you apart.”

“Fine!” He cried, standing again and dusting his jacket. “I will open the damn vault! Just get me to a hospital afterwards.”

He stared at Gilda with his ugly face as she approached. All white with dark gray and giant eyebrows that looked like there was something growing on his face. “I hope you have good friends in high places, miss. You’re getting into the bad side of the Chancellor and your ass already belongs to The Mare. I would hate to be in your skin.”

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes back at him. “Turns out I do have friends in high places. Move along, dude. I wanna get this done with already.”

The big northerner shoved him to walk to the stairs and Galahault followed close with Gia right behind. The older griffon lady with the cape came near Gilda. “Are you injured?”

She had a very beautiful face on her white head, with green eyeshadow complementing her natural shade of purple and her expressive green eyes. Impressive how beautiful she was despite being some years past her prime. And she looked strong too. It seemed to be a theme with some of the older griffon ladies Gilda had found along the way.

Once again, she hoped she’d age like that!

“I’m fine.” Gilda flapped her wings and folded them back, releasing some of the weird tension after being shot and shielding herself with a wing. “With all the times I’ve been shot in the night, I don’t think that a pistol would hurt me too much.”

“That is not how your magic works, Lady Gilda.” The older griffoness said as seriously as one of her old teachers. “If they catch you unaware, the results would not be so kind. And this thing in your head…”

Her talon clicked on the golden diadem on Gilda’s head. “Has protective magic in it, but it can only do so much. Once your own magical reserves are exhausted, you will be as vulnerable as anyone. Even with your… Characteristics. Learn to gauge your magical reserves and how to use them more efficiently. Hone your body, and your mind as not to tire so easily. But I suppose that Lady Gwendolen will take care of that.”

“Okay…” No idea how that griffon gal knew of that, but she spoke with enough confidence it seemed certain for sure. Also, Gilda hadn’t noticed the gifts she received were magical, but it made sense.

Gilda walked with her out of the underground shelter and followed them out. Lots of booing and angry griffons calling for the mayor’s head. Most of them didn’t even care he was injured. But no one was dumb enough to get in the way, and if he still had any supporters, they chose their safety over loyalty. Fortunately, because enough griffons died over that city and over that stupid money.

Maybe she was getting too soft, but it miffed Gilda that they got away with grabbing the money. It should go to The Lion or to make things better for the town. Certainly to shore up defenses in the short time they had.

She walked with the others and a small group of the Griffindellian Sky Sentries. Not the commander though, he was probably still watching over Grunhilda. The cobblestone streets, wide enough for carts and carriages, were still empty other than the griffons they had attracted from the bar coming out with the mayor.

Gilda kept thinking about Gia getting away with using those griffons and their loyalty to Lord Gilad and The Harpy just to get rich. Or rather, richer. Maybe she was overthinking stuff, and the important thing was that the city was now under The Lion. Not like Gilda had a deep understanding of that anyways…

Lost in her thoughts, Gilda only just noticed when they arrived at their destination, followed by a throng of angry griffons.

The depot was a single story, long building with a single large wooden door for entrance over a gravel ramp that connected from the street. Nothing too fancy, just a brick, mortar and white masonry building with a few windows which certainly belonged to some administrative area right at the entrance with its own, normal, griffon-sized entrance.

And, of course, a bunch of Gia’s griffons-at-arms from the manor stood there because she would most certainly not trust the Griffindellian Sky sentry to watch over her precious gold.

Ugh. She was all too sour over that! She sighed internally as Gia pompously thanked her soldiers for their performed duties and promised rich rewards.

It was then she realized what bothered her so much: Gia sounded like Gail during his campaign. Why were the northerners okay with that? Gia was technically claiming for herself money that belonged to Lord Gilad and Lady Gwendolen. Ultimately, to The Harpy!

Maybe it didn’t bother them because it was in line with the Raptorial Creed? Maybe she didn’t understand it all as well as she thought she did.

Whatever. She was tired of that whole ordeal. The important thing was that her job was done, and she could leave with Grunhilda yet that day!

For the time being, she followed the others inside through the wide door into a broad corridor with doors on either side and another set of doors in the deep end. It was a typical warehouse with thick iron-reinforced planks for flooring and magical lights in the ceiling.

Under Gia’s orders some of the populace was allowed in and they filed behind in the corridor. Some of the workers were there and a well-dressed griffon lady too, probably some sort of manager.

There were no signs of fighting, Ghadah’s memories helped Gilda notice. It was a bit of a relief. At least things were peaceful there as the mayor had focused on protecting himself. She supposed that it was sensible, since they needed him to open the vault anyways, but it still left a sour aftertaste of selfishness.

They stopped by an inconspicuous pair of wooden doors the warehouse workers opened for them and inside the whole room was taken by a giant box made of gold, silver and had all sorts of shining gems encrusted on it. A large wheel, like the one to be found in a ship was in the center. Next to where a keyhole would be was a single amethyst in a small framing. It looked like a button.

A first glimpse didn’t exactly provide enough of an understanding of how large that thing was. The central section was what occupied the whole room, but the thing stretched both ways to the neighboring rooms.

It was also very beautiful, with all the golden and silver parts, and all the gems, but they didn’t look like they were put in place for aesthetics. They were a bit chaotic in their placement and Gilda couldn’t help imagining that the reason for all that was some ridiculously powerful magic that made that thing as secure as to need one specific individual to open it.

The thought brought her magical senses to bear, and she could feel the magic that thing radiated, like a low humming in her ears and bones with a slight itch in her wings, much like the magic the airship emanated.

“Get this open.” Gia ordered the mayor with a pointed talon and Gilda walked closer to see.

Frowning and stiff, he pushed the amethyst with his thumb and the gems in the whole thing lit up in sequence with a wave of that undefinable sensation of powerful magic at work. Then he spun the wheel with a struggling grunt until something clanged inside, and he pulled the door open, taking a few steps back.

Light washed inside and it was as empty as Celestia’s plate in a cake eating competition.

Gilda blinked at the sight and griffons made a deep silence so dense not even the clinking of the armors could be heard.

Finally, Gilda snorted with a mocking grin. “So, I guess that the Chancellor spent all the money he stole getting this thing commissioned?”

Gia groaned, grasped the mayor by his wine-colored jacket and shook him. “Where is the money?!”

“I don’t know!” He cried with huge, panicked eyes and protected his face. “I’m as surprised as you are!”

The griffons that had followed them started complaining and some called for the mayor’s head again. The soldiers further pulled the door open, and the thing actually lit up with internal lights as Gia screeched at the mayor some more. One of the armor-clad griffons walked into it.

“Lady Gia, there is a scroll inside.” His voice echoed from there.

“A what?” She shoved the mayor back and turned to the vault. “A scroll?! What do you mean a piece of paper?!”

He brought it from inside and held it in his paw. A clear rolled-up piece of parchment Gia swiped her paw at to take from him, but he pulled it back. “Uh… It’s addressed to Lady Gilda.”

“What?!” She shrieked, but Gilda offered her paw and the soldier gave it to her.

Indeed, it didn’t look like much more than a rolled-up paper sealed with a small disk of white-yellow metal encrusted with an inlay of black and white making a pair of wings. Ghadah’s memories told her that thing was electrum and the symbol had already been burned into Gilda enough that she knew who that was from by that point.

That thing also exuded magic and when she pulled at the seal, it disintegrated into a fine golden dust that vanished before it fell to the floor. But she was too curious to mind that. She opened the letter to see exquisite paw-written black letters and read the text aloud with her best formal tone, straightening her back after sitting.

“My Dearest Lady Gilda, Swordmaiden of the Shaddani;

I greet you from Griffinsky Mansion, at the top of the Roost in Griffindell and hope this letter finds you in good spirits and that you have appreciated the gifts I have sent you. The diadem and bracelets were forged by Master Gilbert of Griffindell, and while he is not quite as gifted as Master Galahault, I believe you will find them satisfactory.”

Well, they helped keep her alive, so she did find them satisfactory.

She coughed and went on.

“If all has gone according to plan, the city should now respond to his Majesty Lord Gilad, thus I ask that you relay my commands to Lieutenant Gandolf: his detachment is ordered to remain in Thunderpeak and assist the manor’s griffons-at-arms in defending the city against whatever forces the Griffonian Standing Army may have the temerity of dispatching.

Kindly inform him that Lord Gilad has ordered Lord Graham of Frozenlake to assist, and that he has already taken flight with his stalwart warriors. The Sky Sentry, the manor’s griffons-at-arms, and the able-bodied griffons of Thunderpeak are to keep the city at all costs.

Furthermore, I request that you also transmit my commands to the community, effective as of the time this message reaches you.

Lady Gaetana is to take the burdens of the community’s Loremaster and Lord Gungnir is to assist her in the matters of command over the manor’s griffons-at-arms. They are both to make the populace privy to our culture and ways of law and order, but most of all, the desires of the Mother of Storms.”

Gilda looked up from the letter to look at the griffons in question and they nodded while the warehouse’s workers and assorted griffons that made it inside listened intently.

“An adequate sum has been left in the city’s coffers and should be under Lady Gaetana’s guard as the owner of the city’s bank while whatever funds Chancellor Gail had stashed in his vault have already made their way to Griffindell and shall be put to use for the betterment of our great race as the Allmother commands.

Under the light of her ambitions, Lady Gia is hereby stripped of her rank and ordered to return to Griffindell to rectify the failure in her training that has led her to divert from my teachings as to the proper conduct of a Loremaster under The Harpy, whose wealth is found within the soul.”

Reading Gia’s expression wasn’t easy, but Gilda suspected she wasn’t happy. Yet, the green Loremaster let her continue with nary a frown.

“To the populace I say griffons ought to remember that above all the Children of The Harpy shall lead a creed devoid of avarice and greed, where wealth is meant to serve a need. Aya Harpyia sees all, and the hearts of griffons are the currency with which she deals. Be excellent and deliver gallant service for She rewards with the most exquisite of graces those that serve her designs both in life and in death.”

The gathered griffons exchanged glances and a few mumbling comments were heard. The message had certainly hit its mark and they should spread it around.

“Finally, Lady Gilda, I beseech you make haste towards the Holy City as I cannot bear the thought that the Dawnbringer should take you from us. I await your arrival at the Black Gates with excitement.

Sincerely, Lady Gwendolen of Griffindell.”

Welp… Gilda lowered the letter, staring at the griffons with her. Again, one could claw at the silence that hung in the air. It was Master Galahault that suddenly started laughing and guffawing out of air and Gilda thought that he was going to keel over and die at any second so hard he was laughing. The commoners were still too nervous to laugh.

“But… But I…” Gia gasped, finally losing her composure. “I can’t… How did she… I can’t believe this!”

She turned to the older griffon lady with the cape and accused with a fierce scowl, a talon and frantic screeching. “You set me up! It was perfect! There was no way that it could go wrong! I didn’t even know you were a Loremaster!”

In turn, the older griffon lady grabbed the chain that held Gia’s blue satin cape and pulled it from her, without a word and all Gia did was pull back and fall on her side with a squeak.

“You tried stealing from The Harpy, Gia.” Gilda crumbled the letter and threw it over her shoulders. “For pieces of gold with a mare’s dumb face on them.”

She didn’t mean it, but damn, the commoners exploded in cheers.

“Well spoken.” Gaetana agreed, staring down at Gia.

It was damn good seeing that she didn’t get away with her shady plan. Even Master Galahault understood. The general workers and common griffons understood. She had a lot. She had privileges, she had luxuries. She had resources. She lacked nothing, but she had to have some more, didn’t she?

Gilda just hoped that she would be there to see the look on their faces when it all crumbled on top of Griffonstone’s mayor and his filthy little family.

Gia’s whining distracted her from her thoughts and Gilda looked in time to see the older griffon lady poking her chest with a talon as she got back on her fours. “Take all the time you need, Gia. But you will be going to Griffindell. If you don’t, Lady Gwendolen will send someone after you. And then you will regret it. You should be glad she didn’t send you a dagger like she did to Gulinda in Greenleaf.”

Gee… Lady Gwendolen didn’t joke around. Gia apparently wasn’t that bad then, but Gilda almost wanted to know what that Gulinda had done!

The older griffon lady approached her while Galahault did his best not to laugh and comforted Gia.

“I suppose that you will be on your way sooner than later, then?” the griffon lady she now knew was Gaetana grinned a little at Gilda.

“Yeah. And since you’re the one that owns the bank, I’m supposed to go to you for the money that Miss Gerdie mentioned.” Gilda nodded at her. “I’ll get Grunhilda and the medallion, then I’ll see you there.”

“Sounds good.” She nodded too. “You’ll find it easily enough.”

But before she left, Gilda stared at her for an instant. “Did you set Gia up? I kinda like her.”

“No…” The other shook her head honestly and softly enough. “I suspected she was digging her own grave, but I didn’t ‘set her up’. She did it herself.”

“Well, then…” Gilda concluded.

She left the place in no hurry, as the gathered griffons and the warehouse’s workers made way and stared at her. Outside, she took flight. Nobody bothered her and the city was more concerned with celebrating. Certainly, no local militias outside to be concerned with ‘reckless flying or anything. For good or for worse.

Was it bad she felt that fuzzy feeling inside that Gia got caught? Probably not. She deserved it.

At the end of the short flight, she found Grunhilda and the Sky Sentry commander, Gandolf, waiting in the central square. Big Girl had all their stuff, including Mythical and her bow, quiver, and the fox pelt backpack.

Grunhilda waved happily as she landed close to them. “So, Lady Gwendolen left a letter inside the mayor’s vault.”

“A letter?” He raised an eyebrow while Grundhilda gave her the sword. “Wait… How did… What?”

“I’m not sure I understand it either, dude.” She shrugged, returning Mythical to her place on her back. “But you and your guys are supposed to stay and help defend the city with the manor’s soldiers. Also, Gia’s not in charge anymore. It’s the old lady with the cape. And, Grunhilda, we’re going to Wayfarer’s Rest. Now.”

“Okay!” Grunhilda piped and the soldier hummed to himself.

“I was going to offer protection for you and your thrall along the way, but I suppose that Lady Gwendolen needs us here.” He nodded. “Understood.”

“So, if anyone asks,” Gilda spoke again with some sarcasm. “I should be at the bank. But I’m not going to take too long to be on my way… Lady Gwendolen thinks that… You know… The Law might catch up with me and my list of crimes against ponydom isn’t getting shorter after last night. I mean… you guys are probably going to be busy too.”

“True.” He agreed with a warm smile. “I hope to see you again in Griffindell, Lady Gilda.”

“Likewise.” She smiled too and extended her paw in a closed fist for him to bump, but he offered her his open paw. It took her a moment before she understood she was supposed to hold and shake it, but she did.

“Let’s go, Grunhilda. We still gotta buy some supplies.” She hopped off the ground and flapped her wings, followed by the other and her ‘okay’.

Again over the rooftops, finding the bank was easy. It was an inconspicuous office building in one of the main roads that spread from the main square. That was, it would be were not for the large golden letters near the roof that read ‘Thunderpeak Bank’. It would really be kinda hard to miss during the day.

They landed right at the entrance and the doors were closed, but she didn’t let that discourage her. She went up the steps and knocked on the heavy, dark wood doors behind the iron bars. It took a few seconds, but a small panel opened at head height and a pair of brown frowning eyes stared at her.

“Bank’s closed. Didn’t you notice all the trouble outside?” A male voice grumbled from inside.

“Dude, I was the trouble.” She pointed at her chest with a thumb. “Your boss wants to meet me.”

Finally, she put out her paw for Grunhilda and she gave her the medallion. Thankfully, not filthy with something. “And I got this.”

“Alright.” His tone changed. “One second.”

While the locks clicked open, Gilda realized that Grunhilda had held on to her stuff, from her freaking magical sword to the medallion she returned to her ‘keeper of the backpack’. “Good going, Big Girl. Do you have the scarf at the ready?”

“Right here!” She piped happily and promptly pawed it to Gilda.

“Awesome.” She wrapped it around her neck as the door opened to show a large atrium with granite floor and some fancy decorations, pillars, and golden candelabra with magical lights. The brown and white griffon with a butterfly tie walked out of the way and waved her in.

“Welcome. Lady Gaetana should be back soon.” He bowed. “She is busy with all the business of the city shifting to Lord Gilad.”

“Yeah. I know.” She grinned while Grunhilda came in too and he closed the door. “I was there to read Lady Gwendolen’s letter.”

“Oh well… That is way above my pay.” He shrugged. “May I offer you ladies something?”

“Yeah. I’m starving.” She could really get used to that kind of treatment.

They followed the griffon to a small private meeting room with a table and he soon brought some wine and cubes of different cheeses and ham, along with slices of salami. Not bad.

He bowed by the door again and left them alone, closing it behind him.

Sampling the food, Gilda took a few seconds to survey the room. The walls were covered in fancy wooden panels and the roof was too but had gold inlays that kept if from being too plain around the single magical light fixture. The table was nothing spectacular other than it was of quality and sturdy. The cheese was good and tasty, but Grunhilda didn’t eat any. She just sat there with that dumb look in her face.

“I swear that if you tell me you are waiting for me to tell you can eat this stuff, I’m gonna make you swallow that stupid wrist chain.” Gilda glared at her.

The other griffon blinked twice. “Okay… I won’t tell you then.”

Gilda glared at her and her frustration carry in her voice. “Listen. If you want to do this, fine. I can deal with that. But we’re gonna set some house rules. Is that acceptable under your ‘thrall code’?”

Grunhilda blinked at her twice again and strummed her talons on the table. “Uh… Okay…”

“Alright. First of all, you don’t have to ask my permission to do ‘things’.” Gilda spoke seriously. “Understand? You can eat if you’re hungry. You can… I don’t know… Go to the bathroom, sleep. Make yourself busy with whatever. Do normal stuff. Alright?”

The big white griffon just nodded at her and for some reason she had the feeling that she didn’t really understand, and Gilda let out a sigh. “Okay… If I ever tell you to do something you’re not comfortable with, you don’t have to.”

Hearing that Grunhilda tilted her head to the side with a frown. Gilda held her face in her paws and then stared back at big friend. That was going wonderfully, and Gilda couldn’t even blame Grunhilda.

“You are still not eating…” She pointed out and Grunhilda finally gasped and reached for a few random cubes of cheese she immediately gobbled down. “But you don’t have to eat just because… You know what? Never mind… Just forget this conversation, alright?”

“Okay.” Grunhilda’s eyes aimed down sheepishly and… Just great. Now she thought she did something wrong. Why was that stupid topic so difficult with her? Maybe she should try another approach…

Before she could attempt to breach the subject again Gaetana arrived, wearing a blue satin cape and iron chain instead of the one she wore before. She also brought a bag hanging from her beak that jingled with her gait.

“Ah, welcome to my humble little bank.” She grinned, putting the bag on the table. “May I see the medallion?”

“Sure.” Gilda put out her paw for Grunhilda and she gave her the medallion Gilda then showed to the other griffoness.

“Very well, you can keep it. Do you have something to tell me?” She raised an eyebrow. Was that for real? She just helped them take over the town!

Gilda sighed. “Fine. Miss Gerdie, Master Gabriel’s daughter sent me. Do you also need to ask me if I can hear the storm so that I can say I can hear Her cry?”

Gaetana snickered, hiding her beak with her paw. “I’m sorry, Lady Gilda. But that is how things work. Here. This should make up for you.”

She grinned a little more and pushed the bag to Gilda. It jingled as though it was filled with Bits. Gilda opened it and it was full of coins, but not Bits. She took one in her talons and took a good curious look.

The universal money in the Equestrian Federation, Bits, all looked the same save for the value imprinted on them, and as such, they came in specimens of one, five, ten, fifty and one hundred Bits. Of course, they all had Celestia’s profile and cutie mark on the other face. For values higher than that, ponies either used checks or standardized metal bars marked with the Royal House’s coat of arms.

What Gilda had in her talons was different. A small greenish-golden coin with The Lion’s profile on one face and the symbol of the pair of griffon wings on the other. Not particularly polished or tidy as the Bits, but Gilda liked the more ‘rugged’ coin. It was also smaller, and Gilda might be mean thinking it, but she had never thought about how unwieldy Bits were. So unnecessarily big.

She supposed it had something to do the way earth ponies carried them. Well, these coins were made by griffons, for griffons to carry. Well, alright. Wouldn’t complain.

Other coins that spilled had different sizes and sheens, but Gaetana distracted her.

“This is a Copper Eagle, worth one Eagle.” The older griffon lady told her holding one herself. “It is worth a Bit in Snow Mountains hold for now. Soon it will be the New Griffon Empire’s currency.”

She organized five coins by size and color: green, silver, gold, white and a clearer gold. “One Copper Eagle for one Bit. A Silver Eagle for five Coppers. A Golden Eagle for ten Coppers or two Silvers. A Platinum Eagle for fifty Coppers, twenty Silvers, five Golds. And one Electrum Eagle, for one hundred Coppers, fifty Silvers, ten Golds, two Platinums.”

Mildly amusing that she didn’t even stutter or pause.

“Sweet.” Gilda grinned and dug into the bag. Grabbed a pawful of the shiny things she let trickle back into the bag.

“Fifteen thousand Eagles.” Gaetana smiled at her excitement.

“That’s… Hum…” Grunhilda mumbled. “A lot of Eagles...”

“Yeah… Carrying this stuff around is a bad idea.” Gilda glared at the older griffon. There was a catch somewhere. She was sure of it.

Gaetana giggled. “Oh, dear. You should have a travelling sum with you and leave the rest here. With me. To keep it safe for you. This is for you.”

She grinned, taking a booklet from under her wing and offered it to Gilda. Light leather cover with the bank’s name that opened towards the top and was filled with blank checks. Printed with her name and the account number she didn’t know she had.

“Okay. This is a thing.” She knew those things existed, but they were not the sort of thing she ever expected to use in her life. They were meant for the very rich that dealt with big amounts of money. Well, well, she supposed that her life had changed. “Alright. We can do that.”

“These are, of course, only accepted in Snow Mountains. Also in the Wayfarer’s Rest inn that works with us, and now in Thunderpeak. There is really no mystery. Fill in the amount you wish to transfer to another griffon, numbers and written, and then sign with your signature we are going to register now. Hundreds of griffons working nowadays, running the ledgers for these transactions. You’ll be helping our economy!”

Her assistant brought her a document and a quill and ink.

“If for some reason you need more money, you can buy more Eagles from the local banks in our cities.” She explained as Gilda signed the document that said that was her signature for reasons of financial transactions and that she consented to opening her account. “All with a two percent tax over each transaction plus a small fee for the use of our coffers.”

Of course. Taxes. Inevitable.

Once Gilda was done, Gaetana’s assistant cleaned the excess ink and made away to do whatever bureaucratic process was still needed. Meanwhile Gilda separated all the smaller coins and some of the others until she had a thousand Eagles. That ought to be enough for some supplies and for decent accommodations once they reach the inn. There they should be able to buy some comforts for the trip going forward. She could even use the checks since that would save her coins for the smaller stuff.

“I guess that is it.” She told the other griffon, tossing the closed bag to Grunhilda who caught it and put it in her backpack. “The rest stays. We gotta go now, and we still gotta buy some stuff. I don’t think that the meat we brought from Canterlot is still edible.”

“Yeah… I had to throw a lot of it away.” Grunhilda confirmed that.

“Well then,” the older griffon smiled more earnestly this time. “I wish you and your companion safe travels. May The Harpy watch over you.”

“Thanks.” Gilda offered her a paw to shake and the other took it with a friendly grin. No doubt thinking about all the money she would make out of her once she reached Griffindell and started earning her money under Lady Gwendolen. At least she wasn’t trying to steal from her, and Gilda smiled at her too.

Finally, she and Grunhilda walked out the bank, and she sat at the bottom of the stairs, on the walkway. The city was still too scared to come out in contrast to the noise from the inns that still reached her.

“I hope the city’s market is open for us to buy our stuff.” Gilda mused.

“Hum… Should I call you Miss Gilda or Lady Gilda?” Grunhilda asked with a cute, concerned frown.

She was going to tell the big girl to just call her Gilda and that was it. But that would only upset her, wouldn’t it? She could put up with that quirk if Grunhilda was going to be happier. Gilda smiled and poked Grunhilda’s beak with a talon and caused the big one to go cross-eyed. “It’s ‘Miss Gilda’ for you.”

Calm Before The Storm

The market was close enough to the main square that a short flight was all it took to reach it from across some roofs. It was also difficult to miss. Spacious, with many stands and several stores surrounding it and the cobblestone streets that flowed into it. Most stands were empty though, as were many stores and vacant areas that ought to be occupied by stands. Very few griffons perused the services and despite that being the sort of place where all manners of smells should emanate from, only a few of the food-vending stands operated that morning.

A large tavern seemed to be doing well, though.

Landing in the empty street, so that they didn’t bother any of the griffons strolling on the walkways, Gilda gratefully took note that instead of Griffonstone’s wide and long walkway surrounded with overpriced stores and food carts as far as the eye could see, Thunderpeak had opted for a more reasonable approach of ‘let’s just put the usual stores here so that anyone living in the city or visiting could easily find what they wanted.’

Since the streets were empty, she took a few seconds to scan the nearby stores for some sort of grocery or even some store that specialized in travelling supplies. She should also find something for Grunhilda to wear and protect herself because she cringed at the mental image of her Big Gal getting hurt. Especially in the middle of the harsh eternal winter their destination was supposed to be.

Lost in thought and in mindless observation of the whole area, her heart almost jumped out of her beak when Grunhilda shrieked like a small chick and rushed to the bookstore next to them.

“What?!” She caught up with Grunhilda that had her face glued to the glass showcase. One quick glance up showed the name of the store. ‘Geeva’s Books’ painted in red. What did Grunhilda want with books? “What?!”

“Look!” Grunhilda’s talon poked nervously at the glass and one book amid all the others, on the short stands where they lined side by side. A sizeable one, blue-tinted leather cover of the fancy kind, and rather thick, with a golden drawing of a hammer and an anvil above the title in the center. ‘Goovar’s Compendium of The Smithing Arts’.

“Oh! You want it?” She looked at Grunhilda with a smile as the other squirmed and tap-danced like she needed to pee.

“Please?” She urged like a child in a toy store. “Pleeeeeease!”

“Gee. Sure! But Chill!” Gilda tried her best no to smile or laugh, but it was hard, and she failed miserably. “Now stop that. Let’s go see how much it is.”

She made her way to the door on the left and Grunhilda didn’t stop, but Gilda didn’t really mind it. Inside it was a nice enough store, with a fancy beige carpet above the wood floor and a magical light fixture provided internal light. To the right, by the wall, was a counter with a griffon lady wearing glasses behind it. Not particularly big, and reaching the elderly age, she was green with a green-tinted white chest and head that stared at them with a pair of emerald eyes behind reading glasses. She judged the two of them by Grunhilda’s outburst.

The interior smelled of books and they occupied every inch of the stands that covered the walls. Books of every color and size.

“Well, I’m glad I opened today.” The owner said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t think I’d have a customer today with all the fighting last night. Much less one so excited. How may I help?”

Gilda decided it was better if she spoke because Grunhilda still seemed to not have regained her faculties yet, so she pointed at the stand towards the showcase. “How much for the book on smithing?”

“Goovar’s?” The older griffon adjusted her glasses. “That would be two hundred Bits.”

Gilda didn’t grimace, and remained with a stoic façade, but two hundred Bits for a book was a lot of money. Grunhilda certainly knew that too because she gave Gilda an apologetic stare and then her typical sad frown.

But… Grunhilda... She had saved Gilda’s life, and she was… Gilda wasn’t sure what Big Girl was to her, but they were close. How could she deny her that book after the story Master Galahault had told them? And how could anyone resist that sad frown?

“How much for it in Eagles?” Gilda smiled broadly with a playful singing in her voice.

Regardless, the griffon lady remained with a stone solid stoic expression. “It is still two hundred. The Harpy isn’t paying my bills, you know?”

Grunhilda gave a little whine, and Gilda was a bit miffed her mojo didn’t work, since she was supposedly a hero, but that was for Grunhilda.

“It is an excellent book.” The store owner explained with a superior glare upon Gilda. “While he was not quite on the same level as our Master Galahault, Goovar was quite brilliant.”

“It’s alright. I’ll buy it anyway.” She told the griffon lady, who nodded and went around the counter to fetch the book while Grunhilda squealed and grabbed Gilda in one of those inescapable hugs that squeezed the air out of her.

“Thanks a lot, Miss Gilda!” As if that wasn’t enough, she started hopping happily with Gilda for a while before she noticed she overdid it and let go with a panicked squawk.

“Sorry! Please forgive me, Miss Gilda!” She held Gilda’s shoulders while the later groaned, trying to focus through the black spots in her eyes and waited for the shop to stop wobbling around her.

“I suppose this is yours then?” The storeowner held the book for Grunhilda to grab, inside a protective paper case with a replica of the cover. “Enjoy it.”

“Thanks!” Grunhilda hugged the book in sequence and Gilda shook the dizziness out of her head.

Big Girl was so happy she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re welcome, Big Girl. I gotta pay her, though.”

“Yes!” The big griffon grinned and promptly delivered Gilda the leather bag with the coins from her backpack. Gilda gave her one final smile, watching Grunhilda donning the backpack again before focusing on grabbing the right coins from their collection and dropping them on the counter for the shopkeeper to see.

“You buy books for her and let your thrall carry your money.” The storeowner almost sounded as though she chastised Gilda. “I can understand educating a thrall, but something like this seems excessive. Although, I could see how a griffon whose profession is the sword would find great benefits from a loyal thrall that can repair and sharpen such weapons.”

“Grunhilda is more my friend than my thrall.” Gilda remained calm as she watched the other griffon picking up the money and checking the coins, inclusively by biting the things. “She’s saved my life like I saved hers.”

“I am not judging either of you.” The older storeowner took the money and dropped it on a drawer behind the counter. “I think it is noble, as far as northerners and their thralls go. You are not a northerner though, are you?”

“I suppose that I am not.” Gilda gave back to Grunhilda the bag with the coins, keeping her eyes on the storeowner. “Then again, with how crazy things turned out, I might as well consider myself beyond that.”

The other griffon cocked an eyebrow, but Gilda didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Okay.” The other secured the book and the money in her backpack and then followed outside.

Thunderpeak’s market wasn’t as impressive the one in Griffonstone. Yet other than being more welcoming, it was also much cleaner. To the point that maybe griffonstonians were just lazy bastards that felt they were too good to clean the streets. And that was not even thinking of not throwing trash in public ways, but not cleaning the grime that rain often left behind, or the soot that city produced.

Gilda sighed the thoughts out of her head. She had more important things to do.

“Is everything alright, Miss Gilda?” Her big companion tilted her head to look at her from the side. Then she gasped. “I’m sorry! Was the book too expensive?”

Was she seeing things or had Grunhilda, somehow, gotten just a little smaller? Anyways, she just smiled at Grunilda. “Nah. Everything is cool. Just thinking about Griffonstone.”

The other frowned a little, that way she did when something upset her. “I don’t miss Griffonstone!”

“Yeah. I can’t say that I do either.” Gilda frowned a little too. “But that’s not what I was thinking.”

Then she shook her head. “Never mind. It’s not important. Let’s find something to eat.”

But Grunhilda still had that mopping ‘I’m worried, please give me attention’ frown and Gilda quickly scanned the market, which gave her a grin and she pointed. “Hey. Look it there! How about some sausages?”

Grunhilda immediately lit up. “Oh! Sausages! Yes, please!”

Well, that worked! Gilda grinned again at her excitement and walked with the happily hopping Grunhilda to the stand. It was owned by a middle-aged griffon. White-gray head and a much darker body with a white apron that seemed clean for his profession. Or maybe it was just the time of day being so early on. The area in front of his stand even had a few wooden tables. Nothing special, and not even seats, but that was good enough.

“Hello!” He grinned. “Can I offer you ladies some sausages? I have natural pork, spiced, garlic and smoked.”

Maybe it was the smell that invaded her nostrils, but Gilda just noticed that she was starved! She did her best not to gawk and looked over the sausages in display behind the protective glass to the side of the small heating pan above the burning wood. Some of them sizzled on top of it and she could almost taste them already.

“Yes, please! Give us two of each! Actually, make that three. I’m starving!”

Grunhilda nodded happily by her side as the griffon guy set some more to heat. “In a moment, ma’am.”

“So, how much?” She looked back up from the pan.

“Ah…” He scratched the side of his head and frowned. “I don’t mean to offend or anything, and I meant to make them free for you… But I need the money. And there aren’t a lot of griffons out here today.”

She looked around for a while and, indeed, most stands had no customers, much less the stores that surrounded the round plaza the market was. In the center was another food stand offering fresh meat cuts, and they had one customer complaining about something.

“It’s just the aftermath of the battle.” He waved a paw at them. “Griffons will come out eventually when things settle down. The Lion’s gonna be good for us… And whoever will be the new mayor.”

“Dude, we can pay.” Gilda told him, but then she frowned. “Why did you say you wouldn’t charge us for the food?”

“Well, for one, I like The Lion. City is under an honorable liege now and I’m sure whoever he supports to administrate the city is bound to be better than Grosster.” He explained with a shrug. “But there is also the fact that you spared my kid. I don’t think that any other northerner would have.”

Gilda hummed and Grunhilda looked at her curiously. “He… Didn’t want to die… I mean… I doubt that anyone there wanted to, but he cried and... Well, he didn’t shoot at me.”

The griffon on the other side of the stand nodded. “I just wanted to thank you, Lady Gilda.”

“Well, I feel thanked.” She put a paw on her chest. “I’m gonna pay for these sausages. I mean… I have the money and it’s supposed to be used for supplies and such for our travel.”

“Ah!” He raised a finger. “Going north? Through Wayfarer’s Rest?”

She just nodded and he grinned, pointing to the other side of the plaza. “My friend Gillian is setting up a caravan headed that way. They’ll be taking some of my farm’s produce to the inn. You should talk to him. It’s safer to travel in caravans, you know. With all the brigands around... They send their griffons to city markets to sniff out potential targets. Any traveler is guaranteed to find a group of bandits if they don’t take a few fighters to protect them and caravans always travel with escorts.”

“Hum. Thanks.” She looked in the direction to see the griffon in question supervising a cart getting loaded with stuff and turned back. “So, how much for the sausages?”

“That would be eight Bits, ma’am.” He started grabbing them with pincers and putting them in a wood plate.

“Will you take Eagles?” She blinked at him.

“Oh. Sure.” He slapped his forehead. “Gee. Gaetana had been pushing them around for ages. I guess that now she’s got her wish.”

As he spoke, Grunhilda got the coins for Gilda, who paid the griffon and they excused each other with a nod as Grunhilda followed her to one of the tables. On the way they passed a couple of young griffons at the tables, but they just nodded a greeting. Gilda did the same.

Sitting at the table, she didn’t even care which seasoning each one had and just bit off a chunk of the first she grabbed with a happy hum as the greases and seasonings invaded her mouth.

Not much later Grunhilda did the same, but Gilda took a second to speak with her. “As soon as we’re done, we’re gonna talk to the caravanner and see if we can join.”

Grunhilda just held a half sausage and nodded with a happy hum-hum. Apparently, she was starving too!

Physical exertion is widely known as a stimulant for one’s appetite. Be mindful that your magical abilities will push your body to its limit, and that is why an intense physical training regimen will be in order. You must also be aware that your body’s nutritional requirements are met.

Gee, she just got a pass at eating more. Woe…

The Harpy spoke no more and let Gilda with her friend to devour the sausages in silence. When they were done, Gilda sent Grunhilda to return the plate, and turned her attention to the caravanner.

It was a not quite so young griffon, about the same age as the dude with the sausages stand, but he was cyan and white, with clear blue eyes he kept on his notebook as other griffons loaded stuff up in the cart and in the other two that had arrived while they ate. There was also a pair of gruff and strong-looking griffons keeping watch. They wore leather armor but seemed to have no weapons.

She kept a bit of a distance, since there were griffons carrying heavy, not to mention expensive stuff. But she cleared her throat and rose a paw in greeting, speaking clearly. “Hey. You guys headed to Wayfarer’s Rest?”

The griffons working to load the carts stopped and stared at her. Their shock was disconcerting at first, but she immediately concluded she should get used to it. Instead of an answer, all she got was a bunch of ‘toms’ gawking wide-eyed and dropped-jaws at her though. And it got worse when Grunhilda rejoined her.

At least until their boss came over. The griffon the other guy had called Gillian left his notebook on a cart and put some order in the whole operation with a couple of well-placed slaps. “Get back to work, you weasels.”

“Damn kids. Can’t see a pretty tail.” He grumbled and Gilda decided to just take that as a compliment while Grunhilda blushed. “Sorry, Lady Gilda. I’m Gillian. Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I heard you’re going to Wayfarer’s rest?” She smiled pleasantly.

“Aye. Looking for some company on the road?” He nodded with a friendly smile of his own but went on before she could answer. “Be nice to have someone under the future king with us to shoo away the low lives.”

He shrugged with a grin. “Besides, the kids will work harder if they think they can impress you. So, how about this: you join our escort, with all the benefits of that, keep the boys motivated, and help protect us along the way. And we’ll get you there.”

She wasn’t expecting a full proposal like that, but that sounded awesome! However, she wanted to play hard to get and look like she knew what she was doing, so she kept her best ‘mildly interested’ expression and nodded with a sniff. “And what would those benefits be?”

“The usual.” He offered a paw. “Free food, griffons that know the way, some company, more eyes to watch out for trouble… All you gotta do is fight off any bandits we happen across. Which, uh… Shouldn’t be much trouble for you.”

He waited a pair of seconds. “I can pay too if that is not enough.”

Well, it kinda was, but she really shouldn’t just give her talents for free… The Harpy would be angry if she did, and if it came to an ambush that dude would be happy he hired her.

At the same time, that would be shitty of her to do… Dude already had hired guards and she’d be cutting into his profits. The situation being what it was in the city he would probably need that money.

The griffon didn’t say anything more and he was good at hiding his thoughts behind a rock-solid blank expression of simple expectation.

“Alright.” She softened up. “You’re offering a lot to us. I mean… We’d be travelling alone and that is simply not good. I don’t think that I can charge you anything and… Dude, to be honest, I don’t know the region… We’d end up getting ourselves lost. I mean, I’m not really a mercenary either. By all rights, we should pay you for the food you will give us.”

“Or I could help!” Grunhilda suddenly piped in happily and pointed at the griffons bringing in loads of ‘stuff’ to the carts from a smithery past the circular street. If anything, Grunhilda made things sound fairer and not like she was imposing or something.

“Sounds good!” The griffon grinned. “The sooner we leave, the better! Gonna have to tell the other mercs, but that shouldn’t be a problem. You’re gonna be more help than trouble, unlike some of them.”

“Great!” Gilda grinned then looked at Grunhilda. “Get to it, then!”

“Okay!” She giggled and started towards the other griffons loading the cargo. The smithery had a side entrance they used for bringing the cargo from storage and Grunhilda found her way there and some attention from the guys as well as something to do.

Gilda excused herself from mister Gillian and went into the smithery. It was basically a spacious hall with a complete forge and some stands for showing off their work. A wide door in on the other side certainly went to the storage in the back, but she didn’t care. The whole place smelled of something she wasn’t sure what was, but it was similar to Master Galahaut’s forge, and she didn’t care about that either.

She turned to the strong-looking griffon in the middle of the room talking to some younger griffons that looked like his kids and were busy with something.

“Sorry ma’am.” He turned to her showing his leather apron covered in soot. “We’re closed for the week. We’ll be in Wayfarer’s Rest, selling our stuff to the caravans going north.”

He was big and strong, though not quite built like a mountain as a northerner. In fact, Gilda could swear that she was a tiny bit taller. It was his years of working the forge that gave him his mass. She wasn’t sure if his face was dirty or if his plumage was a dark gray while his body was a deep tan. He had a moustache, though and it was indeed gray when his eyes were more towards the blue.

But she wasn’t there to admire griffons and pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m aware, dude. I’m gonna be protecting the caravan with your wares.”

“I see.” He frowned. “I suppose you need something, then?”

“Yeah… My friend needs some sort of protection.” Gilda pointed to her diadem. “She’s a big target and doesn’t have any armor or magical artifacts for protection.”

He hummed. “Big? I might have something. Where’s she?”

“She’s helping load the carts.” She pointed at the door and walked next to him when he went to the door in the back.

Opening it they could see one of the younger griffons pulling away a cart with a load of stuff covered under a dirty white cloth and another waiting while his friends loaded another cart with spearheads next to Grunhilda. But she got tired of waiting and just grabbed one of the griffon-sized burdens, threw it on her back and walked away while the griffons gawked.

“Yeah.” The griffon with Gilda squinted and made a finger gesture for her to follow. “I have something that might just do.”

They walked to a stand with a peytral made for a large griffon. It was black, with a nice bluish sheen, and adorned with a bass-relief drawing of a griffon. Although it didn’t look like it would fit Grunhilda, the blacksmith pointed at the thing. “This is enchanted with a pretty powerful shield spell. It was commissioned by a fat rich guy that wanted to hunt rocs with it. Well, he got shot last night and I’m stuck with a dumb piece of protective jewelry that doesn’t fit anyone.”

Gilda listened and looked at him when he sighed. “I’m going to lose money, but it is better than this stuff gathering dust and soot until another rich noble with a dumb idea shows up… Give me one thousand and I’ll adjust it so that it will fit your friend. I’ll even modify it free of charge since she’s helping load up the stuff and seems to be the most enthusiastic one.”

“Mind you that the spell on this thing is rated for the Royal Guard. This stuff is good.” He added before she could reply.

“Cool…” She nodded at him and pointed at the Harpy in her diadem. “Can you change that engraving to look more like this?”

“Yeah.” He squinted at the thing. “That’s easy. No problem.”

“How long then?” She grinned. “We’re leaving soon.”

He gave a dry laugh. “Caravan is going nowhere without me, ma’am. A couple of hours, at most.”

Better than she expected. “Awesome! You do that! I’ll make myself useful.”

And by making herself useful, she meant that she was going to see if she found something interesting in the market, and in one of the restaurants the owners recognized her from the meeting in the night before and she got a treat: delicious meat rolls invented by griffons from the Saddle Arabian desert and some quality, strong and dark beer. Now that was some relaxation.

But hey, she had grabbed the backpack from Grunhilda, and her bow and quiver too, so that they wouldn’t get in the way when she was trying to work. All she had to do was wait for a while and eat some tasty treats.

And she had to admit that despite the display of dweeb-ness when she first arrived, those guys were quite strong and hard-working. Not that she cared in that exact moment, though. From her table near the window, she could see the griffons loading the carts and she was more concerned with strong muscles and stout limbs. Tight hindquarters too.

It was not like she was horny, but she had a small grin, her elbow on the table and her head in her paw, watching the strong griffons working and Grunhilda’s stuff safely by her side.

There was Grunhilda, though. Carrying a load of metallic sounding stuff that clanked against itself inside the large rough cloth sack when she threw into the cart with a small hop like it was nothing.

The owner of the caravan startled at the noise and turned to her, chastising her with a finger and a stern talk that, unfortunately, Gilda couldn’t hear. But she could see the big griffoness casting a downward stare and mumbling her ‘okay’. Gilda didn’t even have to hear it to ‘hear’ it.

She frowned a little at the fuzzy feeling in her chest. It wasn’t unpleasant, but she didn’t expect it. Or maybe she should but tried avoiding until then. Maybe it was the fact that she finally felt safe that it became a thing.

When she first met Grunhilda, helping her seemed like a simply decent thing to do. Something that one ought to do simply because it was the right thing. Maybe her own situation influenced her own feeling towards the big girl. But, after all they went through the simple thought of something happening to Grunhilda turned the food in her stomach.

Not to mention that Gilda first thought of herself as the savior, but that had obviously changed when Grunhilda, simply put, saved her life. Yes, some would say that she also caused the problem to begin with, but she went beyond most would ever have done to help Gilda.

In the end, both had done some things they might not have in another situation, and while Gilda could say that she didn’t regret it one bit, she was sure Grunhilda didn’t regret it either.

By then Grunhilda had brought another load and placed it in one of the carts… And speaking of strong muscles and tight hindquarters… Those were not exactly the reasons she felt so attracted to Big Girl… But… Damn! She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel something far more torrid than platonic companionship and Grunhilda wasn’t even trying, ever since… For a while. She didn’t know where it had started, but it was certainly there since the large griffoness intruded in her dreams of a large bathtub.

She had to wonder if Grunhilda felt the same way. Once or twice, Gilda had felt like she did, and she wanted her to, but she couldn’t be exactly sure with that thrall thing in the other’s head all the time.

You recognize that she needs you. Your problem, however, is still treating her as though she is incapable of making her own decisions, just as you were with griffons that forfeit their lives for their beliefs.

The voice in her head startled Gilda and a couple of griffons sitting at a nearby table gave her a confused stare. She blushed and did her best not to look at them. Yet, The Harpy was right. She did treat Grunhilda a bit as though she was a child. But she also liked to believe that since she had finally accepted her ‘thrall thing’ they could move on from that.

The voice didn’t speak to her anymore and Gilda let out a small sigh. Why was she so skittish around that subject?

Not long after she had finished the tasty treats the owners of the restaurant had offered her, the blacksmith arrived with… Was that armor? It was a peytral, whatever that was anyways. She really only knew the name because the pony princesses wore those things and she saw the name in a newspaper. Theirs was supposed to be filled with all sorts of protective spells and she supposed that the rich griffon that had commissioned that one got his inspiration from theirs.

Anyways, he put it on the floor and held it standing with a paw along with wearing a wide and proud smile. She could see why. That thing was definitely different though it looked pristine and not like it had recently been messed with at all. And it looked like the right size for Grunhilda and the engraving showed The Harpy. That guy was good, money well spent for sure.

She reached into the backpack and then into the leather bag with the money which she dropped on his open paw with a grin and didn’t even worry about giving him the larger coins. “Looks awesome!”

“Thank you.” He nodded with a pleased smile, closing his paw on the coins she gave him and then dumping them on the large pocket in his apron. “We should see if it will fit your friend. I can make any adjustments when we arrive in Wayfarer’s Rest.”

“Cool.” She agreed, running her finger on the cold metal and the magic in it made her a little tingly. “They should be wrapping up soon, I guess.”

He agreed with a nod, and they walked outside after she thanked the owners of the restaurant. He carried the peytral for her on his back and it took a few minutes, while the sun got high in the sky behind the clouds, but the caravanner griffons eventually finished loading up the carts and Grunhilda returned to Gilda as they talked to their boss.

“I think we’re done, Miss Gilda!” She didn’t even sound tired.

“Great, Grunhilda. This is for you.” Gilda gestured to the peytral the blacksmith held to his paws to show her. “You need some sort of protection too if we’re gonna be fighting to protect the caravan.”

She made an impressed ‘ooooh’ with huge eyes and her wings flared. “Pretty!”

The blacksmith griffon laughed and held out the peytral. “Allow me, ma’am.”

He placed it around her neck and Grunhilda sat to take a good look at it, rubbing her paws on it and she giggled, flapping her wings enthusiastically. “Thanks, Miss Gilda! I love it!”

“I’m glad you like it, Grunhilda. Here you go.” Gilda smiled warmly at her, pawing over her stuff.

“See if it fits well enough, ma’am.” The blacksmith told Grunhilda. “With time you might notice that it could fit a bit better, and I can make adjustments once we arrive at Wayfarer’s Rest.”

“Thanks mister!” She hopped and smiled at him. “I love it! But I will tell you if it needs adjusting!”

Meanwhile, it seemed as though Mister Gillian was wrapping up with his employees as they covered the carts with large and thick cloths before tying them around the frame of each cart. The blacksmith left Gilda and Grunhilda to deal with his own stuff and, finally, the two griffonesses approached the talking griffons by the carts.

Mister Gillian gave his griffons some more instructions and decided who would pull the carts. Someone said that Grunhidla should pull one, the heaviest, but he shot down the idea because Grunhilda was supposed to fight if there were trouble.

As soon as they approached, he turned to Gilda. “We’ll walk until the edge of the city, join up with the others and fly on out. Not too high, just enough for an easier travel. We’ll camp for lunch, just a quick thing, and then we’ll be off again until the nightfall. We’re heavily loaded, so we should arrive at Wayfarer’s Rest by nightfall in the second day. And just in case someone must know, you will get paid next morning. Any questions?”

Griffons glanced at each other, and nobody seemed concerned with anything, so Gillian nodded. “Let’s move our asses then. The sooner we leave town, the sooner we can fly and make a good speed.”

He took the lead with the two griffons that kept guard earlier following and the four griffon-pulled carts followed as Gilda and Grunhilda took up the rear. The blacksmith had changed to a traveling attire and so did his sons, and they walked by the carts.

“You sure you’re okay?” She asked Grunhilda. “It was a lot of stuff that you carried.”

“I’m okay!” The other giggled and her step sprung happily by Gilda’s side. “I think I miss Snow Mountains!”

“You think?” Gilda smiled with a caring, yet confused frown.

Grunhilda stopped bouncing so much as she walked and took a finger to her beak. “I was too young to be sure… I think I miss it…”

That made Gilda chuckle. “I guess we’re gonna find out soon enough.”

Then she frowned. “Uh… Is there gonna be anyone angry at me over the thrall thing?”

“I don’t think so…” Grunhilda didn’t sound all too sure either, with a frown of her own.

Gilda decided that it would just be a waste of time to think about that, but they remained in silence the rest of the way until they reached the road that connected the city to the manor and that circled around the fountain in front of the mansion’s gates before veering off into the wilderness.

The rest of the caravan waited for them there with six more carts loaded with stuff and griffons already strapped to them, two more guards, a male and a female griffons that looked like siblings.

And a pony.

A unicorn lost in the middle of all those griffons in a griffon city, right next to a region where they hated ponies. What the heck?

Also, Gia and her thrall, Geary, both with travel attire in the form of capes, but he also carried a leather satchel across his chest, an axe, and a round shield on his back.

“So, I guess we’ll be traveling together.” Gia deadpanned at Gilda when she approached. “I suppose that is good.”

Then she made a mocking grimace. “I also suppose that I should be safer traveling with the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani.”

Since Gilda didn’t answer, and instead stared at her with contempt as though she was a bratty child, Gia amended with a sorrowful sigh. “Sorry. I’m in a bad mood. None of that was your fault.”

“Eh, it’s okay.” Gilda shrugged and waved a paw at her. She really didn’t have anything against Gia. Maybe that would be an opportunity for them to try and know each other again. “Say, uh… What’s with the pony?”

Gia looked at him too. “Beats me!”

Pale amber coat with a light gray wavy mane and vivid violet eyes. She couldn’t see his cutie mark because he wore one of those horsey blankets that covered his body and wrapped around with a pair of tan saddlebags. The blanket was purple with some golden buttons he finished fastening just as he noticed Gilda watched him. And glasses, giant round glasses, because of course.

“Oh! Hello!” He waved a leg at her. “Nice to meet you. You must be Lady Gilda!”

First, she didn’t like the fact that a random pokehead knew her name. Last time that happened, she almost died. Second, it was even worse when he pulled a notebook and a pencil from one of his saddlebags with his telekinetic magic. Maybe it was Gilda’s budding magical senses, but that thing irritated her like it was a fly buzzing around in her head.

Flashing a huge, very ‘pony’ smile at her, he spoke again. “I’ve heard some amazing things about you.”

As if that wasn’t enough, he spoke with a very weird version of the contemporary Griffonese that sounded like the High Griffonese she had gotten herself used to, but not quite. It just put her on edge.

“I hear that you are from Griffonstone and that you have become quite an important member of… Something I can’t quite grasp. It has given you a lot of importance to the local griffons in days. Not to mention that last night was… Uh… Interesting.” He grinned at her and meant to speak more, but she interrupted him.

“You lost, dude?” She spoke in Common Equestrian and gave him her best unfriendly glare with a frown, but that either didn’t register with him or he just ignored it.

“Oh, no, ma’am!” He retained his friendly ponyness and switched to the Common Equestrian too. It just sounded better on his big clumsy lips than the melodical griffon language. “I came here to study this interesting culture of the northerner griffons. It seems that Canterlot University has finally grown an appetite for information surrounding your culture after The Lion slayed that undead dragon in Greenleaf some months ago! There clearly is something interesting and momentous happening in this place. You are quite relevant. Mind telling me of your story?”

“Yes. I mind.” She replied as curtly as she could. Yes, she was curious, but she didn’t want to talk to him!

Griffons just listened to him with different levels of annoyance and disdain. Finally, Mister Gillian spoke. “Pony’s paying a hefty sum, so he’s coming with us. If anyone has a problem, they can stay behind and wait for the next caravan. Hop aboard, Professor Temple.”

A young griffon lady, lime-colored with cyan chest and head tapped an empty spot in the cart she sat on. He thanked her and hopped onboard while Gia and her thrall hopped onboard another cart and found themselves a comfortable place.

The whole caravan summed up some ten carts and at least the same number of passengers: the pony, Gia and Geary, the blacksmith and his sons, as well as a pair of traveling griffons Gilda didn’t know. Not considering the guards and Mister Gillian’s workers.

And with that they took flight. Gillian took the lead, and they were officially off, quickly gaining speed and leaving Thunderpeak behind. A lengthy cliff separated two levels of the dark colored ground covered in yellowish and sparse grass. They took a right past the manor’s grounds and down the cliff Stormrend overlooked to a comfortable altitude and kept going. Surrounded in rolling prairies of black, yellows and browns under the gray clouds as far as the eye could see. Rocky outcroppings here and there with a few groupings of yellowing coniferous trees.

If anything, Gilda always thought the stony mounds interleaved with green prairies of Griffonstone were nice enough, and both seemed very different from the lush greens of the pony lands. But she found in the cold mountains of the border a more pleasant beauty than Griffonstone’s dirty landscape and the chill in the air much more refreshing.

Although she remembered that in King Grover’s time Griffonstone was a beautiful place, at least in some times of the year and griffons had made irrigation systems, it always seemed to have been a metropolitan, civilized area, in contrast to the wild north.

But Gilda wasn’t there to admire the terrain. She was supposed to keep watch and to look tough flying next to the airborne carts, so she did as the griffons that minded their safety. Grunhilda did the same, putting forth a serious frown, but keeping close to Gilda.

She wanted to talk to Gia, maybe try another shot at a friendship. Or maybe some sort of alliance… Something. But she figured that this wasn’t the time.

Undying Hatred

The morning slipped past them in a rush about as fast as they flew south-ish in a V formation with the carts in the back and the two male guards bringing up the rear while the others took turns in the positions.

Funny that nobody had ever taught Gilda that, but it seemed natural. She remembered something from flight school about vortices and something, but it came naturally. Most griffons travelled by train or airship. It was only in the inhospitable regions they caravanned like that.

Anyways, instinct was cool. Almost like remembering past lives.

“Alright, listen up, griffons!” Mister Gillian flew overhead. “We’re stopping for a brief lunch!”

He pointed at a grassy clearing hugged by a curving lazy stream in the middle of a not-that- dense coniferous forest.

They had flown quite a bit to the south and the whole area changed within hours, but that was rather common since most weather was magical anyways. The whole area looked a lot more colorful, with lush green trees verdant grass and the small stream, despite the ground still being black under all that. It was a sizeable forest they had been flying over and that clearing made her think that they always used that spot.

The air was much drier and warmer than it was in the immediate area to the border and there was more than enough space for everyone and the carts. Once in the ground, Gilda stretched her wings up with a loud groan and arched her back. Then she cracked her neck but looking to the side she caught Grunhilda stealing a glance at her with an adorable blush and then adjusting her bow across her back when she noticed Gilda looking at her.

Gilda let a mischievous smile show and started on her way to her friend when Mister Gillian hopped on top of one of the carts as his employees unhitched themselves and he cleared his throat before speaking. “Great job, everyone! We made excellent time on this first leg. We’ll have a quick lunch and then we’ll fly until nighttime, and we’ll stop at the mesa.”

Everyone listened to him but didn’t answer as they were all busy making themselves comfortable on the soft grass. Gilda didn’t know what ‘the mesa’ was but she was busy. She went to Grunhilda and smiled. But the smile she gave was a spicy one that made the other griffoness blush some more. She even sat on her haunches as she expected Gilda to inspect her or something. She was nervous, didn’t know for sure how to react and Gilda thought it was just adorable.

“You did great.” Gilda told her, still with the mischievous smile, pulling the bow and the quiver from Grunhilda’s shoulder and laying them in the grass next to them. “How do you feel? You’re not used to long and straining flights, are you?”

“Hum... Thank you, Miss Gilda. I think I’m fine… I’m not tired at all.” Grunhilda kept seated, but she fidgeted with her paws. “Do… Do you need me to do anything?”

Talk about being nervous. Gilda just let herself chortle playfully at that. Maybe she was plain evil, but she decided on torturing her friend some more.

“Nah… Just relax. Here, let me see…” She shuffled to Grunhilda’s side and put her talons on her shoulders, massaging them. It wasn’t really something she knew how to do, but it was probably hard to mess up, especially thinking back to what Grunhilda had done to her, all the way back in the airship. And she was doing it right anyways, because Grunhilda let out a small squeak and her wings flared like she had just used that lightning magic on her.

It drew the other’s attention, but they didn’t bother with more than a glance.

Flight muscles were in the chest, but because of the posture griffons held while flying their shoulder and back muscles usually became sore too. And that was a good thing for courting griffons to remember. The chest muscles usually became uncomfortable after some rest, especially after such long flights. And if their boss was smart, he’d have everyone in the air again before that, but that was just a passing thought in Gilda’s head.

She just couldn’t contain her giddy grin at Grunhilda’s leonine tail quivering and at the low mewling she made as her talons scratched their way down Grunhilda’s back. Then she pressed muscles against bone and the tense fibers practically melted under her touch as Grunhilda let her wings sag a little.

Then Gia walked past her, coming from the parked carts, followed by Geary. “You know your thrall is the one supposed to do that, don’t you?”

It was at that moment that Gilda noticed something about Gia. Yes, there was the fact that she was bitter about what had happened, but also that she was quite naïve. Not very savvy in certain ‘things’ about relationships. Not that Gilda was particularly knowledgeable, or anything, but she knew that just because there was some sort of hierarchy, it didn’t mean that she had to be overbearing or that she couldn’t derive a lot of delight from servicing her friend. Especially with the way Grunhilda reacted.

So, she just smiled at Gia, and she was going to say just that, but that lime colored griffon girl from before brought a bag to them.

“Here you go!” She giggled all happy and produced something wrapped in paper from the bag she carried. Opening it, Gilda found a prench bread and roasted beef sandwich. “Your lunch!”

It didn’t seem like much, especially since it was cold when Gilda grabbed hers, but it smelled like a banquet after all that exercise! Grunhilda didn’t even think. She just teared into it with a happy hum. Following in her example, Gilda noted happily that the thing had pickles and their salty juices went well with the one from the thin slices of cold rare meat. But she managed to keep from humming despite how delicious it was.

Meanwhile the other guards joined in with a few curt nods of acknowledgement as they began unwrapping their food. It was like the small group of guards and there was another group with the caravan workers, and a third with the passengers. But Gia and Geary approached Gilda and so did the damn pony.

Fantastic…

“Do you mind talking while you eat, Lady Gilda?” He bit an apple he produced from his saddlebags and munched at it. But instead of responding, Gilda made the most unfriendly frown she managed and teared into her sandwich again in a way that should have provided the answer in its entirety.

Surprisingly, it was one of the guards, the griffoness that looked like a sibling to another, that spoke to the pony. “You’re the odd one out here, pony. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

The pony stopped mid-bite, raising his eyes to look at the griffon lady and she drew Gilda’s attention too. It was a young and fit griffon lady in her mid-twenties wearing a tight-fitting leather armor reinforced with chainmail. Gilda had to admit it looked badass. She had a longsword on her back and a small crossbow on her side with a quiver full of bolts on the other. Her armor even protected her forelimbs, leaving only her rosy paws exposed.

Her head was very light shade of pink with bright pink eyes and highlights in her feathers and her body was pink too.

The griffon that kept next to her was clearly her brother, probably a bit younger, and where she was pink, he was red against his white head, and his body was wine-colored under his armor.

They ate their sandwiches and drank something from canteens, waiting for the pony to speak. Which he did right away.

“Oh. That makes sense!” He grinned and put a hoof on his chest. “I’m Lost Temple.”

He stood to show the griffons his thigh with his cutie mark, which was certainly an important part of his identity for him to flash his ass at them. It contained a rolled parchment, crossed with a shovel. “I’m an archeologist and historian by destiny!”

Gilda should’ve been annoyed at the pony and his pony-ness, but instead the only thing in her head was the reaction from The Harpy.

Yummy… Long time since I have eaten pony rumsteck.

Gilda near choked with the food in her throat, but fortunately the others didn’t seem to notice, and the pony was speaking again. “I graduated at History in Canterlot University, but then I re-enrolled and then graduated at Archeology too! I felt my talents told me that I was supposed to understand the whole.”

Gilda supposed that was what happened when one had a destiny…

“Although, you would be hard pressed to find archeologists that aren’t interested in history anyways. My family was quite rich, and my parents put up with me for a long time because of my dreams. They allowed me to study and not have to worry about money until I was ready.” He concluded.

“So…” He dug at the ground with a leg for a second. “I’ve been working for Canterlot University exploring ruins and teaching griffon history.”

Gia squinted at him. “Is this serious? There are ponies somewhere teaching griffon history to other ponies?”

“Well, yes.” He blinked. “Respectfully, of course. Why, all our material comes from griffons yourselves.”

Gia grumbled something with the sourest expression in existence and it amused Gilda to no end. She was probably upset about griffons not being taught ‘the right stuff’. It bothered Gilda too, but that was not the time to worry about that. It would come once The Lion was their king. She had wonder, though… She knew Princess Celestia was chill with him becoming their king, but if Lady Gwendolen was to be queen… Some facts about the past would surface and Gilda couldn’t imagine Celestia liking that.

She supposed she would see what would happen.

“Well, that was the reason the university sent me here.” The pony went on and grinned with a lot of pride. “You see, it is quite not well disclosed, but we always knew that the northerner griffons kept the southern land safe from monstrous incursions out of the Frozen North. It’s just information that isn’t all that interesting to ponies.”

“But it interested you?” The pink griffon lady asked curiously. “Because you are a historian?”

“Yes!” The pony pipped. “The northerner griffons jumped to the forefront of history when Lord Gilad Ironfeathers slayed the dracolich in Greenleaf.”

Gilda had no idea what he was talking about and that was probably a bad thing. Not because she didn’t know, but because it wasn’t widely known. In fact, she didn’t even know what was a dracolich. She had read something about that, but she was too busy baking scones at the time.

“Holy potatoes!” The wine-colored griffon cried with huge saucer eyes. “That was for real?!”

“Yes!” The pony grinned and his ears perked up. But then he grimaced. “I mean, I think so… I wasn’t there. Many just don’t believe… The only ones that saw were the citizens of Greenleaf, which is a large rural town, but it is also not densely populated. The Lion’s soldiers were there, but they went back north. And also, the GSA soldiers that were deployed there, but they keep shut about that. And when the Mane Six arrived with the Elements of Harmony and the Royal Guard, it was all over. Only the remains of the dracolich were there.”

“Sounds like bullshit.” The male griffon of the siblings complained while his sister just ate and paid attention.

“It’s not.” One of the other two male guards finally spoke. “I was there.”

“We both were.” The other guy with him added. “We were both with the GSA. 11th Infantry Division from Fort General Gusto near Girdershade. We went there with the new recruits from fort King Grover, Griffonstone.”

They looked like the typical Griffonstone griffons to Gilda. No armor, just muskets on their backs, a pistol for each and also a halberd for each. They looked like soldiers, yes. Mostly fit and muscular under their brown travelling capes and each carried a backpack beneath it. Both middle-aged, just different shades of tan and white. They looked like they belonged in a line formation of nondescript griffons, but one was a slightly darker shade of tan than the other and he also had honey eyes instead of brown.

“Damn…” Wine-colored guy gasped. “I assumed it was bullshit that the northerners spread to make their dude seem awesome, or something.”

“Wow…” He concluded, finally. “What the heck even is a dracolich?! I mean… I know what a dragon is. And I know what a lich is…”

Gilda’s stare betrayed little faith in him and Grunhilda, right next to her preferred to keep her beak shut. Soon enough Mister Gillian called to them. “Alright! Time to move if we want to reach the camping spot before Princess Luna decides it’s night!”

Fortunately, Gilda had finished her sandwich when the same lime griffon from before brought them a bag with a big smile. “We don’t want to leave our trash behind, right?!”

“Yeah… Right.” She dropped the paper in the bag with a smile.

“Geez. Who cares?” The male with his sister complained but dropped the trash in the bag anyways.

“We educated griffons call it being civilized, you big dummy.” His sister chastised him in a playful tone and also threw in the paper packaging of her sandwich, as also did the others.

Less than a minute after they were in the sky again, flying westward, following the river beneath, soon leaving the forest behind. There was a road too, beaten dirt, it seemed, but it was too sinuous, and Gilda couldn’t imagine an easier target for a group of griffon brigands, swooping down from the sky than a group of non-flying travelers burdened with a heavy load.

Actually…

“Hey… Why is there a road down there?” Gilda raised her head and looked to the right, towards the rest of the caravan and the guards.

One of the griffons pulling a flying cart, a young, but strong-looking gray guy replied. “Because it is in the royal charter. Canterlot obligates the Chancellor’s office to ensure the holds build efficient roads connecting the officially recognized cities.”

“Sometimes…” Mister Gillian said from the lead. “You have to transport something too heavy. Rather than hiring a small army of griffons to fly it, it’s best to grab a few oxen and pull it through the roads and hire some griffons to help guard it.”

“Ah… Cool!” She nodded, satisfied with his explanation. “And what sort of things could that be?”

“Well, when things go south, we’re supposed to transport large amounts of stuff to neighboring cities. The Royal House will offer all sorts of benefits for merchants willing to assist cities in emergencies and the those come down all the way from the Chancellor’s Office to the holds, municipalities, and individual merchants. Everybody benefits a little from helping and most of all, the citizens of the cities that need help.”

“I thought you northerner griffons didn’t like the ponies.” Lost Temple propped himself on the side of his cart and let his forelimbs hang. That dude was too chill for someone flying that high and that had no wings.

“No northerner griffons in this company, Master Temple.” Gillian explained and Gilda just listened. “They usually remain north of the border, precisely because of that reason. They don’t want to mingle with the ponies and the pony lovers.”

“Unless Lady Gilda here is, and I didn’t notice.” He shrugged. “With the stuff that she can do.”

“I’m not. I was born in Griffonstone, but I suppose that it is kind of a pointless detail by now.” Gilda cried from her place in the formation.

“Your thrall looks northerner!” The male griffon that had a sister cried from the other side. What’s up with that?”

“Ask her if you want to know!” Gilda shouted back. “I’m not her mom.”

“Huh?!” Grunhilda startled, pulling up her head while she simultaneously carried her bow, one of the iron arrows and the book in her paws, all while she flew.

“You’re supposed to help us watch for bandits!” Gilda yelled and pointed at her for emphasis. “Put that book down and pay attention!”

“Hum…” Grunhilda turned her eye and hesitated. “My northerner senses allow me to see everything while still reading the book…”

“I’m gonna scratch your northerner ass if you don’t put that down and pay attention to your job!” Gilda yelled back at her with her raspy voice which very effectively communicated in how much trouble Grunhilda would be if she didn’t comply.

So, she did comply.

Grunhilda immediately stashed the book in her backpack and pretended nothing had happened. After that, Gia, sitting in her cart next to Geary and closing her own book gave Gilda a oh-so-sarcastic stare with her feathers fluttering in the wind. “You were saying something about her not being your daughter…?”

“Shut up…” Gilda blushed and looked away.

“So, uh…” Lost Temple raised a leg. “I would like to make it known that the slave thing is rather awkward, considering that is a violation of creature’s rights… I’m just saying.”

“Well, if you’re going to learn about us…” Gia turned to him, talking over the wind. “You ought to know that thralls are not slaves per se.”

“I’m slightly more confused than I was a moment ago.” The pony blinked at her. Gilda had to admit he was rather charming for a pony. And she would never admit it to Gia, but she wanted to know too. Mercifully, Grunhilda seemed to be taking her job seriously after that scolding and wouldn’t see Gilda paying attention.

Why that even worried her eluded Gilda.

Regardless, Gia did explain. “Thralls aren’t property. They are indentured servants. While the difference isn’t exactly apparent, it is there in our culture. We have laws that protect them from abusive masters and a griffon cannot be owned. Only other creatures can be enslaved.”

Then she turned to Geary and smiled at him, her finger tenderly caressing his jaw. “Thralls are very personal assistants and most of the time the master and their thrall will share some connection.”

“That sounds like friendship with extra steps.” The lime griffon girl frowned from her cart. “Or boyfriend with extra steps. You northerners are so edgy!”

Gilda had to agree. And Gia just rolled her eyes. The one that spoke was one of the ex-GSA dudes. “With all due respect, ma’ams. And Master professor. But we should be paying attention to the clouds and the ground below, not distracting ourselves with petty talk.”

He was right and everyone knew it. So, everyone just shut up and the guards kept their eyes open. The time passed and not much happened other than a distant traveler that saluted them or some isolated house that appeared in the sea of grass and black earth which returned to the yellowish green shades.

Not a lot of snow, but a few rapid streams and more frequent rocky outcroppings. Patches of trees and the clouds became sparser. Nothing happened until Gilda saw a pair of griffons on top of a cloud. They wore gray capes, but it was the wrong shade, and she could be proud of her eyes because she picked them off from pretty far away, off to their left.

That looked like an ambush if she ever saw one. It could also be spotters for bandits planning an ambush further ahead since they were so few. She frowned and she was sure they saw her staring at them but made no effort to hide.

The female mercenary approached her and certainly saw them too. “Spotters.”

Gilda just hummed and growled. “I don’t like this.”

“They won’t bother us. They’ll wait for something more vulnerable and with more valuable stuff, such as some rich idiot traveling with too much money and too little protection.” She kept staring by Gilda’s side as they flew.

“That’s not it.” She looked at the other griffon. “I don’t like that these jerks get away with this. The hold’s administration ought to keep the airways and roads safe.”

“Sure.” The other agreed with her. “But I don’t suppose that was much of a priority for the ex-mayor in Thunderpeak or his Lord Protector you make a barbecue out of. Things will take some time to settle again. We shouldn’t even be traveling, to be fair.”

That better change with The Lion. Gilda was led to believe that he was an honorable and dependable dude.

There is a reason I have chosen him, Child.

Yes. There was that too.

I can ensure you that Gilad will not allow the leniency that permits them a presence. We do not suffer the criminal.

Gilda let a small cruel smile in her beak. She couldn’t wait to see certain griffons paying for what they owe her.

Time will come. A little patience is a small price to pay for your revenge. In the meantime, you have much to do and to learn.

That was true. She took one last glance at the griffons somewhat hidden in the cloud, but then returned her gaze to the other side, looking for something that might be a threat. True, she wasn’t knowledgeable in that, but she should understand if something means trouble.

But nothing further happened. She even spared a few glances at Grunhilda, dutifully maintaining her position in the formation and watching the area while holding her bow and one of the iron arrows.

It would probably be a good idea to get her some actual bow training before they went north. Not only would she like that, but it would make her more capable of defending herself. Not to mention that her mother meant to teach her how to fight using that thing. It seemed right.

Decided. Maybe in Wayfarer’s Rest they would find something among the griffons that gather there. There must be caravans leaving frequently and they would attract griffons with such knowledge. Some coins ought to convince them. If anything, griffons were convenient because they could always be bought with some of those.

The day passed calmly with nothing more happening than the boring straight line flying, but Gilda supposed that she should be thankful that nothing happened, and she was surprised when, again, Mister Gillian flew overhead and called everyone, a bit sooner than she expected.

“Alright that’s enough for today! Our haulers need to rest, and our guards need to relax before the night shift! We’re camping there!” He pointed to a mesa. The black dirt and yellow-green grass ground rose softly until a smooth stony plateau made of white rock jutted above.

Cool place. Looks like the sort of spot that would have a name, but she just kept flying with the others as they descended to their new camping place, and they landed on top of the wide mesa. A white dusty cloud rose with the griffons landing in group, but not enough to be a bother.

Grunhilda stood next to Gilda and returned her arrow to the quiver. “Is it okay if I read now, Miss Gilda?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” She waved a paw at her. “Just don’t wander off.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda acknowledged and just laid in the ground, pulling the book out and laying it open in between her forelegs. Gilda sat next to her while the others stretched and relaxed some of the load of their weapons and adjusted their armors.

She was even a little conscious of herself because all she really wore were the tiara, the bracelets and carried Mythical on her back.

She sat next to Grunhilda and…

The last time she hadn’t thought much of it, but the others gravitated towards her again and Mister Gillian’s employees started a fire nearby while others made a barrier with the carts so that the wind wouldn’t bother them too much. Awesome stuff that Gilda wouldn’t have thought of by herself.

Before long they got the fire going and the group had huddled together by the fire. Caravaneers laughed at a story one of them had told. Something about the tuft on someone’s tail catching fire and the subsequent mess that came from that while they camped in that place some years ago. She didn’t pay attention to the story, but it was nice being in the middle of well-disposed griffons for a change.

One of the caravanners shot and killed a deer at the base of the mesa and most of the meat was put away to be preserved, but enough for everyone was put on the fire and they talked around it just as the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon showed up with its silvery glow.

It provided more than enough light in the cloudless and starry sky that the fire was almost unneeded for light. But Grunhilda seemed happy it was there because she used it to read, having laid on her back, holding the book above her face.

“Say, you guys said you saw when The Lion killed the dracolich in Greenleaf?” One of the cart tuggers, yellow, with a brown beanie, asked while the one next to him poked at the meat above the fire.

“Yes.” One of the ex-militaries said. “We were there.”

“So…” The mercenary guy next to his sister started with a frown. “A dracolich is some sort of undead dragon?”

“It is a dragon that has turned into a lich…” Gia sighed, laid next to Geary and to Gilda. “Dragons that become particularly old and powerful may seek to become a dracolich and the easiest way to do that is giving their soul to the Windigos.”

“That sounds dumb.” Gilda grumbled.

“They come to a point where they understand that they may not be able to acquire more richness, power, influence. They do that to overcome that limit.” Gia explained with a few paw gestures.

“Yeah…” Gilda rolled her eyes. “Dumb. It’s not their power. They just became servants of the Windigos.”

“Well, it’s not really ‘giving’ their souls. It’s some weird magic thing that they do. The process changes magic in a way that allows them to ‘cheat’. But, uh… It messes up their souls and they basically become servants to the Windigos and their souls are bound to an artifact they hide somewhere.” Gia grimaced. “And I can guarantee the Windigos aren’t very nice! But I guess dragons think that is not a big deal.”

“That sounds about right. Although I didn’t know that one could contact the Windigos. But then again, dragons aren’t very forthcoming with their knowledge.” The pony, Lost Temple blinked curiously. “Do you northerners know anything about that?”

“Well, we are not very forthcoming with our knowledge either.” Gia gave him a condescending smile so bad Gilda thought he would get angry.

But instead, the pony just went ‘hmmm’ with a hoof on his chin. “Princess Celestia certainly knows many things she’s not forthcoming with. I don’t think it’s bad… It’s just… I came here to understand the northerner griffons. Maybe help others understand you. I’m fascinated by your reclusive culture and your chosen king, but many are afraid of you.”

Maybe they should be, but Gilda wasn’t going to say it.

“Eh…” The mercenary griffon groaned. “All I really know of the Lion is that the dude’s convinced a lot of griffons that he’s got a serious case of blueblood and that he can cast magic with his voice. Or something.”

Grunhilda flipped a page of her book, while Gilda wouldn’t disbelieve after what she’s been through. Even if she never witnessed it, Ghadah had memories of the emperor using that magic like that, although she also knew it was The Harpy’s magic he channeled. It was the same magic Loremasters used, and that she had used, but it manifested in different ways.

Probably simply because The Harpy said so. She liked her Loremasters being all sneaky and bossy while her Swordmaidens were supposed to be alluring and attractive (when they weren’t cutting you into pieces). It seemed that a lot of what the northerners did and was simply because ‘she said so’.

But she had decided she’d be quiet. The one that probably knew the most about that also chose to remain quiet and the others made silence as though no one had the courage to communicate they believed it or not. And in the meantime, the griffons passed around cuts of roasted meat inside some bread and with a minty sauce.

“My dad owns the farm the where the GSA set up the defenses to fight the thing.” The lightly shaded of the ex-militaries spoke, finally. “Damn thing was bigger than the barn.”

“Wait… Did you guys fight the dracolich?” Gilda stopped eating.

“No. We set up defenses.” The griffon explained. “Then the northerners showed up. Our strategy in the GSA is holding the line until the ponies show up with the Elements of Harmony. The monster didn’t wait though. It also didn’t go alone. It had a small army of spirit things… The northerners said they were frostmanes.”

“If the northerners hadn’t arrived, we would’ve been dead, and that thing would likely have destroyed the city and Harmony knows what else.” The other added with a shrug.

“They are some of the Windigos’ favorite toys. The frostmanes.” Gia explained suddenly and heads snapped to her. “Windigos hate the ponies. They hate griffons. They hate everything. And the frostmanes are the souls of ponies that refused to leave or couldn’t escape fast enough when the Windigos first manifested into the world.”

She sighed and made some gestures as she explained. “When a creature dies, their soul is supposed to go to a place called the Pool of Souls where they’re supposed to rest. To replenish vital energy, or something of the sort. But the Windigos messed up the magic that made up their souls and the part that made them go to the Pool, that allowed entrance, or whatever was destroyed. Then the Windigos did their evil thing and bam… Pony ghosts that steal the warmth from your blood and snatch griffon cubs from their mothers and trample them.”

“That sounds specific…” One of the females in the group of haulers cocked an eyebrow. A grayish griffoness of young age and an inquisitive expression.

“It’s a thing that ponies did before we civilized.” Gia explained. “It’s complicated stuff.”

When Gilda noticed after a few seconds of nobody saying anything, the pony was busy taking notes. The female in armor next to her brother urged the griffon to keep going. “So… You guys fought the frostmanes?”

“The northerners did. All we did there was try not to get in their way, no matter how the Public Relations Office tries to hash it.” He explained seriously. “They were unlike anything we had ever faced. They completely ignored our muskets and sabers. They would simply have gone through us if the northerners weren’t there.”

“Then… That thing came...” His companion spoke in turn. “It was… That thing was evil incarnate. I’m sure of it. It flew down from the clouds and it landed in the middle of the field. Its nostrils blew a ghostly white smoke and its eyes… They were a cold light. I never felt so cold in my life. It was the middle of summer too. It was just… Otherworldly.”

“Yeah…” The first spoke again, in a somber tone. “I had seen the Storm King when he showed up. I saw Lord Tirek. I saw the undead ponies that Nightmare Moon brought with her when she came to Griffonia. None of that even came close.”

“There…” He stopped talking and thought before he continued. “There was evil in the Storm King, but the creatures that fought for him where just that. Creatures. There was magic. But not like that undead dragon… It was different. There was a malevolence that didn’t just want to destroy. It wanted to corrupt and…”

“I don’t know how to explain.” He gave up with a frustrated gesture and pawed at the grass, looking away.

“What you felt was the Windigos’ corrupted magic in the dracolich.” Gia explained. “The only reason they exist is to corrupt and destroy. To usher the collapse of life and magic until life ends.”

Gilda frowned at that. Sounded like the Black Sun that the Empress had told Ghadah about. She was sure that the purpose of the Black Sun was to restart creation, or something of the sort. Did the Windigos exist because of it? Or even worse… Was their world on the brink of annihilation and nobody cared about that? Nobody knew about that. Except… Celestia and Aya Harpyia.

“But The Lion killed the dracolich, right?” The female mercenary insisted, interrupting Gilda’s thoughts.

“Yeah.” The ex-soldier confirmed. “He cried something and summoned a spear of lightning from the sky. Straight through its chest bone. They talked for a while, but at the time I didn’t speak High Griffonese and I can’t remember what they said. But thinking of that thing’s voice gives me a headache anyways. All I know is that eventually The Lion cracked its skull with his axe and his griffons finished mopping up the frostmanes.”

Lost Temple nodded. “Yes. That is the story that is told. The Lion is also told to have made a speech about why he wouldn’t take the money from Greenleaf’s mayor or speak to Chancellor Gail.”

“That was something alright.” The ex-soldier chuckled.

“He pretty much said he wouldn’t wallow in our mud and that the money was filthy. He wouldn’t tarnish Lord Griskjal and Lord Graham’s honor by taking it.” The other ex-soldier smirked. “That it was their duty from time immemorial to protect the northerner lands and that the memory of his ancestors was worth more money than the Chancellor could produce, even if ‘his southerner brothers’ had forgotten themselves’.”

“We decided to leave the GSA after that. But we decided to do mercenary work in the border until it came time. We can help The Lion… I mean… We were GSA. You know what I mean.”

“Most of Lord Gilad’s favoritism comes from that event.” Lost Temple added. “Griffons took his refusal to take the money as a sign that his dignity was above that of Chancellor Gail and that the northerners were right. That The Lion was honored and dignified, worthy of ruling Griffonia and that they would deserve a noble king once again if griffons managed to recognize his majesty and rallied under his banner.”

“Not to mention plain cool.” He grinned. “Like… Our princesses. That is exactly the feeling the griffons I spoke to gave me.”

“Do you agree with that?” The female mercenary asked him earnestly enough, as though she trusted his opinion.

And he took that trust seriously. He pondered before he answered, and Gilda appreciated that. “I believe that griffons will benefit from that. Yes… Princess Celestia seems to believe that Lord Gilad is fit to be a king and that griffons have the right to choose their leadership. Honestly, I think that the change in Griffonia’s government is a matter of time. Even without events such as the revolt in Thunderpeak. Chancellor Gail is being removed either way.”

Then the pony frowned and made a bit of an angry expression, rather than worry. “If I am completely honest, the fact that Chancellor Gail is so unpopular and unwilling to leave his position shows that he doesn’t have the best for your species in mind. And The Lion… Well… He sounds like the sort of king that griffons were proud of in the past. Like King Grover.”

What a brilliant deduction. Gilda wondered how many years’ worth of education the pony needed to reach that most exquisite conclusion. But she supposed that she shouldn’t be too judgmental of the pony. If he wasn’t there to track her or something, he was at least trying his best to help. He just didn’t know what she knew. But either way, Gilad was better than Gail, for sure.

And also, on Gilda’s side.

The conversation quieted down too. Everyone looked tired and it was obvious. Gilda wasn’t that tired, neither was Grunhilda, that giggled to herself, reading something in that book. The other guards, the mercenary siblings and the ex-military didn’t seem too tired either.

“So, what’s the story with you, Gilda?” The female sibling asked, more friendly than Gilda expected. Maybe she shouldn’t be so paranoid around everyone.

“It’s a mess…” She whined a little and rolled her eyes. “And you guys won’t believe it anyways.”

“I’m pretty sure I will after the things I’ve heard about you.” One of the griffons that pulled one of the carts said. A young ‘tom’ covered in light tan and white with a huge fanboy smile. “I was home, but I saw the lightning over the town hall. I heard the stories in the bar and some of ‘the guys’ were in the central square and saw everything. I don’t understand what the heck happened, but you made it rain lightning on the chancellor’s loyalists. That was crazy!”

“Yeah…” Gilda turned her eyes away. “Even I think that was crazy. I mean… I did somethings that were impressive, but uh… I’m new to this myself.”

“Wait. What?” The female of the sibling pair blinked at her with a confused frown. “That was true? I mean… You actually did that? Uh… Magic? Like they say that The Lion can do?”

“Well… Uh…” What the hell was she supposed to say? That she was the awesome, badass and incredible Gilda The Swordmaiden of the Shaddani, or whatever it was that Lady Gwendolen called her in the letter?

All she really had was a desire to survive that got her ass out of Griffonstone and into that crazy situation. She had no idea that The Harpy existed. That griffons could do magic. That stuff like Master Galahault’s smithing skills and plain magic like that existed. All she really did was try to survive.

Gifts and their fruits belong to those they are gifted to, My Child. All the skill and power in existence still requires a will. You own everything you have done.

Yet, along the way, she did her best. She proved that had good intentions when she tried to make it work in Griffonstone, but ‘they’ messed it up for her. The game was rigged from the start and there was no expectation that she would even survive.

She was flung into that whole conspiratory mess, and yet she did survive. She rebelled against ‘the system’ and managed to break free. She even defended herself against three thugs. It took a decision that she was not going to allow them to kill her. It was her decision.

She made a conscious decision of leaving Greta and Gary. He kind of pushed her out, but Greta would have stood up for Gilda. She decided not to expose her friend. Those thugs would have done horrible things to them just to get at her.

Then she decided she would free Grunhilda. And that proved to be her salvation plank later, didn’t that? She stole a glance at her friend, still on her back and squinting at some schematic in the book she still held above her face. Such horrible things they would have done to her had Gilda left her to her fate.

And then Grunhilda later saved her life. She really went beyond to save Gilda and Grunhilda liked her in a way that nobody had ever liked her before. Even when she was with Dashie… That pegasus didn’t love anything that wasn’t herself. At least as far as Gilda was concerned.

Heh… Loyalty.

Anyways, Gilda also didn’t hurt her nurse friends. Colleagues… Whatever they were. She really did her best not to bring to harm anyone that didn’t need to be harmed. She could have gotten Han killed for what he tried doing to her, but instead she spared his life, and he would be useful and might learn something out of the whole situation. She even helped the two hookers back in Griffonstone.

And in the end, The Harpy certainly did a lot for her. But she was helping Her too, wasn’t she? She sure was! She supposed it was kind of included in her job by then, and she even won her a town. Could they have done it without her? Gia used her to manipulate their supporters… It seemed that they wouldn’t have done what they did without her.

The griffoness still stared at her, as did the others, except for Grunhilda, entertained with her book. Then Gilda coughed a little. “So… This is weird. And I never did anything like this before… But… Uh… Have you ever heard of our Mother and Savior The Harpy?”

“Say what now?” The griffon lady perked her head up with the most confused frown Gilda had ever received in her life. Or stares… Because everyone around them did the same. Even Grunhilda stopped reading and stared at her with an upside-down frown.

The only one not frowning in helpless confusion was Gia that held her face in both paws and let out an anguished grunt. “For feathers, sake…”

Gilda preferred not to add anything and let Gia speak instead. “I had never imagined it, but I suppose that is a good reason we’re not supposed to mention the Harpy with outsiders.”

“Much less in the presence of grassbreaths… Much less a pokehead...” Gia added with additional irritation.

“I feel singled out!” Lost Temple scowled in that ‘I’m so offended right now’ way that ponies did.

“Whatever…” Gia groaned. “Guess I’m not that great a Loremaster either. And I don’t even do magic and shit…”

Ooooh… Someone was still jealous. But Gilda managed to hide her smirk.

“The Harpy is supposed to be an ancient being that created us griffons.” Gia shrugged. “There is no other way of saying this that doesn’t sound strange, so there… I said it.”

Ironically, the only one that didn’t seem completely befuddled by what she had said was the pony. Instead, of course, he was curious, with a hoof on his chin. “This is odd. I have heard of similar folklore involving Princess Celestia among the Yak and the Buffalos. But never among the griffons, much less of a similar griffon entity. Of course, Princess Celestia says that despite her old age, she had nothing to do with the creation of ponies, yaks or buffalos… Princess Luna will outright prosecute anyone that mentions something similar. Huh… How interesting!”

That was supposed to be a secret, but if Gia was going to say it, Gilda didn’t really feel the need to get herself involved.

“It’s a northerner thing.” Gia explained to the pony and the others. “Princess Celestia will tell this is nonsense and northerners will keep their myths to themselves and we don’t really care what the pony princess will say.”

“What exactly is it that you believe?” Lost Temple asked with a smile. “That this Harpy created griffons? Does she live somewhere?”

“No.” Gia smiled with a bit of cruelty. “I actually don’t believe any of that and I think that Lady Gwendolen made up the whole thing so that griffons will cater more easily to her mate and when he is made king, well, she will be queen.”

“Oh…” The pony’s gaze fell to his hooves. “What a shame. Do you just not believe the story, or are you convinced that Lady Gwendolen made it all up? Do you think that she has nefarious intentions?”

“Think about it. Isn’t it obvious she’s exploiting how discontent some griffons feel about the whole situation with the griffonian government?” Gia argued and Gilda wasn’t sure what she actually believed. It seemed obvious, the way she had previously acted that Gia believed that the Harpy had chosen her. Was that jealousy?

Curiously, no input from the voice in her head. It was almost suspicious. Maybe She wanted to see how Gilda would react?

Was it possible that she had even put Gia up to say those things to see how Gilda would react?

And Grunhilda just got bored with the conversation and turned back to her book. Maybe she had the right idea because Gia suddenly started looking and sounding like a whiny kid. Angry she didn’t have it her way.

“Lady Gwendolen preached to us, in The Harpy’s name, a lot of stuff. Made a lot of promises, and in the end, she decided that I couldn’t take a little of the money the Chancellor stole. It all had to go to her. I don’t know what pisses me off the most. That she wanted cutthroat, ruthless griffons that got stuff done only to pull the rug from under me, or that she took all of the Chancellor’s money for herself!”

“Whoa… Hold up…” The male of the two siblings gave a scowl of disbelief. “Are you seriously complaining that she didn’t let you steal that money?”

“No!” Gia cried. “I didn’t want all of it! Just a little…”

Unfortunately for her, none of the faces around the campfire showed the slightest hint of sympathy. Even Grunhilda stopped reading her book again and righted herself to glare at Gia.

“What?” The green, short beaked griffoness defended herself as though she had been slighted. “You guys are okay with Gail stealing, and with Lady Gwendolen stealing, but not me?!”

“That is not what I heard!” The young lime griffon girl whined. “I heard that Lady Gwendolen took the money to help in the fight against the GSA when they try to retake the city! And that you got caught red-pawed trying to take the money for yourself!”

“Honey, what do you think she’s going to do with that money?” Gia gave her a condescending stare like she was talking to a child. “Do you think that you will see the benefits of that money? It was gone… It belonged to Gail. And now it belongs to Lady Gwendolen.”

“That is not true.” Maybe Gilda should have kept her mouth shut. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought more attention to herself. Maybe she should have remembered that the pony, or the two siblings might have been looking for her.

But, at the same time, Gia really should grow up already! “Lord Gilad is going to use that money to fund the Sky Sentry. They’ll keep monsters away from the south and I also believe that once he is king, he is not going to allow bandits to steal from his subjects. By all rights, that money would be lost to Gail and Grosster. Now it will serve griffons again.”

“Really?” Gia rose a finger. “So, you really believe that The Lion is going to come in and solve all of the problems with Griffonia?”

“Well, no!” Gilda let her voice raise defensively. “But you just heard the story. I mean… Maybe? The dude literally killed an undead dragon and refused the Chancellor’s money!”

Then Gilda shook her head and reorganized her thoughts. “You know what? I think you’re just bitter you didn’t have it your way. And you know what else? That Lady Gwendolen outsmarted you. You thought you were winning, and you got served. Tough luck.”

“I know someone else who thinks she’s winning.” Gia retorted with a mocking grin.

Before Gilda could formulate a response Grunhilda put her paws to her beak. “Boooo!”

And then the others started laughing. Gilda couldn’t hold it either. It was the childish and lighthearted expression of what everyone there thought of Gia’s complaining put into the simplest and most decisive expression a griffon could come up with.

Gia reacted simply putting up an annoyed expression. “Ugh, what have I surrounded myself with? Come, Geary. I’m tired.”

But there was nowhere to go, so she just plopped down on a sleeping bag made of animal fur, turning her back to Gilda and the others while Geary laid down next to her in his own sleeping bag.

The laugher died down quickly and Mister Gillian talked to his workers. “Well, we better get to sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“You heard him, Grunhilda.” Gilda told her friend and she nodded, putting the book back into the safety of her backpack.

“Actually…” The female griffoness with the pink highlights spoke. “We’re on guard duty. How about two shifts of four hours?”

The two ex-soldiers agreed with silent nods and the darker one spoke. “Only one night out, I suppose. Two shifts of three.”

The others agreed and that sounded fair to Gilda. Well, Grunhilda just looked at her, but she would do whatever Gilda told her. The soldier boy offered first. “I’ll stay up the first shift with the two siblings. He’ll stay up with Gilda and her thrall.”

Nobody disagreed, so that sounded great to Gilda too. “Awesome. Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s catch some Z’s.”

Fortunately, Mister Gillian’s caravan offered everything they would need and both Gilda and Grunhilda had their own sleeping bags they retrieved from the carts. Those things smelled clean, made from rabbit skin, or something. They also seemed small though, and it wasn’t that cold, So Gilda dropped down on hers after laying Mythical right next to her. It was fluffy and warm.

Grunhilda laid her own sleeping bag/mattress next to Gilda’s and she turned to see the big girl pushing it to be against Gilda’s. Then she laid on it. That thing looked even smaller under her, but Grunhilda didn’t care. She just snuggled her back against Gilda and exhaled a relaxing sigh.

Gilda’s cheeks blushed and her eyes moved around for a second. Nobody paid them any attention. The two siblings and one of the soldier friends settled near the fire and the other guy laid down on his own sleeping bag. Except he actually fit inside it.

“Good night, Miss Gilda.” Her friend yawned at her.

“Good night, Grunhilda…” She whispered back, putting her foreleg over Grunhilda and snuggling closer.

A soothing warmth came from her back, and she smelled of nothing, except of ‘griffon’, and it was quite relaxing. Sleep came quick.

First Snow

Gilda walked in the front of the caravan with Mister Gillian, and Grunhilda followed close behind her. Her mood wasn’t as good as it should be, though. The road was beaten dirt. Wet, it turned to mud that clung to her paws, fur, and feathers. But as they drew closer to the city it, became more civilized. It turned to cobblestone, but still wet and slippery with slime in between the individual stones.

At least, there were some nice yellow flower patches here and there. And she would rather walk there than get shot. She had previously decided not to test if the guards would shoot at someone wearing the red scarf.

It was a soft incline towards the city, flanked by green bushes and short grass. It smelled of wet dirt and berries. A cold breeze came from over the city and brought with the smells of living griffons. The sky was taken by the angry gray clouds, and occasionally the wind would blow stronger and colder.

Then she stopped in her tracks when the sight dragged her eyes forward.

Reaching the top of the incline, the gate into town was clear to see. Half-open, made of reinforced wood, much as the palisades themselves. A clear and sturdy wood. But what drew her eyes was the scene in front of the gates. A group of griffons congregated in the middle of the street before a section of the walls on both sides which funneled towards the gates.

There were griffons in the guard towers and the ones on the street wore leather armor. They carried curved swords and crossbows, as well as shields on their backs.

Hanging poles stood by the sides of the road. Simple things made of the same wood and stuck to the ground for leverage. A few griffons occupied the road, waiting. They wore nothing at all, or capes and cloaks of varied colors. They seemed to be normal citizens, most of them.

A griffon hung limp from one of the poles. A garrote around his neck supporting his weight to the pole. Black fur and feathers covered his body with fluffy dark gray on his chest. His head was covered in a black sack and urine stained his hindlegs. The smell confirmed it when the guards ordered the bystanders to make way for the caravan.

Gilda’s first worry was Grunhilda. She had huge curious eyes over everything. At least she wasn’t shocked, even if Gilda thought that she did understand what happened there. In fact, Grunhilda was more interested in the guardtowers.

The pony stared for a few seconds before deciding not to say anything. He just sat back against the covered cargo in his cart and kept his eyes down. But the lime, young griffoness stared for quite a few seconds more.

“Barbarians…” She muttered loud enough that Gilda heard it and Gillian didn’t like it. He immediately chastised her with a harsh shushing.

“Keep it to yourself, Gil.” He ordered her in a low voice. “We are the only caravan with access to the city. And now that Thunderpeak is loyal to The Lion, you will do better to remember you are a northerner too.”

She didn’t respond, but the look on the lime griffoness was not a happy one.

Gilda turned her attention to the griffons on the road, now by the sides. An older, white, and gray female with a pair of small glasses and gray eyes held a younger version of herself. The younger one stared with a contemptuous frown at the dead griffon. Gilda might have imagined it, but she could swear she saw a small smile in the younger one’s face. She had fresh cuts in her face and in her neck. Clear talon marks also in her shoulders and nape. While those might be common among overeager lovers. Those cuts in her face told Gilda very clearly that violent coercion had happened.

Maybe it was Ghadah’s memories and the effect they had on Gilda. Maybe it was her encounter with those griffons in the dark and dirty alleyway in Griffonstone. But the next thought in her head was that she was glad the northerners wouldn’t suffer such a scumbag to live. If it was back in Griffonstone he would be under protective arrest pending judgement, and then he would go to Shatteredrock.

But he was the kind of jerk that would endure in that place. Maybe even thrive. Come out in a few years and then do it again.

Just the thought twisted her stomach, and she tried to distance her mind from that. Next to the two was another griffoness. Older than the youngest, but also blue and white, staring at the dead griffon with stoic hardness. She was harder to read and Gilda didn’t know what to think of her.

The only noise came from the moaning wind and the wheels of the caravan.

But nobody paid attention to them. Especially when a Loremaster approached the lone griffoness. She looked at the Loremaster but didn’t say anything.

“Watch your cub, Greni.” The older and grave looking griffoness with the blue cape admonished with a deepening frown. “The fruit does not fall far from the tree. I do not wish to see him hanging from that pole too. Educate him better than his father.”

The other kept her stoic hardness and moved only to further her frown, but the former didn’t stay there anyways. The Loremaster stole a glance at Gilda and moved on to speak to the pair of females. But Gilda couldn’t hear what she said when she spoke to the younger one. Except, form a distance, Gilda could see that she examined the young one’s injuries.

Once they were past the small crowd, the Sky Sentry lieutenant approached Gilda and spoke softly. “Not the best introduction to town…”

How should she respond? Should she respond? She had thoughts on the sight, but not everyone might agree with her. Well, screw it. If they didn’t like it, she didn’t care. That scarf in her neck should give her the right to say whatever she wanted.

It was easy for her to put herself in the place of that young griffon lady, about her age, with the talon marks in her.

“I am not going to feel bad for a griffon that got what they deserved here any more than I wouldn’t feel for one in Griffonstone.” She said, finally, with a grim tone to her voice.

The soldier just nodded in understanding, but Gilda could practically feel the younger lime-colored Gil boring holes in the back of her skull with her eyes. If she wanted to say something, she could, but Gilda wouldn’t be going after her to hear her whining. Specially because she could imagine it was about how such a thing wasn’t allowed in the ‘civilized’ south.

Gilda didn’t care. She would praise the northerners on putting down a griffon like that.

Yeah. If griffons didn’t want to die, all they had to do was not deserve death. Come to think of it, she was glad they had the guts to do that. Stupid ponies and their leniency were the problem with Griffonia. The stupid princess that just let Gail do whatever he wanted. The same lame pony princess that also allowed griffon politicians to screw up her life for a petty reason.

Oh, her blood boiled. She almost regretted not accepting Gladys invitation to see them hang that piece of shit back in Griffonstone.

Gil might not like it. The soldier could be anxious that wasn’t a good greeting to their home. But as far as Gilda was concerned, it was good enough to know they didn’t allow scum like that to live.

Once they were past the gates things improved. The cobblestone road was much cleaner and nicer. A stream to the left gave off some good vibes and there was a parking area for the carts to the right. At least four griffons in leather armor took care of it and all the carts in there. The actual inn was right on the other side of it. ‘Wayfarer’s Rest’, according to the sign hanging from a post where a small stone pathway led from the road to the entrance.

Large, closed doors, despite the sign that said ‘open’ at the end of the stone path.

While Mister Gillian coordinated with his griffons to stop the carts in an orderly fashion, several griffons came from the market area to help. On the other side of the stream the market seemed lively enough. Rather big, too. With several arching bridges made of varnished wood over the stream.

A griffon in leather armor came from the bridges with… Was that a freaking dog?! A winged dog?!

A fluffy, black monster of a dog, about the size of a pegasus, with red eyes and literal liquid fire dripping off its mouth following his handler side-by-side and with black feathery wings on its flanks. It followed its handler with a long leash the griffon held in his paw, even as he walked.

“That is a big doggie!” Grunhilda giggled by Gilda’s side.

It took a second, but memories came. That was a simargl. A magical winged beast from the desert that the Haderani had domesticated. But Ghadah’s memories told her that they had been extinct, as they were used as beasts of war. They also were a lot different. The ones she remembered were dark, but instead of fluffy they were short haired and shiny. Their ears were shorter and perkier. They had longer and thinner snouts, with leathery wings. Runners, as well as flyers.

They were great for hounding pegasi. Particularly the panicky ones that tried to fly away. The dogs had a thing for mauling wings. Heh heh heh.

Gilda Grimaced at herself for finding that funny. It was a surprise. She didn’t really think about it and then, bam! It got a smirk out of her. It’s not like she approved of the whole slave and sacrifices thing that happened in the empire. And, come to think of it, she had full intentions of dissuading The Harpy from that sort of thing in the present.

Wait… Could She hear her?

She stopped and her eyes moved from one side to the other as she tried to hear anything. But no foreign words came to her mind.

She was distracted, however, when the griffon took his winged dog to her caravan and the griffons made way for them. The dog started sniffing around in the carts as another griffon came to Gillian. A female, blue-tinted white head with white body under her armor and piercing blue eyes carrying a heater shield and crossbow on her back, as well as a curved sword on her side.

“Hello, Gillian.” She remained professional but spoke with a pleasant smile at him. “Anything to declare?”

“No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “Just the typical stuff to be sold in the market. We got some passengers though. And a few escorts.”

That was when Gia waved a paw at the guard and approached with Geary. Gilda thought it was a good idea to do the same. Grunhilda followed her and the other guards converged. The griffon guard lady nodded and grabbed a clipboard and a pencil from under her wing.

“Right… The usual workers, Miss Gil, the two ex-GSA, the merc brothers…” She started writing stuff with beautiful paw-writing until she turned to Gilda and Grunhilda next to her. “Who are you? And your thrall?”

“I’m Gilda of Griffonstone.” She pointed a thumb to her fluffy chest. After that was silence. The gruardsgriffoness cocked an eyebrow and Gilda just stared. First at her, then at Grunhilda. The big northerner just stared with that clueless dumb expression she made whenever she didn’t know what to do. Gilda just stared at her until Grunhilda finally sat on her haunches and fidgeted with her fingers. Her wings opened and closed nervously too.

“I’m not supposed to talk to others…” She explained sheepishly. “And they are not supposed to address me if they can talk to you…”

“Yeah… But we don’t do that.” Gilda gave the other her best annoyed and disappointed stare before she pointed a finger at the griffoness with the clipboard. “You talk to her like a normal griffon, right now!”

Grunhilda squeaked and flapped her wings once. “I’m Grunhilda of Frozenlake!”

“Thank you…” The griffoness of the law gave them a weird stare and then shook her head before moving on to check on the others.

“Why do you have to be so awkward about this?” Gia approached her with a disapproving glare. “Just do whatever you want with her privately and follow the traditional norms when you have griffons around.”

Then she raised her voice and leaned against Gilda. “Especially authorities!”

Gilda sat and grimaced at Gia’s outburst. “Chill! I mean, she’s my thrall. She’s supposed to do what I want!”

“Yes! But!” Gia stumbled on the words out of frustration as she made angry gestures. “Yes! But do you understand the concept of tradition?!”

“Fine! Fine!” Gilda waved a paw at the other. “I’ll be more mindful… You happy?”

The commotion they created drew the Loremasters Gilda had seen outside. The old one, and she approached them, but before she could say something (and by the look on her face she had a lot to say) another commotion drew their attention.

Apparently, the simargl had found something in the parked carts and it signaled by snarling and sitting with his wings flared.

As they approached, a pair of griffons in leather armor proceeded to searching the stuff under the cow leather covering. They pushed aside a lot of farm produce and some processed stuff, like flour. Then one of them picked up and showed a large, dark bottle. He opened the cork and sniffed it with a disgusted expression.

“Corn syrup.” He told the griffoness with the clipboard before he and the other proceeded to grab more bottles of the stuff from the cart.

The griffoness in question frowned and turned to Mister Gillian. “You know this stuff is forbidden.”

“Wait!” Gilda frowned. “Wait, wait… Corn syrup?!”

Gia groaned at her side and rolled her eyes. “This stuff is vile. It ruins our bodies and gives us the ‘Wasting Thirst’. It’s like a weaponized food! It’s a slow death sentence! Griffons die decades earlier than they should! Angina, strokes, blindness… Some even become demented.”

Gilda blinked twice. “For real?! Ponies eat this stuff like crazy in their soft drinks!”

“You don’t know of our timeless knowledge, transmitted to us by our Mother Harpy.” The older Loremaster glared a Gilda. “You do not respect our customs and you are not aware of the tenets of our traditions.”

Then she frowned. “You must have some outstanding abilities for the Mother of Storms to gift you so.”

“Eeeeh…” Gilda offered an open paw, seeking her brain for a proper answer, but she ended up shrugging without one. What was she supposed to say? That old griffoness had just described her to a tee!

“Eh.” Gilda concluded and shrugged again. Grunhilda just giggled behind her while the griffons in the city’s guard dumped the forbidden cargo into the stream. The water carried it outside the drain in the wall even before it had fully diluted.

While Gia covered her eyes with a paw and shook her head, the older Loremaster rose a finger, ready to unleash a righteous scolding upon Gilda. But the lime-colored griffoness stopped them. “What is wrong with you?”

To say that she wasn’t happy was an insult. She was livid. She screamed and her wings flared. She shook and her whole body tensed like a rope holding too much. Her eyes glistened and her expression was point-blank furious. “You killed a griffon outside, and you’re concerned about corn syrup and her not fitting in with your private club!”

Gilda was furious at her defending that waste of griffon hanging from the pole outside the gate, and she was going tell her just that. But she was also glad the attention wasn’t on her anymore. And Gia rolled her eyes and seemed ready to say something witty and sarcastic. But the older Loremaster proved to be more patient.

“Young lady. You are Gil, Mister Gillian’s daughter. Are you not?” She wasn’t impressed at all with Gil’s wrath.

More concerning, perhaps, was that instead of controlling her, Mister Gillian was busy trying to figure out who had brought those things and under the eyes of the clipboard lady and the guy with the simargl.

Gil took a second before she replied and blinked twice. Then she let her eyes drift to the side. “Nooooooo… Nope. That’s not me. Nuh-uh.”

“Fifteen lashes for lying, youngling.” The Loremaster spoke seriously. “And couple of days wearing the scold’s bridle for your tempestuous interruption. You are not a cub anymore, and you may cost you father his agreement with the city’s leadership if you do not contain yourself.”

Not what Gilda would have said, but good enough. Yet the old Loremaster wasn’t done. She arrogantly waved a finger before Gil in a way that would’ve pissed Gilda off a few days back. Heck… It would still piss her off. “You would do well to remember, young lady, that if you are to remain in our lands you will do as the Mother of Storms commands.”

Then the Loremaster crossed her forelegs and scowled at Gil. “You are an unskilled and unprepared adult who lived your entire cubhood as though there was not tomorrow. What use are you to community?”

Ouch! That hit way too close to home for Gilda. A few days ago, it would have hit dead center. She supposed even from that the Harpy had saved her. Not to mention her predicament with the law and the corrupt griffons.

But come on. She wasn’t the same as Gil, was she?

Of course, you are not, my dearest child. This gentile would choose the ways of the hooved ones over ours.

Gilda frowned at the griffoness with the lime feathers and fur. She wasn’t that beautiful. She sure had a nice fluffy chest with white, frothy feathers ended in that lime-colored tint. Yeah, sure! But! But she looked sloppy!

Gilda’s thoughts notwithstanding, the old Loremaster went on railing at Gil. “You cannot survive on your own and no male will mate you. What will you do with yourself at an old age? Incapable, useless. With no male to age with you and no cubs to care for your failing body and mind?”

“Uh…” Gil just stared blankly at the old griffoness and Gilda was glad she wasn’t the one talking to her.

“Learn useful skills and become a part of community. Change while you still can. While they will still give you a chance.” The Loremaster let her voice raise a little. “Time is limited, and it is inexorable. There is no pleading with it. No complaining, and no second chances.”

“Yes ma’am!” Gil took a step back and nodded vigorously.

That satisfied the older griffoness and she left with a hard stare at Gia and Gilda. Gia mostly ignored her, and so did Gilda. Although, inside, Gilda almost feared she would rant at her too. But then again, why would she, right? Gilda was doing much better.

When the older one was gone, Gil groaned and frowned. “I’m leaving is what I’m doing. Moving to Ponyville or something. Griffonia is going to the shitter.”

“This is childish.” Gia said and Gilda wasn’t sure why she cared. Maybe it was something about her duties as Loremaster? “You are being selfish. Your actions will reflect on your father’s reputation.”

Gilda liked to think she didn’t really care, but that kinda sucked.

“No!” Gil pointed at them and did her best not to scream too loud. “You guys are the problem! You are the ones with the death sentences and physical punishments. And you are the freaks who think corn syrup is evil while, at the same time, defending the murder of a prisoner! You guys want to start a war over Griffonia leaving the Equestrian Federation! When the best things in our country were brought by the ponies!”

Maybe Gilda actually had learned something, after all. Because instead of lashing out at Gil the way she wanted to, she just frowned and let Gia do the talking. “You are naïve, Gil. Do you know what his crime was?”

“I know that now he is dead he can’t change!” Gil growled back, with righteous anger in her grimace and scowl. “And I hope to Celestia you freaks didn’t botch his judgement. If he even had one!”

Ironically, Gia’s shocked gasp was directed more at her mention of the princess rather than questioning that scum’s trial. That whole thing grew tiring in a hurry, so Gilda just turned away and let the two bickering about that. It was black and white for Gilda and she didn’t care for either of their opinions.

She just hoped that Gil wouldn’t mess things up too bad. Then she stopped on her tracks and looked back at the griffoness arguing with Gia. Grunhilda stopped next to her. If Gia really wanted, Gilda supposed, she could pull that Loremaster rank of hers, even with all that mess in Thunderpeak and really screw Gil up.

Then Gilda groaned and scowled at the scene of the two arguing, making Grunhilda look back and forth between her and the two. There were good reasons to worry. If Gil messed everything up, the whole caravan would get messed up. And if the caravan got messed up, she would have to find another to help her travel to Griffindell with the pony. And since The Harpy wanted her to take the pony…

The point being, Gil needed to shut the fuck up and Gia needed to stop making a damn scene!

So, Gilda started on her way back to the two with heavy, angry steps, and Grunhilda dutifully followed.

“Will you two dweebs shut your beaks?” She roared and the two snapped to her with scared hanging jaws. “You’re making a scene, and you’re being annoying! I need to get that pony to Griffindell and I would appreciate if Mister Gillian’s caravan didn’t end hanging because his daughter is too dense to understand she’s not in Griffonstone and she can’t go mouthing off like that!”

Then she glared at Gia. “And you, for feather’s sake, don’t draw attention to her!”

Gia deadpanned at her. “Do you realize you are making a scene?”

But right after she sat on her haunches and raised a paw, leaning back, so intimidated she was when Gilda gave her a particularly pissed off stare. Then she coughed into her closed fist. “Well, since you ask so nicely…”

Gil didn’t say anything. She just frowned like she was about to throw a tantrum and looked the other way.

“Thank you!” Gilda let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s grab something to eat. I’m starving!”

“Okay.” She giggled and followed.

But on her way to the inn’s door Gertha came over to her and didn’t even wait to see if she could talk to her. “Hey. So, they’re getting the carts unloaded now that the creepy winged dog is done with them. Me and Guile, with the two soldier dudes, are gonna stay around and see if everything keeps on the tracks. Then we’ll get inside with the caravan workers since it gets damn cold when the sun is down. The Sky Sentry guy talked to the manager, and they got our griffons their own rooms and the city is paying for our lodging. Cool?”

“Yeah.” Gilda stopped and spoke with her. When did she become the leader that needed to put out fires and get reports?!

“Awesome. See you later, Boss.” Gertha grinned and hopped off back to the working griffons.

Oh. Right. She liked being called the boss. She would have to get used to it.

Griffons are drawn to strength, Child. They found it in you, thus they will follow you. It brings them safety and stability. It will bring you responsibilities, but also benefits and rewards. If you can use your position and their abilities to your gain.

Well, Gilda supposed she shouldn’t complain. Turning to Grunhilda, who stood next to her, she nodded towards the door to the inn and resumed her way. She supposed she would talk to Gillian later about traveling to Griffindell.

It was a gray, stony building of artistically carved stone and dark-green tiles in the slanted roof. Griffon motifs made up the carvings in the stone. A departure from the modern architecture of symmetrical buildings such as the hospital in Griffonstone that had a central structure and a pair of wings.

The inn was much more the sort of thing one would find in drawings of ancient buildings. It looked rustic. Less planned, more natural. If that even made sense because all buildings were planned before they were built, obviously. The point was that they seemed less artificial.

It took her several seconds of standing on the path to the door and staring at the structure before she realized what was that feeling. That place looked like one of the many buildings Ghadah was used to. Buildings in the empire and in the north had a tendency of being much more contained and of enveloping themselves, rather than spreading out into wings. Rooms that fit with each other.

She smiled to herself and pushed one half of the door to enter. Warm air, that reminded her of just how cold it was outside, welcomed her. The smell of roasted meats and fats immediately watered her mouth much as the live music that reminded her of the restaurant in Canterlot. Eerie instruments that sounded like the wind and a powerful male voice singing about some old lord.

The interior was much different than the restaurant, though. No fancy marble or granite stone, but ‘stone’ stone. Sturdy and girthy logs for columns. The light fixtures on the walls were horns of some animal filled with something that burned and generated light as would torches. In the center of the room was a fire pit with a burning pile of logs and several sitting pillows around it. Many griffons enjoying each other’s company and some drink.

Above the center area was a sort of wood scaffolding up to a wall in the floor above. A griffon artist worked at a painting of The Lion. Mostly on the right side and she supposed there would be someone else with him in the painting. Probably his mate, Lady Gwendolen. It was pretty cool seeing the griffon work, though.

Many tables on the other side and a secluded area where a few ‘adventurer’ type griffons, with cloaks and discreet, practical leather armor and weapons shared a meal. And speaking of meals, for some reason the owner used food for decoration. Pieces of smoked ham, cheese wheels and braids, seasoning herbs.

The general atmosphere of the place just fit the rugged, wild north with a surprising sense of hospitality. Griffons looked at them and nodded with recognition. It appeared word of her had traveled faster than she did. But griffons didn’t bother them. They went back to their conversations or food.

Pleased with the atmosphere, she made her way to the right. There was a bulky and sturdy wood counter. The front had a nice-looking knot design and a golden finish on the edges. A slightly fat and not-quite-so-young anymore griffoness smiled at her from behind. Her coat was light gray and her head and chest white with a silvery tint to her feathers and her eyes. Even her beak had a silvery color. There were more ham and foodstuffs hanging behind her, and a small round window that let in some sunlight.

“Greetings!” She greeted with a friendly smile. “Welcome to Wayfarer’s rest, Lady Gilda! I was waiting for you!”

“Thanks!” She smiled back, sitting at one of the pillows before the counter. Grunhilda sat behind her, but she decided to let Big Girl do whatever she was more comfortable with. “Best customer service ever!”

The griffoness laugh-snorted pulling her head back. “I was going to offer you a nice meal, but you’ve been traveling the whole day! Would you like a bath in our bathhouse? We even have servants for the distinguished customers!”

She had been to one of those in Canterlot with Rainbow Dash. Of course, they didn’t have servants for customers of her paying grade, even in the company of one of the two most famous pegasus in the world. She also had Ghadah’s memories inside her head and the public baths in the empire were meant for two things: hygiene and socialization. Different levels of socialization. And that made the whole thing titillating.

It suddenly hit her that griffons were kinda horny.

We need better cubs. Do not judge me.

She could feel Grunhilda’s nervous fidgeting behind her, though. Gilda would appreciate it if the damn griffoness would speak her mind instead of expecting Gilda to read her thoughts too.

“I’m gonna take you up on your offer.” Gilda winked at the owner.

“Oh! Great!” The innkeeper smiled radiantly before winking at Gilda. “Boys or girls?”

“Oh!” The tip of Gilda’s tail twitched excitedly. “Boys!”

“Great!” The innkeeper grinned. Then she tweeted. It was weird because most griffons Gilda knew didn’t do that.

Regardless, a couple of young and comely griffons that shared in her facial features promptly arrived from a door behind the counter. They stood at attention, with puffed out fluffy chests and raised beaks. The two soldier dudes from Gilda’s company would have been proud.

They also took on their… Mother’s colors? They might be younger brothers, but they really looked like her. One was a soft cyan with white and the other was a soft orange. Both were quite young and clearly worked on those muscles. Pristine fur and feathers to go with livid and enthusiastic stares on their deep blue and brown eyes.

Gilda also knew the stare of a dude that is too happy with his job.

“Please escort the two ladies to the bath.” The owner told them, pointing in the direction. “And be mindful of your manners.”

The two nodded with huge grins and the cyan one grinned even wider at Grunhilda, complete with excited flaring wings. “Right this way, ma’am!”

“Ma’am…” The other told Gilda with a similar gesture.

She gave him a smile and nodded to Grunhilda, just to make sure she would follow. That was when she realized why the white griffoness was so nervous and it brought a mischievous grin to Gilda’s beak. Because Grunhilda had a furious blush in her cheeks and her eyes insisted on aiming downward.

“Come on, Grunhilda.” Gilda playfully poked her flank with a talon. “Let’s relax for a bit before dinner.”

“Okay.” She murmured timidly and followed with quick steps.

They followed the two ‘toms’, as she supposed she should call them like the northerners do. She also had to admit that following them she had a nice view.

They went past the main hall into a small corridor with a few closed doors to a double door in the end. Cyan opened the doors for them and Gilda softly shoved Grunhilda inside with her body, still with that mischievous smile. She just encouraged her, really.

Beyond the door the dominant smells were those of water and aromatic salts. The walls were covered in white mortar with a few colorful paintings of the knot designs and lines. It was a small foyer with a brick-red and tan griffon waiting behind a counter and the wall behind him had more of the painted decoration. The side walls had each an open door.

As soon as they entered, the griffon righted himself up from his slouching, bored, stance and walked around the counter. That was then Gilda saw his iron bracelet.

“Get their things to Lady Gilda’s room.” The cyan one said, pointing at them. “They’re going to use the bath.”

The griffon nodded and presented a long platter with a white silk cloth in it. He waited while Gilda removed her bracelets and diadem and while Grunhilda gave him her stuff too.

“Careful with the sword and bow, please.” Gilda said and the thrall nodded obediently.

“Don’t worry, ma’am.” The other brother gestured calmly. “Govar is very careful and dedicated.”

When he had everything organized in a stable way, he rested the platter on his back and left. Cyan gestured to a side door. “This way, please.”

They walked past a small corridor with walls made of concrete and stone until they reached a bathing area. It was a bit dark and humid, with stone columns. It was a washing area before the pool with hot water. Several urns littered the place, with smaller jars and spatulas. It was a warm room too. Most of the heat and moisture in the air came from the next room. The floor was covered in colorful tiles and the walls in glossy cyan ones. The roof was round and covered in white mortar, with a small vent. The center area was surrounded with thin drains dug into the floor that led below.

“What is your name, ma’am?” Cyan asked Grunhilda with a grin and she replied with a barely audible murmur. He laughed friendlily, though.

Meanwhile, Orange waited for Gilda to sit in the tiled floor and promptly reached for her shoulder. Unlike Grunhilda earlier, he actually knew what he was doing. She closed her eyes and let out a luxurious moan as soon as he started pressing into her muscles and working out that tension from the flying posture.

She stole a quick glance at Grunhilda, opening one eye. Just to be sure she was alright. She was also sat on the tiled floor and the cyan guy had a huge smile on his beak, pouring a clear oil on her back. Grunhilda squirmed a little though, and it was a bit funny.

“We use rose oil for massaging and scrubbing off the grime.” Her assistant told her in a mellow, soft voice as he proceeded to rub that thick and rose-smelling oil into the feathers on her back. She could swear she started melting away under his touch and with the soothing substance reaching into her skin.

“Open up your wings, ma’am.” Her assistant warbled at her, and she obliged, putting them on full display.

Oh, so relaxing. So delicious that guy might get lucky that evening, after all.

Just as she let out a content sigh, she heard the other guy, the cyan dude, chuckling with a derisive tone. “Gee, did you ever set these feathers? Your wings are a wreck.”

What the fuck? The smile vanished from her beak, and she turned to see Grunhilda trying to be as small as she could. She was hunched over herself with the cyan guy holding her wing open by the tip and her voice was about to break into crying. “I’m sorry my wings aren’t very pretty. I’m not good at preening…”

“I mean… How does one not know how to get their feathers straight?” He made a grimace and that pushed Grunhilda too far.

Her head hanged a little and she forcefully closed her eyes with a whine. Gilda turned to glare at the cyan griffon. “Dude, get out!”

“But I…” He let go of Grunhilda’s wing and gave Gilda a scared stare. “I’m…”

She stood on her fours and glared at him. “Get lost! Now! Leave us alone!”

He sat on his haunches with a scared and confused look, putting up his paws defensively. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”

His brother grabbed him by the feathers in his head and literally pulled him to leave, while Gilda went to Grunhilda and it was awkward as all hell, but Big Girl bent herself in a way she could rest her face against Gilda’s fluffy chest and started bawling like a child.

Gilda petted Grunhilda’s head with soothing hushes and the two left the room. On their way out, the orange one slapped his brother in the back of his head with a wing and belted him with angry hushed words. Good. Gilda waited for them to leave before she looked down at Grunhilda and cooed some more soothing words at her.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Grunhilda. He’s gone.” Gilda caressed her feathers softly, letting her fingers in between the feathers in the way she remembered her mother doing to her.

Grunhilda stood a few fingers taller than Gilda again. Huh… Gilda could swear that Grunhilda was taller. And bulkier. But that wasn’t the time for those thoughts, as Grunhilda sniffled and looked at Gilda as though she had done something wrong.

“I’m sorry, miss Gilda.” She sniffled again. “I ruined everything.”

“No… No, you didn’t.” She kept stroking Grunhilda’s feathers, albeit a little higher, and wiped the tears from her plumage. “It was his fault. What was that all about?”

Instead of replying, Grunhilda whined and winced. Fortunately, Gilda had already gotten used to her quirks and learned that sometimes Grunhilda needed a stern talking to, but other times she needed to feel safe and protected. She wrapped her forelegs around her friend, drawing her gently closer and still spoke soothingly. “You saved my life once. We done lots of things together. Things that I wouldn’t have done otherwise.”

“And I am pretty sure that both of us have crossed a line from where we can’t go back to our old lives.” Gilda laid on the warm floor. On her side, with her elbows to the floor and Grunhilda laid with her, resting her head on Gilda’s forelegs and against her chest. Gilda let out a small sigh, while one of her paws straightened the other’s feathers on her head. “Would you want to go back, though?”

“No…” Grunhilda said softly I the fluff in her chest, laying there and letting Gilda pet her. “I don’t want to leave you. And I hated Griffonstone.”

Gilda didn’t love her life in Griffonstone, but she didn’t hate it either. She even had a friend there. Greta was a great friend, and knowing she was safe let Gilda breathe a little easier. But given what she’s been through, Gilda didn’t want to go back just yet. Even if she could. After what she’s done, learned and what she had earned for herself, her place was with The Harpy.

And Grunhilda had been with her through most of it. Funny how she kept thinking of Big Girl. She didn’t want to leave Grunhilda, and neither of them could ever return. It was so incredibly lucky of them that they would find a place with the northerner griffons. Thanks to The Harpy.

“The point is that you’re more than a slave to me. Even more than a friend. And I care about you. Are you feeling better now?” Gilda picked softly at Grunhilda’s nape, never stopping her soft caresses that reached down into her back.

“I think so…” Grunhilda settled her head on Gilda’s chest a little more.

“Do you wanna tell me what was that all about then?” Gilda smiled at her, stroking the side of her head, all the way down to her back and then up again.

“My wings aren’t very pretty… And I didn’t like the things he said.” Grunhilda grumbled, not looking up at her. Gilda could imagine her pout, though.

“I wouldn’t have liked it either.” Gilda told her honestly. “Let me see. I never noticed anything wrong with your wings.”

Grunhilda whined at her and winced again, holding her wings tight against her body. It wasn’t amusing and Gilda grabbed her wing by the metacarpals. “You’re acting like a baby. Stop that.”

“Okay…” The other grumbled and let Gilda pull her wing open.

And it was bad, but that guy was a jerk anyways. Her feathers were a mess. Instead of smooth and connected, her secondaries were a bit of a tangle of bunched up vanes. Her primaries, which were the feathers most griffons often saw since they’re larger and more distinct, also didn’t fare much better. Not the kind of mess from a day’s worth of flying too.

Well, no wonder Grunhilda’s flying abilities weren’t very impressive. She really didn’t seem to take a lot of care of her wings. That and her lack of experience… Easy to understand she had almost killed both of them back in Canterlot. That dude had exaggerated, but she could see why he had mentioned it. Her wings were severely lacking in the proper self-care it needed to work appropriately.

Funny that she would think back to that stupid book she had to learn for the hospital job that almost worked out for her. It was the sort of thing that you would find in depressed griffons when they stopped caring for their health and personal hygiene. That wasn’t Grunhilda’s case, though.

“Do you know how to care for your feathers, Grunhilda?” She asked in the most natural and not judging way she could, looking down at her friend with a concerned frown.

Grunhilda just mumbled something. Only after that Gilda realized just how stupid her question was. She sighed. “Your mother died when you were too young. You never learned how to do it properly.”

Grunhilda didn’t respond. Just pressed her body closer to Gilda’s. The latter covered her with a wing and softly beaked at the top of her head. It mildly infuriated her though, that Grunhilda knew things like who was some northerner lord and who was Lord Gilad’s father. Or even how thralls were supposed to behave… But never learned how to take care of her flight feathers. And no one in the damn orphanage even bothered to teach her. Great job, Griffonstone. That is why you deserve The Harpy.

A short fantasy unfurled inside her head of herself returning to Griffonstone and delivering judgement in the name of The Harpy. But she was more worried about Grunhilda.

“Eh… It’s no biggie.” She let go of Grunhilda’s wing. “We still need a bath before we do anything about that, though. And a dinner too. Come on. It’s gonna be fun. Sit with your back to me.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda sounded bummed out and didn’t really hurry to do as Gilda asked. But patience was a virtue in that situation.

That was when a commotion coming from the small corridor disturbed them. Someone got hit with a rod, or something of the sort, and the result was a masculine yelp followed by Gertha’s angry screaming. “No, you freak! You can’t come to the female’s pool just because you’re my brother!”

A few seconds later Gertha and Gia came into the room. They stopped upon seeing Gilda and Grunhilda and the pink one gave then a concerned stare. “Hey, is everything okay?”

Her cute pink covering looked really nice without her armor, and Gia’s green looked pretty nice too. They approached the two with curious stares and happy steps tip-tapping in the floor from the pink one.

“One of the guys told Grunhilda some tasteless things and she got upset.” Gilda explained, petting Grunilda’s head.

“Oh. Sucks. Grunhilda seems so nice.” Gertha frowned. “What a douchebag!”

But then the pink one giggled and Gia chuckled with a knowing grin. “That explains the angry females behind the counter. I suppose his sisters didn’t appreciate it either.”

At that Gertha approached them a step. “Hey, do you mind if we join? I mean… All that flying…”

“Not at all!” Gilda grinned back at them. “Do you, Grunhilda?”

The white one shook her head, less upset than she was before, and that made Gilda happy. A nice bath and some friendly banter would be great. Maybe she could get Gia to talk about the local customs so that Gilda wouldn’t piss anyone off for the duration of their stay.

Venom of Venus Pt. 1

Fortunately, the presence of the other griffonesses didn’t bother Grunhilda. She seemed to have relaxed after getting so worked up over that guy’s comments. Obviously, the jars with the cleaning oil were still there. So Gilda poured some of the smooth, rose-smelling oil over Grunhilda’s back and smeared it with her free paw. The white griffoness squirmed with a small squeak when Gilda massaged her back.

“Chill.” Gilda chuckled. “It’s just oil for scraping off the grime.”

She rubbed it between Grunhilda’s shoulders with her free paw and Grunhilda whimpered and shuddered, tensing up her muscles. Gilda chuckled again at her reaction. “Come on. Open your wings a little.”

Grunhilda mumbled something, but Gilda insisted. With a caring whisper, instead of a sharp command as last time. “Relax. We’re gonna take care of your feathers after we’re done with our bath. Come on, do you trust me or not?”

Grunhilda obeyed silently and that was good enough for Gilda. She took her time massaging that rose-smelling oil into the feathers and fur under Grundhilda’s wings.

Gilda’s mind wandered a bit while she did it. She couldn’t remember ever doing that for anyone else, but it was more fun than she had imagined. Such a nice feeling, touching another griffon like that. Much more one she cared for so much. It bordered on the sensual.

Grunhilda’s body was warm, even in the thick wet and hot atmosphere of the room. Gilda massaged the oil into her soft contour feathers despite that. Acutely aware of both the velvety softness and the strong muscles underneath.

Screw that! It wasn’t ‘borderline’. There was nothing not sensual about this! And the hot blush in her cheeks were a testament to that! Stupid sexy Grunhilda! Kneading the muscles underneath, urging the knots of muscle into relaxation was a lot of work on Gilda’s fingers. Getting the oil to agglutinate on the dirt was too. But her friend’s shapely form kept distracting Gilda – but she didn’t mind.

Worse, the way Grunhilda kept fidgeting and squirming while Gilda tried to massage the oil into her feathers didn’t help. It was kind of cute though. She supposed that Grunhilda wasn't very used to being touched, despite her clinginess. Which made sense… She never had close friends or even an adult that really took care of her, much less a lover once she was an adult.

Regardless, Gilda didn't stop and grinned at her friend, even if Grunhilda couldn't see. She was having way too much fun with Grunhilda's awkwardness and her own friskiness. “It feels great, doesn't it.”

But Grunhilda barely managed a mumbling response.

Gilda chuckled to herself and let her fingers skim over the feathers between Grunhilda’s shoulders, careful not to let her talons prick her skin too much. Her paws reached around Grunhilda’s chest and the former playfully rested her body against Grunhilda’s back.

Big Girl let out a panicked squeak and stiffened a bit.

“Chill, Grunhilda.” She said playfully. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a touch?”

“I can’t help it!” The other whined, and then mumbled something staring at the floor. The worst effort to hide one’s own discomfort Gilda had ever seen. So big, so awkward. It was impossible to keep from grinning. Much less from enjoying that giddy feeling Gilda hadn’t experienced in so long after she stopped seeing Dash. And had resigned to the fact that Greta was not into girls.

Anyways, she kept her mind in the present. Gilda laughed softly and had a naughty grin as she reached down over Grunhilda’s belly with her oil-soaked fingers. It caused the other to squeal and stiffen even more, while flaring her wings as far as they could go.

“Chill, you silly griffon.” Gilda warbled on Grunhilda’s ear.

As soon as she said that her paws slithered over Grunhilda’s flanks. She spread that nice-smelling oil as much as she massaged the other’s sides. Feeling very softly for the muscles beneath. And, with the dirtiest of naughty smiles, she let her paws slide forward to Grunhilda’s belly. Over the velvety fur, above her toned muscles, until Gilda found the soft mounds and her delicate nipples. She pinched it between her fingers.

Grunhilda squirmed and squealed helplessly while Gilda chuckled before pecking softly at the feathers on Grunhilda’s nape.

“You’re teasing meeeeee!” Grunhilda whined, looking back.

“You remember the two of you have a room, don’t you?” Gia’s voice startled Gilda out of her playful teasing.

Shit. She had forgotten the others were there!

Gilda coughed and she stole a glance around the room. Gia and Gertha were indeed there, and she hoped they didn’t see her blush. The former had her usual arrogant smirk and the other did her best not to giggle.

Gilda turned her attention back to Grunhilda’s coat and grabbed the thin and long, curved tool for scraping off the bathing oil. She didn’t tell Grunhilda anything, but the Big Girl seemed to have relaxed a little anyways.

“Sorry for teasing you…” Gilda told her softly, scraping the oil off her back with the tool. It was a bit rough, but she did it with slow and deliberate movements, as softly as she could. “You’re just too much fun!”

Grunhilda giggled quietly and happily tapped her forefeet at the floor before she settled to let Gilda work the oil out of her feathers. Gilda seemed to be doing it right, because Grunhilda stretched her back and raised her beak up with a relaxed moan.

Gilda was not an expert on the matter but scraping grimy oil from someone’s body plumage and fur hardly needed more than a basic common sense. It was rather satisfying too, the way one could push the oil and scoop it out with the… Whatever that thing’s name was.

Meanwhile Gertha held one of the jars with the oil and grinned at Gia. “So. I was going to offer some assistance to the boss, but I think that she and her big girlfriend are on to something.”

Gilda gave her an annoyed stare and Grunhilda ignored the comment altogether. Gia let out a small chuckle before Gertha spoke again, offering the jar to the green griffoness. “Want some help?”

Then the mercenary girl deadpanned. “In a non-sexual and totally non-lesbian way?”

Gia gave her a knowing smile. “Would you have said the same thing to Gilda?”

“Probably not.” Gertha admitted. “I’m straight, but I’m ‘moneysexual’ first.”

Gilda rose an eyebrow. At least she was honest.

“Fair enough.” Gia gave a hearty chuckle and turned her back to the other griffoness. Gertha grinned and poured some of the oil on Gia’s back before going to work with her paws. She had a smile that almost made Gilda question what she had said earlier.

But Gilda wasn’t judging anyone there.

Then the lime-colored Gil entered the room and immediately frowned. “Why is it that everything in the northerner cities has to be so creepy? All I want is to take a bath and I have to be with you freaks!”

“Well, part of the reason is that we would need a team of pokeheads just to maintain the spells that would keep the water warm and not freezing in the pipes.” Gia explained.

“So, you rather share a creepy bathhouse with other griffonesses than pay a team of helpful unicorns that would be happy to help?” Gil pouted angrily.

“We don’t need them.” Gia kept her professorial tone. “We take care of our problems by ourselves. Our own ways. Besides, griffons are beautiful. I don’t mind staring at some cute, clueless griffoness while I’m bathing.”

Gil didn’t respond. She just grumbled something about living in the past and went to her own personal corner to pick up one of the small jars. “So, I just scrub myself with this stuff and rub it off? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of bathing?”

Gia groaned and stared at the ceiling with annoyance. “The oil will help you remove the grime and dirt before we bathe in the hot water. Then we will use bathing salts and soaps that, together with the hot water, make for healthier feathers, fur and skin. Not to mention it will cleanse our airways and relax our muscles. The cold bath helps your metabolism and will make it easier to tolerate the cold.”

“Whatever…” Gil grumbled, experimenting with the oil in her paw.

“Well, it smells nice too!” Gertha added with a happy chirp before she looked at Gilda. “Anyways… What about you, Gilda? Boys or girls?”

Gilda shrugged, focusing on her job of scraping off the oil out of the side of Grunhilda’s chest. “I never really thought about that.”

She whipped the tool to the side before she took it to Grunhilda’s plumage again. “Yeah… I’m cool either way. Had a few boyfriends in high school. Stayed with a few girls too and I was a lot into one of my friends in Griffonstone, but she was kind of straight. And married to a guy. It never went anywhere. At the same time the one I spent most time with was a pegasus mare.”

The stares the two of them gave her was the stuff comedy was made of. “What? I didn’t know about The Harpy or that pony stuff was bad for your health!”

“Anyways…” Gia growled. “You’re supposed to use ‘queen’ and ‘tom’. They are words for young females and young males of breeding age. It’s how Our Mother Harpy called us when she first created us.”

“Gee… Nevermind that… I’m surprised your Mother of Storms doesn’t get in your case for being bisexual…” Gil sat on the floor and awkwardly rubbed the oil on her other foreleg.

“I think of myself as open-minded.” Gilda retorted and nobody said anything further.

Gil did have a point, though. With that whole issue about bloodlines and griffon breeds, Gil’s comment made a lot of sense. But that didn’t seem to bother The Harpy. Not even in Ghadah’s time. Well, sure, they fetishized the Swordmaidens to Tartarus and back, but if they had problems with same-sex relationships, logic would dictate that they would have a problem with guys getting all excited about young females… Wrestling.

Even if Ghadah was into dudes, there were many of her sisters that preferred the other females. Huh… Did she ever see The Harpy ‘getting it on’? With the Emperor, yes.

Then Gilda blinked at nothing in particular as memories rushed to the forefront of her mind. Because she definitely remembered Her with the Emperor in megalomaniac orgiastic festivals, and also with Empress Geneviere and with their sons and daughters. And also, with the younger males that worked for the temple, and the Loremasters. And the Swordmaidens. Holy crap… No comment on that too.

“Hum…” Gertha interrupted Gilda’s thoughts while she kept to her job of massaging Gia’s back with that oil. She also gave Gilda a very uncomfortable stare. “That’s not really true, is it? I mean… Some of the pony stuff is just way too sugary, sure. And I’m not a doctor, but I can understand that it can be bad… But it’s not really that bad, is it? Also, ponies are chill with gay creatures. Does that mean that griffons have to be… Uh… You know…”

Gia fortunately seemed to be feeling like a Loremaster. “First of all, The Harpy doesn’t care if who a griffon is fooling around with, as long as they don’t generate mixed-blood cubs. It would be kind of stupid, honestly, to discriminate on potential good professionals based on their sexual preferences, or their gender.”

“But discrimination on account of one’s parents is cool?!” Gil growled at Gia from the other side of the room.

“That is not how it is.” Gia almost sounded offended. “The descendants of hippogriffs poison us with bad things they inherited from the ponies.”

Gia sighed and her shoulders slumped. “When I went to Griffindell, five or six years ago, Lady Gwendolen made me sit with the other acolytes in a classroom. She lectured us on all sorts of stuff. From the culture we, as Loremasters, are supposed to enforce to stuff like food. We’re supposed to protect our language and inspire the younger griffons to dive beakfirst into our customs. No regrets, no second thoughts.”

Gia rolled her eyes. “Like… Really. Loremasters are supposed to be almost obsessive about bloodlines, traditions… How griffons were supposed to live and how they were supposed to be corrected if they failed. Well, lore. To put it simply. I always thought it was more annoying than effective and that maybe griffons only did what we told them because they were afraid of the consequences.”

Gilda didn’t get angry, but what Gia said rubbed her off the wrong way. Maybe because she wanted that whole thing to be real. But there was more! The griffons in Thunderpeak didn’t just follow because they were afraid. They believed her. Gilda managed to stir something in them. She wasn’t sure what it was, but Gia’s view of the whole thing was too cynical.

Heh… Gilda judging another griffon for being too cynical…

Nonetheless, she let the green Loremaster speak on as Grunhilda just chilled and Gertha paid attention while still helping Gia with the cleaning oil.

“But there was another side to her lessons. Lady Gwendolen told us, in detail, things about griffons. About how our bodies work. And sugar was one of the important ones. The catch was that she didn’t really have any proof of what she said. We were just supposed to believe her when she said that the pony food is bad for us. Particularly their overly sweet foods. Their grains. It’s not things you would understand, anyways. She spoke of stuff like chemistry and the biology of our bodies. Very particular minutiae of things even doctors and scientists in places like Canterlot University wouldn’t know about.”

“Wow… What sort of things?” Gertha had huge, worried eyes, looking from behind Gia.

“Well… How the pony blood that entered our bloodlines though the hippogriffs damages our bodies.” Gia gave an uncomfortable stare to the tiled floor and scratched at her neck. “But I can’t remember the details. I mean… I didn’t really pay attention. I felt like she was just filling us with bullshit arguments. That we were supposed to use and get others to hate the hippogriffs instead of, you know… Fucking them and making mixed blood cubs.”

“This is disgusting.” Gil cried from her corner, stopping from rubbing the oil in her chest. Also promptly covering her belly by sitting with her forelegs to the floor. “You are just looking for reasons to hate the ponies and the hippogriffs are your scapegoats!”

“Maybe… I don’t know.” Gia shrugged. “All I know is that Lady Gwendolen taught us a bunch of bullshit to convince us to that we needed to tell griffons ‘how to griffon’. Maybe it is just an excuse to hate the others for political reasons. I don’t care. All I know is that she had a thing for physical punishments that creeped me out.”

Before Gilda had time to question any of that. Or even to organize her own thoughts around the whole conversation. The old Loremaster that had talked to them outside practically came out of the shadows.

The whole room was shadowy, but not in a creepy way. They could see into the dark corners. They could see details. But, somehow, the old griffoness had entered the room when they weren’t looking and prowled, unseen in the shadows, like a hunter stalking her prey. Until she came out of nowhere. Right next to Gia.

Gilda gasped when she saw the angry blue eyes in the dark, but there was no time to even mention it. The older griffoness slapped Gia behind the head with a bunch of meaty green weeds like they were a weapon. It must have hurt, because Gia yelped with a jump and Gertha almost freaked out at the old griffoness coming out of nowhere from behind her too.

Then the Loremaster pointed the bunch of weeds at Gia and properly scolded her. “You would know had you paid attention as you were supposed to. Lazy and arrogant queens such as yourself are the reasons Lady Gwendolen is so fond of physical punishments! They make the mind strong and the body resilient.”

“Alright! Sorry!” Gia rubbed her nape with an annoyed grunt. “Did you just come here to tell me that?”

“No. I brought you this.” The older Loremaster showed them the bundle of weeds. “Do you know what this is?”

“A bunch of plants?” Gia deadpanned and Gilda really thought she should have kept her beak shut. And Gilda was right, because the older Loremaster slapped her across the face with a backstroke of her free paw. “Oow!”

“This is ailanthus.” The older Loremaster showed the others. “We have an amebiasis outbreak in town and this is going to protect you. As your Loremaster friend here would know had she paid attention to Lady Gwendolen’s lessons.”

Gia stared at the plants. A small bundle of weeds with small red flowers that Gilda could see from the distance. But Gia frowned and looked at the Loremaster, pointing at the little plants. “But Ailanthus…”

She didn’t finish, as the older Loremaster slapped her again.

“Alright… Alright.” Gia gave her an angry grimace. “Fine.”

The older Loremaster gave Gia a complacent smile and ripped a piece of the weed for her. Bent it before she offered it to Gia, who didn’t take too long before she grabbed and swallowed the thing whole. Gertha followed her example without question. Then the Loremaster turned to Gilda.

“Your thrall too.” The Loremaster reminded Gilda as she broke the little green stalks and pawed her a piece of the weed.

Objecting would probably be a bad idea. Gilda just grabbed some more and pawed it off to Grunhilda. Big Girl giggled and thanked her before gobbling it up. She just trusted the Loremaster and Gilda decided not to test if the old griffoness would keep watching her until she took her medicine too.

Gilda bent the thing a bit more, the way the Loremaster had done. She broke the fibers and exposed their juices. They tasted bad, stringent, and sour. But they went down easily enough for someone that had to eat dirty rats once.

Finally, the Loremaster offered the weeds to Gil, who pouted at her. “Don’t make me make you swallow this. The cubs fear me well into adulthood for a reason. And I guarantee you will be happy you did as I asked.”

Gil was going to be a problem, wasn’t she? She took a few seconds pondering her options and Gilda took the time to examine the old Loremaster.

There seemed to be a recurrent theme of The Harpy’s Loremasters getting old and looking damn ‘healthy’. Strong muscles beneath her silvery-blue and white natural coverings. The lack of her traditional blue satin cape allowed Gilda a good look. And the older griffoness looked mature, but at the same time, every bit as strong and fit as Gertha who was an actual mercenary and did physical stuff all the time.

The Loremaster also moved with an eerie majesty and an almost arrogant dominance. Like she was the boss, and every griffon was supposed to know that. A very sharp and beautiful aquiline facial features that made her serious manners even more so.

Great… Next thing she knew, Gilda would have a thing for older griffonesses. Hopefully, she could keep it to Loremasters.

Gil put out her tongue with a disgusted ‘blech’, but she did swallow the leaves. After some reluctance.

“Let me see, child.” The Loremaster asked and gently reached with her paw, but Gil batted her paw away.

Then the older griffoness frowned and her paw lunged like a cobra to grab Gil’s jaw nonetheless and she took her time studying Gil’s face, while the younger one screeched and pulled back with a scared grimace.

“Don’t touch me, you creep!” She cried at the Loremaster who just stared back at her with an annoyed glare.

“I am not going to hurt you!” The Loremaster cried back at her, but shrill and aggressive. “You are belligerent as an unruly cub! I will treat you as one if I must!”

“Piss off, you creepy old coot!” Gil pawed at the Loremaster’s paw trying to reach for her again.

Grunhilda hid behind Gilda and, in all honesty, she just thought that Gil was making a scene she could have afforded not to. Gia gave an expressionless sigh at the scene and Gertha watched with a similar worried expression to Grunhilda’s.

The older griffoness made true of her words and grappled with Gil. With practiced ease, she controlled the younger’s forelimbs and grasped her jaw in a way that didn’t even let Gil scream. It was uncomfortable as all heck to watch, but Gilda supposed it was Gil’s fault.

The Loremaster closely examined her face despite the other’s angry glare, fiery pissed-off eyes, and helpless kicking with her hindlegs.

Gilda sighed. Was that really necessary? Seriously, so much drama. She had slid on her back to the floor with her wings open and kept pawing at the Loremaster’s stomach with her hindlegs to no effect other than making it an uglier tantrum.

“Where is your family from?” The Loremaster asked, with a critical stare before letting go of her jaw, but grabbing her foreleg.

“We’re all from Thunderpeak!” She whined like a child with a hurt ego, standing from the floor and trying to break free.

“Let go!” Gil cried right after but was powerless to resist when the bigger northerner griffoness pulled her hindleg and exposed her belly with her four little green nipples and her delicate fur-covered labia.

“Stop it!” She shrieked again, trying to regain her footing, and blushing so hard her face almost turned to a darker green than Gia’s while her tail whipped itself to her belly. She made so much of a scene that a pair of blue and gray griffonesses showed up at the door. They recoiled as soon as they saw the Loremaster examining the younger griffoness.

The older griffoness, with the same practiced ease as before, turned Gil on her belly and pulled one of her wings open to more screaming and protests, as well as angry scratching at the floor. But she held Gil by her nape with sure, strong talons.

“Ow! Let me go!” Gil protested again with her paws skipping on the wet floor.

“You are making this harder than it has any need to be. This is for you own good!” The other held her tighter and caused Gil to shriek again. That didn’t bother the Loremaster, though. “Do you feel any discomfort when you empty your bowels or your bladder? Are you aware of any deformity? Have you had penetrative sex? Was there any discomfort?”

Gil just screeched and squirmed more to no avail before the Loremaster threatened her. “Don’t make me examine you in front of the others.”

“Ow! Fine!” Gil screeched angrily. “You freak! There’s nothing wrong with me and I got laid with a guy a few times! It was nicer than you weirdo harassing me!”

“I am not harassing you, big baby.” She finally let go. “I am concerned for your health. It’s my job as a Loremaster, especially since you don’t have a mother and you lived in the south your whole life! Pony-educated doctors have no clue as to how proper griffons are supposed to be.”

Gil sat and closed her wings around her, staying against the wall, glaring comically angry at the other. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to take it as bad as her reaction was.

“You are not particularly pure, though you are mostly Shaddani. And your ancestors probably hail from the Beachhome region.” The other declared matter-of-factly. “There is a lot of Saddani in you and it was only your family’s proximity to the north that spared you a more maculated blood. You clearly had at least one hippogriff ancestor in recent times, though fortune favored you… You don’t seem to have inherited any of their malformities.”

“What is a Shaddani? Is that bad?” Gertha asked. She also nervously fidgeted with her paws and seemed to have asked more out of an attempt to ward of her own nervousness.

So much drama. Gil would be fine… The Loremaster didn’t even beat her into submission… Gilda had seen and experienced worse.

“The Shaddani line is one of the main griffon lineages.” Gia explained. “Plain’s griffons. From what is today Griffonland, Shoreland and Greenplains Holds.”

“Uh… Isn’t Griffonstone surrounded by hills?” Gertha raised an eyebrow.

“Locally. Yes.” The older Loremaster turned to explain. “But the bulk of the Griffonland Hold is comprised of fertile plains that extend to Greenplains, where ponies have most of their griffonian farms. You southerners simply don’t explore it correctly because you lost the irrigation system King Grover and his ancestors had built even before the Empire. You think that it is infertile and need the ponies to explore it. There is much you must learn yet, and I would suggest you pay attention.”

“The Saddani are the griffons that descended from the hippogriffs, right?” Gilda asked. “The ones that have the pony magic in them because their ancestors procreated with the hippogriff.”

“No.” The Loremaster said. “They are griffons that had been tainted by pony blood. Through the hippogriffs.”

“Oh no! Does that mean that I have to go away?” Gil asked sarcastically sad, but with the same angry scowl, still wrapped in her pretty lime-colored wings.

“Where would you go?” The Loremaster turned back to her. “Griffonia is to be the domain of the Mother of Storms. Like it or not. And She will claim all griffons as Her Children as it was meant to be since the dawn of time.”

“Yeah, right.” Gil deadpanned. “I’m leaving Griffonia for good. My dad and his caravan can take care of themselves.”

The older griffon lady smiled so condescendingly she might as well be talking to a stupid child. “What makes you think that you are free to leave, young queen? Your place is with your family, and in Griffonia.”

Yet, as they talked, Gilda joined the pieces in her head and moved towards the door. She kept her beak shut and frowned to herself.

“Okay. This just got a turn to the scary and I draw the line at telling me I can’t leave after some old creep insisted on staring at my lady bits!” Gil scowled and walked past the Loremaster only to see Gilda standing by the door.

“You can’t leave.” Gilda told her as seriously as she managed, letting her wings open a little. Gil stopped dead on her tracks and her jaw hung open. Gilda could see understanding in her eyes even as she reeled back and sat on her haunches. Still, she didn’t want to scare Gil. Just make her understand. It turned into an awful feeling, but at least she had gotten her point across. “You’ve witnessed The Harpy’s magic. You can’t go back to Celestia and tell her all about it. Much less tell her about me and where I am.”

“Sorry, Gertha.” Despite that, Gilda turned to the pink griffoness. “But that goes to you and your brother too.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Gertha shrugged, unworried and with a serene grin. Gilda wasn’t sure if she simply hid it better than Gil but was convinced, nonetheless. “I wanted to work for you anyways.”

It mildly annoyed Gilda that Gia didn’t pipe in, or anything. All she did was stare with a bored expression until Gertha went back to her job. She could help a little! Maybe talk to Gil that it would be alright. That it wasn’t as bad as she thought. Geez!

But Gia didn’t and Gil’s eyes glistened a little. The one that did anything about that was the older Loremaster herself, sitting behind Gil and caressing the feathers behind Gil’s back. “It will be alright, child. I understand you are distrusting of us. But this is how griffons were meant to live. It may feel daunting and unpleasant at first, but you will adapt. You will learn. And you will feel free as you never have your whole life.”

Gilda couldn’t have said it better. The old Loremaster had just described Gilda to a tee. It was ironical… She had lost everything and at the same time she gained more than she had ever had.

Gil, however, didn’t seem to be very convinced. But what was she going to do anyways? As much as Gilda empathized with her, there really was nothing that could be done about the situation. Especially because Gilda wouldn’t let her screw everything up. Not after all she had been through.

As Gil returned to her place in the room, Gilda returned to Grunhilda. Only once she was next to her friend, she noticed the Loremaster had come with her. She turned to talk.

“I trust you are not going to make that much of a scene if I asked to examine you and your thrall…” She gave Gilda a restrained smirk.

“No, I don’t think that I will...” Gilda told her nonchalantly. “Doesn’t look like you would take a no, anyways.”

“Newcomers must learn how things work in this place.” The other explained, surprisingly understanding. “One of the things my ilk learns quickly is what griffons need, whether they like it or not. And how to give it to them, whether they want it or not. A bit of pain and shame now will spare her much heartache in the future.”

Fair enough. Gilda supposed that Loremasters were kinda like the representatives of The Harpy… The extension of her worldly presence. Like that Lady Gwendolen. She wasn’t going to complain.

“I’m… Uh… Healthy… I guess.” Gilda sat with her forepaws raised and looked away with a small blush while she stood a little on her hindlegs.

The Loremaster touched her neck as though she searched for something underneath the skin. She also took a good look at Gilda’s more private parts. Then she pulled Gilda’s beak up a little, catching it in a talon. “Ever had any diseases of note? Pregnancies?”

“Not that I know of.” Gilda just let her have her way. “Are you gonna tell me about my ancestors too?”

The Loremaster let go of her beak and gave her a smug smile. “I will tell you that you are as healthy as most griffons in the south. But you are sorely lacking in physical preparation. I would assume you are lacking mentally as well. But I suppose that Lady Gwendolen will take care of that, given your special position.”

“I get the feeling that everyone knows more than I do about myself…” Gilda growled, returning her paws to the ground, sitting more comfortably. “It’s annoying.”

The Loremaster gave a good hearty chuckle. “I understand the feeling. I felt exactly the same when I made my way to Griffindell and met Lady Gwendolen. Although, it was worse because I was much younger than you are.”

She gave Gilda an approving grin. “Know that you are the best Shaddani specimen I have ever seen. You are so pure you are essentially an Astrani. That would explain Aya Harpyia’s interest in you, as well as your abilities. It may also be the reason you are ‘special’. You have outstanding grounds from which to build up, Gilda. Remarkable, especially for a griffon that was born in the muddy bloodlines of the Griffonstone region. More than that, what makes you important is your willingness to cooperate.”

Fair enough. It was easy to accept that as a truth and Gilda was more than willing by that point.

Then the older griffoness turned her attention to Grunhilda who blinked at her with the typical dumb stare of expectation. After a few seconds of carefully examining her face the Loremaster spoke, still carefully reading every little detail Gilda couldn’t see. “Your stories reached me before you did, but details are not particularly precise. What did she do in Griffonstone?”

“You can tell her, Grunhilda.” Gilda told her friend.

“I cleaned the floor in an office. When I was in the orphanage I just studied with the other cubs and didn’t do a whole lot.” Grunhilda explained obediently, raising her forelegs, and exposing herself when the Loremaster cast her stare lower. Didn’t even blush.

It was a sight. Grunhilda wasn’t just big. She was strong and her Amazonian muscles showed that. But at the same time, she kept that silhouette that made the female griffons look so damn sexy. It stirred all sorts of naughty thoughts and feelings in Gilda. That she didn’t exactly reject. Big Girl had been trying to get her attention for a while anyways, hadn’t she?

A small smile formed in her beak at the sight of her little nipples. Big Girl was hers after all, wasn’t she?

When the Loremaster was done, she patted Grunhilda on the head and grinned at her. “Thank you, Grunhilda. You are a very beautiful Nartani. Such a nice young lady, and so responsible too. Congratulations.”

Then she turned to Gilda. “She is younger than she looks and bound to become even stronger. She is also a proper loyal Nartani. Very good thrall. Loyal and dedicated.”

“Wait.” Gilda’s smile vanished, replaced by a concerned stare. “Younger than she looks? I mean... How young are we talking about here? Creepy young, or young but not so young that she shouldn’t be doing… Things?”

The Loremaster laughed. “Don’t worry, she’s an adult. Old enough for the Griffonian authorities to kick her out of the orphanage, hmm?”

With that the Loremaster went her way to see Gertha and Gia. Gilda raised her paw and caressed Grunhilda’s neck, all the way to her jaw. Grunhilda smiled back at her, and Gilda offered her one of the small jars with the oil. “My turn now, right?”

“Okay!” Grunhilda gave her an even bigger grin and promptly grabbed the small ceramic jar. The floor was a bit sticky with the oil, but that was meant to be scrapped off anyways, so Gilda laid on her belly into a comfortable position and kept watching Gil. The lime griffoness didn’t seem very happy. She was uncomfortably, and thoughtfully, minding herself and her fur and plumage, alone in her corner.

The Loremaster went to talk to Gertha and she was almost adorable, fidgeting with her own fingers and talking with the older griffoness. Unfortunately, Gilda couldn’t understand what she said.

Then Grunhilda sat behind her and propped herself over Gilda’s back, reaching for her shoulders. That position, with Grunhilda’s soft weight over her back, made Gilda’s heart skip a beat. The oil, once Big Girl poured it over her back, was soothing and refreshing in the hot room. But once Grunhilda put her paws to work… It felt like melting under her touch to the point Gilda had to suppress a moan, letting her head hang a little.

“Am I doing this right?” Grunhilda’s voice reached Gilda while her strong fingers dissipated away all the tension in her muscles and the oil seemed to seep into her soul.

“It’s wonderful, Grunhilda.” Gilda sighed contently.

Meanwhile the Loremaster examined Gertha. She pawed at her belly and caused the mercenary to blush fiercely. But despite Gil’s earlier tantrum, it didn’t seem like anything other than professional interest. She even talked to the other in a low voice.

Was Gertha a Shaddani too? Not really important, but she was curious. At the same time, Grunhilda’s caressing was incredibly distracting. Her massaging! Oh, those strong fingers of hers! Was it intentional, the way Grunhilda shifted her weight on Gilda’s back? Along with her touching, that did weird things to Gilda’s imagination.

About time that stopped being awkward. So, Gilda decided to just enjoy it. She turned to look at Grunhilda with the corner of her eye. “Doing a great job there, Big Girl.”

Grunhilda giggled and continued her efforts. Even more when Gilda opened her wings to let her reach the feathers and fur underneath. Soon Grunhilda’s paws found their way over Gilda’s haunches and doing a fine job of oiling her fur. Then Gilda turned a little on her side and lifted her hindleg, showing her friend her chest and her belly.

Gilda almost laughed at the way Grunhilda stopped and stood a little back with a cute blush.

“Come on…” Gilda blushed a little too but encouraged her friend with a wink.

It was a bit awkward at first, but Grunhilda’s paw caressed Gilda’s chest with the rose-smelling oil and it was as nice as Gilda imagined. Wide and somewhat heavy strokes over her feathers. Much better when Grunhilda’s oily paws reached Gilda’s sensitive belly.

Grunhilda blushed fiercely, though. Her trembly paw passed over the little bumps in Gilda’s belly. She took her sweet time feeling them over. Gilda would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel nice. Much more from a griffon she had become so close and intimate with.

Letting Grunhinda explore was kind of cute too. Doubtful that she had ever done anything like that before. But that wasn’t the place nor the time, and when Grunhilda’s paw got a little too close to her thighs, Gilda stood leisurely and Grunhilda retrieved her paws like she had done something wrong.

“Hey, we’re bathing right now…” She spoke softly, as sensuously as she could with a wink. “We’ll do that later.”

“Oh…” Grunhilda blushed even deeper. “Okay…”

Gilda stole a glance at the others… Gia had a soft smile, oiling the feathers on Gertha’s neck and Gil blushed fiercely, while the older Loremaster caringly did the same over her chest from behind. None of them paid attention to Gilda and Grunhilda.

They were essentially by themselves. Thus, Gilda let a small smile and drew closer to Grunhilda, rubbing her beak softly on Grunhilda’s, despite the big one’s panicked gasp. Gilda held her nape, though. Didn’t let her recoil. It had been a long time, but it was as nice as the first time when Gilda felt the soft rasping of her beak on another’s. Then that giddy sensation of nibbing at another’s feathers, as she did afterward. It was the sort of feeling that made one feel alive, and she was just happy Grunhilda relaxed. Much more when Grunhilda reached with her paws and caressed Gilda’s shoulders. She didn’t really know what to do, but clearly enjoyed it.

It ended too soon. But that was part of the game, and Gilda distanced herself a bit. She quickly thought of something naughty, and haughty, probably silly to say. Sure Grunhilda would like it. She spoke softly, into Grunhilda’s ear. “Gonna claim you tonight…. But now you got a job to do.”

Grunhilda gasped. Almost squeaked along with her increasingly deeper blush. But before she could say anything, Gilda showed her the scraping tool. Grunhilda grabbed it with happy excitement and nodded, all excitement. “Okay!”

Gilda sat, as calmly as she could with all the giddy and horny thoughts in her head and let Grunhilda do her job of scraping the oil from her fur and feathers. Meanwhile, it mildly amused Gilda to see the giddy smirking on Gia’s and Gertha’s beaks when the former teased the other playfully dancing with a talon around Gertha’s nipples and nibbled at her neck.

Seriously… That was supposed to be a non-sexual, friendly hygiene thing! Even Gil had relaxed, sitting in front of the Loremaster, carefully and warmly infusing the oil into the older one’s chest and shoulders with her own blush and half-hidden smile.

It was hard to complain while Grunhilda ever so softly nibbled at her nape. She worked with the scraping tool along Gilda’s shoulders and forelegs too. She was a bit awkward with it, both the nibbling and the tool, but Gilda found both pleasurable, nonetheless. Getting the oil off with the dirt was an amazing feeling.

Seeing the old Loremaster teaching Gil how to use that thing was cute too. The younger one didn’t seem to be entirely comfortable with the whole situation, but she also seemed to have accepted that there was no way around it either.

“Hum…” Grunhilda called her softly, putting down the scraping tool. “I think we’re done…”

“Cool.” Gilda stood and stretched her neck. “Let’s try the water.”

She couldn’t say that the metal tool did a great job of removing the oil from her feathers and fur, but it helped in scraping off most of the dirt and grime. Which she supposed was the thing’s goal, after all.

Grunhilda looked at the others, though. “They’re not ready yet…”

“They can catch up. Come on.” Gilda beckoned her with a gesture.

They went under the arching doorway into the pool area. Steam went into their nostrils, and it was almost uncomfortable with how humid and hot the whole room was. At the same time, it smelled marvelously of something citric, though that initially made Gilda and Grunhilda cough. They made their way to the poolside, and it turned to a refreshing feeling of easier breathing, as though the scented steam had cleared her airways.

It was a rather nice feeling, and Gilda stopped a few steps from the pool. She closed her eyes and took a few seconds to draw in the air and appreciate the sensations. Head held high and a deep breath. The scents made her think of clean things. Only a few seconds later she noticed Grunhilda mimicking her. She thought it was cute.

There was far more to the room than only the pool, even if it occupied most of the room. It was a large rectangle with another door to the next room closed with a heavy wooden door. Round pillars made of colorful painted stone surrounded the pool and held hefty torches that provided a comforting and dim light. Covered openings in the floors made sure the air flowed properly, leaving the hot air inside.

Speaking of colors, the walls were colored in reds and yellows with wavy white lines in between. Nothing particularly detailed like the painting in the steakhouse back in Canterlot, but a nice display of colors and shapes that gave the idea the room was the hot area of the bathhouse.

“This is a nice place!” Grunhilda piped, turning to look at Gilda with a smile.

“It sure is. Has a nice feel to it. Come on.” Gilda smiled back at her.

While Grunhilda ran, jumped, and belly-flopped into the hot water, Gilda walked down the stairs into the water. It was initially unpleasant, but she got used to the hot water soon enough. It was a bathing pool, large enough for more than twenty griffons, and deep enough that the water was a little under her shoulder. Almost perfect for bathing.

Small bowls floated in the water with bricks of black soap. Picking one up, it was a bit rough and smelled more like dirt than flowers and other stuff soaps usually smelled of, but it made a lot of froth. The remaining bathing oil just went away with it.

“Hey, Grunhilda. Come over here.” She called, holding one of the black soaps and the other obeyed, immediately sitting with her back to Gilda.

Gilda started scrubbing the other’s back with the black soap and caused her to giggle. “It feels nice!”

“It’s supposed to help remove those annoying and itchy feathers and fur!” Gilda explained happily, scrubbing the other’s back with the soap. “Not to mention all the bugs that get in.”

She took a second to look at the soap. “I think it kills bugs, or something.”

Gilda had a huge grin in her beak, rubbing the soap over Grunhilda’s head when she heard the nervous splashy tip-tapping of a griffon coming from the room before the pool. It was the inn’s owner, the not-quite-that-fit griffoness. She ground to a stop by the pool’s edge and held her paws nervously, staring at Gilda and Grunhilda.

“Lady Gilda, I am terribly sorry!” She whined in a way that almost made Gilda feel bad. “My youngest is… Not the brightest!”

Oh. That… She grimaced a little, stopping her attentions to Grunhilda to tell the other griffoness it was okay. Grunhilda wasn’t even that upset anymore, after all. But the griffoness was too nervous to notice that neither were angry about that anymore. “I’ll get you his hind here if you want to punish him!”

Did she really say what Gilda thought she heard, or was she too high on her own horniness? “Hum…”

“I really don’t approve of what he did!” The griffoness spoke again.

“Thaaaaat’s not really necessary…” Gilda finally told her with a grimace and trying to be as not-awkward as possible, given the other griffoness’ proposition. “Just… Ah… Tell him it wasn’t cool.”

“I will…” The other still gave Gilda a concerned stare, strumming her talons together until she beamed with a sizeable grin. “Can I count with your presence in our celebration?”

“Celebration?” Gilda’s eyebrow raised. All she wanted was to relax for a night or two and then be on her way to Griffindell. In her mind, the closer she remained to the border the more danger she would be in. And she wasn’t even talking about Princess Luna. Some Justiciar or whatever was bound to catch her trail and reach her in that place.

“Well, not really a Celebration…” The griffoness became anxious again. “It’s uh… Madam Gelinda asked us something to help you and our new brethren under The Harpy feel welcomed to the North.”

Gilda frowned. “Wait... I thought that the caravan came here regularly.”

“Sure, they did!” The griffoness let her head tilt a little to the side and frowned with a confused smile. “But I was led to believe that the authorities decided to let them go because they were with you. Bound for Griffindell. In important business.”

Oh… That whole corn syrup kerfuffle didn’t as smoothly as it had seemed. Gilian probably threw her name in the conversation… Well, that was to her benefit, so she should go with it. “Yeah. That’s true.”

Man… Someone messed up bad with that stupid corn syrup. Could’ve gotten all of them into some deep shit. Heck… A few might even end next to the dude hanging by the entrance if Gilda didn’t agree that they were going to work with her. Was that fair? Over some stuff that she was sure most griffons in the north didn’t even like anyways?

It is what I commanded. I know what is better for griffons. The more they try these poisons, the more they enjoy them. It poisons the mind as much as the body. Thus, I commanded that they shall have none of it.

Welp, fair enough.

“So, you will join us?” The other griffoness asked again, hopefully.

Then again… It was a pretty safe place. With a decent law enforcement and those monster-hunting griffons were bound to give a lot of grief to any pony stupid enough to make trouble in their town. And she has been running almost non-stop since that whole mess in Griffonstone. It might be a good idea to stop for a bit and really allow herself to relax. Allow herself to be pampered a bit. After all, she wasn’t just some loser dweeb anymore.

That was the doorway of the nicer things in life, calling her in.

“Sure.” Gilda concluded with a shrug and a small smile. “We’ll be there once we’re done here!”

“Great!” The inn’s owner cheered. “I’ll make sure my boys bring the best caribou available!”

Venom of Venus Pt. 2

Grunhilda happily returned the favor of covering Gilda in lather with the black soap. Although she was a bit too soft and careful at first, before Gilda got the full benefits of its texture. She had to tell Grunhilda a few times. Afterwards, it was also incredibly cute to see Grunhilda sitting in front of her and taking her sweet time to rub it over Gilda’s soapy chest. All too obviously patting her and enjoying every second of it. Gilda would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it too.

The others didn’t take long to make their way into the room. But instead of coming with the older Loremaster, supposedly Madam Gelinda, Gil crossed the archway with Gertha. And the lime griffoness pressed her step to keep up with the mercenary’s bouncy spring.

Gertha really seemed happier than Gilda would have expected. Maybe she was just resilient. Because the pink griffoness simply didn’t seem to care that she had effectively lost her freedom to come and go as she pleased. Or maybe she truly believed she had hit it big following Gilda.

A cocked eyebrow at those thoughts went unseen by the others. In the end, Gilda was happy Gertha would be there. She and her brother seemed competent. It was true she hadn’t seen them actually fighting, but they had decent gear. Gillian hired them. So, they must be good. Not to mention that they did come across some bad griffons on the way, and those got spooked away.

“Hey! Mind if I help you, Gertha?” Gil piped up, also surprisingly cheery, talking to the mercenary gal.

Huh… Gilda really should start talking like the northerners. It just seemed weird to use the word ‘queen’ like they did. The older griffons back in her old home used ‘tom’ for the guys and ‘hen’ for the ladies. But it always made Gilda feel like they were calling her after a domesticated bird that isn’t particularly intimidating. But ‘queen’ was even worse.

She frowned a bit at all the customs that differentiated the south and the north. But she supposed that since she was in The Harpy’s home team, she was supposed to use the ‘right’ words. Anyway… Just some stray thoughts.

“Not at all! Uh… Are you okay?” The mercenary queen gave the smaller griffoness a half-concerned, half-confused frown. “You were kinda stressed out back there…”

“Oh no! No, no…” Gil smiled waaaay too much at the other. “Well, a little. But I’m fine now! I understand that the madam Loremaster was just worried about me!”

Gilda listened to them, and squinted at the smaller griffoness’ words, but said nothing.

Regardless, after a second or two of staring at the slightly smaller and grinning lime-colored griffoness, Gertha shrugged mindlessly. “Well, okay. You can help me, sure!”

“Great!” Gil followed her into the water with a bouncy spring of her own.

The other two walked naturally into the hot water and the older Loremaster, Gelinda, came over to Gilda. Funny enough, Grunhilda took a curious stance of not paying attention and focusing on her job of rubbing the black soap on Gilda’s chest. As though any conversation that was bound to happen there didn’t concern her.

It mildly amused Gilda to see Gelinda pet Grunhilda’s head before she spoke, though. “May I ask you a personal question, Lady Gilda?”

“I think we’re kinda past asking permission for personal questions.” Gilda gave her a playful smirk and the older griffoness responded with a good and honest chortle.

“True that. Would you be willing to mother a cub?” Gelinda asked after a while, again, petting Grunhilda’s head, letting her fingers between the feathers in her head.

Was that a trick question or something? At first thought, it had come out of the blue, but Gilda supposed that if she was so pure and so special, they would want her to give them a little Gilda, or something.

It just seemed curious that The Harpy never asked it of her. Maybe she was waiting until Gilda got to Griffindell? That too would be reasonable.

“Do be honest, Gilda.” Gelinda smiled and spoke mischievously. “A cub is no small responsibility. The Allmother will hold you accountable. All griffons are her children, after all.”

“Would I get to choose the father?” Unbelievably enough, she was considering the proposition. She would have probably taloned across the face anyone that asked that in her old life.

Gee… It’s not like she even considered if the guy would be hot or anything… She was more concerned about… You know… Rearing a cub!

With unsettling disorientation, her own words transported Gilda back in time inside her head. She was young Ghadah again, holding the white and gold tray stained with blood before the mighty griffoness in her sanctum.

Still with her black paws stained red from the life fluid of the sacrifice Ghadah had brought, the larger griffoness reached for the small yellow one holding the platter. Much faster than Ghadah would ever have reacted to. The tray clattered to the floor with a metallic clank as Gilda let escape a frightened yelp in Ghadah’s softer voice and found the floor was gone.

The great griffoness held her up by the forelimbs and Gilda shared Ghadah’s fear. Although ‘fear’ wasn’t the right word. It was apprehension. She knew intrinsically the formidable creature loved her infinitely… But love often took many forms, some of them unusual or painful. And The Mother of Storms was intimidating in any situation.

Gilda pulled her hindlegs. The anxiety forbade her from simply relaxing and letting them go limp. But the other griffoness didn’t mind that. Her icy eyes scanned Gilda’s body, from her young, flushed face to the soft fur in the inner sides of her thighs.

She felt the hotness in Ghadah’s face and all her discomfort at being exposed like that, under the other’s mercy. It was almost childish, as that was the Allmother, and as Ghadah was already very familiar with ‘the things adults do’. It didn’t help at all that Ghadah kept thinking about The Emperor and herself. Doing lewd things. That as a fledging disciple Swordmaiden Ghadah earned for him to desire her and even much more for the acceptance from the Mother of Storms.

What if She decided that Ghadah, despite her sacrifice wasn’t good enough? Gilda knew, but the young and insecure griffoness didn’t.

The Harpy was the one that kept everything. All of Ghadah’s future lied behind her stripped wings, and the fact that Ghadah’s sacrifice had pleased her. Although a good beginning, it was barely the beginning.

“A perfect little kitten…” The Harpy spoke slowly, playfully delighted. “I would expect no less from your mother and your sire. Such perfection. A true daughter of mine. He will be very pleased.”

With that Gilda found herself in another place, later that night. Unlike Gilda, Ghadah had known luxury in her life and even she thought that room was almost too luxurious. Black and white marble everywhere and pillars that surrounded the room. Several tables by the walls were covered with white silk and electrum utensils. Foods of all sorts littered them, and in one of them some of it had been thrown to the floor by over-enthusiastic griffons that decided the table would be their love nest. There was a small stage where a group of griffons had been singing and playing musical instruments before they all went to sleep. The musicians were probably to be found among the griffons spread around the room.

It was the ‘meeting hall’ in the Inner Sanctum where The Harpy lived. In the innermost part of her temple that was the stepped pyramid with the gardens. The heart of Aen Hader.

Ghadah woke to the discomfort of a full bladder and no luxury in the world would help. But standing up from the bed would be too much a chore. The desert air was chilly, and the bed was so incredibly soft, even compared to the beds Ghadah knew. She snuggled comfortably to the griffon behind her and the one in front of her. Groggy with sleepiness and tiredness, she decided to just remain there.

The urge was irresistible though, and she became aware of the soreness in her genitals. She groaned softly, extricating herself from the two griffons she slept in the middle of. A large griffon held her, and she was as careful as she could not to disturb his sleep.

With slow movements, she managed to free herself without waking him up. Despite the discomfort, she was still enthralled by the sight of the mighty griffon sleeping there. Dark brown over a bulky body and white on his head and fluffy chest. A very common, yellow-orange beak and a couple of faint scars that complemented his sturdy look. His beak had a small piece chipped off it, but it added to his wild appearance. To call him ‘big’ and ‘powerful’ would be an understatement. Strong facial features, with a perpetual scowl, despite his relaxed sleeping expression.

She didn’t fear him -he had been nothing but gentle- but waking him would be rude. Still, she blushed at the sight of him in his sleep, even more so as the memories of the earlier hours of the night returned to her.

Behind him was Aya Harpyia. Mighty and majestic as only she could be. She had her black paw and obsidian talons, holding his shoulder and her wing draped over him. Possessively, as though she wanted to keep him to herself. She breathed slowly, in and out, and laid almost on top of Emperor Grigor I.

The beautiful Empress Geneviere was there too, on the other side of the space Ghadah had occupied. Peacefully sleeping too. But where the Emperor was bulky in his powerful appearance, she was elegant. A little thin. Even without the rich multicolored cape she typically wore, she was a sight to behold. Truth be told, she was one of the most beautiful creatures Ghadah or Gilda had ever seen.

Other than The Harpy, of course.

The whole evening had been a spectacle. From the games in honor of the Emperor to the sacrifice of twenty-five hundred slaves in the name of The Harpy. The sacrifice that Ghadah herself had enacted crowned the festivities. But it didn’t stop just because dinner was done, and the Emperor had retired inside with his family.

It was a veritable hall, filled with dozens of beds, couches, chaise-longues, large pillows... All sorts of furniture griffons could use to have sex. There was music.. There were dances, fights. Poems were read. More food and strong beverages, topped with an utterly debased orgy of the kinds Gilda only imagined from the descriptions of history books of ancient Equestria. Because the damn griffons were irrepressible prudes.

Or so Grover wanted the present griffons to think. Maybe it was part of the way he meant to fight The Harpy. Maybe, in his head, the debauchery was part of what caused the issues that would cause him to rebel.

Gilda’s thoughts notwithstanding, Ghadah came close to chastising herself at the way she had surrendered herself that night.

Gilda felt like the young griffoness feared someone might be judging her when the memories reached the foreground of her mind. Gilda didn’t consider herself submissive… But Ghadah’s own feelings were overwhelming. In how much she judged herself and shamefully admitted to how much she enjoyed the depraved show she starred within the debauched celebration that happened in that room. In front of dozens of griffons, and in the way she surrendered to the three, allowing them to use her one by one.

Well, the bottom line, as far as Gilda was concerned, was that if everyone enjoyed it, it was a win. She didn’t judge Ghadah, but she also supposed that her shame was part of the fun for her.

But Ghadah didn’t have the luxury of standing there to think. She walked softly on the white sheeted bed, careful not to disturb either of the older Swordmaidens sleeping in the lower part of the bed when she stepped down.

It was a round bed in two heights, the highest one being the round center. The sort of thing that one didn’t just build if not for the express purpose of ostentation. But it was the sort of luxury that was the due of the Allmother and the Emperor, after all.

Ten of them. Ghadah’s soon to be Swordmaiden sisters, comfortably sleeping, cuddling together or by themselves, curled under their own wings.

Lurking out of the bedroom, under the moonlight that entered the room from its many curtained balconies, Ghadah passed by a large couch close to the bed in the center. One where Grover slept. Like a cub under the watch of one of the older Swordmaidens that shared the couch with him, softly caressing the feathers in his crest while another snoozed, cuddled with him. The first looked at Ghadah but said nothing. Only smiled at her and her big eyes.

Gilda supposed that he was part of the family, after all. Before the rift that developed between the emperor and his brother-in-law.

Other griffons in the opulent room included Ghadah’s own mother and her father, sleeping together in another one of the couches. One of the Emperor’s sons and other Swordmaidens. Important griffonesses too. Dignitaries of the empire, prestigious enough to partake in The Harpy’s celebrations. But Ghadah didn’t linger in the room for long enough to recognize all of them.

She walked as silently as a griffon could, listening to the assorted giggling and snoring. Sounds of snoozing griffons, until she came to one of the Swordmaidens going the same way out of the room.

Her cyan fur and feathers were ruffled out of place and with spots of sticky feathers in her white fluffy chest. She gave Ghadah a knowing smirk, followed by a teasing tone in her mellow voice. Still, she kept the volume down, even in the corridor outside the room.

“First time?” She mewled at Ghadah and smelled of alcohol and bodily fluids related to sex.

“Yeah…” Gilda felt Ghadah’s sudden bright hot blush, and she didn’t say anything further, only massaged her foreleg with a paw and looked away. Fortunately, Gilda’s laugher at her host’s awkwardness remained only with her. Especially because she cringed at herself right after. At the notion that she would have felt the same way in Ghadah’s place.

They walked on the black granite of the corridor, surrounded by black stone and torches that provided dim light until they entered the toilet room. One of the marks of a luxurious home, and conveniently close to the hall.

There was an open slit in the ceiling that let the air flow and two rows of toilets that would’ve caused Gilda to implode with embarrassment on either side of a trench with running water. But that didn’t bother Ghadah as she simply took her place in one of the literal holes on a stone tablet and squatted to relieve herself of her full bladder.

She relaxed for a second while the older griffoness, on the other side of the room, gave her a lewd grin. “Did you like it?”

Ghadah’s blush only grew hotter with her eyes training down. “I- Yeah…”

The cyan griffoness giggled. “The new ones are always so cute.”

At a loss for words, Gilda just waited a few seconds until Ghadah was done with her business and hurried out of the room. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, though. Should she just climb back into the bed and pretend she hadn’t left? Or something?

Walking past the door, and among the beds and couches, she saw the empress wasn’t on the bed anymore. Ghadah’s eyes flew wide open, and she almost panicked at the notion that she might have done something wrong. But she soon found the pink griffoness sat at a small table close to the large opulent bed. The empress invited her to sit with a smile and a small nod.

Ghadah obeyed without thought, despite her slow movements so that she didn’t disturb the others in the room and sat across the table from the empress. It had a small, but gorgeous tea set and a plate with small morsels of fried meat and some dried dates.

Geneviere gingerly served a cup of tea and spoke softly. “Did it hurt?”

Then, she smiled at Ghadah, offering the cup for her to hold.

Ghadah just shook her head and the empress served herself some of the tea too, smiling pleasantly. “Sometimes the younger ones don’t deal very well with the ritual deflowering. Everyone hates the scene that can come out of it, but I dislike it more when they just pretend and then cry alone in their rooms.”

Gilda would’ve grimaced at the awkward subject, but Ghadah just shook her head. “Don’t worry, your majesty.”

Ghadah really had no reservations, but there was one particular detail that made the conversation awkward. More than it would already be.

“Don’t worry, kitten.” The empress grinned at her as though she could read her thoughts. The pink griffoness’s feathers and fur were significantly messed up in her wings and her head. Both Ghadah and Gilda supposed that he had been much rougher on her than on Ghadah. “Just remember that I am the Empress and his mate, and it will all be fine.”

Ghadah nodded, more to herself. And then she took a sip of the tea. It was bitter and unpleasant.

“Witchweed.” The empress smiled at her again, and her eyes guided Ghadah’s to the great griffoness sleeping with the emperor in the bed. Her voice became even softer, as Geneviere made herself smaller and shared a knowing smile with Ghada. “She doesn’t like it. But She is also reasonable. Right now, a cub would be a hinderance to your career.”

“She doesn’t want the Emperor’s blood mixing with the wrong griffons…” Geneviere explained to an attentive Ghadah. “So, she provides him with all the most exquisite queens she can find. You see, a Swordmaiden is a tool of The Harpy. We are to represent her power, her majesty, and her beauty. We are trained to be the best fighters so that we can advance her will, through force, fear, or presence. Where her Loremasters educate, we enforce. We are an example and punishment if needed.”

“Think of yourself as a member of the imperial family.” Geneviere smiled with a warm and caring aura that Ghada’s own mother rarely demonstrated. “With all the benefits and luxuries. No one else has access to the Emperor the way we do.”

But then she became serious. “To him, we are a reminder of Her will. We are an extension of Her. We are his mates. We are his guardians. And we are also his gilded cage. We are Her control over him. You will take these words to heart, and you will never utter them again.”

Ghadah had already given the Empress all her attention, but as the other’s voice grew softer and her head lowered a little, like sharing a secret, the young griffoness was that much more attentive to the older one’s words.

“She is infertile. Thus we are the mothers of his cubs, the closest thing she can get to mothering for him.” Ghadah didn’t say anything. She only listened as the pink griffoness still spoke and the weight of her words pressed on her. “You are free to have sex with other griffons, but you don’t want to know what she does to a Swordmaiden that allows another griffon’s seed to bear fruit in her womb any more than you want to know what she would do to you if she ever learned that you drank this tea again after he has given you his seed.”

Ghadah’s eyes shifted from the large black and white griffoness in the bed to Geneviere. Back and forth a few times. “Your majesty is drinking the tea…”

“She’s not looking.” The empress took another sip of her own tea.

Just as suddenly as she had found herself in the past, Gilda was back in the present with the Loremaster staring at her blushing cheeks. Waiting for her to say anything.

“I- Uh… It’s not that I don’t like the idea…” Gilda’s heart thumped in her chest. “I just hadn’t considered it yet.”

“I understand.” The tone on the old griffoness’ voice implied she understood more than the mere words could convey. It made Gilda’s skin crawl. It was the same kind of stare the Allmother had over her when they met in Gilda’s dreams. It was unnerving as all heck and Gelinda’s friendly smile afterward didn’t really help. “Come to me if you have questions.”

Gilda had always thought of having cubs as the most binding thing an adult could do. It gave her a hard time just trying to figure out why they did it and she understood that Greta and Gary didn’t have any.

Was it enough to make her turn tail, though? To give up on all that she had been given and promised? While the Loremaster distanced herself and minded her own business, Gilda’s gaze found Gertha relaxing in the hot, steamy water while Gil enthusiastically scrubbed her back with a brick of the black soap.

Then she found Grunhilda, pawing at her chest with the most dedicated of stares as though rinsing the soap out of the fluffy feathers was her life’s mission.

The realization hit her. Dull and muffled. Clouded and obnubilated, as though she watched a distancing shore, from the stern of a ship that had sailed quite some time ago.

But then she frowned. A stern and cold frown. Because it was still better than ending up beaten and raped in a dirty street in Griffonstone. And she also took Ghadah’s memory to heart, as a sign that things weren’t that written in stone.

“Hum… I think we’re done, Miss Gilda.” Grunhilda’s soft voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“Come on.” Gilda held her beak affectionately and shook it a little with a smile. “The cold bath is supposed to be healing and we could use it after all the shit we been through.”

Not to mention that she could also use a cold bath after that vision. Dream. Memory. Whatever the heck that was. But as Grunhilda walked in front of her, she allowed herself a good, long stare at her shapely butt.

But then she playfully pulled at Grunhilda’s tail. “You’re supposed to follow me, Big Girl.”

The other squeaked and sat in the water with an apologetic stare. Gilda winked at her with a grin, rubbing herself against the white griffoness as she walked past in a way that went way, way beyond friendly teasing, complete with her tail flicking at her chest after dragging over her side.

“Why do you call her Big Girl, boss?” Gertha asked as Gilda walked past her.

She looked a bit silly with Gil behind her, massaging her head and with all the foam like a headdress. She had a genuine curious expression, though.

“Uh… Because she’s so much bigger than I am?” Gilda cocked an eyebrow.

To her surprise, Gil and Gertha exchanged a stare before turning back to Gilda. Then Gertha rubbed all the foam from her head and stood next to Gilda. Who was almost shocked to see that Gertha was about a paw shorter than she.

“You’re huge, boss! And really easy on the eyes!” The pink griffoness gave her an unsure grin. “Oh… Did I say that out loud?”

Gilda’s response was blinking her eyes a few times. Then staring at Grunhilda that had her dumb expression of nothing to add, and then back at the mercenary.

What the actual… She could swear she was shorter than Grunhilda!

Gilda stood next to her thrall, and she was actually almost as tall as Grunhilda was. The other was still bulkier, but Gilda wasn’t as far behind as she thought she was. Had she grown up since meeting Grunhilda? She cocked her head and blinked again. “Huh…”

After a second or two of awkward silence, it was Grunhilda’s giggling that broke through. “More Gilda for me!”

Hot blushing and quieted giggling followed. Gilda struggled for a second with her words, pointing at the door to the cold bath. “Well… Come on. Get your hind moving, you dweeb!”

“Hum… You told me to follow you.” Grunhilda whined and the others laughed a little louder.

Gilda pointed more emphatically, with her wet feathers ruffling and flushed cheeks growing hotter. “Well, I’m telling you to go first now!”

Grunhilda squeaked and her flared wings threw water everywhere before she galloped awkwardly in the water to the stairs out of the pool. Gilda followed, as dignified as she could.

She walked along the border to the side, doing her best not to stare at the others still in the water, while Grunhilda stood on her hindlegs and pulled open the heavy door to the other side. The shock in the difference of temperature startled Gilda a little, but it was quite pleasant after the initial impact.

Grunhilda let her pass and then pulled the door closed. The room became darker than the other, but still lit enough that Gilda could see all the details. The same minimalist decoration in shades of blue and white, pillars too. On the other side of the room were round beds for resting and the whole room felt just more peaceful.

In the water were more of the little wooden bowls, but they had elaborate censers. Metal pots with grills that let the soft red shine from the embers show and highlight the soft scented smoke. They even had small statuettes of standing griffon.

Gilda watched as Grunhilda hopped into the water from the lateral border rather than walking to the stairs. She dipped herself into the water and then shook it off, flaring her wings and whining. “This isn’t even cold!”

Gilda hopped into the water too and it wasn’t cold. It was almost freezing! Her feathers ruffled and she grimaced like she was going to flash-freeze right there.

Grunhilda gave her a puzzled stare while Gilda shivered and chuckled with a broken voice. “I suppose that your ancestry makes you cold resistant, or something.”

Then it became bearable. Cold, but bearable. Even comfortable.

That place was nice, though. Not a lot of smells other than the smoky-flowery scent from the censers. No noises either, as the large and heavy doors isolated them. While Gilda looked around, Grunhilda walked over to her, pushing one of the bowls with the censers with her head, bringing the aroma closer to them.

“Come here…” Gilda pulled Grunhilda to her and let herself rest against the border with the pearly blue tiles. Grunhilda didn’t resist and Gilda held her against her body.

She was hot compared to the water, and stiff. She blushed, with wide-open eyes and Gilda blushed a little too, but she held the other against her.

“The point is to relax… You know?” She poked Grunhilda between the eyes, softly, and Grunhilda let out a shy giggle. She managed to relax with that, though. Her body became as soft as only another body could be against Gilda’s own. She even let out a content sigh, resting her belly against Gilda’s.

They quieted, and even then Gilda couldn’t hear the others in the hot room. There was barely any sound other than the soft sloshing of the water. She could hear Grunhilda’s soft breathing and felt her heart beating in her chest.

Her mind filled with questions she wanted to ask Grunhilda. Did she really like to be with her, or was it some sort of duty? Was she actually alright, after learning her parents’ story? She was a bit shaken earlier, after all. Did she want to be… Free? Was that the word? Did Grunhilda expect Gilda would eventually release her of her bind?

Gilda also wondered about her present situation. She supposed she could do worse than The Lion for… Even thinking about it was awkward… A father for her cubs. The gears in her head refused to spin. She didn’t know how to hash out that whole thing.

It all washed away when Grunhilda rested her head snugly against her chest and neck. Slowly, Gilda’s paws stroked Grunhilda’s fur, then feathers, and she held her tighter.

Gilda didn’t sleep, but her mind emptied. Only the water and Grunhilda’s breathing remained. The voice in her head respected that peace and said nothing. It was what that place was meant for, and the cold water worked its magic on her. Relaxing.

Only after some time -she didn’t know how long- she stirred a little as her mind spun again. She wondered what was meeting the innkeeper invited her for about. She could see the old Loremaster whispering in the shadows. But that didn’t worry her. She was supposed to trust the Loremasters, after all.

Grunhilda stirred too, with a small yawn, and Gilda smiled softly, petting her feathers and down her neck.

“This is nice…” The Not-So-Big-Girl-After-All warbled calmly.

“It sure is.” Gilda smiled. “Let’s get your feathers fixed now.”

“Okay.” She stood lazily and followed Gilda out of the pool with another yawn.

Gilda wasn’t sure how that worked, but the cold water worked miracles. She was never so relaxed and so clean. So fresh. Her joints were free, and muscles reinvigorated. She was ready for another day’s worth of flight.

Next to the beds were small stands with neatly folded white towels. Soft as cotton and white as snow. Fluffy and apparently, very absorbent. Gilda happily grabbed one and opened it, beckoning Grunhilda, who sat with her back to her.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy patting down Grunhilda’s strong body with the towel and the other clearly enjoyed just as much with happy, soft warbles. Grunhilda also beat her wings a few times to get them dry. Gilda did the same when it was her turn, and Grunhilda also took her sweet time rinsing off the water from Gilda’s body.

Apparently, they had reached some sort of equilibrium where they were fine touching one another, and Gilda’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of ‘escalating’ on that feeling.

But while she was at it, Grunhilda beaked softly at Gilda’s nape. Softly at first, but she grew more confident when Gilda didn’t complain. The tiredness from the flying was gone. That bath had been positively invigorating and Gilda’s rested body easily became frisky, and she was absolutely sure that Grunhilda was horny as could be.

But that wasn’t the time yet.

They left the towels in the drier hangers nearby and walked to one of the beds. A round thing with a wood structure covered in cow hide and with a much fluffier and nicer hide for laying on top. Grunhilda put a paw on it and gave Gilda an inquisitive stare.

“Come on.” Gilda climbed onto the bed and laid near the center. Grunhilda followed when she patted the hide.

Grunhilda just plopped down, with her head up and looking awkward. “Uh… What do I do?”

“Relax.” Gilda grinned at her, pulling Grunhilda’s wing open. “Let me show.”

Gilda reached forward and bit at the base of one of the larger primaries in Grunhilda’s wings. Zipped her beak along the feather and Grunhilda looked at her ‘new and tidy’ feather, slightly damp, as though it was a mystery of nature with an awestruck ‘oooooooh’.

“See? No sweat!” Gilda chuckled. Then she showed Grunhilda her wing. “Give it a try.”

“Okay!” Grunhilda grinned and tried mimicking Gilda’s gesture. She chewed awkwardly for a bit, with an annoyed grunt before she got it the right way, but she managed well enough with some patience. Such a simple thing that anyone could have taught her.

But it was better not to think of that.

“That’s it!” Gilda chortled, checking her wing. “It’s better to preen after bathing. But you can do it whenever you feel your feathers aren’t, you know, ‘right’. Most griffons will take some time off their day to do that. It can be very relaxing, and it helps getting your mind out of stuff.”

Grunhilda nodded enthusiastically and with a huge grin.

“Yeah, well… You can do it alone.” Gilda went on, raising a talon. “But friends often help each other.”

“Oh…” Grunhilda made a sad face and her eyes shifted away.

Gilda’s beak showed a knowing smile. “Hey… Couples do this too. I know some great ones that love doing this together. It’s a nice bonding exercise. You know… Before the actually steamy stuff.”

“Now, come on.” She winked at Grunhilda and scooted closer, hugging her with her forelegs and a smile.

Rubbing neck against neck and holding the other, Gilda proceeded to peck at Grunhilda’s feathers on her nape. Soon after Grunhilda did the same, mimicking Gilda’s pulling softly at the feathers. That feeling was the sort of thing that only other griffons would understand. Untidy feathers were just uncomfortable and that was like reaching a scratch that’s bothering you into madness. But better.

She supposed that hippogriffs would understand. And that the pony equivalent would be combing their manes and tails. Or something. She didn’t feel like thinking about dumb hippogriffs or ponies with Grunhilda’s smell in her nostrils and her pillow of fluffy feathers in her neck. So soft and so warm in that cold place.

“You gotta pull out the loose smaller, fluffier feathers,” Gilda softly beaked at her friend’s soft feathers. “And comb the good ones together. So that they resist the water when you’re flying into clouds and rain. That also makes it all feel that much more comfortable.”

“Okay!” The other chirped so happy she caused Gilda to raise an eyebrow in surprise, but the latter said nothing.

They quickly caught on to the rhythm of the process and it was simply relaxing and… Just. Nice. It was a nice feeling doing that with someone else, after so many years of living by herself.

She could have shared a moment like that with Greta, but she was married to Gary and they rarely would have had the time and the moment without him nearby or when he couldn’t barge in on them. It was just awkward. And Grunhilda was such a nice and willing partner.

Speaking of barging in, the heavy door to the hot room opened, but the hot air didn’t reach them. Gertha pushed the heavy door with her shoulder and a struggling frown.

“Man! This thing is heavy!” She grimaced, straining through the act and her feet slipped a bit on the floor. Gia, the older Loremaster and Gil walked past, with the last one stopping to watch as Gertha closed the door again.

“The door is meant to isolate the temperatures.” Gia explained. “Also, this room is meant for relaxation. The cold water helps and has several beneficial effects after the hot bath with the soap and oil.”

“And that is why you should shut your beak.” Gelinda pointed at Gilda and Grunhilda relaxing and taking care of each other’s feathers.

Gia showed an annoyed frown, but she did shut her beak.

“So, I just get in the water and… Chill?” Gil looked down at the water.

“Pretty much.” The pink mercenary chuckled. “Be careful. It’s cold. But it feels really nice after a while.”

Having heard the other, Gil looked back at the water and poked a finger into it with a squeak.

“Just get in the stupid water…” Gilda growled from the bed. “You’ll get used to it.”

That place was so nice while it was only her and Grunhilda. At last, the two Loremasters sat in the water, each in a different corner of the pool. Did they not like each other? Was there some sort of professional rivalry going on? The older one sat in the water with a serene expression and properly closed eyes. Almost as though she was meditating or some thing. And Gia allowed herself to float, open wings and belly up. Exposing herself a little too much for Gilda’s tastes, but just as peacefully as the other.

Anyways, Gia was quite pretty too. Gilda could get used to staring at her.

Then there was a panicked shriek followed by a splash. Gilda almost jumped out of the bed because Grunhilda startled and almost ripped out a portion of her contour feathers. She growled and glared at the pool where Gertha kept giggling, hiding her beak with a wing and Gil shivered and hugged herself in the water.

“For feather’s sake.” Gia opened her eyes and sighed. “This is supposed to be a place for relaxation… For quieting one’s mind. Could you please behave like adults?”

“Sorry! I couldn’t resist!” Gertha giggle-snorted like an ill-behaved cub hiding behind her wing.

Then she squealed like a stupid griffon that couldn’t comprehend the concept of relaxing when Gil threw water at her. “This water is freezing!”

Despite Gilda’s reproaching thoughts, Grunhilda giggled at their antics while Gertha also got into to the water, walking down the stairs on the edge.

“It’s better to just get it over with and enter the water. It’s not as bad as it seems after the first few seconds!” Gertha still shivered a little but seemed to relax soon after and so did Gil. The later relaxed against the border of the pool and Gertha floated around the middle, laying on her back too.

Hers and Gia’s exposed, and also quite pleasant forms, distracted Gilda a bit, but she minded Grunhilda’s feathers. The small feathers on her back where they started transitioning into the fur of her feline part.

“Hum…” Grunhilda hummed quietly. “Should I take care of your wings too?”

“Yeah! Sure!” Gilda replied with the same soft, respectful voice since the room was back to its peaceful noise of water and little more. She showed Grunhilda her wing and waved with the tip. “Gotta keep the wings nice and tidy. They draw a lot of attention.”

Grunhilda nodded obediently and reached for Gilda’s wing. But rather than stretching out to reach, she stood, walked around Gilda, and laid on top of her back. Then she got to work on Gilda’s feathers before the she could complain that later moved around. Gilda decided to just relax and let Grunhilda work on her wing. She was doing a good job, after all. And… Well… It was an intimate position, but it just felt so nice.

The white griffoness carefully beaked at each feather, zipping her beak along them and leaving them covered in a little of saliva. The idea of being serviced got to Gilda’s head. She showed a comfortable smile in the dark and relaxed, letting Grunhilda take care of everything for the time.

Maybe Gia was right, after all. The thought caused her to chuckle quietly, laying her head on top of her crossed forelimbs.

The warmth of her soft body against Gilda’s in that cold room really helped her relax and appreciate the whole thing even more. And after her friend was done, they switched places. Gilda did everything she could think of to make it as nice for Grunhilda as it was for her. And it was not that difficult.

Maybe it was because of Grunhilda, but Gilda had really gotten a liking to griffon wings. So big, so powerful, and so beautiful. Grunhilda’s satisfied grunting rewarded Gilda and really made her efforts feel appreciated. Silly, maybe, but Gilda really relished her friend’s appreciation after all they’ve been through.

Feather after feather, Gilda worked on Grunhilda’s wings. They still smelled of the rose-scented oil, but the prevalent smell that hit Gilda’s nostrils was that particular smell of griffon that she had come to like, and there was also the musty smell she remembered from quite a long time ago.

Great… Grunhilda’s horniness was getting to her. And the worst part, or best, was that she didn’t even care.

Her job done, Gilda let herself relax on top of her friend’s back and her paw caressed her side, slowly. Letting her her fingers catch in the short, but soft fur. Grunhilda looked back at her with a cute smile as Gilda’s paw ran over her fur. She seemed happy, with that goofy smile of hers, and shiny mellow eyes of a griffon that is thinking about ‘stuff’.

“Hey… How about we eat something before we go to bed?” Gilda told her with a suggestive smile. It was a bit of cruel teasing, but she planned on making up to her queen anyways. She also gave Grunhilda a small wink that caused the other to giggle in that almost childish and carefree way she did.

“Okay!” Grunhilda piped, happily, if softly. Turned on her back and put a paw on Gilda’s chest with a sultry, and at the same time, calm smile. “I’ll do anything you say, Miss Gilda…”

What she said didn’t catch Gilda by surprise, she expected Grunhilda to say something like that. But it was nice to hear, so she showed a mischievous smirk and poked her friend’s beak, causing her to go cross-eyed. “I’m going to make full use of that promise.”

It was probably the third, or fourth time in that day that Grunhilda blushed like a tomato. And it only got better every time.

Venom of Venus Pt. 3

Gilda and Grunhilda walked along the corridor that led back to the bath’s reception. Their feet tip-tapped at the stony floor and their steps echoed a bit at the solid walls. The air was damp, and it made their steps sound louder and wetter with the pooled water on the floor. But that didn’t distract from the general good mood that remained from the relaxing bath.

Gilda grinned and bumped her hip against her friend’s as they walked. Grunhilda giggled and did the same. But their teasing stopped when they reached the facility’s entrance. The innkeeper’s thrall welcomed them with his professionally stoic stare.

“Your possessions have been left in your room, Lady Gilda. Do you need anything else?”

“Nah. I’m cool.” She took a quick glance at Grunhilda. “Tell the others we’ll be eating. Or something.”

He nodded in silence and Gilda started towards the door, followed by Grunhilda, back to the inn’s main hall. A griffonness that likely was one of the innkeeper’s daughters met them. She was covered in a bluish-gray coat and with silvery feathers in her chest and head. Her vivid blue eyes and a pleasant smile made her a nice griffon to look at.

She had a tray on her back, and she grabbed it approaching Gilda. Offering her red scarf, washed, smelling subtly of flowers, and neatly folded with the brooch of the griffon wings up. Also, a huge smile on her gray beak.

“Hey, thanks!” Gilda took it with a smile of her own and properly donned it, raising her beak. “Feels nice!”

Then, the other griffoness left the tray on a nearby table and changed to a graver expression. “Lady Gilda, please forgive my brother. He’s not the brightest in the family, but he rarely does anything with ill intent.”

“You know…” Gilda glared at her. “It was my friend he offended, not me.”

The griffon lady blinked at her and then stared at Grunhilda. “Oh. Of course! Sorry. Well, I want to apologize for my brother. He’s rather dumb, but he didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s okay…” Grunhilda awkwardly rubbed her foreleg on the other, sitting next to Gilda, looking away. “It hurt a little, but it’s okay now.”

The bluish griffoness nodded and turned back to Gilda. “Well, we had the feasting hall set up because mamma wants our special guests to have a great time. Some of your employees are already there!”

So now she had employees too? Ok! Gilda was not going to complain, so she grinned at the griffon lady. “Awesome. Let’s go, Grunhilda.”

It was past the large doors in the end of the inn’s main hall and ‘Feasting Hall’ was a good name, as it was indeed a hall. The feasting part came from the long tables covered in foods and drinks. Meads, wines and beers of different colors, roasted meats, potatoes and some dishes Gilda didn’t know. Still sizzling and steaming in their skewers or plates. Not heavy meats, but small cuts of fish and fowl, some fruits and even one of two types of rustic cakes that seemed lifeless compared to the ones ponies usually made.

And that was not mentioning the rich tables covered with golden thread on blue silk. That was the sort of thing that they probably didn’t use often. It filled Gilda with a sense of the reverence they held for her, even if she didn’t show it outwardly.

Toward the back wall, in between the tables, was a giant fire pit with a whole caribou. Skinned and cleaned of innards, roasting with two griffon guys that kept it spinning above the tall fire. It kept licking the meat and the smell of burning fat wet Gilda’s beak. The slowly rolling thing held her gaze for a little too long until her stomach burned, and she became too aware of the drool in her beak.

She coughed into her fist with Grunhilda giving her a stare.

“Can we eat something, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda giggled at her. “I’m starving!”

“Sure.” Gilda nodded. “Help yourself. I wanna talk to Mister Gillian.”

“Okay.” The other replied in her typical obedient demeanor and with a nod. Then she pranced herself over to the caribou and talked to the two griffons. That was probably a good thing as it dawned on Gilda that there was a good chance Grunhilda might have not ventured to talk to other griffons without her if she didn’t encourage her.

She did squint a little at the acutely noticeable fact that Grunhilda wasn’t clinging to her anymore.

She frowned. Hummed and growled a little, turning her attention elsewhere. The tables included varied tableware and several jugs of water and small towels, but nothing fancy as the restaurant in Canterlot. On the contrary, utensils were bucolic, made of iron and the glass was not as pure as the crystal. Yet, everything was tidy and clean.

To the left side, in the back, was a small stage. Little more than a platform above the thick wooden floor of the hall, but more than enough for the enthusiastic griffons and griffonesses playing a happy and energetic song. They used similar instruments to the ones Gilda had heard in the restaurant in Canterlot, but the melody was very different. It made her want to dance rather than listen calmly.

The room wasn’t crowded, but it was full of griffons talking, dancing, and having fun in general. Meanwhile the innkeeper’s family mingled with them, merrily offering more food and drinks. The amount of alcohol and food circulating in that room was impressive.

On the back of the hall the stony wall held a fancy wooden carving, painted with a rusty green shade, showing a griffon with a diadem on his head and a sword pointed down at the ground while he stood above it. Old and stern, complete with a cape in the wind, he didn’t look like the Emperor or Lord Gilad. Maybe it was some important griffon to the town?

Some of her ‘employees’ littered the hall. They talked excitedly, sampled the foods in the tables as well as the drinks. A couple of them nodded at her presence and she nodded back while scanning the room for Gillian.

The light from the torches in the walls had a flickering quality to it and added to the smell of roasting meat and the fire. It made the place seem more authentically northerner.

The whole bath thing was nice and all, but it was the atmosphere that really got to her. She smiled, lifting her beak up and her eyes closed for a second. It was the sort of personality that the southern holds didn’t seem to have and that she never knew she would enjoy so much.

As the day ended and it got cold outside, so did the interior of the inn. But the fire kept the air at a comfortable temperature. No wonder they also had one of those in the main hall. She would have to get used to the smell of burning wood and roasting meat.

The innkeeper was there too, making sure everything was satisfactory and she gave a giant grin as soon as she saw Gilda. One of her daughters approached too, carrying a tray on her back with some food in it.

“I hope you appreciated your bath!” The owner flapped her wings once. “Please, don’t hesitate to call if anything is amiss or out of place!”

“Hey. Sure thing.” Gilda smiled back at her. “It’s great. Thanks.”

“Tuna fillets grilled with lemon and rosemary?” Her daughter grinned and offered Gilda the tray filled with the whole fishes, open in half and cleaned, grilled, and drenched in lemon and sprinkled with the herbs. “It’s one of our specialties!”

Used to seeing fishes for eating in the form of white, flaky meat, it was awkward to see grilled fillets. Apparently, the griffons in the south had a tendency of eating tuna after so much processing they could barely be identified as fish, if one did not know what their meat looked like. One would not find a whole fish in the market, tuna much less, of course. Even when they cut the fish up, the northerners knew how to deal with meat better. Heck, Gilda was so hungry she could eat a whole tuna.

And that was why her beak watered again. She barely took a moment to think, thanking the young griffoness. She took one of the fillets and swallowed it whole. It was as delicious as she had imagined, juicy and oily with the lemon and rosemary gracing her tastes.

With a final smile the owner and her daughter left. The cyan griffon that was Gillian presented himself to her with a humble nod right after. “Lady Gilda.”

“Hey, what’s up?” Gilda greeted Gillian with a neutral tone, still licking the oil from her fingers. Better to let him speak to her than ask what happened.

“I had to use your name…” He spoke unapologetically, but still respectfully. “Things got dangerous after the Madam Loremaster decided that she wanted to know who was responsible for the corn syrup. It was rather…”

He sighed. “I don’t know what to say. To be very honest… The whole thing is silly to me.”

“Chill, dude.” Gilda shrugged at him, keeping her voice low. “I don’t know what happened and I don’t really care. If the northerners are chill with you walking away because you’re going to help me, that is fine by me. I wanted to ask you anyway. I promise I’ll let you go, or something once it’s all sorted out.”

He nodded. “Sounds fair, Lady Gilda.”

“Just chill for now.” She waved dismissively at him. “We’ll get the stuff we’ll need to get to Griffindell tomorrow.”

“I anticipated that.” He showed a small, proud smile in his yellow beak. “Got my boys to scout the market and find us a decent supplier. Up to Frozenlake, it’s easy enough. Beyond the guides say it becomes more and more dangerous the further north you go. The Sky Sentry makes rounds and sometimes they help caravans other than just hunting monsters. I have only gone as far as Frozenlake. Once.”

As he spoke, Gilda could see Grunhilda beyond him. She sat by the spitroast, scarfing down small cuts from the caribou, and hissing at any poor griffon that approached her to talk. Gilda couldn’t suppress a small smile.

“So, it shouldn’t be a problem.” She shifted her eyes back to Gillian as he concluded something Gilda had completely missed. “Not to mention that between you, Grunhilda, the mercenary brothers, and the two ex-GSA soldiers we should be fine.”

“Awesome.” She had no idea what he had said, but he wasn’t worried, so she didn’t worry either.

He moved away and her eyes found Grunhilda again, gobbling a piece of the caribou. Gilda’s paw rubbed her jaw as her beak formed a naughty smile. Maybe she shouldn’t tell Grunhilda anything and just enjoy the fact that she had a particularly beautiful griffoness that literally considered herself the closest thing a griffon could come from being another’s property.

Why did that make her feel so damn giddy?

She blushed. But fortunately, griffons weren’t paying attention to her. The smile on her beak turned to a naughty smirk. It would be hers the joy of teaching her innocent friend all the naughty things she knew. It almost made her giggle and hop around like a little cub with a new toy!

Speaking of ‘toys’, it was a shame they didn’t have any.

“What is it with the creepy smile?” Gia was suddenly next to her, with her typical superior jerk grin. She wore her Loremaster blue satin cape and looked much better than when they arrived. The bath had done her good too. Geary was next to her, mindlessly watching and swallowing small chicken fillets swamped in a brick-red sauce he carried around in a plate.

“What about you?” Gilda grinned back at Gia. “Made a new friend in the bath?”

“Eh…” Gia grimaced. “Just… Fooling around… You know. Nothing serious.”

“Yeah.” Gilda pressed on with her grin. “How was it that she said? ‘Non-sexual, totally non-lesbian way’?”

“It’s not a crime, alright?!” Gia raised her voice and let her feathers ruffle a few times in excited upstarts.

“Hey. I ain’t judging.” Gilda poked a talon on Gia’s chest, snickering at her discomfort.

“Yeah, well…” Gia frowned a little and went back to her usual jerkiness. “Be sure to take a good rest, hero. It’s not gonna be a nice stroll to Griffindel. It’s usually not easy, but we’re gonna be hauling a pony with us. You can expect the Windigos will be going out of their way to make our lives miserable. You might as well be prepared to lose a few of whoever is crazy enough to travel up there with us.”

“Mister Gillian and his caravan.” Gilda told her dryly. “But I’ll make sure that nobody is going to die.”

“Oh. Oh-ho.” Gia mocked her with more than noticeable jealousy. “I’m sorry! I forgot you are the chosen of The Harpy. Gee. What was I thinking?”

Gia knocked herself on the side of the head. “Duh. She’s not gonna let the Windigos chew on her favorite griffon now, is She?”

Gilda held her intense glare at Gia for a second or two until she stopped being a bitch. The green Loremaster sighed and looked away with a blush. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little jealous. It’s not your fault my scheme failed… It’s just, I was supposed to be rich by now.”

“I thought you were rich…” Gilda raised an eyebrow. “What about that manor you lived in?”

“That wasn’t mine.” Gia waved a paw dismissively. “It belongs to Lady Gwendolen.”

“Huh… Gilda scratched the curve of her beak with a talon. “Wild North Teleportation’s gotta give a lot of money.”

“Hah!” Gia laughed. “You have no idea. With the amount of money she’s funneling thanks to Chancellor Gail’s incompetence and all the fronts under her name… She’s got enough money to bank a war! Which is probably what she’s going to do anyways.”

“It would probably draw too much attention if it all belonged to The Lion, right?” Gilda mused.

Gia shook her head. “The reason nobody bats an eye is that nobody really understands what is going on. She has Loremasters infiltrated all over the place and they disrupt intelligence. Not even we usually know what the others are doing.”

“I wouldn’t be too surprised if she had Loremasters ‘working' for The Mare herself!” Gia concluded with huge, shocked eyes. “I practically ruled Thunderpeak and I had no idea that Lady Gaetana was one of us!”

Gilda didn’t mean to belittle Gia, but she had the distinct impression Gia wasn't a particularly good Loremaster. She kept a blank expression listening to the other though.

Gia, after that, gave Gilda an earnest smile. “So, the gist is… It's not gonna be easy. We should rest, prepare, and enjoy the hospitality.”

“Yeah.” Gilda gave her a small smile. “I can do that. Just don’t get in a fight for dominance with the local Loremaster, or something, okay? I’ll need you to get to Griffindell.”

Gia frowned in a very annoyed way. “You have no idea.”

“But don’t worry.” Gia grinned back at her. “Messing with an old Loremaster like that is signing your own death sentence.”

Then Gia turned to Geary. “Come on, Geary. I need to find a place to hide from Gelinda.”

Gilda eyes followed the pair until they vanished in the mass of joyous griffons. Then she walked to the caribou. Quite a few griffons sat around it, talking, and eating. Many of them were locals and they talked to the griffons from the caravan as though they were curious. Gruff griffons, somewhat larger than the southerners, some of them even wearing beautiful animal skins in the form of capes, scarfs, and hats. The females seemed to prefer fox and rabbits, while the males mostly went with wolf or bear. But that was as far as Gilda’s ability to distinguish the different skins went.

On her way to Grunhilda, Gilda saw the lime-colored Gil. It wasn’t obvious what exactly was the process that went on inside her head, but she was clearly above all that drama. Additionally, her ‘bonding’ with Gertha seemed less random when she was next to Gertha’s brother, the wine-colored Guile.

Gilda stopped to watch like it was one of those trainwrecks one couldn’t tear their eyes from, despite how horrific it was.

It was a level of subtlety that rivaled Rainbow Dash’s old boasts of her flying skills. The griffoness literally walked over to him with a racy smirk and a pair of flagons ready to spill beer. Her plumage was almost drenched in it, and he blinked at her with a goofy smile when she offered him one of those. He then proceeded to drink the whole thing in a long sequence of gulps that she mimicked as best as she could.

Her cheeks blushed when she let herself smack against his side and said something, walking her fingers on his chest. He showed a confused frown and she giggled, looking up to him.

Best to leave them to whatever that was. Apparently, she was taking care of the things the old Loremaster had told her about. Gilda couldn’t condemn her: Gil was dealing with her problems however she could.

Not unlike Gilda, come to think of it.

She too was too deep in now to turn back. She changed. She adapted to her new situation. Other griffons would have to deal with that too. She frowned. That was what The Harpy wanted of her. Of all griffons. To adapt. To become better.

She just wasn’t sure if Gil was doing it the right way.

Gilda frowned. Each fought with whichever weapons they had and Gil as throwing her charms at the big griffon that could protect her. She supposed she would see more of it as they travelled. Although Gil better not hope she’d drag Gertha’s brother to stay in Wayfarer’s Rest or something of the sort. Maybe talking to Gertha would be a good idea.

Shifting her focus from getting to Grunhilda to finding Gertha, Gilda’s head swiveled as she stood up a little on her hindlegs to find the mercenary and it wasn’t that hard to see above other griffons considering she had become slightly taller than most of them.

But what she found was her unicorn charge. He sat by himself at a small table covered in fruits and even some greens, along with a selection of juices. For some reason someone decided that the pony shouldn’t drink alcohol. And another had stuck a piece of paper on his horn that said ‘Gilda’s friend’.

“You okay?” She approached, eyeing the fruits and green stuff. He seemed unharmed too. “They treating you alright?”

“Yes!” He smiled pleasantly. “I doubt they would be very friendly if not for you, but I am not complaining. I hope that going to Griffindell will help as much as you think, too. I hear Lady Gwendolen doesn’t like ponies that much.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be useful.” Gilda sat across the table from him and rested an elbow. “Do you know anything that might help our travel? Some sort of ancient pony knowledge about the Windigos or something?”

“Yes.” He spoke seriously. “Don’t go near the Frozen North.”

She gave him a angry stare and he chuckled. “Sorry. There really isn’t a lot of ‘knowledge’ about the Windigos. All I know of them is that the old ponies summoned them because the three tribes didn’t play nice with each other. It is a point of contention with the northerners that ponies summoned them as a weapon against them, but we ponies really don’t know about that. It might be true, but there isn’t a whole lot we can do about that now. Although I don’t believe that. The Windigos almost destroyed us.”

What if, and she might be going insane there for a second… But what if ponies and griffons joined forces against the Windigos? It seemed that The Harpy and Celestia hated each other, but what if they let go of that past and led their sides together against the Windigos?

Anyways, she couldn’t do anything about that while in the party. Maybe once she reached Griffindell. The Harpy didn’t even comment on those thoughts. She was probably busy with something.

And so was Gilda. Leaving the table, she found Gertha when the pink griffoness laughed in the middle of the others. The pink warrior griffoness sat with two of the caravanner griffons by the side table with the chicken cuts and the booze. She giggled-snorted at something one of them said and let her flagon filled with mead bang against the table. Several large drops spilled to the rich tablecloth as she wheezed and laughed, resting her forehead on the table while slapping it with her paw.

Great. Apparently, her brother was on his own.

Gilda grabbed a flagon with mead from the selection at a nearby table. Smelled them first, trying to find the sweetest and settled with a thick and clear one. After one hearty gulp she smiled and went to Grunhilda. Other griffons had congregated around the caribou and Grunhilda, but she didn’t pay them any attention.

And when Gilda arrived, she had just gobbled a piece of the meat and started licking her fingers. Wrapping her tongue around them, and lapping every little nook for the oily fat from the meat.

Gilda shook her head and Grunhilda stared at her. “Hum… Is something wrong?”

Gilda grinned. “Everything is as perfect as it could be.”

The confusion on Grunhilda’s eyes told her that she didn’t understand it at all, but her friend just smiled and giggled. “Great then!”

Gilda laughed a little, sitting close to Grunhilda and it didn’t escape her that one of her ‘employees’ left to give her space. The griffon with the big knife cut a slice of the caribou’s hindquarter for her, offering it at the point of his tool.

“Thanks!” She smiled at him before she ripped a chunk of it to swallow. The taste was divine. The salt was a bit too much, but it added to the flavor, even if it could hurt the soft insides of her mouth. That was how griffons were supposed to eat!

She nodded at the two griffons taking care of the meat as they kept watching her intently. Both smiled happily when she gave them a positive evaluation of their food. Some of the griffons nearby even cheered.

Gia approached Gilda again, bringing Geary in tow and Gertha came with her brother and Gil practically attached to him. Either Gertha was too drunk to notice, or she didn’t care anyways. The former seemed more likely, judging by the way she kept giggling and how she swayed from one side to the other. The two ex-soldiers joined them as well and they too enjoyed some of the rustic roasted caribou and a couple of beers. They didn’t talk much, but they wanted to be a part of whatever was happening there.

Griffons gravitated towards Gilda. Gertha babbled something unintelligible, way too fast and way too excited, jumping up and down so much most of her drink ended on the floor. Yet the two griffons talking to her didn’t seem concerned by that. Meanwhile Gia and the older Loremaster talked about something over their drinks and Geary stuffed his face with more chicken and that red sauce he seemed to like so much. Always keeping next to Gia.

Mister Gillian kept his distance, probably spooked by Madam Gelinda and that was fine for Gilda. Better to avoid any unnecessary attrition because she seemed dangerous. The pony also kept his distance, content to mind his food on his table, although a couple of the local griffons had approached him to talk.

“Hey. We’ll be going on a dangerous trip, right?” Gertha’s brother, Guile talked loudly, above the noise of merry griffons, holding Gil next to him with his free foreleg and his beer on the other. “I suppose we really should have a lot of fun, then?”

“It can’t be that difficult.” One of the ex-soldier mercenaries shrugged. “I mean, we need griffons to make it there if we want to win a war, right?”

Suddenly everyone was ‘we’. Gilda took a gulp of her mead and listened to the conversation.

“Griffons are supposed to be strong.” Gia explained with her bored expression. “If they can’t make it to the North, then they’re of no use to The Lion.”

“That is not entirely correct.” The older Gelinda glared at Gia before she turned to the others. “Most griffons needn’t make it all the way to Griffindell. They’ll be assimilated by the Northerner cities along the way, mostly Brokenhorn and Frozenlake, but also smaller villages. New villages are being founded to accommodate these griffons and they have time to acclimate. They typically visit Griffindell a year later or so, usually after the Gathering Storm festival.”

“The Gathering Storm.” The other ex-soldier mused. “Sounds ominous.”

“It is a treat to the newcomers.” Gelinda showed a naughty smile. “The less said, the better, but it makes hopeless simpletons see that Our Mother has a higher purpose to them. If you hurry, you could reach Frozenlake in time for the festival. Lady Geena is particularly known for the feasts she organizes. They only lose in pomp and luxury to Lady Gwendolen’s.”

“Hey, don’t you know this Geena, Grunhilda?” Gilda elbowed the white griffon next to her, still holding on to her cut of the caribou, and the other nodded, gulping down her piece of the meat.

“She’s really nice!” Grunhilda chirped happily before she frowned. “Hum… But I was really small when I met her. I don’t really remember a lot. But I really liked her cape with swan feathers.”

“Hard to imagine you being small!” Gertha snorted and then laughed a lot more than her joke would warrant, but she clearly had no problem with that, neither the now three griffon guys hovering next to her.

As Gilda gobbled down the last bit of the meat she held, one of the innkeeper’s daughters brought Grunhilda something. She took the tray from her back and offered the glass goblet with purple liquid to her. “Here you go, Miss Grunhilda!”

“Thank you!” The big griffoness smiled and held the goblet in her paws before taking it to her beak and taking a good gulp from it.

“I never imagined you would be one for wine, Grunhilda.” Gilda smiled even if the wine smelled weird.

“Ah…” The other smiled, still holding the glass in both paws. “It’s not wine. It’s just grape juice!”

Gilda stared at her with a blank expression while Grunhilda took another mouthful from the goblet. She grinned over her drink. “I like juice.”

“No. No. No!” Gertha approached them with a noticeable alcoholic blush and a bit of a wobble, pointing a talon at Grunhilda. “No way. You’re an adult griffon. You gotta drink adult drinks.”

“I don’t think this is any of your business.” Gia interjected, holding her own goblet with actual wine. Geary was still next to her, still stuffing his face with chicken.

Gertha insisted. “But! But… Listen to me! She’s like… She’s souring the party!”

“No, she’s not and it is still none of your business.” Gia growled while Gelinda just watched next to her.

“Well, I am going to make it my business!” Gilda put a paw on her chest. “This stuff is the traditional drink of the northerner griffons, right?”

She put up her flagon. “And Grunhilda is a certified northerner griffon. A pure-breed Nartani. Therefore, she’s gotta try this.”

Grunhilda stared at Gilda’s flagon with the mead. “Hum… I’m not sure about this…”

“You’re not supposed to think. You’re supposed to do what she tells you.” The older Loremaster, Madam Gellinda came closer with a bit of an alcoholic flush of her own and one of those metallic flagons filled with wine.

Gilda rolled her eyes. All these drunk griffons. She was right though, and Gilda offered her flagon to Grunhilda again. Her friend put the goblet on the nearby table and held the flagon in her paws too.

“For Our Mother’s sake!” Gelinda growled and showed her flagon again. “Hold it like an adult! You’re not a kitten.”

Grunhilda did as she was told and held the flagon properly by the handle with a frown before taking it to her beak. She took one tiny sip of it and Gilda almost expressed her displeasure. But before she did, Grunhilda raised the thing and took a proper gulp of it.

“I don’t know…” Grunhilda frowned, looking down at the flagon, then at Gilda. “This thing tastes awful, but I kind of like it?”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of adult beverages, Grunhilda.” Gilda gave her a serene smile that caused the white griffoness to stare at her drink again.

Then Grunhilda took another swig of the drink while griffons surrounded them. Anticipation in the air was palpable. And then another sip, and finally she took a decent gulp. And another. Some of the mead washed down her neck to her fluffy chest. Because of course it would and caused Gilda a small shudder.

Gilda’s beak clicked, trembling a little at the sight. Then Grunhilda put the thing down with a huge smile, licking her beak. “This is great!”

“Hah!” Gilda cried. “Told ya you’d like it!”

“Can I have some more?” Grunhilda beamed at the innkeeper's daughter and gave her the flagon.

“Me too!” Gilda raised a finger, while standing close to Grunhilda, also grinning.

The mead didn’t take long to arrive, and the innkeeper griffons kept it coming. The caribou was right there too. Conversation came easily.

Gertha kept babbling about random things that went from party dresses for griffons to kinds of wood used in construction, now accompanied by three griffon guys and a local grifffoness wearing a fox pelt cape. The two ex-soldiers kept to themselves and talked to the caravanners occasionally. Guile was more interested in talking about his adventures to Gil, that remained attached to him while he made bold gestures and brave expressions.

The two Loremasters talked amongst themselves in reserved tones, and it was difficult to read them, despite Gia's constant annoyance.

Things changed as the meeting progressed and formalities were forgotten. The northerner griffons had welcomed Gillian’s caravanners and they mingled as though they had belonged there their whole lives.

The lively music shifted as the playing griffons stopped to eat, but it remained a constant happy background to all the festivity.

Gilda was more interested in Grunhilda and sharing a few flagons with her was more than enough to cloud her thoughts. Several cuts of the prime meat sated their hunger meanwhile. They talked about their journey and what little Grunhilda remembered of Frozenlake. Nothing important, but more than enough to let Gilda just listen to her talk excitedly about anything, such as the actual frozen lake where the locals fished for trouts.

Other griffons joined and the two ex-soldiers seemed happy to talk to Gilda and Grunhilda about what little they knew of the north.

Gilda listened and looked at the other griffons in the hall. They cheered and made a mess, with raised paws and some flapping of wings. Some of them played games and others simply talked. Loudly, boisterously. Some of them retreated to the corners out of the way to flirt and make out. Excited griffons having fun and a lot of it centered around Gertha and her happy abandon.

Gelinda and Gia teased each other. Gilda could see in their sparkling eyes and razor-sharp grins. Geary just hovered next to them, apparently with an endless supply of that chicken.

Along the shadows and out of the way, Gil and Guile were an example of the flirting griffons. She sat against a corner, holding a sultry smile, and touching his chest, talking in hushed words. Yeah… That one was hooked.

Do not judge them, Child. The southerners lead long and dull lives, but that is not the nature of your race. Griffons are industrious creatures, and their lives are difficult. They should find pleasure in the simplest of things and enjoy their life to the fullest, for it is often also short. That is how griffon lives ought to be. Couples should form at the blink of an eye, driven by lust or by convenience. Fellowships should team and disband as needed or grow in the bonds of honor.

Gilda took a sip of her mead and nodded softly at the words in her head and scanned the room for the griffons she knew.

They are yours now. You have captivated them and while some will seek to benefit from your newfound clout, you will find that some will lay down their lives for you. A wise griffon would learn the ways of such things and gain from it. Clever griffons will both benefit from that, and it is far past the time that you profited too.

Gilda’s beak formed a small smile at the opening of her flagon, and she watched Gertha’s display of shameless dancing with her accompanying griffons. Mister Gillian talked quietly to one of the northerners with a white wolf fur cape. And Grunhilda’s happy babbling to the two ex-soldiers, while still clinging to Gilda.

Funny that close to Gilda she wasn’t so unfriendly to other griffons. Well, there was the alcohol too…

After that, it didn’t take much long before Gelinda spoke with a bit of a tired smile. “I don’t mean to sound like your mother, but the journey North is a difficult one, and tomorrow will be a full day of procuring supplies and organizing a caravan.”

Almost on cue Grunhilda yawned and then gave her empty flagon a sad stare. Gilda nodded at the Loremaster and elbowed at her friend. “She’s right. Let’s get some sleep ‘cause we gotta make sure nothing goes wrong tomorrow. And I’d like to depart as soon as possible.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda left the container on the table next to them and followed Gilda.

“See you guys tomorrow.” Gilda nodded at the two ex-soldiers that held up their drinks and nodded at her.

Coming back into the main hall, the innkeeper waited for Gilda with a bit of a tired smile, but still as radiant as it was before. “We got the Grimhammer Suite ready for you and your thrall, Lady Gilda.”

“The Grimhammer Suite? That sounds cool!” Grunhilda giggled.

The innkeeper showed a proud smile. “My father founded this town! You saw him in the feasting hall!”

“He looked kinda cool.” Gilda smiled at her.

“He conquered this land from a brotherhood of bandits under one Blackmane.. Then he built the inn when Lord Garet gifted him the land!” Her smile became happier still. “Then the town started growing next to it and was given the inn’s name!”

“Lord Garet.” Gilda mused and turned to her friend. “Huh… Didn’t you mention him once, Grunhilda?”

“Yes!” Grunhilda piped. “Lord Garet, son of Lord Gildon. He was the Lord of the Black Gates before Lord Gilad, his father, and the fifth-fourth Lord of the Skies.”

There was something really cool about the way the northerners remembered those dudes that Gilda really had come to like. Maybe, one day in the future, griffons would talk like that about her, like Master Galahault had talked about Lady Gaharjet Stormborn ‘The Astrani Star’. Something like ‘Lady Gilda, The Swordmaiden of the Shaddani’, as Lady Gwendolen had called her in her letter.

Anyway, Gilda wasn’t going to complain and just followed the slightly rounder griffoness up the stairs in the main hall. It led straight to a door right out the stairs and on the other side was a sizeable room.

Rustic, grayish masonry walls adorned with all sorts of stuff that ranged from axes to colorful hand-weaved baskets. A low roof of thick beams and masonry that certainly helped keeping the place warm without a fireplace, sturdy caramel wood for floor and sconces holding smokeless torches for a dim and atmospheric lighting. A few pieces of furniture made of hardy wood included a wardrobe, bookshelf, bedside tables flanking a large bed covered in bear skin, and a dresser completed the windowless room.

Gilda let Grunhilda in first, curiously scanning the room while she nodded her satisfaction to the innkeeper and let her close the double door. There was another door that led to a balcony above the main hall and the smell of the central hearth fire came in from it, and a small bed for a single griffon in the corner was probably meant for one’s thrall, or maybe someone’s kid traveling together.

Their possessions were there. Grunhilda’s fox backpack, the fancy box with her bow and hammer, and Gilda’s Mythical was standing against the wall. She touched the blade, and it was warmer than she would have imagined. Somehow it greeted her and hummed softly at her touch. She really ought to get some sort of protection for her. It didn’t seem right to leave the blade exposed like that when she wasn’t wielding it.

She also yearned to let Mythical bite at something other than a griffon she didn’t really want to kill. The thing seemed to beg it of her.

Grunhilda had closed the balcony’s door and sat in the middle of the room, on a small round carpet made of black wolfskin and looked curiously at the ceiling where a rustic iron candelabra hanged with several lit candles.

It was in that moment that Gilda noticed that she was tired. But she was also, finally, alone with Grunhilda and all the tiredness evaporated from her like the steam in the hot bath.

Her beak donned a mischievous smile while her eyes squinted, and she threw the red scarf at their things. She lowered herself on the floor and prowled soundlessly behind her friend, like a predator, until she was so close she could smell Grunhilda’s characteristic, personal smell tempered with the aroma from the mead and the smoky scent that remained from the burning wood.

She stood on her hindlegs, behind the clueless griffoness, still silent as the snowfall, wings flared and open forelegs. She wrapped them around Grunhilda’s chest. Let out a low growl and the tip of her talons pricked her skin under the fluffy feathers.

Grunhilda yelped and almost jumped off the floor, but Gilda didn’t let her any more than she let her wings flare with the surprise. Instead, Gilda whispered huskily at the white griffoness’ ear. “Get yourself on that bed, now… I’m gonna make you mine!”

The way Grunhilda squeaked and tripped over herself almost – almost – made Gilda feel bad. She chortled and chased the other to the bed to pounce on top of her. Before she even noticed what she was doing, Gilda had grabbed Grunhilda’s nape with her paw and pressed herself on top of her back.

Grunhilda did the ‘submissive thing’, letting her chest rest on the furry bed covering with her rump perked up and her wings open flat over the bed. It was the sort of thing nobody taught griffons; they just knew.

Grunhilda also shrieked like Gilda was going to kill her and quivered like the flames in the candles above them. There was that distinctive smell in the air, though. The musky aroma of griffons doing naughty things. They both had been waiting for it a long time, but Gilda understood that the first time wasn’t always the easiest one even in the best circumstances.

“Don’t be scared… I’m not going to hurt you, yet.” Gilda’s beak skimmed the feathers on the side of Grunhilda’s head and her already raspy voice was gruffier yet while her left paw caressed her partner’s neck, holding it softly.

“I’m! I’m not scared!” Grunhilda’s voice came out a trembling whine. “I’ve had lots of boyfriends in Griffonstone! You can do whatever you want!”

Well, that was just… Gilda coughed and laughed, before raising from Grunhilda’s back.

“You sure had!” Gilda snorted and sat behind her friend that stared at her. She wiggled her fingers at Grunhilda. “At least three of them!”

She collapsed on her back, laughing while Grunhilda fumed. “That’s not funny!”

Gilda just laughed. “It so is!”

Grunhilda growled, pushing her chest. It didn’t help because Gilda hugged herself and curled into a tan ball of breathless laughter, leaving the other to glare in sheer impotent rage.

Finally, Gilda managed to stop and catch her breath before she sat in front of her seething friend. Until Grunhilda’s angry glare dissolved into her typical insecure puppy eyes.

“Hum…” Grunhilda held her paws together and whined to herself, letting her eyes aim down. “I ruined the mood, didn’t I?”

Gilda showed her a teasing smile and pushed Grunhilda to fall on her back to the bed with a surprised yelp again.

“Nah…” Gilda smirked at the white griffoness again, climbing on top of her and with a delighted grin at the blush she caused with their sensitive bellies squeezing together. She reached to Grunhilda’s chest and stopped for a second at the two subtle flaws in her plumage. Her fingers passed over the fluffy feathers and her voice turned mellow. “It’s cute… And I’m not with you just because you’re so stupid sexy …”

Her eyes found Grunhilda’s trained on her. “I’d never been so scared in my life. Not even in Griffonstone when those thugs cornered me in the street. If you hadn’t been there…”

Then Gilda showed her teasing smile again. “Sure, it was your fault we were in that situation to begin with…”

Grunhilda glared at her from beneath her.

“Look… Lots of hot and experienced griffons in this place,“ Gilda spoke softly, letting her finger dance amid Grunhilda’s fluffy chest feathers. “But it wasn’t Gertha and her fit body, or Gia and her cute sexiness that snapped that pony like he was a twig. That got hit with a hammer and shot while still managing to rip those mercenary ponies apart to then carry me to Ponyville.”

Grunhilda’s nervous frown relaxed a bit before her paws held Gilda on top of her, speaking softly. “Well, I don’t like to think of what would have happened to me if you hadn’t freed from the hospital…”

Gilda raised her body and held Grunhilda’s paw in hers, stroking her own face with it.

“This is about us…” Gilda concluded as her paw went back to caressing Grunhilda’s chest. “And I don’t care if you are awkward, or if you don’t have experience… Let’s just have fun. Alright?”

“Okay!” Gilda smiled as Grunhilda finally smiled too, shivering sofly, as her voice broke a little with anticipation.

After a second of anxious hesitation, Gilda lowered herself on top of her friend again, but this time their faces touched, their feathers brushed at each other, until her beak finally touched Grunhilda’s cheek. Gilda’s paw brushed over the feathers on her friend’s crest as their beaks clicked softly together.

Grunhilda shivered again when Gilda’s paw glided over her plumage to the velvety white fur on her belly. Their beaks fit together when the tan one pressed her into a kiss and the soft moan Grunhilda let go was needy and muffled. Her body stiffened as Gilda’s paw reached the small mounds in her belly.

Their bodies brushed together as Gilda pressed her weight on her friend and squeezed Grunhida’s teat, ever so slightly teasing her nipple between her delicate fingers. Grunhilda took Gilda in her forelegs and held her tightly against herself. The room filled with muffled moans and groans as well as feathers and fur brushing on each other.

Finally, Gilda broke the kiss, raising her head above to look at her friend’s closed eyes and hanging jaw. A hot and damp moan escaped her when Gilda’s paw unceremoniously reached lower between her friend’s thighs. Grunhilda stiffened again and a shorter moan escaped her when Gilda’s fingers found her delicate lady bits covered in moist, velvety fur.

“Hey, relax, you dweeb.” She whispered with a chuckle through a racy smile and a soft blush that matched her friend’s.

Grunhilda mumbled something in response, and Gilda wasn’t the best lover ever, but she was a decent one that knew well enough how to touch her partner. Her gentle, but insistent fingers explored her friend's entrance and her beak brushed at the soft feathers in her face. Softly pulling at little tufts, little loving griffon kisses of affection.

The white griffoness moaned louder and squirmed at the increasingly urgent caresses while Gilda’s large wings slowly flared up and she pressed her body as insistently against hers. Rubbing and pressing their teats in between their bellies as though she wanted them to melt together. Gilda finally released her own husky moan in between the small kisses and Grunhilda mewled helplessly, grabbing at Gilda’s crest. Her body tensed with a broken moan to relax with another higher pitched squeal.

Breathing heavily and deeply, Grunhilda’s chest moved up and down while she blushed fiercely and turned her face to the side on the bear skin that covered the bed. But Gilda held the feathers in her crest and turned her head to face her, before fitting her beak on hers again. Muffled whimpering competed with ruffling furs and feathers as they squirmed together, and Gilda’s fingers further caressed at Grunhilda’s sensitive folds.

Finally, Gilda raised her body from Grunhilda's and gave her a knowing smile, holding her weight at the other’s chest. Her already raspy voice grew grittier with her labored breathing. “I waited way too long to have you at my mercy, and I liked it way too much.”

About time to do something regarding the needy burning in her own loins, but there really was no hurry. As though she struck at a snake with her forepaw, Gilda plucked Grunhilda's tongue out of her hanging beak and her smile turned wicked while Grunhilda’s eyes grew wide with surprise, and she mumbled incoherently.

“If you wanna play slave, then you better learn how to make me happy!” She grinned wildly at Grunhilda's scared silly eyes and unintelligible acknowledgement while pulling her tongue a little before she let go.

The bigger, but younger griffoness clicked her beak and her eyes shifted to and fro before she focused on Gilda again. “Hum… Okay… I really liked that, though.”

“I’m sure you did.” Gilda poked her beak and made her go cross-eyed and grinned at her. “But it’s my turn now.”

Grunhilda wiggled her hindfeet. “Yes! What should I do?”

Gilda just kept smiling mischievously at her and walked around her while Grunhilda sat. The former set the pillows against the wall and made herself an impromptu throne where she laid on her back against the pillows. She moved slowly and fluidly as the seductive feline she was, making a point of leisurely exposing herself to her friend.

She could say it had the desired effect because Grunhilda’s eyes scanned her up-down in one fluid sweep with her typical dumb expression of cluelessness that made Gilda smile mischievously.

The tuft at the tip of Grunhilda’s tail did sweep from one side to the other, though. And she approached Gilda to sit in front of her. Her nervously shifting eyes still ran over Gilda’s exposed belly and groin. Insecure paws reached and trembly held the fluff in Gilda’s chest.

“What are so nervous about?” Gilda rested her head on the pillow against the wall and pushed her hindpaw on Grunhilda’s chest. Her toes played with her friend’s feathers. Still keeping a teasing smile, she urged the other insistently. “Get on with it already, before I get angry…”

“Hum… What am I supposed to do, though?” Grunhilda gave her a helpless stare and the typical whine of not knowing what to do.

“Use your instincts, dweeb.” Gilda’s smile intensified. “It’s easier if you stop thinking about it. Just do what feels right and we’ll go from there.”

Then she chuckled heartily. “I promise I won’t whip you, yet.”

That got a giggle out of Grunhilda and she was less stiff. Her eyes carried less of her unsure anxiety as she touched Gilda’s fluffy chest, and she rested her weight on her, still bringing her beak closer. She closed her eyes and Gilda welcomed her, touching her back under Grunhilda’s flaring wings.

Their beaks skimmed together again while they held each other tighter. Grunhilda grew bolder, letting her paws travel the length of Gilda’s back and then her thighs. They nibbled at each other, and Gilda held Grunhilda’s head, running her feathers in between her fingers. Grunhilda’s body massaged her own with her soft weight and enticing warmness.

They kissed again, letting their beaks fit together sloppily. Their throaty moans joined the ruffling of fur to become louder when Gruhilda’s fingers found their way between their bodies and Gilda’s thighs, mimicking the other’s earlier actions. An urging moan vibrated in the latter’s throat and convinced Grunhilda that her inexperienced, maybe clumsy fingers did their job properly as much as the way Gilda’s hip inched forward.

The inexperienced griffoness gave a happy smile, distancing her beak a little from Gilda’s, looking at her closed eyes and hanging beak. She nibble-kissed Gilda’s cheek, letting herself a low hum escape her throat, pushing her fingers inside the squishy folds.

The older held at her skin and her talons prickled at it. Grunhilda gasped and squeaked when Gilda stiffened and moaned. “I’m sorry, Miss Gilda! Did I hurt you?!”

“No…” Gilda smiled at her, opening her eyes for a bit. “You’re doing great. Come on, you can be rougher with me.”

Grunhilda smiled again and resumed her caresses, watching as Gilda moaned again and squirmed a little, making herself more comfortable in the pillow. She grew bolder and pushed her fingers deeper, licking the lower part of Gilda’s beak. Gilda rewarded with a rumbling moan and a smile.

Her own breath heavy and hot, she still watched Gilda’s squirming as though she couldn’t tear her eyes from her partner’s body. One paw heavily petted the feathers on Gilda’s crest while the fingers in other slip into her insistently. Grunhilda’s beak clicked at itself, and her vivid blue eyes remained over Gilda’s exposed body when she stretched her back and let go a louder moan. Gilda showed a smile that made the white one blink a few times before she lowered herself over Gilda again and kissed her one more time.

Gilda held her nape and her paw heavily slid down her back before Grunhilda sighed deeply and pecked at Gilda’s neck, and then her chest. With little ceremony, the white griffoness lowered herself further, encouraged by Gilda’s reactions.

Her fingers squeezed the barely perceptible mound under one of the perky nipples before her tongue ran over it. She was rewarded with Gilda’s belly stiffening and an anguished moan that encouraged her further. She let her tongue dance around Gilda’s nipple a few times before her head lowered further in between Gilda’s thighs.

Gilda’s body jerked with a higher moan and her paws held Grunhilda’s head between her thighs while the white one’s wings stiffened upwards and she groaned, as her voice became low and shuddering.

Gilda let another higher pitched, moan escape and her eyes opened down to the other, finding her with her own eyes focused on her vagina. She held the feathers on Grunhilda’s crest tighter, grinning with another throaty moan. “Sure you’ve never done this before?”

“This better become a habit, you know?” Gilda breathed heavily, still looking down and with a grin. Grunhilda responded with a muffled giggle.

Gilda produced an undefined sound of pleasure with her beak hanging open and let her head rest against the pillow and the wall again. She closed her eyes with a grimace and wailed another one, and another, louder and more desperate.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but she didn’t really care if anyone could hear and let herself cry, because Grunhilda was a damn natural at licking another griffoness to orgasm!

Her hindlegs stiffened and her chest thrust forward as the muscles in her stomach stiffened and she tightened her grasp on Grunhilda’s crest. She forced her head against her groin before letting go. Softer, whiny moans followed when she relaxed again against the pillow and it took her several deep breaths to regain her wind when Grunhilda stopped and stared curiously at her, resting her head on Gilda’s belly.

“Seriously, what a find you were.” Gilda grinned mischievously at her before grabbing Grunhilda by the shoulders and rolling with her on the furry bed. She pinned her friend on her back and grinned at her, teasing her with her talons running across her chest. “We’re gonna have some fun going forward, aren’t we?”

Grunhilda gave her a lewd giggling grin, full of mirth in her blue eyes. “I’d like that!”

Gilda chuckled at her and lowered herself on top of Grunhilda, nonchalantly kissing her as the other expected her and their beaks fit against the other again. She paid more attention and Grunhilda’s heart thumped like a wild drum against her chest. Her hot breath wafted at her face as did the naughtiness of her smell.

Gilda squatted next to Grunhilda and held her hindleg straight up, holding it in a hug. She also rubbed her beak softly at Grunhilda’s leg when she lowered herself to push her groin against Grunhilda’s. Both hummed and smiled at the warm sensitive touch while Gilda’s talons scratched excruciatingly softly at Grunhilda’s thigh.

Grunhilda held her stare at Gilda’s eyes, begging, before Gilda ground herself at her leg, holding it tight and rolling her hip against Grunhilda’s. Both moaned together again and the later grinned lavishly as Grunhilda practically melted into the bed, closing her eyes, and surrendered to her ministrations.

Grunhilda whined and frowned, grabbing on to the edge of the thick animal skin they had for blanket. She wriggled like it was a torture and Gilda didn’t mind her partner had resigned to submitting herself to her ministrations, she liked being in control and Grunhilda was inexperienced yet.

“Liking that?” Gilda grinned at her in between her own panting groans and while holding her partner’s strong hindleg, hugging it. Her paw wandered over the silky fur and stiff muscle, drawing over her strong and shapely limb.

With her wings spread flat on the bed and her neck exposed, stretched with her arching back, Grunhilda’s chest raised and lowered laboriously. She squealed breathlessly and played with her own delicate teats, much to Gilda’s delight. The later closed her eyes and let small groans escape her beak as she nibble-kissed Grunhilda’s leg.

The white toes with pink pad flexed with a long and low moan of release that sounded something like “Miss Gilda…”

Gilda just smiled at that and licked at Grunhilda’s ankles, letting herself release a satisfied throaty moan before she finally stopped her incessant grinding and laid herself over Grunhilda. They kissed again, before they rolled on the bed when Grunhilda held Gilda with her wings too and spent several minutes resting, panting softly on top of Gilda.

Her yellow paws passed over Grunhilda’s back and her relaxed wings, mindlessly dragging her talons along her plumage.

The music from the party still sounded on, muffled by the closed doors, and so did the sounds of partying griffons. An eventual loud laugher pierced through, as did the sounds of clinking glass. Tiredness had finally caught on to them, however.

“Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda’s voice came out soft.

“Hum?” The other still mindlessly ran her talons on the white fur and feathers.

“It feels different…” She whined softly, almost as though she complained.

Gilda smiled. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

Grunhilda laid on the bed, on her side, facing Gilda, who held her. Finally, Grunhilda sighed happily and snuggled her head to Gilda’s chest and sleep didn’t take long to finally end their day.

Author's Note

I changed the scene where Gilda eats a whole tuna (...), but I tried to keep the spirit there.

The War Older Than Time

It was a typical day in Cloudsdale, as it didn’t matter if the sky was cloudy when you lived above the clouds and the Sun always graced you with radiant light and comforting heat. The usual chill of the altitude was balanced out and even the stray breeze wouldn’t bother. Weather in the Pegasus cloudcities were always the most pleasant. Of course, pegasi controlled the weather. How could they not make themselves comfortable? Ponies liked comfort and they always looked out after their own. What sort of pegasus wouldn’t?

Additionally, how would you have water if the pegasi stole the clouds? How could you have rain if the pegasi owned the clouds? Obviously, ponies didn’t usually think of asking those questions. You’d often need a griffon for that.

‘If that is not privilege, I don’t know what is.’ Gilda whispered to herself inside her head.

This is unfair. The Pegasus Tribe serve the entirety of our fair world selflessly. There used to be taxes and tariffs involved in the production of clouds, but My Sister had abolished them far before you were born. Even before I was old enough to understand what privilege was. Additionally, griffons are more than capable of dealing with weather in their own cities.

Immediately, something was obviously not right. Something just didn’t fit. But Gilda’s thoughts refused to connect into a coherent train of ideas unless she returned to Cloudsdale. Unless she allowed herself to be the young Gilda in her middle teens, sitting by the cloud’s edge and yawning her boredom into her fist.

It was a slow day at the Junior Speedster Flight Camp. As a primary school for pegasi that had shown promise with their flying skills, morning was usual school time. The first half of the afternoon was spent with all sorts of flight practices. The second half was usually spent resting, studying, doing assignments, playing, or suffering the Pegasus bullies who thought there was no place for some freaky griffon chick in a distinguished pegasus school.

Gilda almost fell off the edge when the cloudball exploded against the back of her head.

“Ha ha!” Seething with a grimace, she didn’t need to turn around to imagine the big popular stallion that had taken a liking to tormenting her for no other reason than that she was a griffon. The shit-brown dumbass with a blonde mane he took way too much care of and sunshades. His two popular mares that followed him everywhere and giggled at every dumb thing he did too. A flag with a star, a cloud, and a songbird for cutie marks. Those were some fitting cutie marks… “What’s wrong with Griffonstone, bird brain?”

Unfortunately for him, that day was the day Gilda had had enough grief from her teachers and decided she was not going to follow the teaching staff’s instructions regarding bullies. Her expression turned blank, and she slowly turned to them. The surprised stare on the stallion was worth all the headache she knew she would get from her teachers. “Dude… You got something against griffons?”

“Uh…” He blinked at her a few times while Gilda prowled towards them. “Yeah! You stink!”

“And you also look like a chicken!” The yellow pegasus mare to his right laughed at her. “Puk puk pukaawk!”

He chuckled and the two females giggled at what Gilda supposed was a joke. She kept going their way though. “Yeah? What else?”

“Well… Nopony likes you! And you should die already!” He raised his voice and his wings flared with an arrogant smile.

“Go back to Griffonstone!” The other mare joined him.

“But they don’t even like her in Griffonstone!” The first mare sang a little mocking song.

That was when Rainbow Dash landed in the cloud next to Gilda with a very unfriendly face and glared at the pegasus trio. Flared wings, angry frown, and tense shoulders; ready to get into their typical routine of hurling childish insults at each other until an authority figure came to make them go their separate ways. “Hey, do we have a problem here?”

Instead of using the typical first insult of calling the trio ‘dweebs’, Gilda looked at her, unworried and relaxed. “Nah. No need for you to get called to the counselor’s office for fighting in the school.”

“Yeah! Go mind your business, Dash.” The male laughed at Rainbow before looking back at the griffoness right in front of him, about half as much heavier than he was and seconds away from giving him a practical lesson in inter-species relationships. “Wait, what?”

Next thing she knew Gilda was next to Rainbow in front of the counselor’s clouddesk. She had a few broken or ruffled feathers and some missing on her while Dashie had a black eye and completely disheveled mane.

“Why am I here?!” The pegasus mare cried and raised her hooves. “It was your dumb flank that attacked Skipper!”

“You hit him too.” Gilda held a bored stare at nothing in particular.

“Well, yeah!” Rainbow glared at her. “I wasn’t going to just sit there and let you fight them alone!”

After a second of silence the mare chuckled and elbowed at her griffoness friend. “More like kicked the snot out of him, though.”

Just as soon as they started snickering at each other the door behind them opened. A small pegasus mare entered. Not as young as she used to be, her light pink coat was well kept, and so was her mane with white and red, but the latter began to grey already. She walked around them and the cute bow in her head didn’t make her glare less angry.

The two youths silenced and shifted their eyes away while the mare stared at them like her glare could bore a hole in them. “Miss Dash, will you please leave us? I need to talk to Miss Gilda alone.”

Rainbow blinked at her. “Does that mean that I can go?”

“Yes.” The counselor glared harder. “You can go to Detention!”

Rainbow grimaced. “Erm… Later, Gilda.”

She bumped her hoof with Gilda’s fist and left before their teacher changed her mind. Left alone with the mare, Gilda made a bored frown and sighed.

“Why did you do that? I told you countless times to report him and move on with your day” The pegasus glared at her with her soft, cute pegasus face.

“Gee, I don’t know, Miss Vibes.” Gilda shrugged despite her frown. “About as many times as it didn’t work?”

The pegasus sat in front of Gilda, standing some fingers shorter than the griffon, despite being much older. She spoke seriously and clopped her hooves for emphasis. “Every time he does that, and you report him, it goes on his record. But now that you reacted violently, it went on your record. Not to mention Rainbow Dash’s record! And physical violence is that much, much worse than name-calling! All the times I noted you reacted maturely to his provocations are gone with the wind! Violence does not solve problems! Civility does.”

“Well, it shut his mouth…” Gilda mumbled.

“Gilda, your grades are not very good, and you are larger than most stallions here. You are larger than me! It looks bad!” The mare sighed and massaged her temples. “The only reason the E.E.A. hasn’t canceled your scholarship is because of how delicate your situation is and how much you proved the Chancellor wrong regarding his views of griffons. Until you decided to give in to violence! I’ll have to write to Princess Celestia over this.”

“Screw you, the Mare, and the stupid association.” She growled and let her wings flare. “Let me go back to Griffonstone and I’ll stop being your problem!”

The mare’s expression turned sad and mellow, which upset young Gilda even more. “Did you forget why you are here? How much of a struggle it was?”

Why were you there and not in Griffonstone, Gilda?

‘I wasn’t the best student ever, alright?’ Her thoughts shouted at the sweet voice in her head. ‘It wasn’t my fault! My mother made some sort of agreement with the Princess’ help. She mediated my admittance with the Cloudsdale Board of Education.’

Following that, beyond any control Gilda might have, the scene around her shifted. She was just a little griffon fledgling with her mother in the middle of all the pegasi.

Gilda was not as young as some of those pegasus colts and fillies, but she had never seen so many pegasi. The room was filled with moms and dads waiting with their colts and fillies in the small waiting room before the dean’s office. She was just one lone griffon with her mother among some hundred pegasi that gave her weird stares for some reason she didn’t understand.

The cloudwalls and pillars, especially the floor and ceiling, would be a death sentence for anyone that didn’t have the magic of cloudwalking, but griffons, much like pegasi walked effortlessly in the clouds. She never truly understood how they made doors and glass out of clouds or why mundane objects didn’t fall through, but there they were.

It would be curious if not for the angry voices coming from the other side of the double doors in the deep end of the waiting area. But they silenced when the door opened. A cute pegasus mare of pink coat, red and white mane, walked out and looked over the room.

Then she opened a smile. “Miss Gloriana? Can you please bring Gilda?”

“Come on, dear.” Her mother softly encouraged her with a sandy wing and Gilda stood to walk with her.

Her mother looked thin. It bothered Gilda that she could see her ribs and even the bits of bone poking against the skin in her back, but her sandy-yellow coat still had all the shine it always had, and mom was as strong as she had ever been. At least as far as the little Gilda believed. She was too naïve to know, unlike the adult Gilda within her.

‘Fucking unicorns could have saved her! If one of their damn ‘nobles’ had so much as chipped their hoof, they would have moved the entire Mount Canterlot to make sure they would be as comfortable as possible. But they let her die! They let her waste away in our home and I only ever heard of it days after!’

Poor child, you could never understand. So young, so alone. There are illnesses not even the most powerful of healing magic can mend. Nothing broken to fix, no magical switches to flip… Only the uncaring consequences of mishitting thaumatology.

‘Shut up!’ Gilda growled at the voice. ‘It’s not like you would understand.’

On the contrary… I do understand.

Despite their exchange echoing in her head, little Gilda walked behind her mother and the brown tuft tip of her tail commanded her attention over the stray looks she directed at the pegasi along the way. Why were they angry? She didn’t even know them.

Gilda didn’t have a lot of time to stare. Her mother ushered her through the door to a richly adorned office. The cloudwalls looked pristine. Though, how they held all those framed papers and plaques defied little Gilda’s understanding. Light came from an imposing window behind a large desk lined with office stuff and a couple of stands flanked the window in the corners, littered with trophies and statues of pegasi in triumphant poses.

‘Not a single griffon statue in that stupid place… I really didn’t belong there!’

At the time the griffons still had not adapted all the school regulations from the Equestrian Education Association. Griffonia would in the later years boast proud primary schools with secondary schools well on their way to raise to the same levels of excellency the older pony institutions showed.

You grew in a period of distrust and turmoil when griffons started to associate the problems of their democracy to a perceived inefficiency of the Federation in dealing with their nation. Ironically, those would be the same griffons that would accuse Celestia of abandoning Griffonia to its fate while also accusing her of not intervening in the situation.

The pink mare that called them in stood to the side and, sitting in front of the impressive clouddesk was an older pegasus mare with grayed out pink mane and a beige coat. Pink eyes that had a lot of kindness in them, unlike the harsh stare Gilda received from the stallion next to her.

She didn’t know how that worked, but it was a unicorn that somehow walked in the clouds. A gray unicorn with a black mane that looked like it had been extensively licked by a cow. He wore a dark red coat, complete with that ‘evil-looking’ high neck that made him look like someone’s idea of a perfect villain.

But she didn’t spend a lot of time devoted to that unicorn guy. There was one in the room whose presence commanded all attention. With her sheer size and even more with the radiant brilliance that seemed to glow from her like she had a light of her own and her mane had gotten permanently caught in some weird magical wind.

There wasn’t a single creature in the world that wouldn’t recognize her instantly.

It was the unicorn that spoke, however, shaking his head after a short glare at Gilda. “I adamantly oppose this, Princess. Much as your own School for Gifted Unicorns is meant to foster interest in the arcane arts within our young unicorn population, the Junior Speedster Flight Camp is an effort from Cloudsdale College of Flight to develop the same fervor in young pegasi.”

Although she said nothing, Gilda’s stare fixated on the towering Princess while the others turned to the older pegasus mare when she spoke with an aggravated and sarcastic tone. “The school is about flying. She has wings. What is the problem, Neighsay? Other than you, that is…”

“I am protecting these timeless institutions, Lyceum.” He spoke as though she had offended him. “They are meant for dedicated pegasi that hone their flying skills and are on the way to becoming the best flyers. Do you want a griffon, a troublemaking one at that, within the ranks of the Wonderbolts? In the Royal Guard? If we are not careful, soon we will have stupid yaks in the Manehattan Ironworks!”

“Careful is what I would be…” The older mare started with an upset frown. “Using words such as ‘timeless’ in the present company. Especially when she was the one that petitioned the school.”

“It is true. But griffons and pegasi are not the same!” He defended his argument again and launched on a long-winded rant Gilda paid little attention to. Her eyes were on the golden clad white alicorn. While the others talked, she listened, but it wasn’t the mindful listening that her mother had taught Gilda when she was supposed to listen to her. It was a thoughtful listening.

Many thoughts behind those big purple eyes. The same eyes that Gilda remembered without ever laying her own eyes on.

The eyes of the Dawnbringer. The one that felled Aen Hader’s walls with a single spell. The mare that commanded the respect of the twelve matriarchs of the Battlehorn Legions, with tens of thousands combat spellcaster unicorns under them and that led the other races in uniting the world under her sun.

You shouldn’t know of such things.

Those eyes were cast upon the ranting unicorn. Little Gilda wouldn’t know, of course, but she understood that the generally beloved mare of mellow eyes didn’t typically stare at others like that. It would probably be a good idea for the unicorn to… Maybe… Not make her angry?

How do you know of the Battlehorn Legions and of Aen Hader?

Something was wrong. Gilda was not supposed to talk about that. She ignored the question, focused with all her might in the scene before the eyes of her younger self.

The unicorn continued his rant. “She is a griffon. She is a citizen of Griffonstone. Griffonstone ought to care for her education with her mother and father.”

“Gilda’s mother is single, Chancellor.” Celestia finally spoke with her soft voice, as though she could flip a switch and turn her mood around. Or hide it really well. “It is common for griffon mothers to partner with a prospective father and then raise their chicks alone. They relish the independence it allows and it is a cultural trait rather than an issue.”

He turned to Gilda’s mother. “And that is precisely part of the problem, isn’t it? I mean no offense, Miss Gloriana. But pegasi schools were created with young pegasi in mind, not young griffons. Of course, she is not exactly a model griffon either, is she?”

He gave Gilda an angry glare. “Gilda has been expelled from Griffonstone Youth, from Stonewalk Primary, Feathergrin and every single school you tried to get her enrolled has rejected her on account of her deplorable behavior.”

‘Because you stupid grassbreaths kept trying to make me behave like I was one of you!’ Gilda’s thoughts cried at the scene evolving in front of her. ‘Why didn’t your stupid face choke on a rock while you were grazing, you fucking pokehead?’

Little Gilda pouted and wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but unlike the adult Gilda in the backseat of her mind, she followed her mother’s example, who simply sat there. Stoically staring at him.

Your anger is as misdirected today as it was in that day. Griffons meant well, but they were never supposed to misrepresent the E.E.A. directives and norms so. Please understand that as the years passed this changed, but such changes missed you and that allowing Neighsay to remain for so long in his position might have been a mistake. However, do tell me what caused you so much grief in school.

‘I don’t know!’ Gilda groaned, frustrated at the voice in her head. ‘I didn’t like it. They kept telling me I couldn't do this, couldn’t do that… I don’t know. I never fit in with any school. Nobody ever understood me.’

I wasn’t present. I couldn’t help!

‘Celestia should have done something!’ Gilda complained. ‘Not about me… About Griffonia! It’s her fault griffons are so messed up today!’

She did. She respected your race’s proclivities and the autonomy of your country. And she tried to give you another chance at a quality education. She certainly knew that you were vulnerable and that you would be alone soon. That in Griffonstone something bad was bound to happen to you.

‘I should have stayed with my mother! I wasn’t there when she died!’

There was nothing you could have done. She wanted to spare you the pain of watching her wasting away to a disease that couldn’t be healed.

Regardless of the weird conversation Gilda seemed to be having, as though someone watched a theater piece with her, the unicorn went on. “Do we really want her in the same school as our young pegasi colts and fillies? When not even griffon schools will take her?”

“How dare you, Neighsay?” The older mare stomped her hoof on the cloudfloor. “Gilda is a child. She deserves care and education. Princess Celestia is correct that maybe another environment will be beneficial to her, but not with such discriminatory judging!”

“This little barbarian will be taking the place of a proper and dedicated young Pegasus.” He raised his voice.

“Neighsay.” Celestia finally spoke calmly, and they all turned to her. “If you cannot contain yourself, I will have you removed from the conversation entirely.”

When the princess spoke, all the others silenced. “Gilda is not a barbarian. I will not accept you speak in such a manner of any child. I am aware you are not happy about this, but Gilda, and all the griffons of Griffonia are as much my subjects as you are.”

“Princess, I understand that you-” He started, but she interrupted him by raising a hoof.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak now, Neighsay.” Celestia spoke calmly. “I am talking.”

He didn’t like it and his petulant huff showed it, but he did shut his clumsy equine mouth as Celestia walked over to tower over Gilda with a docile smile and compassion in her eyes.

‘Don’t pity me, you… You filthy… Abomination!’ Gilda cried. ‘It was your fault Grover betrayed the Empire! It was your fault everything that followed!’

Show me why you harbor such hatred for one trying to help you.

In a moment of clarity Gilda realized she was not living those moments. Princess Luna was poking around in her head! No! No! Dumb! That was dumb! Luna was messing around with her head, and she couldn’t allow herself such revealing thoughts! How in the heck would she keep herself from thinking something?!

Things changed in the blink of an eye. The room was on fire and smelled of burning flesh and wood. But not like the roasting caribou. It reeked of fur and bodily fluids in the flames. A smell that brought memories of death to her. Inside her own mind, without a true body to react, she recoiled and choked at the foul smell as much as she did on the acid in her metaphorical mouth.

Thunder cracked and the clear light washed from the room, replaced by infernal heat and flickering light. Gilda found herself in the middle of a blazing inferno. A forest burned and she was in the middle of it.

She had started getting used to these abrupt changes of mental state that came with the strange recollections of her ‘Loremaster powers’ though. She had jumped into the memories of one of her ancestors and she was again an animalistic creature. Time must have passed since her death at the riverbed, if she was born again and an adult. But heck if Gilda understood how that worked.

The important thing was that she was a griffoness, but with the mind of an animal. And she ran around the burning trees, no name, only memories of a happy life along a mate with cubs living in the Stormy Eyrie. And a desperate desire to find him.

She dodged under fallen trees and around flaming trunks. Skipped at the stream prey often drank from. Her nares burned and she coughed in the black smoke, but she didn’t stop until she found a body.

She skidded to a halt in the hot soil, sending blazing embers into the air. The simple act of breathing burned her throat, or was it the sight? A fallen griffon, broken over a stone amid the small flames in the forest floor. His radiant orange body barely retained its color, scorched black with barely any unburned skin left.

It both repulsed and horrified her. His body was much hotter than it should have been and the bones under his chest didn’t feel right (she would know, she had touched them countless times). He didn’t breathe and laid lifeless, bent over the gray, moss-stained stone.

She pushed him, and she cried. But he didn’t move on his own, much less respond.

Her eyes stinged, but that time it wasn’t from the smoke or from the dry heat. She cried again, and he didn’t respond again. Her cyan paws were stained with blood and flakes of burnt flesh. She cried a third time, low and sorrowful.

Gilda tried to remind herself she wasn’t living that, but it didn’t work. It hurt too much. It hurt like losing her mother. It hurt like falling away from Dashie. It hurt like losing Grunhilda, but she was not living that. It was a memory, turned to a nightmare. It wasn’t the first time. Did she just fall asleep with Grunhilda and fall into that nightmare? She didn’t remember.

What a horrible dream. What a horrible, crushing loss.

But the griffoness she accompanied in that nightmare didn’t allow herself the time to mourn. Anger filled her as her paws grabbed the hot burnt soil, and she jumped to the burning canopy. She flapped her wings across the blaze, dragging embers with her to see the valley aflame below. It cast an eerie light over the mountains while angry and panicked cries came from the caves. Griffons and pegasi flew everywhere. They were too many to count.

Taken by urgency, she flapped her wings again and hurled herself to the closest step in the mountains. Ponies and their colorful coats were everywhere, and she looked for a target, focusing her sight on it.

Gilda knew what that was. When the ponies finally rebelled. Another life, another reason to hate that abomination.

The fire had burned through the mountainside vegetation, leaving only small fires and dead plants. Ponies climbed the incline and she landed with her talons and all her weight on the side of a unicorn. Their bones were thin, and they gave upon impact, but she wasn’t satisfied. It was a blue male, and he didn’t even know what hit him. The nameless griffon Gilda was clawed his neck open in a feast of gore, blood, and shocked, gurgling neighing.

Once she let go, he stumbled and tripped down the mountainside just as another unicorn shot a bolt of purple magic at her. It exploded in her chest and hit like a kick from a caribou. Enough force to throw the large griffon that she was in the air and to fall on her back.

Furious neighing soon followed, and a large yellow earth pony loomed over her. Her chest hurt and the griffoness’ frantic thoughts didn’t allow Gilda much clarity to think either.

She clawed at the pony with hind and forelimbs, drawing deep gashes on his legs and his stomach. In a moment of panic, he seemed to remember that he was a prey, and she was a predator. She sprung at him with a deep, sorrowful cry as the image of her smiling mate forced itself into her thoughts. She let all the sorrow guide her fury and she shredded his face into a spring of blood and a macabre show of ripped flesh hanging from it.

Her frenzied mind didn’t let her stop! She immediately launched herself at the nearest pony she could find before she even identified what kind it belonged to, or what color its coat was. It didn’t matter, whatever kind or color they were, they were responsible.

This is not your memory. This is not your dream. You are losing yourself to a pain that is not yours! Find your center, Gilda. These are irrational animals from a time that no longer exists.

Jarring. Disruptive as a train crash. Luna’s voice echoed inside her head and woke her from the frenzy, yet she was still there. Watching from inside that furious mourning griffoness. The pain, the sorrow was still there, but it all seemed detached.

She found herself again at the background of that mind as another griffon joined her to attack the closest pony they could find. Lightning flashed in the clouds above and its clap echoed in the valley.

This is impossible. This is from a version of this world that no longer exists. It was erased from time.

It was probably the anger she shared with that griffoness from the past, but Gilda’s allegorical head throbbed with that infuriating voice in her head. It was not The Harpy, and she knew very well who that was.

‘Get your clumsy snout out of my head! You’re like a siren trying to enchant me and then drown me away!’ Gilda cried inside her thoughts, but she received no answer.

In the madness that unfolded around her, the griffoness she shared her mind with fought another pegasus. She was too heavy for the winged female equine and her rage bled into Gilda’s own anger at what she had seen. Gilda found herself mimicking her movements with surprising ease as their minds merged again.

Talons cut into the skin as her cyan paws held the mare’s neck against the ground. She shared in that griffoness’ grieving wrath watching the life steal away from the pony’s eyes. Luna’s voice sounded distant; Gilda didn’t pay attention to her.

More magical explosions echoed in the mountains, and the thunder roared in the clouds. Griffons and pegasi still took the cloudy sky with their colors and every now and then one would fall into the trees below.

Angry cries were constant, but one stole her attention. A mournful cry from the nearby cave. Helpless and sorrowful, it drew the griffoness and the other griffon that had joined her in fighting the equines.

The cave was no more than a nook in the rocky face under a curtain of ivy that burned and bunched in the ground, black and lifeless. A pair of griffons had made their home there and one laid dead next to the entrance. Deep gashes were burned on his brown side, from where blood seeped out of the cauterized, lifeless flesh.

Deeper inside was a bed made of leaves and yellow leather where a bruised griffoness, very young and covered in deep cerulean laid on her side, holding broken little griffon bodies. Bloodied and disfigured little colorful bodies. She looked at Gilda, blood in her face among the darkened feathers wet with tears, making a low mournful cry for help.

Enough…

Luna’s sad voice distracted Gilda before she could react.

Enough of this hellish nightmare. They were animals acting on instinct. On fear. And this memory is not yours. It belonged to your soul, but it should have been undone as everything else was when Creation started anew. It’s not present within your soul. This is not Gilda you are witnessing, and this is not your dream. I will deliver you into a peaceful and pleasant dream. There is no point in this.

‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ Gilda’s thoughts screamed at the voice. ‘This is all your fault too!’

Without notice, the clouds were lit in bright yellow flames, roaring louder than the fire that consumed the woods under the Stormy Eyrie. Thunder, louder than anything in existence, scared the fight out of griffons and ponies alike.

I see…

There was an eerie silence for a couple of seconds. Then a body fell through the dense clouds. Time seemed to stop. It was a bizarre feeling. The wind ceased. The fire literally silenced and all of existence focused into that moment.

It was a large, black and white body that crashed against the rocks on the mountainside above. The cracking of bone sounded like a breaking tree, and it resonated inside Gilda and the griffoness she shared her mind with. They witnessed something impossible.

A marvelous white and black griffoness rolled limply on top of the rocks and fell again to the stony terrace of the series of caves. She rolled on her back and coughed blood. It stained her obsidian beak and her snowy plumage. During the fall one of her wings broke and bent on itself. One of her hindlegs was also limp, turned in an unsettling position. Her size still seemed impressive despite all the damage her body had endured.

She breathed laboriously and touched her face, closing her eyes before opening them again. Bright, icy grey. She smiled and grimaced at the same time before she coughed more blood and laughed. A shrill, disturbing, choking laugher.

“If I knew it hurt like this, I would have dulled the pain down a little.” She laughed again. More clearly and louder along with the thunder in the clouds. “Maybe that is why the ungulates are so angry.”

She squirmed and her paws hugged her chest, smearing her feathers in more blood. She winced in pain and her laughter came out breathless in a squeal before it exploded in hysterical guffawing.

The yellow glow in the clouds subsided and became a single star of bright flames that descended from the slowly dissipating clouds. The blue sky showed through the holes that increased steadily and sunrays pierced through.

It wasn’t alone though. They were four stars that descended from the clearing sky, shrouded in bright silver, pink and white. Four magnificent beasts. Winged equines, as tall as no pony should ever be, made taller still by the fearsome horns in their heads. Beings made of pure, unrestrained magic; they were like forces of nature made real by the very magic of Creation. Staring at them for long was impossible and it threatened to burn the eyes of the griffoness Gilda accompanied.

One was made of sunfire and she carried the day in her wake as though she could hold it under her wings and the other was made of the darkness among the stars, and undefinable deep blue sprinkled with the twinkle of a million distant suns. The third was pink and her chest shone red with the sign of a heart. Her eyes were as bright as the passion of unbridled lovers. And the fourth was white, and her neck was encrusted with a collar of six stones that shone in colorful lights blending together in a rainbow.

They flapped their wings with the might of a cyclone and their hooves never touched the stone. They floated in the sky, with their open wings and staring down. Eerily synchronized as though all four were one.

They remained silent and watched. The griffoness touched her stomach and chuckled before she hacked again.

“You stupid animal…” The griffoness spoke with a coarse and weak voice, almost chuckling.

The griffoness turned and chuckled coarsely as she stood. Her chest moved in an uneven way and all several cuts stained her plumage in even more red. Her hindleg didn’t support her weight, but she stood on the good one.

No reaction from the four supernatural entities in the sky.

The griffoness gathered all the strength she had left and stood on her hindlegs as best as she could. She clenched her black, blood-stained paws and then she cried. Furious as a storm and her howl echoed in the mountains. “Do you understand what you have done?!”

She lost her balance and crashed to the stone again. With a painful wince, but then she laughed quietly. “Of course, you do not.”

She shakily raised her head and her eyes struggled to remain open. Blood dripped out her nostrils and out the corner of her beak. “I am the Allmother. I am Order. I bring law upon Chaos! From the first breath of Creation to the last whisper of Annihilation, I am Aya Harpyia and my will brought you into existence. Everything is mine and you exist to serve!”

Her trembling chest filled with air and blood pooled in the stone. She pulled herself, dragging over the stone with a shaky laugh. But then she frowned and grimaced, still trying to pull herself up and spoke softly. “I will not forget… In another billion years if I must.”

Finally, she stopped moving and laid still on the stone. The last clouds washed from the sky and the sun shone supreme against the blue. The fiery magical creatures startled, however. They neighed in panic and reared in the air just before the sky turned dark.

The sun vanished into itself, replaced by a terrifying point of nothing, blacker than the black of the skyless above. Beyond the boundaries of existence and shrouded in a crimson glow. A low growl echoed in the mountains and the trees died. Their leaves turned brown and fell. The fire ended as though it had never existed and the four alicorns undid themselves in a final neigh of terror, evanescing as though the wind had taken them away.

Gilda was included in the terror that washed over the griffoness she inhabited. Griffons and pegasi flapped their wings frantically, but they fell from the black nothing that was the sky, mercilessly dragged to crash against the dead trees and the ground.

Gilda panicked with the griffoness she shared her mind with as the stone began undoing itself and the resulting sand lifted into the air and the mountain shook. Panicked cries and neighs filled the air until they became distant and muffled. Her own cyan paw undid itself in a bloody mess of flesh and bone evanescing into nothing and the lack of pain somehow made it all the more terrifying.

Enough! Luna cried in the black nothingness, and nothingness was all that remained.

Dreammaker Pt. 1 - Trompe L'oeil

Author's Note

I just noticed, while writing a scene for Piece of Parchment that I messed up on Harpyja’s eyes. They’re not ‘icy blue’, but ‘stormy grey’. The one with icy blue eyes is Gwineth, the griffoness that was with The Harpy in Gilda’s dream, when Ghadah presented the zebra’s heart as a sacrifice.

Dreammaker Pt. 1 - Trompe L'oeil

Gilda’s head spun from all the emotional turmoil of her dream. The only thing she felt for minutes was the convulsions in her stomach and the general awful feeling of nausea at the images, noises and smells that forced themselves on her mind. But there was nothing in her stomach to expel other than the pain. She collapsed on her side against sandy ground and moaned helplessly, hoping that it would pass soon.

The sand was wet and refreshing, like a beach with a soft breeze. She heard distant thunder over the sloshing of the water. She needed several minutes with her eyes shut, listening to the calming sounds. Letting the cold soothe her nausea before she finally felt brave enough to move.

Standing up to her fours, she noticed the black sand at her feet and frowned at it. Slowly, careful not to provoke illness again, she looked around and regained her bearings with a worried frown.

She stood at the margin of a lake under a canopy of gray clouds in the sky. The lake was not filled with water, though. Whatever it was, it was thicker. She wouldn’t touch it, but it sloshed softly, and it was golden. Not as molten gold, but as light turned to liquid. It drew her eyes with its mesmerizing beauty.

The sand was black, fine, and cold. A little damp, and it twinkled like little stars. The lake was surrounded by mountains she had come to know very well. It was the Stormy Eyrie which cradled the lake.

Strange, as the valley in the Stormy Eyrie was a forest with a stream, not a lake. The pervading feeling was that there was some sort of meaning to that detail. But the most impressive thing wasn’t that, or the lake. It was the crystal palace that sat on an island in the middle of the lake.

“What?” She mumbled to herself.

It was a tall, multi towered palace made of softly glowing crystal. A yellow-brown palace with a balcony at the base. It supported itself at the top of a rock that occupied most of the small island.

She walked a few steps on the sand and her feet made soft chiming sounds against it. Amused, she chuckled and grabbed a pawful to let it cascade down in a soft melody, like a windchime.

“What is this place?” She frowned despite her amusement and directed her gaze at the palace again. That was clearly a dream, or something. And the fact that she could identify it as such might not be a good sign. Precisely because Luna was likely to be involved, given her previous dream. And she might not be happy.

Gilda's frown turned to a scowl. She may have no choice and the Princess was probably waiting for her there. But staying in the beach, looking at the place and thinking to herself didn’t seem to be helping. She opened her wings and took flight with a hop. Flapping her wings and steering her flight towards the balcony at the base of the palace, she prepared mentally for what might turn out to be a battle.

What chance did she have against the Princess? Still, as she flew, a foreboding sense of reverence took over her. Something told her that place was unbelievably important.

She landed on the balcony and the crystal didn’t fit very well into the base that supported it. Curious. As though that thing had been placed there and didn’t really belong where it sat. Like there used to be a more traditional building of stone, or something, and she could see its foundations where the crystal structure rested.

But that didn’t diminish that strange and unexplained reverence she felt for that place.

The crystal floor in the balcony had deep claw marks on it and so did the massive double doors of brown crystal. Something seemed to be missing in the middle. It was like a seal that held the doors closed. Like a base for a blazon, or something of the sort, but it was empty. Just blank crystal.

Still, it seemed as though something tried to enter and whatever it was, it was pissed. Deep gashes in triple crackly lines at the door and at the floor. It didn’t look like the sort of thing Princess Luna would do. In Gilda’s imagination, if Princess Luna tried to force her way into somewhere it would look like she blasted her way through with magic.

Memories from the past spoke of magical beams that melted stone and metal like a hot knife through butter, more than claws trying to rip at something.

“I wanna enter.” She spoke more to herself, taking a step back and staring up the doors. “I gotta see what is this place.”

As though her command was heard, the blank seal vanished, and magic filled the doors. Inside the crystal, an intricate decorative design of beautiful lines lit with yellow light, and the doors opened for her. Beyond was a long corridor.

There was something reverential about that long corridor and she took time walking slowly down the winding hall. It didn’t seem appropriate to rush her way forward. It had its own light, despite the lack of lighting fixtures and the crystal itself seemed to shine from every direction with a subtle light. A pattern of cut crystal repeated itself on the walls over and over until she found a break.

It was a door. Made of the same crystal, brown and cloudy enough to not allow vision through. It had a handle and Gilda tried it. The door opened effortlessly with nary a click. On the other side she saw a simple room of crystal walls. It had a simple sitting pillow in the center and nothing more.

Has she been in that room before? She could swear she had but couldn’t remember when or even fathom how that would make sense.

She walked around the pillow. It was a simple blue pillow, and nothing stood out about it. But something about it screamed at her from the back of her mind. Yet, she couldn’t understand what it was. What did that room mean? She couldn’t grasp some thought that was right outside her reach. But she was sure she had been in that room before!

She allowed herself a final stare at the pillow and walked from it. Closed the door on her way out and looked down the corridor again. Something that resembled a tree occupied the central place in the room at the end of the corridor.

She resumed her walk and as the end of the corridor came closer, she could see it was indeed a tree. But not any tree. She had seen it before. In the newspapers when some weird magical thing that didn’t interest her at the time happened in Ponyville. Shortly before Tirek, or whatever his name was, attacked. It was not quite exactly as the one she had seen in the news though.

True, she had only seen black and white, poor-quality photos of the magical tree in Everfree Forest, but the one that dominated the room looked different.

Crystal crackled and Gilda stared up at the branches out of the thing, taking a step back. It looked like a tree, but more like a branch that had grown out a tree and was planted there. Not only that, but it split into six branches that went in different directions and held colorful gems at different heights, hanging from silky threads. It was a light-brown crystal that looked like it had grown out of the floor in the center of the room with a small fence to protect it. But it didn’t really look like a tree to Gilda. It looked more like a six-armed scale, if such a thing would even exist.

She could swear that thing had some important meaning behind it, but it eluded her. The crystal crackled again, and the thing shifted along with the gems it held. They were beautiful gems of multiple colors, and each stood at a different height. She bent her head to the side a little as the whole thing seemed to be skewed to the side.

But something else drew her attention. There seemed to be something missing from the top of the tree. Scale. Whatever the feather that thing was. The top looked bare and had small outcroppings of crystal that looked like they should be holding something, but Gilda had absolutely no idea what it would be. Again.

Not knowing what was going on, after that whole dream and conversation with the princess put Gilda on edge, and she felt tense, but her curiosity won. That thing wasn’t the only distinctiveness in the room that warranted attention. It was a round room at the end of the corridor and it had four doors spread evenly, two on each side with an open passage to a staircase going down, opposite to the corridor.

The damndest thing in the room was not even the fact that there were four doors, but that each had an eerily known symbol. Symbols that really would be known across the world and Gilda had absolutely no idea what they were doing in those doors.

The leftmost one, closest to the corridor, was a tall arched door made with intricately crafted decorative designs that converged to the center where there was a seal. Much like the blank one in the entrance, but this one held a golden design in the shape of the sun. But not really ‘the sun’. It was the cutie mark on Princess Celestia’s haunches.

She barely registered the thought that she might have been abducted from the inn and placed in some weird magical prison, or whatever the heck that place was. The notion seemed unimportant because the second door to the right was exactly the same but held a dark background on its seal with Luna’s white moon on the foreground.

Perhaps even worse that the one further to the right, beyond the open way with the stairs held Princess Cadance’s cutie mark and the last held Princess Twilight’s. What the actual heck was that place?!

Instead of fear for the fact that she might have been kidnapped, that they might have hurt Grunhilda, or that The Harpy didn’t talk to her, and neither would Luna, it was the same curiosity that drew her to touch the seal of the Sun in the first door.

The door was warm, and it vibrated with magical power. A dim light rippled through it from where she had touched it, but nothing happened further. It didn’t even slightly move, as though it was sealed with powerful magic.

She distanced herself from the door and frowned at it, looking up. It was just a locked door, and she had no idea what was on the other side.

She turned to Luna’s door and approached it. Immediately she froze. Her blood went cold, and her muscles tensed. She frowned and sniffed at the air. It smelled of blueberries, but not the fruit. It was the smell of pony that smelled like blueberries.

The first thought in her head was that the Princess was there. And that she was trespassing. Gilda wasn’t entirely sure why she was so sure, but Luna was trespassing and that concerned her. Gilda’s demeanor changed to an aggressive posture with tense muscles and her wings opened slightly.

Much like Celestia’s door, this one had no knob or handle, and when Gilda touched it, soft light rippled through it, but Gilda wasn’t having it. She could smell the alicorn. She was in there, beyond that door. Gilda absolutely had to catch her and get her out.

Luna had inquired her on why she hated her sister. It brought forward the dream of The Harpy’s death. Of the Black Sun. Of how they usurped the world from her kind. The alicorn was messing around in her mind and she seemed to have found a way to defend herself! She wouldn’t let the opportunity slip.

She scowled, stood on her hindlegs, and clawed at the door. Her talons skipped off the crystal and an angry light rippled through it.

Instead of clawing at the door again, she stood on her hindlegs again and closed her eyes. Focused her ‘mind’s eye’ on her paws. On her magical griffon paws, with talons for weapons and that could walk on the clouds. Paws that could hold lightning hot steel. Paws that channeled The Harpy’s magic.

It happened so fast she would’ve missed it if she had not learned its workings. Magic flowed through her and focused on her paws. It pulled at reality until it snapped, and lightning crashed against the crystal inches away. The air filled with the smell of lightning and the door inched open.

She didn’t even stop to think. Gilda immediately pulled the door open and crossed the threshold in more ways than one.

The room on the other side greeted her. Spacious and luxurious, with a blue sofa and reading chairs, all adorned with silver linings. There was a slight hum in the air and the wall on the right was covered in a long and clear mirror. Acid-imprinted images of the moon and stars at the top adorned the mirror. The ceiling was cushioned with blue velvet and the corners had details in silver and black metal. The floor was crystal, but it had a blue hue to it. Lights traveled in pulses under the floor, like they flowed in pipes underneath, and the hum in the air intensified for an instant every time they did.

It was quite beautiful, but she wasn’t there to admire a room.

Behind the sitting area, on a raised dais on top of seven steps was a black, blue, and silver throne. And sitting on the throne was Princess Luna. Magical lights like floating images hovered before her, and she stared at Gilda through them.

“Hello Gilda.” The princess greeted her calmly in the usual Common Equestrian. She also showed an annoyed expression. “You know, you could have knocked.”

“Get out!” Gilda growled like it was a reflex and spoke in High Griffonese, prowling towards the steps.

Luna craned her head with surprise. “I apologize for rummaging around in your memories like that. I lost control of that dream and it wasn’t my intention to trigger such emotions in you. All I wanted was to understand. Regardless, we must talk. It is important.”

“I don’t care.” Gilda growled again, this time in Common Equestrian. “Get the fuck out!”

The princess smiled like a teacher to a stupid student as Gilda approached the floating magical images and walked around.

“What part of ‘get the fuck out’ do I need to explain further?” Gilda growled at her, standing on her hindlegs next to the princess on the throne. Ready to attack, only for the glow of the magical doodads to draw her attention. “The heck is this?”

Movement had drawn her attention. It wasn’t something one was used to seeing in paintings or drawings. And that thing looked like that, only magical. It was like a magical painting floating in the air, or something of the sort. Gilda couldn’t think of a lot of things to compare.

But what she saw, once she paid some attention to the image, mystified her. Looking from the princess’ perspective that thing showed her several moving colorful bars. There was a picture of herself in a corner and a weird hollow image of a griffon with some sort of aura around it. There was an image of the griffon head with the brain colored in various shades of blue, yellow and red. Number readings for heart rate, respiration rate and percentages along other stuff she had no idea what they were.

A long text with words she didn’t recognize and lines of characters that looked like griffon writing drew her attention further. It was a strange language, close enough that Gilda felt she almost understood, but the meaning behind the words and symbols eluded her by a talon’s width. It moved across the magical image constantly as though it had no end. All the while another of the magical images showed the words she had just now said.

‘The heck is this?’ and ‘Seriously, what the heck is this?’

Gilda stared at Luna and spoke with equal measures of surprise and shock. “Seriously, what the heck is this?”

And then she quickly looked back at the magical image. “What the fuck?!”

Luna giggled, waving away into nothing the magical image with a hoof. “Curious now, are you?”

“Bring… Bring that thing back!” Gilda cried at her and pawed at the empty air.

“Calm yourself… There is much, much we need to talk about, but our time is limited.” Luna levitated one of the fancy chairs for Gilda to sit. “Keep in mind that what I will tell you is the abridged version… There is more complexity to almost everything we will talk about.”

Then she pointed a hoof at the magical images. “For now, look at this…”

Gilda sat on the chair next to Luna and looked at the image her hoof indicated. It grew to be larger than the others, displacing them in the air as though the alicorn princess used her magic to move living paintings around and resize them for comfortable viewing. But rather than a landscape or a portrait, those carried… Stuff.

The first thing Gilda noticed was a map of north Griffonia and a red dot, next to her portrait was a small graph with wavy lines. That was concerning enough, but not the weirdest thing. Most of that floating image was taken by a strange text written in griffon glyphs. It ran quickly through the image as though someone was reading it impossibly fast. Above it the text in pony ideograms read ‘Throne of the Mind’.

Another floating magical image was titled ‘Throne of Life’, and it showed a cut-out horizontal slice of the map, showing the same red dot next to her portrait, but a line connected her to the sun above in the sky and another to the moon underneath. Or things that looked like those. Several lines lit in different colors too, but the red one was highlighted. More graphs and stuff Gilda didn’t understand.

A third window was called ‘Throne of Love’ and it showed a spinning statue of Grunhilda, sitting and doing her dumb ‘I don’t know what to do’ stare next to another one of Rainbow Dash in one of her ‘awesome’ poses. The fourth was ‘Throne of Friendship’ and it had a star-shaped graph that showed those jewels that Rainbow and her friends had, but Gilda couldn’t make sense of it other than that nothing seemed out of place, as far as she could tell.

There was something suspiciously ominous about those images. Not exactly threatening, or dangerous. But… It looked like something she shouldn’t be looking at. It felt forbidden.

Luna smiled. “Isn’t it funny the way you instinctively assumed I was trespassing? You didn’t even consciously know what this place was, but at some level, you knew this was inside your mind.”

She shifted to a curious tone, with a small frown. “In the experiments I made, ponies never assumed I was trespassing, but griffons did. And when they saw these, and understood what they were, ponies became agitated. They panicked and refused to believe. I had to erase the entire recollection from their memories. Predictions said they would eventually become psychotic and commit suicide.”

“Not so griffons.” Luna frowned a little. “They typically became curious or angry I was messing with something I shouldn’t, but eventually, most griffons trusted me; I was curious to see if you would.”

“I still want you out!” Gilda cried, but then made a confused frown. “I want to know what the heck is going on, but I want you to leave as soon as you’re done explaining!”

Gilda stared at the images again with her beak hanging. “Is this… Me? It looks like a feathering control panel for a teleporter or something. What the heck?”

Luna chuckled. “A northerner griffon would have asked ‘What in the Scorch is this?’”

Gilda stared at her, not knowing what to say.

Luna simply kept explaining. “I suppose most griffons accept that I am the guardian of their dreams. To guard the entirety of their minds is not that wide a gap to jump. Especially since I usually removed the interaction from their memories once we were done. Maybe for griffons and ponies the realization means something different because our minds work in such fundamentally different ways.”

“Is that why I’m here?” Gilda looked back at her, then at the mesmerizing moving griffon text. “Because you want to test something?”

“No. You came on your own. No one can enter, other than me. It’s been millennia since eyes… Well, metaphorical eyes other than mine, have seen this room, or the others of it.” Luna explained. “I don’t fully understand how you did it. Although, it has something to do with a peculiarity of your soul.”

“Others?” Gilda looked at her again. “Other places like this?”

“We called this place the Palace of the Self. It is a magical construct in a virtual space inside the minds of all sentient creatures in Equestria. What you are seeing is not really what it is. It can’t be seen; it doesn’t really exist as a place. What you see is my newest adaptation of the magical system so that it would be easier to interact with what this really is. The ones inside every mind in Equestria are connected to mine and are a copy of it…” Luna explained. “I modeled the present version after a fascinating story my consort told me from his original world.”

“Anyways, this exists because the pony goddesses that created the current version of the ponies used to reside inside their minds.” Luna touched her own head with a hoof. “And they assisted the ponies in their respective aspects. Thus, the ‘Thrones’. What we have today is a leftover that allows me to fulfill my duty of protecting your dreams.”

“Wait…. Uh…” Gilda grimaced. “Assisted?”

“Yes.” Luna smiled. “It is a difficult thing for you to understand as your mind was built differently. But the first ponies in our version of the world, lacked the ability of metacognition. Introspection and free-will were impossible. Certainly, because the original ponies in the first version of the world lacked those as well. They needed assistance from their goddesses to tell them what to do. Until they developed as a civilization and learned to think independently.”

“They… Jump started the pony mind, so to speak.” Luna concluded. “They showed them the way, until they could take care of it by themselves, and their own thoughts took the place of the voices in their heads. Then, the goddesses were meant to vanish away. Maybe all that would remain of them would be a few strings of magic, part of the processes of their independently functioning minds.”

“But I’m a griffon.” Gilda frowned. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Your kind was not meant to exist…” Luna spoke slowly and measured her words again. “At least not in the way that Sol-Estia had envisioned the world after the Allmother was destroyed. But once Life spread and took hold of the world in the later versions, other creatures arose. Griffon souls remained as the Allmother created them, though. Celestia theorized that Harmony recreated you from the information stored in the Black Sun. And that the fact that the Allmother created griffons with free-will may be the reason it exists in the world without the need for the same process that happened to ponies. And that is the reason the core of the system looks like griffon glyphs.”

“Or rather, griffon glyphs look like this…” Luna corrected herself. “The Allmother made the original architecture for the mind, and this is how my adaptation reads her magic within you. Me. All beings in Equestria. A magical notation in High Griffonese. The words of a god that resonated through Creation.”

Gilda took a second to herself, organizing her thoughts before she spoke with some confidence.

“Griffons were created with free-will, but ponies weren’t. And the reason the Palace of the Self exists is because, even if at its core the system was made by the Allmother, creatures in this version of the world use the mind model that the pony goddesses created…” Gilda mused, frowned softly. “And that is why you can enter the minds of all creatures, as well as ponies to help them against the Nightmares… And because of the way everything works, you have access to this place.”

“See…” Luna started. “Ponies were meant to make nature work. They were ultimately servants of Harmony. Tools of Harmony to spread its magic to the world.”

Luna cocked an eyebrow. “And still are, in reality.”

Luna resumed her explanation. “They were created with an echo of the Allmother’s own creation. She made griffons, and griffons needed meat to survive. So, Harmony reacted, and ponies were created to be the wardens of nature. A nature which would sustain all sorts of animal life the griffons needed. It was intentional on Her part. She meant for prey animals to exist, and their sole purpose would be to feed her children. Harmony put her in the world so that she would put events in motion. And we are the present result of that.”

“This…” Gilda thought for a second before she continued. “Is related to that nightmare… Isn’t it?”

As she dreamt, Gilda had no recollection of what had happened. Only after she ‘woke’ in the lakeside she remembered the dream in its entirety. From her recollection of her mother, and her time with the pegasi. And Luna talking to her. It was confusing… It was like watching a theater piece with someone talking to her. It was probably the pony princess messing around her head and preventing her from deviating away from what she wanted to learn.

Gilda should feel offended. She had failed to keep the secret away from the alicorn, but she was too curious in that place. Seeing those things.

Luna nodded. “The cornerstone of a pony’s mind is the Animus Imperative. It is a ‘mission’ given by Harmony of what a pony is meant to do once in the world. It used to be as simple as ‘go where your magic is needed’. Afterwards, the pony mind the goddesses created grew around that. Even if we achieved free-will, we are still compelled to follow a ‘destiny’. In the present version of the world, the Animus Imperative can be as complex as ‘make candy’.”

“This is about cutie marks, isn’t it?” Gilda grimaced. “What does it have to do with maintaining nature?”

“You are not paying attention.” Luna chided her and then rolled her eyes sarcastically. “What does it have to do?”

“Everything!” Luna replied as though it was obvious. “We live in a complex society now. We need ponies to fulfill diverse roles. If there is to be famine, more ponies compelled to do farming will be born. But also ponies who will dedicate themselves to hauling cargo, and those will need ponies that will dedicate themselves to fixing carts… All because Harmony seeks a balance.”

“What is this Harmony stuff?” Gilda asked her. “It sounds important to you ponies.”

“It is the most important thing in existence.” Luna told her patiently, and then her horn lit up in a cobalt glow. The room grew dark, and before Gilda understood what was happening, she found herself floating an unfathomable dark. Luna opened her wings and she spoke like she was the narrator in a theater. “First there was nothing…”

A bright flash blinded Gilda for a second, followed by a low rumbling that resonated inside her. The darkness had been replaced by multicolored clouds in the void. Their heat touched Gilda and was almost uncomfortable. Luna’s voice echoed inside her head though and distracted her from it. Her words were powerful and inundated everything with it.

Then, there was everything. A universe is created; rules are set. The primordial forces of creation forge it into something. Why does it exist? Why did come into being? Perhaps it is a dream that someone dreamt for us. All that matters is that it is.

Gilda felt silly, but she flapped her wings, floating in the sea of pastel lights. A hot wind washed over her, and the clouds danced in a myriad of shapes and colors like they had a life of their own. Luna’s voice dominated everything still.

As is the very nature of reality, Order and Chaos pulled in opposite directions. Too much Chaos and causality will completely lose its meaning. Everything becomes senseless and pointless.

As she narrated the clouds ripped themselves apart and changed colors around Gilda. They shifted senselessly and it threatened to give her a headache. Everything was lost in a meaningless sea of mad colors and shapes that refused to coalesce into anything Gilda could identify. Most of the time, she could almost see what they were, but then her eyes would slip into shapeless insanity, and it became unsettling.

A nightmare of everything unto all. Luna’s voice pierced through.

Gilda closed her eyes, but the unidentifiable sounds assaulted her until Luna’s voice brought sanity back.

Too much Order and reality becomes too rigid. Nothing is ever allowed to happen and a lifeless husk of what could have been is all that remains.

As she narrated, the insane colors and sounds became lifeless and dulled away into nothingness. All that remained was the impenetrable darkness and deafening silence. Gilda thought that she had heard something. Anything. A distant sound, like a rock that crashed into the ground, but it was gone before she could grab onto it.

A world that would not be. A dream left undreamt. A future not meant to be.

A terrible sadness grabbed Gilda with the weight of the limitless potential that was never fulfilled. Her heart cooled like the coldest wind had washed over it.

Then the stars shimmered in the distance. Gigantic clouds of reds, blues and yellows lit in the infinite. A sun shone in the distance and a giant marble made of pale yellow and white presented itself beneath them. There was no sound. It was cold. But it was, at least, sane.

Just enough Chaos, with just enough Order, and reality becomes possible. It is cold and lifeless. But it is. Uncaring and relentless, it does not know or understand, but it is.

Just as Gilda got tired of staring at the giant ball of dirt, it vanished, as did everything else.

But… If you add just a little more Chaos...

A show of lights filled Gilda’s eyes, sparkling everywhere. Wildly dancing to a soft chiming melody of consonant colors, like a rainbow had come alive and danced, happy that it existed.

Freed from the shackles of the deterministic, reality can dream! Magic is made real, and Harmony is born!

Fireworks. It reminded Gilda of fireworks. The kind she used to see every new year when the moved Cloudsdale closer to Canterlot. The unicorns let loose their magic in a show of sounds and light that bedazzled even the edgy, angry teenager she was.

What is Harmony?

Luna’s resounding voice distracted her.

It is Life. It is Death. It is Creation, it is annihilation. It is a dream, begging to be dreamed. It is a verb, yearning to be. It is magic. It is all. It binds us and gives us life. It flows into us and from us to the World and then back to us. It is a flux of energy. Magic in movement. It is purpose. The Dream the Dreamer has dreamed for us. It is the whole that we are a part of. It is what is meant to be!

With no warning gravity pulled Gilda and, next to Luna, she fell an immeasurable distance. So fast she had no time to be scared. When she noticed, her feet touched the cold stone and her legs held her weight. It was a mountainside. A terrible sound echoed in the sky as rock cracked and the ground moved. The mountains rose from the ground and the rock shook under Gilda’s feet.

She lowered herself and grimaced, ready to hop and flap her wings just as it stopped. A valley formed bellow, surrounded in gray and brown mountains of stone covered with dirt.

“Is this…” She caught herself drinking in the sight as her eyes tried to cover the entirety of the valley that formed right before her.

Luna said nothing. She merely walked down the slope and Gilda hurried after her. A soft rain started falling, but the alicorn didn’t mind it. It was cold and wet, but it carried with it soft inklings of magic, like each drop was the fire from a small candle that died upon impact, leaving barely a hint of its existence.

Gilda wasn’t a specialist, but she could feel. Almost taste and smell the subtle notes of different elemental magic. Ice, wind and raw power in the form of lightning. But it was meek and calm as they walked their way down the mountain. Little pebbles rolled and the dirt made it a bit annoying, but nothing Gilda couldn’t brave after the Princess.

They walked alone in the middle of the lifeless valley for several minutes and in silence. Only with the soft magical twinkling of the stars in between the clouds and the crunchy noise of their hooves and feet in the dirt.

Then the light from the stars darkened, and the sky roared. Tumultuous dark clouds covered the mountains and stole away their tips. Lightning danced in the stormy mass and magic filled the air. So powerful, so intense Gilda felt immersed in it. Her feet touched the ground, but she was lost in an ocean of unimaginable power. Unyielding magic that refused to be contained. It became stronger and stronger as the rain began to pelt the stone and loose dirt.

It was not normal rain. The drops exploded on the hard dirt at the base of valley and evanesced into sparks that crackled as the rain became a storm. The large drops drenched Luna’s ethereal mane and her coat as much as it did to Gilda’s feathers, and it was cold. Almost painful, beating against her fur and feathers. It overwhelmed her magical senses and she looked at Luna. Her horn sparkled and her feathers lit up with magical light. Her hooves seemingly had caught on some bizarre magical fire.

It was then Gilda noticed her wings were aflame with a white fire and so were her forepaws. She cried and looked up at the Princess, but Luna hushed her. She had a flaming hoof before her lips, and she hissed at Gilda for silence.

Finally, the alicorn pointed at the sky. She said no words, but her eyes commanded respect. Reverence. Gilda’s eyes followed Luna’s blue leg until her silver horseshoe pointed at the clouds and what she saw stole the air from her lungs and eclipsed her fear of the magical storm.

Light and shadow, bright as the day, and dark as the night. They danced inside the convulsing clouds in the form of a mighty beast. A giant griffoness made of cloud, lightning and wind shuddered and curled into herself as though in pain. Bolts of lightning ran across the immense cloud and thunder rolled. It clapped and it’s sound echoed in the mountains and in Gilda’s bones like the world cried in pain.

Then the almighty beast in the clouds screamed. A long and piercing cry followed by the rumbling of a distant storm and the roaring of the mightiest storm. It pulsated in the air and exploded in the mountains. The ground shook and lightning bolted to the ground. Not one, or two, but hundreds of blinding spears showered above the valley.

Gilda cried. She jumped back, but her body didn’t obey. All her existence was light and thunder. Her chest burned like her heart turned into a piece of molten iron. That piercing cry drilled into her skull and echoed inside of it for an eternity before she gathered her wits again.

“Why are you showing me this?!” She yelled at Luna that kept her stare forward, but now at the ground.

“Because this is the truth.” Luna responded calmly in the middle of the storm winds that flayed her mane around and carried the rain with it. Amid lightning that blinded, and thunder that deafened. “This is the beginning. Attest. This is how you came to be! Witness! I will bare the truth before your eyes! All of it! For you to understand! And then you will make a choice! And it will be the most important choice that has ever been made in your life, and in that of all of your kind!”

“What? I can’t do that!” Gilda cried and, once again, she wanted to move away, but her body refused to obey. “I wouldn’t even know how to! I don’t have the right to decide anything for other griffons!”

“It is not a right.” Luna stared into her eyes. “It is a duty.”

Once again, Luna’s leg guided Gilda’s eyes and she found a puddle in the ground. Fresh grass and a couple of flowers germinated and grew in seconds. Spikes of iron pierced the thick mud. Pure metal that undid itself and turned to red drops. They coalesced and became thicker. It shaped a heart, deep crimson and yellow. White vessels sprouted from it and a spark lit within its thick walls. It beat and spurted the red fluid of life, but instead of spraying to the ground, it shaped trunks. Arteries and veins grew out of the beating heart, and they throbbed in waves as they grew and became more intricate until an impossibly complex network closed on itself.

Gilda’s beak hanged as the impossible image unfolded before her eyes. The magic infused rain pelted that unimaginably delicate living sculpture and viscera grew inside of it. From its intestines and its liver that sprouted from the mesh of blood vessels to its brain and the structures of the creature’s neck. Bones grew and sinew clung to them, growing into muscles that covered the creature. Skin came after. Feathers and fur grew out of it and turned snowy white and bright cyan.

A complete, brand new (as outrageous as it sounded) griffon laid in the mud, curled before Gilda. Her cyan coat and white feathers rang eerily similar. The rain drenched her, and Gilda couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted to touch it or to scream and jump away from it. Everything about that griffon was uncomfortably perfect. The fur was velvety and glossy, while her feathers were perfectly symmetrical and straight. Not a hint of fat in its perfect body.

Then it stirred. The thunder rolled in the clouds above and The Harpy cried again. The griffon turned on its back with a jerk and inhaled noisily. Its chest expanded and it clenched its paws. It was a perfect young griffoness that lacked a navel. She stretched and whined while the rain washed away the mud that had clung to it. The grass grew from where the griffon was and drew Gilda’s eyes to the other griffons. Seven of them stood and shook themselves under the rain, flapping their wings or crying to the sky.

It wasn’t over yet. As the rain fell, not only the grass spread. Young trees sprouted off the grassy field and a river flowed down the mountains.

The griffoness next to Gilda and the Princess stood too and fixed her eyes on Gilda. Light pink eyes, sparkling with life. But what hit Gilda was how similar those eyes seemed. She saw herself on the other side of those eyes, but she couldn’t explain how. She felt it. In her burning chest.

Without warning Gilda finally had control of her body again. Her heart raced wildly and thumped in her ears. Her mind was a mess of towering, larger-than-life thoughts. She pulled backwards to sit on her haunches, but impetus stole balance away from her and she almost toppled on her back. Luna’s feathery wing held her.

Luna’s voice calmed her. “We are not done yet.”

Gilda blinked at her before she scanned their surroundings, frantically swiveling her head. They were on a cloud. A single, solitary, white cottony cloud, cold and refreshing, miles away from the gray clouds over the mountains in the horizon.

Above them formless clouds covered the sky like jagged patches of misfitting fabric a talentless seamstress might have put together. They did little more than hide away the sparkling stars and the soothing sky beyond them. Below was a wasteland of dead dirt and jagged rocks. Not a drop of water to be seen, much less anything green. There was no wind, there was no sound. Nothing that resembled life.

Gilda didn’t need to ask the princess if they were in the Stormy Eyrie anymore, but that griffoness’ pink eyes burned into Gilda’s mind and wouldn’t leave her alone every time she blinked. Meanwhile, Luna had her big cyan eyes on her. For a moment Gilda lost herself in those eyes. Few would have ever noticed, but there was something deeper behind Luna’s eyes. It threatened to swallow Gilda as though her eyes were a bottomless ocean.

“Stay with me, Miss Gilda.” The pony smiled at her with her clumsy lips and square teeth. “I’m just a pony.”

Gilda’s paw steadied her head and her world stopped spinning in a second. “What was that?”

“I showed you other universes. You witnessed the birth of our world.” Luna spoke casually. “And the making of your kind.”

Gilda frowned at her. “You sound like we just watched a random theater piece.”

“Those were events that happened. You would read about those in a book. Growing up you read about things that kings, queens, chancellors and princes did. And it would bore you.” Luna shrugged at her. “Things happen all the time. In the beginning, they had to happen for the first time in one way or another.”

Gilda just stared at her.

“The important thing is… Did you learn from it?” Luna concluded with a grin.

“I… I…” Gilda stuttered and rubbed her shoulder with a forepaw.

“Yes?” Luna nodded inquisitively.

“That was… Me.” Gilda mumbled. “Somehow.”

Luna nodded. “Your soul was there from the very beginning. She made you herself, as perfect as she could. It was the first thing she did. Probably one of the first things she was aware of when she became conscious.”

Gilda frowned and meant to tell Luna that she was being dramatic. She opened her beak to speak, but Mother Harpy’s words reverberated inside Gilda’s head. So many days ago, when She had, somehow, found Gilda in the mess that her life had become.

A mighty beast in My likeness;

A caged, proud and hurt lioness.

Throwing herself at the silver bars;

Held by the magic that moves the stars.

A toast to you, My Child, reborn afresh;

What did you dream of?

What reveries escape the grasp of the Night Made Flesh?

And, just as Master Gabriel had said… Gilda had launched herself into an abyss. And She had caught her.

Gilda’s beak didn’t close, and the pony princess kept staring at her with her huge, expectant eyes. But Gilda’s golden eyes stung, and wetness ran down her lores. Yet, when Gilda closed her beak and meant to speak again, Luna interrupted her another time.

“Well, not really ‘you’.” Luna rolled her eyes. “It is your soul that she recognizes.”

Gilda growled and meant to speak yet again, but Luna spoke first, sitting on the cloud like she wanted to chat over cookies. “A new Palace of the Self is formed when the nervous system is ignited, but the soul is present since much earlier. Yet autobiographical memories are stored underneath the Throne of the Mind and are destroyed, along with the creature’s identity when the soul decouples upon death.”

“I…” Gilda started.

“Although not everypony agrees with me that the individual begins and ends with conception and death. My sister, for example.” Luna interrupted her by raising a hoof. “Celestia believes the soul connects all individuals it has animated and there really isn’t a true difference between them. She makes an analogy… Says that a pony is not the same today as they were ten, or twenty years ago. That we change as we live our lives. That the self is dynamic and adapts to different circumstances. But we remain us. And she uses the soul memories to hold the argument that there is a continuity, even if we are not aware of it.”

Luna whipped out a crystal slab from under her wing. It was rectangular and glossy. With a texture like marble, but it was a crystal. And the alicorn stared at it with a focused frown.

“Soul Memories…” Luna mused. “Events so powerful, so emotionally charged they leave a mark upon the soul. Rare are the minds that can reach into those memories. I don’t really understand how you do it. It’s strange. It’s fascinating.”

She turned the crystal slab for Gilda to see. It showed the griffon characters running up a magical image attached to the crystal. Her horn shined and a few pony ideograms appeared in the image before they vanished and a whole block of griffon text became highlighted, appearing on the image.

Gilda understood nothing, but it was somewhat nice Luna tried to show her.

“Not only does your mind have processes that allow you to form soul memories so much easier, but also allows you to explore those memories.” She tapped her hoof at the crystal. “It is weird. It should erode your sense of self and you should confuse yourself with your past selves. But it is not happening.”

“I could see in the dream that your mind melds with them. But there was a clear boundary between Gilda and that tormented griffoness that lost her partner. Or poor Ghadah…”

“At the same time,” Luna spoke excitedly and tapped at the crystal thingy again. “This thing is growing. Even as your mind processes all these things I am showing you, it is becoming more active. As though your mind, the subconscious part that is responsible for summoning recollection into the conscious mind is learning. Soon you will be able to recall minute details of your past lives as though they were yesterday.”

“Is that… Bad?” Gilda risked a question.

“I don’t know.” Luna looked at the crystal again and frowned. “I have a theory, though. I think that this is a peculiarity of your soul. But I can’t peek deep enough to see that. I’d need Celestia. She’s the only one with access to the Throne of Life.”

Gilda recoiled a bit at the mention of Celestia’s name, and Luna had her eyes trained on her. The princess immediately spoke again. “If I am correct, your soul was made in such a way that when it's Akh, the part of the soul that deals with the intellect, interacts with your brain… This ability is unlocked. Maybe it required some tweaking too… I don’t know. It looks like She tweaked a few things here and there. Maybe this ability requires that She unlock it.”

“Anyways…” Luna stared at her. “Suddenly, it makes sense that the Northerners believe the hippogriffs damage griffons by introducing pony magic into them. Or perhaps it would be better to say that purer griffon bloodlines are needed for this sort of thing to become available. I do remember some Swordmaidens that shot lightning from their talons, back in the day.”

Luna giggled. “Chrissy hated them.”

“I need to study this further…” Finally, Luna frowned. “This is going to be a big problem, though.”

“Back to the issues at hoof… Did you figure out something else about that whole kerfuffle that was important?” She suddenly snapped back to looking at Gilda.

“Ah… What?” Gilda lifted a paw from the cloud. “I don’t know!”

“It’s easy!” Luna insisted with a grin. “You can do it!”

Gilda closed her eyes and turned to her thoughts. She saw the creation of the world. She saw The Harpy as she created griffons. Luna mentioned it must have been a significant moment to her. She also made Gilda realize that The Harpy not only thinks that she is important because she’s useful, but Luna implied a deeper connection.

Gilda smiled. It felt heartwarming that she was so important to the great griffoness. Important enough that she recognized her, even if she had changed… Even if she was actually so useless at the start. Well, Gilda knew full well she was expected to be useful. But that sounded fair. Especially with The Harpy’s brand of tough love. Not really a problem.

Gilda stole a glance at Luna, sitting in front of her and staring at her crystal thingamajig. Every once in a while, her eyes would look at Gilda over the crystal slab like Luna was studying her.

She gave Luna a soft scowl, but the alicorn didn’t let that bother her. Gilda did let it bother her, though. Her soft scowl turned to a furious grimace and she back-paw slapped at Luna’s gadget. She missed, though. Luna reacted too fast.

Gilda’s grimace turned ferocious. “Enough of this bullshit! This is why I hate you ponies! You think that everything is a game! Where is Grunhilda? Where am I? How did you find me?!”

“Fine.” Luna’s playful façade turned grave, and Gilda realized she may have done something stupid. Alone with the Princess of the Night. “If you want answers, I will give you answers. If you want to be serious… I can do that too. You and Grunhilda are both sleeping in your bed at the inn.“

“Now, how did I find you?” Luna stood and approached Gilda who found herself taking a step back and her legs trembled at the sudden anger the princess projected. “It was easy. You are not Ghadah!”

Gilda’s beak hung open yet again, but this time it was not in awe. Her legs locked in place even as Luna leaned menacingly with a scowl into her.

The cloud around them changed into a black background and Gilda saw griffonesses lined in front of her. Old and venerable griffonesses with the carriage of a queen, wearing their blue satin capes. The serious eyes and stern expressions she saw in Gladys, back in Griffonstone… The griffoness that took care of the teleporter for Lady Gwendolen. She saw Gaetana, the owner of the bank in Thunderpeak that kept watch over Gia for Lady Gwendolen. She saw Gelinda the old Loremaster that treated Gil like a cub when she behaved childishly in the bath. She even saw Gia, about as old as Gilda was, but so much more of a Loremaster, even if she failed in her ambitions.

“You do not have the mental fortitude of a Loremaster! Their minds were like a magical safe, almost impossible to crack. Loremasters were endless libraries of knowledge, wisdom and ancient lore. They would fast for weeks and withstand mental and physical torture like it was a soft breeze. But you… You could not hold your temper and assaulted a minor over a pair of coins!” Luna yelled at her, drawing closer, inches from her face and Gilda’s head turned to the side with a grimace and tightly shut eyes. “You are a delinquent that squandered your mother’s last hope at granting you a decent education. You are a hopeless rebel. Your mind is an open book. Bursting with childish sketches and malformed letters.”

Gilda saw Ghadah. Her elegant feminine shape holding her sword forward with forelegs stretched. The weight of that thing seemed to increase tenfold every minute, but her years of training and dedication had made her muscles strong like steel and she didn’t even shiver.

She saw herself, alone in a dirty alley. Under a torrential storm and begging for her life, at the mercy of three common thugs.

“You are not the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani! Everything The Harpy has told you was so that you will not despair. She is holding you by a thread so that you will not stop!” Luna didn’t relent despite the griffoness making herself as small as she could, cowering against the cloud. Her silver-clad hooves held Gilda and Luna forced Gilda to stare into her. “There is only one way this twisted fairy tale will end!”

Gilda saw The Harpy in the dark. A flash like the sun blinded her.

“Celestia will find her, and she will destroy her!”

The Harpy fell on her back and covered her face with her paws.

The raging blue alicorn let Gilda back onto the cloud and turned her haunches to her, flaring her wings after a few steps and turning again. “This time… With no Black Sun to spare her annihilation. Celestia fears The Harpy! You don’t understand her power; you don’t know her skill! She will not waver; she will not hesitate.”

“Gilad will try to fight Celestia, and he too will die!”

A griffon came out of the dark. He wore grey armor over his dark-brown body and his white head held a simple diadem made of iron. He held a heavy axe above his head and his wings spread wide. His wolf-skin cape flapped in the wind as he brought down his axe on Celestia.

She turned and the feathers in her wings shone with magical light. Her body was engulfed in an armor made of pure light with terrible blades at the leading edge of her wings. A crowned helmet and a cape of flowing light like she wore the sun itself.

Her wing slapped at the axe and the blade with shining blue runes shattered like glass at the magical feedback of her magical armor. The griffon flew on his back, and she lined her horn at him. A magical blast disintegrated him along with a strip of stone.

Other griffons attacked her, and she fended them off with summoned magical weapons of light and she cut a path through them. Celestia held a heavy and ornate spear made of bright chrome and gold. She jumped with a flap of her wings, holding it in her forelegs, and impaled The Harpy with her weapon. With enough force that it stuck to the stone tiles in the ground.

Gilda saw a wide street flanked by mansions and a red river flowed down around terrified griffons.

“His vassals will fight, and she will slaughter them like cattle to the meat market. The great walkway of Griffindell will turn to a red river! She will end her agreement with Empress Geneviere to leave the Northerners alone and they will be broken without their heroes! The Sky Sentry will shatter and the spawn of the Windigos will ravage the North unrestrained!”

Griffons flew away from the great city in the mountain in every direction and Gilda saw groups of griffons. Adults and children with few meager possessions turned to icy statues in a vast white desert castigated by a blizzard.

The giant black walls she had seen in the painting turned white and toppled. The city in the valley of griffons became a frozen ghost town. And the valley where her race was born was a forest of dead trees and frozen mountains.

Luna came close to Gilda again. “Without leadership, Griffonia will implode under the weight of its corruption. The impenetrable walls of Griffindell will crumble, and the Stormy Eyrie will remain frozen forever. Ageless tales, memories from time immemorial, will turn to dust. Everything the Astrani did will be for naught! Your disheartened race will be broken, and the future of the griffons will be a cold nightmare!”

Griffonstone was consumed by a blizzard and the new manehattian structures broke. Griffons fight on the street for scraps of food, and she saw Goldina, Greta and Gary by a flimsy campfire, trying to warm themselves in what remained of the plaza with Grover’s statue.

Gilda saw herself tied with chains, following Gertha and her brother in a line towards a guillotine as griffons shouted and pointed claws at them.

She saw Grunhilda tied with chains and her beak held by a bridle. A black iron door closed with a bang.

“Your new friends will be tried for treason and whoever Celestia puts in the Chancellor’s place will use them for scapegoats. History will repeat itself! One by one, they will lay their necks on the chopping block, and you will live long enough to see Grunhilda interned at Shatteredrock. Never to see the light of the day, ever again! Rainbow Dash and Greta will cry and wonder what they could have done to save you.”

All that remained of Griffonia was a newspaper article where a pony commented on the evil of griffons and that Rainbow Dash read with tears on her pony muzzle.

“An entire race, promised greatness only to have it crushed before them will wither away. The Harpy will be denied redemption. She will have survived annihilation, only to have existence stolen from her again. She is merciless. She is deranged. She is dangerous. And her love is twisted, but she loves you! She loves your kind as much as Celestia loves her little ponies.” Luna held Gilda’s beak in her magic. “To kill her again would be blasphemous!”

Finally, Gilda broke. An overwhelming mixture of sorrow and confusion released as a sob that escaped her aching throat. She couldn’t shift her eyes away from the princess. Luna held back her own tears with her ears hanging from her head. She held Gilda in her hooves again. “You are the only one I can reach that she will listen to. You have to stop this!”

Gilda blinked and mumbled incoherent words before she finally managed to speak. “You… You want to help us?”

Luna let her sorrow show again. Those ancient eyes that held untold power filled with regret. “I can’t tell myself that a creature sunken in darkness cannot make it back! But I can’t do anything alone. I need you to save her!”

Gilda’s beak trembled and she struggled to get the words out again, but she hardened her resolve. Without the echoes of past lives, or a magical sword forged for her by a legendary blacksmith. Without a voice in her head telling her how special she was or griffons telling her how great she was. Just the little scone baker from Griffonstone that never took responsibility for anything in her life. “What do I have to do?”

Dreammaker Pt. 2 - Fidelity

With Gilda’s broken voice and her words, Luna finally relented. She let her eyes close for a second, and relief washed her face. Then her hoof pointed at the horizon. “Learn. Understand.”

Gilda’s eyes, again, followed Luna’s leg to find a sunrise. The lifeless dark of the dead plains gave way to oranges and reds until the day exploded from the edge of the world. Its light washed over the badlands and the soothing warmth comforted Gilda’s still shaken nerves.

A quick glance showed her that Luna welcomed the light as much as she did, but her newfound anxiety made her focus on the horizon. There was something there Luna wanted her to see. Her eyes shifted nervously until she blinked a few times and squinted.

There was green in the distance.

Finally, Gilda’s beak dropped open again.

A herd of galloping colorful ponies carried the emerald grass in their wake. Like a wave of life that followed them. The broken clouds in the sky evaporated into a clear cyan so bright it hurt Gilda’s eyes. An army of earth ponies and unicorns tossed their heads in open gallop while their manes and tails trailed in the wind. Adults and foals together in a happy race with the pegasi flying above.

“I know that ponies do all sorts of weather and seasonal stuff… But...” Gilda mumbled. “But this…”

“In these primeval times, magic worked differently.” Luna explained, making a sweeping arc with her hoof. “It was much more powerful. Not even the most powerful spellcaster could summon life into being without the aid of impressively powerful artifacts and extensive knowledge of the workings of several complex disciplines.”

Gilda lowered herself at the edge of the cloud to watch the ponies running around and generally having a good time while the pegasi made daring pirouettes and danced in the sky. The grass spread wherever they went, but they seemed to have settled in the area. Small shrubs, many of them sprouting berries, became colorful marks in the sprawling grass field. After a while even small butterflies and insects seemed to have come out of them.

“Why?” Gilda Looked back at the princess who had sat by the edge of their cloud too.

“Because magic must flow, or else Harmony will cease to exist. It cannot ever become stagnant, or magic will cease to be.” Luna stared down at the laying griffoness. “The magic of Harmony must be shed into the world for life to exist. Everything has magic to it. It is how our world works. It is the soul of living beings, but it is also in every rock and every plant. Every pony-made object; every griffon-made object too.”

“And the reason for it is that magic cannot move on its own. It needs acting agents to provide it with purpose. Thus, you can understand why it is so much more powerful in the primeval eras of each cycle, just as the world is created.” Luna pointed at the sun. “It moves from the source unto the world and then back. When a creature is concepted, a soul will find its way from the Pool of Souls. It will animate that newformed being. It will shed its magic unto the world…”

With that Luna swept her hoof at the air and an image formed, not like the magical images from before, but as though Gilda was there and saw a light blue earth pony sitting in front of a spinning plate and he gave form to a vase with his hooves. The cutie mark of a flowerpot plain to see in his thigh. The image shifted though, and it showed a diamond dog jeweler with giant goggles and delicate tools making a collar of gold and pearls. It showed Master Galahault hammering at Gilda’s sword while he talked to Grunhilda. Finally, it showed griffons in the snow, building a gigantic wall with rustic cranes and other carving runes into the stone blocks.

Gilda frowned at the images Luna showed her and then back at the frolicking ponies below. “I understand… I think I do. Their… Destiny is to spread life into the world.”

“Ever since the first cycle of creation and annihilation.” Luna nodded. “Ponies were tasked with the maintenance of nature. All the way to our time we have retained that task. But as you can see… It is something much more dramatic as each cycle starts.”

“Because there is so much more magic that must be shed into the world?” Gilda gambled a guess.

“Correct.” Luna nodded.

“I understand.” Gilda shifted her head to look at different ponies down below. “But why is that a problem?”

“That isn’t the problem.” Luna’s horn shone its blue light, and the sun flew above them.

It flew above them countless times and Gilda saw thousands of sunrises and sunsets within seconds. Stunning and disorienting, she was forced to close her eyes, or the vertigo threatened to topple her from the cloud. She only dared opening her eyes again when the light and dark stopped their battle. She was greeted with a much different sight. The sprawling prairie covered in grass now had a river. Trees. Beautiful clouds populated the sky and pegasi flew around them.

Ponies galloped around and rolled in the grass. Others slept under the cover of the trees or grazed mindlessly.

It looked like a normal world. A living and breathing, complex world. A herd of deer walked by in the distance. Small bunnies distracted the grazing ponies, and a unicorn mare entertained the foals with flying sparks, pops and lights out of her horn.

Higher above, a griffon circled around. A large male, covered in dark brown and white, leisurely surveyed the ground as its head jerked with precision. Gilda knew what it was doing, and she grimaced, looking at the creatures below.

“You said that the Allmother created ponies so that they would make nature work, and then nature would sustain prey animals… So that the griffons could eat.” Gilda looked at Luna. “Right?”

“No.” Luna shook her head. “I said that they were created with an echo of the Allmother’s creation.”

“What does it mean?” Gilda sulked at Luna before she turned to the griffon circling above the idyllic prairie. “The ponies exist because she made the griffons in such a way that they needed prey animals, right? I don’t see the importance.”

“The Allmother didn’t make the ponies.” Luna had a hard stare. “Harmony made them, and she had no love for anything other than her children.”

Just as the words left her beak the griffon closed its wings and fell in a dive towards the group of pegasi flying around the clouds. It cried and the deer reacted instantly. They bolted like their lives depended on it.

But the ponies didn’t.

Gilda let out a gasp watching the scene that unfolded. The pegasi even saw the griffon. He smiled and waved a hoof at him. Like they didn’t understand what was happening all the way until the griffon collided with one of theirs. A light caramel pegasus with clouds for a cutie mark that stood no chance. The thud from the impact almost hurt Gilda physically. She kept watching as they barreled from the sky and caramel feathers flew everywhere.

The griffon let the pegasus crash to the ground with a sickening crunch before he landed with his forepaws piercing the caramel coat. Ponies nearby neighed in fear and distanced themselves while the griffon screamed at them. Lowered heads and confused eyes, they backed away as though they too couldn’t tear their eyes from the sight of the griffon’s ripping open their friend’s flesh. His blood stained the feathers in the griffon’s chest and his beak.

Alarmed neighs. It was all they did.

“I don’t understand.” Gilda’s confused frown returned to her face and her beak hung open again, this time as she tried to understand the scene before her.

She searched the conversation she had with Luna for clues, because she was obviously meant to learn something from that. Luna stood next to her, patiently watching. And the griffon ate from the dead pegasus pony.

“The deer ran… Why didn’t they…” Gilda’s eyes glazed. “They were not meant as food. They are not prey. They don’t know how to react.”

“Irrational as it was, the griffon mind was still intelligent and easily bored.” Luna spoke, still staring at the feeding griffon and the dead pony. “They were curious by nature. They investigated. They looked for new things to know. And they eventually found a novel source of food.”

Luna hopped off the cloud and Gilda followed her. They spiraled downwards until Luna flared open her wings and the scenery changed. In a flash, it was night and the prairie lit with countless fireflies. Ponies laid and slept next to the river. Some milled about or grazed around their herdmates. Small fillies and colts slept with the adults and the only sound was the calming burble of the running water.

“But…” Gilda landed and looked up at Luna as she walked. “The ponies weren’t meant as food!”

“Their minds were gifted with free-will, Gilda.” Luna frowned at her. “Even if they understood that ponies should be left alone, there was nothing that forced them to comply.”

“But there is plenty of food!” Gilda sat and opened her forelegs. “Even in the middle of the ponies! What of the deer?!”

She pointed. Just in the immediate area she could see other prey. “Rabbits! Fish! I bet my tail there are snakes around!”

“Magic makes for tasty meat.” Luna tilted her head to the side a little. “And ponies have plenty of magic, even in our present time. In the newborn world… It was like a narcotic.”

A thunder sounded in the distance and ponies startled awake. Necks raised and huge eyes scanned the starry sky. Horns lit with magic and provided some light with magical chimes. Pegasi hovered above the grass. There was nervous neighing, shifting ears, and crying foals.

Thunder sounded again and panic began to spread with nervous stomping and challenging neighs. Unicorns shot magical lights into the sky and lit the whole area. Dozens of griffon-shaped shadows hovered above.

“Hunger turned to craving…” Luna stated.

The first one that plunged signaled the attack with a piercing cry and Gilda lost sight of details in the chaos that ensued. Flashing talons tore throats and panicked neighs turned to gurgling cries. Blood splatters were everywhere as hooves flew. Crying foals had nowhere to hide and if they were not trampled in the chaos, they were themselves turned to food.

“No!” Gilda cried and stepped back with nowhere to go in the middle of the carnage. Her tail tucked between her legs, but her rump stopped at Luna’s legs.

Feathers showered and magical beams crossed the air. Bleeding ponies and burned griffon coats surrounded Gilda as she turned in the middle of the chaotic brawl. There was no technique, no sophistication. Only savagery, anger, and fear.

“But ponies were not made for violence.” Luna added softly. “It is contrary to their nature. It was fear that drove them to fight back. And they still didn’t truly know how. They were easy prey, easy kills.”

Parts of the group scattered, but they didn’t run or fly long as griffons caught them and tore muscles apart with talons and beaks.

“Making friends didn’t work.” Luna whispered. “Running didn’t work… And fighting back only made it worse.”

The chaos of the fight subdued when there simply weren’t any more ponies left to kill and the griffons gave short chirps turning to their food. Finally, the griffons left. The emerald grass under the moon had turned to a ruby field of broken bodies. It smelled of blood and death. Filled with half-eaten carcasses and broken bodies, some were left untouched, and the only consolation was that not even the foals had survived.

“This is cruel!” Gilda cried. She held a limp little colt to her chest but didn’t dare look at the wound that ended his life. Her throat closed, and her beak clicked but her voice turned ferocious. “This is not hunting! This is madness!”

“There is nothing cruel about this, Gilda…” Luna’s magic took the lifeless colt from her paws and held the griffoness in her legs. “They were animals. They didn’t act out of cruelty. Instinct drove them to kill. Even if they would not eat… This is what predators do. They’ll kill more than they need, and in the chaos of combat, anything that isn’t them must be killed. At best they will carry surplus home. They will feed their cubs. Griffons were so sophisticated they understood feeding their elderly and disabled. If there had been enough time, they would have become rational. They would have become civilized. Any griffon of our present times would look at this and be angered at the wastage. At the lack of sophistication. They would call it cruelty too... It feels wrong.”

“What is the problem then, Princess?” Gilda looked up at her and could barely see the blue alicorn through her tears.

“Souls have memories…” Luna spoke softly, looking down at her. “Every single one of these carried a soul. Every griffon carried a soul. They might not have remembered it the same way we remember our breakfast or when we talked to a friend, but the mind is born out of the soul as much as from the body. These memories shaped their decisions moving forward.”

She paused for a second before she spoke again. “There was no cruelty, for there was no morality. But there was plenty of anger. Fear. And yet, the ponies had to return. They were summoned here by the failing nature that required their magic. And they had no free-will to refuse.”

As Luna spoke, Gilda freed herself from her embrace and calmed herself, listening to the alicorn.

“While the ponies had their Animus Imperative, the Allmother created your souls and minds for free-will, she instilled yearning and desire to drive you.”

“Griffons make their sense of self from suffering and pleasure.” Luna explained calmly. “You lack something; therefore, you suffer. In order to make that suffering stop, you take steps towards achieving that which you yearn for. And when you succeed, you are rewarded with pleasure. It drives you forward, and it makes you justify everything, because it will be worth it in the end.”

“Practically, there is little difference, as ponies will perceive the failure to achieve their destiny as suffering and will seek to fulfill it to make the suffering stop and will experience joy at succeeding. The superstructure of the mind is the same, after all. The difference is that griffons will develop their yearning as they experience the world, and it will be self-reinforced because of that. It is different from the pony’s set-in-stone motivation. It makes griffons… Dangerous. It is much easier for a griffon to decide that another’s suffering is worth their success.”

“That is why this happened.” Luna nodded to the battlefield. “Without the varnish of civility, taking is too easy. Predators will always hunt those that can’t defend themselves. And that is not cruelty either. It is the economics of life.”

“I am sorry I have shown you this…” Luna whispered. “But understand… When the ponies attacked the Stormy Eyrie in your nightmare, it was not an act of cruelty. It was pure desperation.”

“Yes…” Gilda looked down at her forefeet. “It didn’t stop here… I suppose it only got worse.”

“It escalated.” Luna spoke softly again. “Harmony reacted…”

Gilda frowned. “It couldn’t do anything about the griffons because they had free-will, right?”

“Ponies were not rational, but they instinctively understood the world.” Luna pointed with a hoof as the night turned to day and the prairie was back to the deceptively picturesque sea of yellow grass turning green. “And while their mind was not collective, they were good at cooperating. And were still intelligent enough to learn.”

Earth ponies grazed and dug the ground with their hooves. The dead bushes returned to life and borne colorful fruits. Pegasi brought the clouds and coaxed the river back to life with their rain. Unicorns pruned the bushes and made everything pretty. They helped the birds make their nests and shared the fruits they kicked out of the trees with the other animals.

A large herd of buffalos walked in an elongated line, passing through the grasslands. A flock of birds crossed the sky.

“Making friends didn't work. Running didn’t work. Fighting back didn’t work… Their instincts turned to their mighty creative magic and to the only things they understood. The cycles of day and night that dictated the rhythm of life and gave them comfort. The bonds of mates that shared in the power of creating new life. The unifying safety of companionship that held herds together.”

“Their simple minds cried for help the same way they would when they fell, or hurt themselves. They expected their friends to come and help.” Luna looked up to the sky and Gilda did the same, to the bright orb of light that made the day. “And Harmony responded…”

A pride of griffons jumped off a cloud and circled in the sky with short and sharp cries. The ponies around Gilda and Luna started neighing. Angry hooves stomped the ground, and the foals ran beneath their mothers. Some pegasi dropped to the grass and covered their faces with their wings, while others took flight with challenging snorts. Unicorns shot warning blasts of magic above.

Luna kept staring with Gilda. “Earth ponies coaxed the plants out of the ground. Pegasi made it rain. Unicorns made beautiful plants…”

The day turned a thousand times brighter with a flash and a resounding boom like a cannon had fired. A griffon fell from the sky but could barely be recognized as a griffon anymore. The other griffons spiraled off course before they reoriented themselves.

A golden flash and a crack announced the arrival of a powerful and elegant beast. Pristine white and with a pair of mighty wings she flapped as she turned with surprising grace. A stunned griffon hadn’t even understood what had happened. Her long and sharp horn came ablaze with golden light and unleashed a beam of magic that cut it in half.

“Alicorns killed griffons.” Luna concluded with a frown. “And suddenly, the hunter was hunted.”

“Fighting didn’t help…” Luna said while a confused griffon lunged forward with her talons, but her paws burned and disintegrated when she touched the creature. A kick with the fore hooves shattered bone and Gilda was glad she was too far to see the result. The other griffons turned and flapped their wings as fast as they could, but the creature flew faster, and her hooves pummeled the griffon mid air until it stopped trying to escape. “Running didn’t help either.”

“It was a creature filled with fear and sorrow.” Luna explained when the white alicorn kept hovering in the air, watching the remaining griffons scatter away. “It lacked a rational mind, it lacked civility. It only understood that she must protect the herd and that griffons were the problem. She wanted the griffons to stop hurting them, but when they didn’t. So she used the tools Harmony had given her, and made them stop.”

“Wow…” Gilda mumbled. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to be said.” Luna started walking on the grass and Gilda followed. “Only that emotions are stupid. That craving begat fear, fear begat sorrow, and sorrow begat violence. Then violence escalated.”

As Luna walked, she opened her wings and Gilda startled when the scenery changed. A herd of yaks ran in panic towards her. The snow did little to slow them, but they passed around Luna and Gilda, fleeing the griffons that attacked the rear of their stampede, swooping down at them.

A storm of sharp crystals showered over them and tore the griffons to shreds as a pink alicorn flew overhead.

“They learned more powerful magic. They learned that if they wished for it, reality would change to serve them. They started protecting the other creatures. Maybe because they recognized their pain. Maybe simply because they hated the griffons.” Gilda kept walking with Luna as her wing swept open and the world around them changed again. “Griffons had to fly far to find food they had difficulty bringing back to their nests. But the alicorns couldn’t follow them everywhere. Eventually, too many griffons lived in the Stormy Eyrie and they spread to other areas of the world and that made it difficult for the alicorns to protect prey animals.”

Luna and Gilda stopped before a cave where a griffon had nested. A large, orange and fiery yellow griffoness flared her wings and hissed. A purple alicorn walked past Gilda and Luna into the cave.

“So, they started attacking griffon nesting grounds.” Luna scowled.

But before anything happened, Luna’s horn shone, and she shot a bolt of magic to the sky. It exploded and showered the world with blue light that changed it again. The sky had turned red above a wasteland of dead trees and dry riverbeds. A red star shone in the sky, angry and bright. More like a wound in the world than the life-giving source of light it was supposed to be.

The white alicorn had changed. She was covered in blinding light for armor and her mane of pastel colors had turned to an inferno of flames. She led a multitude of hooved animals among ponies. Her ears were pulled back flat against her skull and her purple eyes seethed with fury. The others followed her and in turn more ponies and other animals followed them.

“The hooves animals recognized leadership in her and they rallied when she called.” Luna sat in the dirt with Gilda next to her. “But, the griffons too, when cornered and afraid, called for help. And she came…”

The Harpy was perched at the top of a mountain, looking down at the approaching creatures. Hundreds upon hundreds of griffons stood with her. Cries and chirps echoed around her, and her grey eyes glistened with hatred.

“How dare the prey fight back…” Luna spoke with a stern voice, her own ears pulled back against her head. “Two different ideals the world was too small to accommodate.”

The Harpy cried and her talons dug deep gashes in the stone. She jumped and her wings caused a blizzard to raise. Griffons followed her and sharp cries echoed in the blood red sky. The white alicorn galloped, jumped and flapped her wings. A host of strong pegasi followed and the other alicorns flew too and spread to attack from different angles with flights of pegasi trailing them. Earth-bound creatures pressed their steps and horns flared up with magic. They galloped towards the entrance to the valley.

The ground thundered and shook before Gilda’s shocked eyes. That sort of thing was just not meant to happen. It started like something reasonable. Ugly and unpleasant, but simple and reasonable. It blew to ridiculous proportions. Predation had turned to a war among gods with the mortals caught in the middle.

A beam of golden light barely scorched The Harpy’s feathery chest right before she collided with the white alicorn in a blasting shockwave. They fell in a mess of hooves and talons mimicked by the others around them.

Darkness enveloped them and Luna let her head hang. “You know the rest.”

Gilda shook her head, also hanging low. “I don’t understand… Doesn’t the Black Sun restart everything? Why didn’t it happen all the same again?”

“The Black Sun…” Luna started. “Is triggered by a large amount of magical energy returning to the source. It reaches a threshold when strange magical effects happen. The normal flow of mana is reversed and that causes a cascade magical failure of the structure of reality. Without magic, nothing can exist. And what magic remains is funneled back to the initial singularity that created our world. Then it begins again.”

“It is the overwhelming loss of life. Large amounts of energy that are released from the world. Consider that the ponies cause large amounts of magical flux to ingress upon the world and that many of them died. A powerful being such as The Harpy would carry overwhelming amounts of energy into the world. And when her body failed…”

“I still don’t understand.” Gilda showed a sad frown. “How does any of this help us now?”

“Who is to blame for what happened, Gilda?” Luna waved a hoof, but Gilda just stared sadly at her and shook her head. “The answer is no one. But both sides will point hooves and talons to accuse.”

Luna turned to look, and Gilda turned too at a life-like image of The Harpy. She sat in the dark with a slight frown, staring at nothing. Luna pointed a hoof at her. “She thought that was normal. She was the only truly intelligent being, but she thought it was normal. She believes that conflict drives existence. She believes there is no improvement without suffering. Her twisted love for griffons made a world where suffering is expected, and her children should reign uncontested. That there should be strict and rigid social rules, and that privilege is the right of the strong. Freedom that overrules ‘the system’ if you are strong enough to yield it.”

“That might make right.”

Then Luna turned and pointed the other way to show Celestia, also sitting in the dark and staring at nothing. “She didn’t understand anything at that time, but those experiences molded her soul. My sister today believes that union will defeat any obstacle and that creatures should be free to live however they want to as long as they don’t break the law which is equal to all. That privilege will erode the trust in the system. A system that forbids freedom above it but will accommodate all the freedoms that it must.”

“That right makes might.”

Luna waited a couple of seconds before she spoke again. “Did you notice a pattern?”

Gilda nodded and spoke softly. “Yeah… In our version of the world, it was the griffon empire against the rest of the world. Because Mother Harpy would not accept dissent. She needed griffons to band under Grigor to kill Celestia.”

Gilda frowned more deeply at Luna. “But why? Doesn’t the Black Sun erase everything?”

Luna nodded. “Notice that once restarted, the world didn’t evolve the same way. How does that happen? There are bizarre time dilation effects and time magic behaves unpredictably. The Black Sun actually connects all the beginnings and all the ends and that allows information to bleed into the next cycle. I believe that the Black Sun is a failsafe.”

Gilda nodded with a small smile. “Like one of those fuses that stops a magical machine if something goes wrong?”

“Yes!” Luna grinned happily. “Celestia believes that the Black Sun, terrifying and mysterious as it is, is proof that we live in a world that conspires in our favor. It stops a path not meant to be and gives us another chance.”

Luna frowned and took a professorial posture, rubbing her chin with a leg. “The fact that events don’t repeat means that something survives annihilation. And I think I know what it is…”

Gilda just glared at her and waited for Luna to spill it out already.

“Soul memories.” Luna declared with a huge grin. Then she turned sheepish. “And that is why I put you through this. I needed you to understand the graveness of the situation. The brutality and the savagery that forged the hatred that she and Celestia share. I needed you to understand that griffons and ponies are not the problem.”

The princess pointed at the two images of Celestia and The Harpy, back-to-back. “They are! They are on a collision course, and it will send ripples through the entire world.”

“I showed you all of that so that it would be marked in your soul. Because we have a problem… She can’t know you talked to me.”

Gilda grimaced. She didn’t even want to think about what Mother Harpy would do to her if knew.

“I will erase your memories.” Luna spoke with a measure of resolve. “I hope that instead of succumbing to her madness, you will help her find sanity. Because these memories that have been etched into your soul will edge your mind in the right direction and she won’t notice.”

Suddenly Luna stared up with her mouth hanging and her ears perked to attention. “She’s coming.”

“This is the turning point!” Luna declared, raising her snout. “Either you will continue the path you were, and she will engulf you in her madness… Or you will be her anchor to sanity.”

Luna conjured her crystal thing and whispered. “Are you ready?”

Gilda took a deep breath. “I am.”

Luna focused on her crystal artifact. Her horn shone and Gilda was left waiting. She couldn’t feel anything. It was unsettling, but nothing seemed to be happening.

***

Gilda sat on the fancy chair Luna had offered her. She was distracted for a second. What were they talking about? She had a strange feeling that something was amiss, but Luna’s babbling made her focus on the Princess again.

“And so, griffons summoned the Allmother to the realm of the living. Bound to a body, she was destroyed when Sol-Estia fought her in the Stormy Eyrie and her body failed.”

Oh, right. Luna was telling her how the ponies created their goddesses to help them. Or something. Gilda wasn’t sure and her head felt a little light.

Luna smiled at her, for some reason, and kept on talking. When the Black Sun was almost triggered again, Discord killed the pony goddesses in a similar way. But since the process of the Black Sun didn’t complete, their souls were stuck in the system of birth-death-rebirth. And they were eventually reborn as new beings. I inherited Luccenotturna’s soul. Celestia inherited Sol-Estia’s.”

“This brings up a difficult question… Is Celestia Sol-Estia? Am I Luccenotturna?” Luna’s ears fell to the sides of her head. “I can’t say that I know the answer to that question. I don’t believe that I am, but I may be wrong. Our souls work differently. Celestia believes that she is Sol-Estia, but that she is not the same. In a similar way you are not today the same you were when you were younger. She believes that as the most intimate part of her being is that of the Goddess, she is Sol-Estia, but in a different form. And most important of all… In another time. In different circumstances.”

Right… Right. She was talking about souls and different circumstances… Luna kept staring at the magical images too, and it bothered Gilda, but at least she was delivering information.

Luna’s ears were already flopped to the sides of her head, but her eyes were teared a little. “The Celestia I know would not ever condone what happened in that dream. The sight of the injured mother holding her dead cubs greatly disturbed you. It abhorred me too… No intelligent creature would believe that sort of thing would ever be acceptable.”

“Was it real?” Gilda kept her stare on the princess. That was important.

“It was…” Luna grinned at her. “That is what happened, several cycles of creation, destruction and re-creation ago. I don’t have memories of that time, though. Only Celestia does. And obviously, something else has them too.”

“Could…” Gilda frowned, and Luna encouraged her to speak with a patient nod. “Could griffons have called The Harpy back when they were suffering because Discord tried to end the world? As the ponies did?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Luna nodded again. “That is what happened in that vision… Griffons summoned the Allmother and that allowed Sol-Estia to destroy her.”

Luna made a small pause. “But Celestia looked for her. She was not there in Grigor’s Empire. She did not survive. Once she died, as you witnessed in that nightmare, her soul would have been taken to the Pool of Souls, but the Black Sun ended everything. And she didn’t return. Celestia supposes that she had her chance, but the stewardship of the world was given to another.”

Gilda’s stare aimed at the floor and her frown intensified. Did that alicorn ever shut up? There was something strange about that whole conversation… Gilda tried to think about something, but she couldn’t find a question she wanted to ask. Wait! Yes! Celestia wouldn’t have found The Harpy, because she hid after she abandoned Emperor Grigor! But Luna shouldn’t know that… And she clearly didn’t!

Luna waited a second before she spoke again, and her head motioned to the magical images. “I can literally see you are questioning all that has happened to you. I have seen your memories and I know you believe The Harpy has returned and that you are special. But I think that you are wrong.”

That got Gilda’s attention again and Luna went on. “I visited several griffons tonight. I have reasons to believe that there is a strange Nightmare attacking their dreams.”

Gilda frowned. She was angry. Was Luna trying to convince her that The Harpy was a Nightmare? A freaking Nightmare?!

Luna kept showing her magical images that made little sense to Gilda. But she could read the pony ideograms in attention grabbing red and urgent blinking.

Akh Class Harmonic Violation – Dream Loop Disruption

“This usually means a Nightmare is actively attacking your dreams. But what it really means is that something is disturbing the normal functioning of the body-mind-soul triptych that reflects the Akh of your soul. The part that relates to the intellect. It’s a disruption of normal mental processes involved in the experience of dreams. But you are not ‘actually’ dreaming now. You are conscious inside your mind. These processes shouldn’t be in use… This means that something damaged your ability to dream.”

The Harpy had told Gilda she’d done that. To protect her from Luna, and that she would share her dreams with Gilda. That was probably why Gilda had the dreams from beyond the Black Sun.

“This is consistent with something introducing dreams into your mind. I think this memory of the Black Sun was shared from another soul…”

Luna’s figured it out. She knew that The Harpy had returned and that she had contacted Gilda. The griffoness tensed herself in her chair. Wait. No! Luna thought it was a Nightmare! That was good! The secret was still intact, even with Luna poking around in her head!

“It’s a narrative the Nightmare is feeding you.” Luna gave Gilda a strange sad frown that seemed fake. “Your entire race may be under attack from a particularly nasty Nightmare since that time and I never noticed because the whole secrecy may have served to hide its activity. It’s sucking mental energy out of you, creating this narrative about the griffon Goddess because it knows that many within your race feel abandoned.”

Gilda smiled inside… Luna wished that was true.

“Everygriff, from The Lion himself to his soldiers may be under attack from this Nightmare and if you let me study it, I can find a way to stop it. Before it can enter their Palace of the Self and start claiming lives. It may grow so powerful it will manifest in the real world!”

“I am trying to help you, most of all.” Luna gave a concerned frown. “You are in danger, and you must listen to me!”

Gilda’s frown only deepened. “Why are you so nervous, Princess?”

Suddenly, three polite knocks resounded through the crystal walls. Thunder cracked outside and both of them stared at the open door to the hallway.

“Well then…” Luna gave her a serious stare and her ears perked forward. “The Nightmare followed you here. It’s trying to enter the most sacred part of what makes you, you. If it does, it will have unrestrained access to everything. Now you must decide who you’ll believe.”

Luna put an earnest hoof on her chest. “Me, or whatever is outside.”

Gilda didn’t respond, she already knew who she believed. She simply hopped off the chair, then down the dais, walking towards the door out of the Throne of the Mind. Slowly speeding up her gait before Luna might do something.

Luna followed her to the circular room with the ‘tree’. The Princess had a strange noncommittal tone as she talked. “Stop. Don’t. Come back…”

Gilda turned and kept walking backwards. Her wings sagged from her side, her tail hid under her, and she frowned like she did when her mother was angry at her. “I am not stupid! You want griffons to be meek and easy to control! That is why your sister let Griffonia devolve into the mess it is now and at the same time protect the hippogriffs!”

“This is a baseless and foalish accusation.” Luna followed Gilda all the way through the corridor and became more serious, as though Gilda had struck a nerve. “The northerner griffons disseminate an ideology of hatred against hippogriffs, and that is the only reason they are protected. And it is also the reason Queen Novo has instituted the blockade of commercial ships going to Griffonia. Not to mention that Celestia already dealt with that. The situation in Griffonia is bound to improve within weeks!”

Gilda’s insecurity turned to anger, and she scowled at the princess. “Liar! That is all you do! You tell my kind that you know what is best for us, but you want to declaw and keep us soft and weak!”

“If you open the door I don’t know if I can push it out.” Luna pleaded as Gilda turned to the door and broke into a galop. “You’ll be lost forever! I won’t be able to return and help you! And if it learns how to infiltrate the minds of other griffons, I may not be able to stop it.”

“You wanted us to forget our mother!” Gilda’s blood boiled at her anger, turning again to face the princess. She shouldn’t say it, but… Screw it. That stupid grassbreath was píssing her off saying The Harpy was not real! “You don’t care what happens to us! You don’t care if griffons are suffering! You don’t care that our corrupt politicians have bled our nation dry! That is why you helped Grover lie! Ghadah died in a burning stake after Grover’s soldiers had raped her and her sisters! It was all because of you!”

“No!” Luna cried and flared her wings. “After the war Celestia worked with Empress Geneviere! The very reason that Ghadah was there was because the Empress had sent her to recover her sisters! Celestia’s agents in Griffonia assisted countless stranded servants of the Emperor escape to the northern lands! It is one of the reasons the northerner traditions were protected after Grover reunited the kingdom!”

“Liar!” Gilda’s feathers ruffled and her fur stood. “As far as you and your sister are concerned, they would’ve done the same to me! I would’ve died in a dirty alley after those monsters were done using me, like they used Ghadah!”

“We failed you, Gilda!” Luna insisted, slowly inching forward. Hoof after hoof. “I admit… Things happened in a way that they shouldn’t have! But Celestia had the best intentions! And they will change moving forward from this! I promise you!”

Three knocks sounded again. Slower. Gilda stopped. Her angry frown turned to a curious one, with her eyes growing wide and her beak hanging as she noticed something. And she gave Luna a wicked grin. “Why don’t you stop me?”

Luna’s frantic expression showed her a frown of annoyance. “I can’t!”

She flapped her wings nervously and gave Gilda a nervous stare. “I need your permission to do anything here. I need your permission to enter griffon minds… I need you to trust me, at least to give me your permission implicitly. Or I couldn’t even protect you from the normal nightmares. As I said, your kind is different from ponies.”

Gilda’s grin turned fierce with a low laugh of someone who had won a game.

“You need my permission to enter… You can’t do it on your own, much like the Allmother needs griffons to devote themselves to her… Because my griffon mind was made with free-will at its core. That was why she needed the Emperor and griffons to trust her entirely. All your power, and you still are all dependent on one choice.”

A small part of Gilda's imagination pictured the great white and black griffoness squealing in delight at her realization. Swollen with pride that her child understood something so important.

Then she laughed. “This is awesome! The might of the gods; it bends to the free-will of mortals.”

“Please, Gilda.” Luna insisted. “I wasn’t aware that there was something wrong when I first met you. Let me help you deal with your problems with the law.”

Gilda’s smile grew cruel, and Luna hardened her stare. And still, it frustrated her that Luna wasn’t at all scared. Because she knew what that thing was trying. The alicorn probably thought that she was born yesterday. No. Gilda had chosen a side and she was more than convinced that was the right side.

“Along the way I learned an important lesson, princess.” Gilda paused for a second. “My problems aren’t with the Law. It is with dirty, corrupt politicians you and your sister allowed to take over Griffonia. Call it respect for our independence if you will… But now, after all that’s happened, there are sides to be taken.”

Gilda took a small breath and squared her glare at Luna. “And one side wants me to go back to being a nobody no one cares about. That was betrayed by the system and would be left for dead in a dirty alley after some thugs violated her. Maybe one or two would cry for me.”

Finally, Gilda’s scowl became fiercer. “The other side has given me a new life and I was reborn with a purpose and power I would never have been allowed.”

Gilda stopped for a second. No. It’s not about sides. It was about what was better for griffons, and Mother Harpy was best for griffons. Even if she was wrong in some things.

Luna smiled again, but then she became serious once more.

“Gilda, you are delirious! You are making a choice you can’t come back from.” Luna warned. “Come to me, and we will help you deal with the things you’ve done. I will help your friend and I will make sure Celestia grants you leniency. Saving you is more important than anything that has happened because of this whole ordeal.”

“And with your help I can protect the minds of griffons from this Nightmare!” Luna rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a Nightmare! You know very well what it is!” Gilda screamed at her, before turning to the door.

“What if she is? An illusion?” Luna spoke louder and stomped a hoof on the crystal floor. “A fragment of a memory in griffon minds. An illusion you covered the Nightmare with. You wanted your mother back. You wanted to belong somewhere. You wanted power! Whatever she is, your delusions of grandeur are blinding you to the fact that you are being manipulated! She’s made you into a pawn in a very dangerous game!”

Gilda heard every word, but she refused to listen. And so, she stood on her hindlegs and pushed the double doors, unfurling her wings as the doors opened. They swung open slowly and the smell of lightning entered with a wet and gray cloud that surrounded Gilda with its wetness. It marked her silhouette of open forelegs and wings stretched wide against the flash of lightning and the silhouette of a larger griffoness entering through the door.

“Come Mother. I was confused and I was foolish. But I understand everything now! Let’s take back our world! I’ve had a great idea: let me give you Griffonia! I will bring it back under your mighty wings, kicking and screaming if it must. I will be your Swordmaiden of the Shaddani, and I will help you have every griffon soul, as it was meant to be since the first griffon cried in the Stormy Eyrie! I will be the Chosen of The Harpy and I will bring you their heads if I must. But they will be yours!”

Finally, she turned back to Luna, sitting on the floor with a triumphant smile. However, Luna’s expression disappointed Gilda yet again. She expected to see terror, pure fear. Something, at least similar to what that poor griffoness in her dream experienced. But the alicorn remained calm, and all that urgency seemed to have vanished from her. The only reaction she allowed were her ears pulled back flat against her skull while sitting on the floor. At best, she frowned.

“Well done, My Child.” Lightning seemed to take hold of the crystal structure and lit it in tempo with her voice. It rumbled like thunder in counterpoint to the melodical High Griffonese she spoke. Passing by, she caressed Gilda’s crest with her paw and walked past her, towards Luna.

Her ruffled feathers and posture made her look much larger than she already was. The wet and rough feathers made her threatening and terrifying. Her talons clicked the crystal floor with every step and the crystal lit with every breath she took. Her white tail swung from side to side, whipping the black tuft around. The light reflected in her stormy grey eyes under a fierce scowl.

Luna stood her ground, locking eyes with the great griffoness while Gilda walked at The Harpy’s side..

“Of all creatures,” The Harpy smiled cruelly, closing her forepaw around Luna’s neck. “You ought to be the one who understood perception is relative, Luccenotturna.”

Luna gave her the most infuriating, and at the same time most outrageous of smiles. Then she poked her beak with a hoof. “Boop!”

And then she disappeared.

The Harpy was left behind, cocking her head and looking cross-eyed at her beak. It turned to a greatly displeased scowl. But turning, she smiled at Gilda. “Worry not, my beautiful child. She will not be bothering you anymore. We are now connected, and I will guard your mind from her.”

She sat before Gilda and held her shoulders, pecking softly at her forehead and holding her to her wet chest full of fluffy feathers. “You are beloved to me. I have always rewarded handsomely those that have served me, and you will be no exception. Give me back My Children, and I will shower you with all the gold and luxuries you can imagine. You will see as your enemies crumble before you; and your allies will rise to see it is your favor that makes them precious to my eyes as well.”

Gilda chuckled. “She thinks you are a Nightmare.”

The Harpy frowned. And then she spoke slowly and carefully. “I do not know what Luna is playing at, but she knows what I am. Maybe she did not truly know before, but now she does.”

Gilda looked up at her and something clearly bothered the Allmother. But she didn’t have the heart to ask what she was thinking. She simply chuckled again and smiled as best as she could. “Maybe… She wanted to confuse me. She wanted me to question you? Like Celestia did with King Grover?”

The Harpy smiled and her black paw stroked Gilda’s crest. “Hush… Glorify my power before our cold enemies in the North that your name will shine as a beacon to My Children. I will worry about Luna, and you must complete your journey. The further you are from the border, the safer you will be from The Sisters. But remember the threat of the Windigos. Do not let your guard down.”

“Now, rest…” Her voice trailed into a soothing whisper.

Gilda woke in her bed, next to Grunhilda, still snuggled to her chest. The sounds of the party had subsided, but still went on and thunder echoed in the distance with Aya Harpyia’s promise. She smiled and held Grunhilda, scooting an inch closer in the cold of the night with a whiff of the smell in Grunhilda’s crest before sleep took her again.

Author's Note

Gilda sat in the corner holding a bucket of hand sanitizer in her beak. "..."

In front of her the great black and white griffoness frantically rubbed her paws on her beak.

"SHE BOOPED ME!"

Blood

Gilda woke, staring at the planks and mortar that made the ceiling of her room. The door to the balcony in the main room was open and it let in the smell of cooking food and the voices of calmly talking griffons. The fanfare of the party was gone. She had a bit of a headache, but she was more interested in the open book laying on the bed and the missing Grunhilda. Some noises came from beyond a bamboo screen, and they made Gilda think Grunhilda was busy with something.

Good morning, my most beloved child.

“Hi…” Gilda spoke softly. “Was… That a dream?”

What part of it? My beautiful children sharing the throes of passion, or your fervent promise that you would deliver me Griffonia?

Great… Gilda took her paws to her face and grimaced in silence at the hotness in her cheeks.

That was a promise, was it not?

Yes. Yes, it was… Gilda slowly lowered her paws. It was a promise. She could’ve worded it in a less embarrassing way, but it was a promise. It was the best for griffons. It was the best for Griffonia… Even if they didn’t understand. Even if it was also for Gilda’s benefit. It was what was best for griffons everywhere.

The Harpy didn’t leave Gilda… She could ‘feel’ her presence, but she took a few moments before she replied.

I will leave you to your day but remember that I am always listening.

Sitting on the bed, Gilda frowned. There was a strange feeling of knowing associated with the short conversation.

But she didn’t have much time to think about it, as Grunhilda came out from behind the bamboo screen and gasped loudly when she found Gilda awoke. She pounced onto the bed and showed a huge grin. “Good morning, Miss Gilda!”

She hugged Gilda like she wanted to crush her and then she pecked softly at Gilda's cheeks a few times, until the tan griffoness laughed softly.

“Hey, hey… Chill!” Gilda chuckled, batting softly at the other with her paws.

“I prepared the bath!” The white griffoness finally let go and sat on the bed, staring happily happily at Gilda like she expected to be told she was a good thrall.

“Good job! Big Girl.” Gilda petted her crest.

Grunhilda's chest was a little damp and she smelled of pine, as though she had already taken a bath. Not to mention that her big blue eyes looked incredibly beautiful. Even more so when she blushed at the intense stare Gilda gave her. She even shifted her head a little and smiled.

Gilda grabbed her shoulders and held her close, clicking their beaks together and pecking gently at her silky feathers. She held Grunhilda in her forelegs and her paws grabbed at the white griffoness, holding her skin and her feathers in her fingers.

Grunhilda stiffened a bit and hummed contently, stretching her back like Gilda had hurt her, but she held Gilda too and didn’t try to free herself.

Why Gilda was so needy, she herself didn’t know. Maybe it had been last night and their little romp. But she didn’t want to let go and at the first opportunity their beaks fit together, she held Grunhilda’s nape, and she only let her go when they needed air again.

Grunhilda gasped and blushed, panting a little. “Can we do… that? Again?”

“I swear that I would if we didn’t need to get stuff ready to travel north…” Gilda panted too, stroking the feathers behind Grunhilda’s head. “But you can bet your cute rump it won’t be too long.”

“Okay!” Grunhilda giggled and Gilda pecked her forehead before letting go. “Do you want me to help with your morning bath?”

“Nah…” Gilda nodded to the open book before she climbed off the bed with a yawn. “Just keep at your book.”

“Okay!”

The room’s bathtub was behind the bamboo screen. Gilda hadn’t even bothered with it when they came in at night, but it was just big enough for a large griffon and made of wood and iron straps. Most importantly, the water on it was hot and smelled of pine. Next to the tub was an iron bucket, a small fireplace what was used recently, and a clean chamber pot. That was good because Gilda really needed that after all that drinking last night.

Her headache diminished as the bothering in her bladder drained away, and then completely alleviated as soon as the refreshing smell of pine claimed her nares for good. Feeling reinvigorated already, she quickly gave herself a bath. Some splashes of water in her face, her belly and her private parts and she felt as fresh as the aroma in the water. She even dipped herself and chirped happily, spreading wings and throwing water all over.

That was when she stopped and looked around at the mess she made with a stare that was probably similar to Grunhilda’s dumb stare.

Then she shrugged and hopped off the water to dry herself off. The floor had some stone finish, probably because the griffons that made that place knew water was to be involved and that messes would happen anyway.

With that stray thought, she just left the towel in a hanger. The innkeepers would probably take care of that. But it didn’t stop there. Her steps almost hopped her back to the room proper and she smiled at Grunhilda.

“Hey, I guess I’m gonna see the others, and then I’ll be going to the market.” She beamed. “I suppose we need something to carry my magical jewelry, something to protect Mythical, and find you a teacher that will tell you how to use that sweet bow!”

Just as she said that she frowned. She realized that her plan of moving on as soon as possible may be a little difficult... As Gia had indicated. Unless she could find a teacher that would travel with them. Yeah! That sounded like a good idea.

Grunhilda joined her though. “I'd rather go with you, if that is okay.”

“Sure!” She smiled and stroked the feathers on Grunhilda’s face. For a little longer than it would be considered comfortable.

“Miss Gilda, is everything alright?” Grunhilda held her paw and gave Gilda a concerned smile.

“Yeah…” Gilda smiled a little more. “Sorry. I don’t know why I am so sappy today.”

Finally, she let go and nodded at the door with a smile. Going out, Grunhilda followed her to the corridor. The smell of burning fats and roasting meats became almost too intense, but what interested Gilda was that they walked into Gertha and Gia followed by Geary. The trio walked towards the stairs from their rooms.

“Hey boss!” Gertha greeted her with a bit of a tired smile, but Gilda hugged Gertha like she hadn’t seen a friend for decades. It was an impulse, and had she thought about it for a second, she probably wouldn’t have done that. The pink griffoness, after tensing up, chuckled nervously but didn’t resist. “Whoa! I’m happy to see you too, boss!”

“Sorry…” Gilda let go and blushed with a downward stare. When had she struggled with words so much before? “I think I had a dream or something… I’m a bit sappy… I Just… I just… I’m glad you guys are here. I left all my friends far away… And… I guess this is… I don’t know… Sorry.”

“Heeey!” Gertha opened a huge smile and hugged Gilda herself. “I’m glad you’re here too Gilda!”

“I think you would call yourself a ‘dweeb’…” Gia growled impatiently next to the pink griffoness.

“You’re a bitch.” Gertha let go and turned to the green griffoness with a scowl. “Did you know that?”

“No offense.” Gia gave them a petulant stare down her beak. “But I’m not your friend. We’re partners on a temporary arrangement for mutual benefit.”

“Whatever you say, Gia.” Gilda just smiled at her.

“Geez, you’re creeping me out!” Gia ruffled her feathers. “I’m getting out of here before you turn me gay too, or something.”

“I’m glad you’re here too, Gilda.” Geary smiled at her and then trotted off after Gia, leaving the three alone.

“So, I’m not sure what is going on,” Gertha shrugged. “But you can count on me!”

“I’ll go gay for you if you want.” She chuckled and Gilda chuckled at her joke too.

But Grunhilda hummed angrily at the conversation, and that made Gertha burst out laughing. “Sorry, Grunhilda. I didn’t mean to exclude you.”

Gilda and Gertha laughed again, and they walked to the stairs that led to the main hall. Without any warning, Grunhilda gasped so loud they turned to look at her and her huge, shocked blue eyes. “You mean that three griffonesses can do it too?”

“Oh boy…” Gertha gave a concerned frown that changed into an awkward grin.

“This is really not the time to talk about this.” Gilda did her best not to externalize her most childish thoughts on the conversation, and Grunhilda obeyed, like the good thrall she was.

They walked down the stairs and the main hall was half-full of griffons, most of them not known to her. Yet, Gilda immediately saw the two ex-soldier guys. She waved at them, and they responded with polite nods. It just occurred to her that she didn’t know anything about them. Other than they wanted in, and that they were ex-military from the Griffonian Standing Army.

She stopped for a second and contemplated going to them and maybe learning their names, or what it was that they did in the army, but she decided against bothering them during their breakfast.

“Hello, Lady Gilda!” The slightly round innkeeper and one of her sons approached her, bringing some wooden trays on their backs with lots and lots of foods and green bottles. They took the trays with their beaks and laid them on the floor in front of Gilda and the others after the customers had sat on their pillows. “The city may be paying for your stay, but breakfast is free anyways!”

A trio of simple green bottles were left by the fire, and a few trays just for Gilda’s group, included sizzling sausages and yellow slices of cheese. Some fruits such as peaches, grapes, prunes, strawberries, and wedges of tangerines. A stack of a few fried eggs, and empty cups. Gilda supposed those were for the bottles of something smelling of wine and spices.

The owner smiled radiantly at Gilda while her son finished laying a couple of pitchers with water and some towels. “If you would like anything else, or if anything is amiss, please tell us!”

After they left, and while Gilda took stock of the food that they left, Grunhilda licked her beak and promptly washed her paws with the water before she grabbed one of the sausages and bit it in half. Then she licked her beak and her finger because the thing was obscenely juicy.

Gilda and Gertha didn’t stay too long behind. The former picked another sausage, the other a wedge of cheese and both tasted those for a few seconds. Then Gilda grabbed the hot bottle by the fire. The opening was wrapped in a fine mesh tied with a short string. Without thinking too much, she poured some of the liquid in one of the cups. It was wine, hot and smelling of several spices Gilda didn’t know. But the combination smelled and tasted wonderful.

“So, what is the plan for today?” Gertha asked with a happy smile, also serving herself some of the spiced wine.

Gilda stared at her drink. “I want to find someone that can train Grunhilda with her bow during our travel.”

“I’d like to see that.” Gia sat closer to them. “You’ll need a hunter willing to let you drag them to all the way to the edge of the habitable world. I would bet that most of them make decent living by hunting in the area, and you would have to cough up a ridiculous sum to convince them.”

“I could help her…” Gertha held her cup and her fingers strummed it. “I mean… I’m better with a crossbow, and bows are completely different beasts… But I started with a bow my dad taught me how to hunt with. I’m sure I can teach her the basics and a more experienced archer can teach her further once we arrive in Griffindell.”

“That sounds great.” Gilda grinned. “How much do you want for it?”

Gertha’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Oh, no! No. I’d be doing it for free since we’re already travelling together, and I supposedly work for you. I kind of like Grunhilda and I want to annoy Gia.”

Gia huffed and gave her a smirk before she sipped from her drink. “Going straight for that employee of the month bonus, are you?”

“Well, I can say I wouldn’t be doing it for free if it was for you.” Gertha deadpanned and then grumbled behind her wine.

“Thanks, Gertha.” Gilda chuckled at them. “I really appreciate it.”

“We should get her a beginner-friendly bow though.” Gertha added.

“That’s a thing?” Gilda blinked at her.

“Oh yeah!” Gertha nodded enthusiastically. “Bows have different types and draw weights. Heavier bows need more strength and their longer range need more experience to figure out the wind and stuff. Even if Grunhilda is probably strong enough to start with a heavier bow, she needs to wrap her head around the starting skills before that. There are also different kinds of arrows and arrowheads.”

Gilda nodded at her. “How do you feel about that, Grunhilda?”

“I would be honored!” The white griffoness cheered, holding a few wedges of tangerine in her paws. “I like Miss Gertha too!”

“That’s settled them!” Gilda nodded to Gertha. Not like Gilda would refuse free stuff anyways, and she trusted Gertha. Apparently that bath really worked its socialization magic.

A few minutes of mindless banter and eating tasty food passed before Mister Gillian approached them from the stairs to the rooms. It was not like he was sloppy before, but he got his feathers all perfectly preened, and his fur brushed. He used some sort of perfume and the two of his guys that followed him had a similar appearance. He didn’t sit with them, though; he talked from the other side of the fire.

“Lady Gilda, I’ll be going to the market to get the supplies we’ll need for the travel to Frozenlake.” He told her. “Maybe, if we’re lucky, we could find some closed carts for sale… But those might get expensive.”

“Not a problem.” She told him, reaching for another sausage. “I have a lot of money in the bank. And I’m sure Lady Gwendolen will settle things once we get there. If it’s needed.”

He nodded with a discreet smile. “I have a good reputation with the locals, and they should accept that if it comes to making debts.”

With that, he signaled for his guys to follow him. Gilda raised a paw. “Dude, you’re not gonna eat something?”

“I already did, Lady Gilda.” He assured her before he left. “We woke earlier so that we could go take care of that.”

Then he smiled a little. “It’s sort of my job.”

“Alright.” She smiled at him too. “I’ll get to the market too. Gotta find a bow for Grunhilda. I also figure I should know the city a little.”

He nodded and left them to their breakfast. It didn’t last long, even as the others joined them. They spent some time throwing conversation away and after they were satisfied, Gilda sent Grunhilda to their room to fetch Mythical, their money and her red scarf. With the scarf around her neck and Mythical on her back Gilda was ready to go see the city. Grunhilda had her fox pelt backpack and Gertha had a small black leather satchel across her chest.

But before they left, Gia and Geary joined them. She also had her red scarf around her neck and her thrall had his shield and axe on his back, as well as a small backpack too.

“Hey, are you going with us?” Gilda welcomed her.

“Not really.” Gia gave them the usual arrogant stare. “But I need to see Gelinda, and she left early to help the local doctor with something. Since we are going the same way, I suppose we could walk together. Only if to ensure you don’t mess anything up. I have a reputation to keep, and I am afraid the locals have associated us together.”

“Sure, Gia.” Gilda chuckled.

“Anyways,” The green Gia rolled her eyes. “The market is across from the stream and the entrance to the city proper is beyond. Doctor Gordi’s clinic is in the Market too, but in side the inner gates. Thus, we’ll be walking together.”

“Are you done?” Gertha asked with a bored expression.

Gia simply raised her beak and started walking. “Yes.”

“Can’t we just go the other way and wait for her to forget us?” Gertha sat and frowned at Gilda.

“Don’t mind her.” Gilda shrugged. “She’s only doing that because she has a hurt ego over her plan failing in Thunderpeak. Inside, she’s happy we’re with her.”

“She could show it a little better…” Grunhilda frowned too.

“Trust me,” Gilda put a paw on her chest before she motioned for them to walk with her. “It’s insecurity. Let’s go.”

They caught up with Gia and Geary soon after they crossed the small wooden bridge over the stream. It was a small, arched, and rustic bridge. Small round stones decorated the cobblestones where they walked, and cubs of different colors prowled by the edge of the stream. Tails whipping from one side to the other and way too serious frowns on their young faces.

Gia and Geary paid them no attention, but Gilda couldn’t help finding a parallel between them and herself with Grunhilda hunting rats in Haybale. Except the fish were probably much cleaner.

Crossing the bridge, they were officially in the market and the first stall they found had a patron. None other than Gertha’s brother, the wine-colored Guile with a backpack of his own. The stall was basically a drawer under a glass top with the wares safely in sight. Very beautiful gold and silver, including some iron jewelry in display. Most of them with shiny and beautiful stones and gems.

But, perhaps, the most precious of them was Gertha’s brother and his concerned frown over the jewelry. Next to him, a large and mean griffon stood guard while a bored looking griffon lady with an apron sat behind the stand. Gilda and Gertha stopped to look too, with Grunhilda in tow.

“Uh… You okay, Gui?” Gertha approached and the guard noted their presence but didn’t do anything. She looked at the stuff in display and then at him.

“I gotta buy her something.” He kept his stare over the jewels.

Since Gertha probably didn’t remember anything from the previous night, it didn’t surprise Gilda when his sister gave him a confused stare. “Her? Her… Who?”

“Gil…” He mumbled, rubbing his jaw.

“Perhaps I can help…” The female behind the stand spoke with a strong voice in the deep end of the female range. She didn’t sound impatient, though. “What is the occasion?”

“We’re gonna marry.” He said, staring at the jewels in display. “So, I should buy something for her.”

Gertha pressed her lores before she groaned and talked to him. “Guile… Why did you put it in your head that you’re getting married? To the Mister Gillian’s daughter?!”

“You were so drunk you didn’t notice Gil was all over your brother…” Gia spoke with her typical uncaring tone.

“Guile…” Gertha growled.

“Excuse me?” He gave her an annoyed stare. “You’re not mom. And even if you were, this is none of your business.”

“Fine!” The pink griffoness put up her paws but didn’t leave. “I don’t care.”

Gilda didn’t care, really. As far as she could imagine, that was fallout from the scare she and Madam Gelinda had given Gil before the bath. She didn’t know how open she had been about that to Guile, but she felt somewhat responsible. Just a bit. But it was better to just watch from a safe distance and with a shut beak.

“You should give her something that would remind her of you.” The storeowner griffoness spoke simply. “In fact, it should be something that you made for her, if you wish to honor the northerner traditions.”

“I’m a mercenary.” He cried. “What am I supposed to do? Lop off the head of a griffon and give it to her?!”

After a second of awkward silence only broken by Gertha’s angry humming and infuriated heavy breathing, the big, mean griffon next to the stand shrugged. “Does she have any enemies?”

“Just buy her something pretty and be done with this dumbness…” Gilda grumbled.

He nodded and looked down at the jewels again, finally pointing at one. “How much is this one?”

“One thousand, two hundred Eagles.” The older female declared.

He sniffed once before he rubbed his jaw again. Then he turned to Gilda. “Uh… Can I get an advancement of my salary, or something?”

That caught Gilda by surprise. Almost as the sound of Gertha slapping her own face with her paw.

She expected that some cool-looking mercenary dude would have a good amount of money stored in the banks or something. Well, her first reaction was to tell him ‘no’. Of course not! If there was something she had learned in those days was that nobody was taking care of her and that she had to take care of herself and Grunhilda. Not even The Harpy was likely to give her random money for frivolous bullshit if she didn’t earn it. If he wanted to give Gil a gift, that was his problem, not hers.

Then again, it kind of was Gilda’s fault that Gil found herself in her situation and the later had dragged Guile into it. There was plenty of ‘kind of’ in that whole situation, but Gilda couldn’t completely distance herself from it. He was Gertha’s brother too… And she liked Gertha. If anything, it was sweet that Guile wanted to give Gil something. And Gilda also wasn’t aware of just how much of the whole thing he understood. Did it matter? Did she care?

She silently hummed at herself, because apparently, she did care. She was still pondering the whole thing.

You are not responsible for the personal choices griffons make, Child.

Well, yeah… She wasn’t. But she didn’t like to think of Gertha, or her brother, in need when she could have helped. That was what Gary had done to her. Rainbow Dash didn’t rush to help her either. And she was being petty, but the point was that Gilda was in a position to help and she put herself in their place. Their lives weren’t at risk, and there was nothing keeping him from saving his own money and getting whatever for Gil.

But, on the other paw, Gilda had never had a lot of money. Much less the credibility to deal with that amount of money. Her chest filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling just thinking of helping another griffon like that. They were supposed to be a team, right? They were supposed to help each other. To have each other’s backs. She was sure that Guile would remember that she was nice to him.

She finally shrugged. “Alright. We can work it out. Give me the booklet, Grunhilda.”

Gia shook her head while Grunhilda rummaged on her backpack. “You know you’re not actually rich, don’t you?”

“How many Eagles do you have to your name?” Gilda showed a smug grin while the griffoness behind the stall offered her a feather pen and a small container with ink. “I mean, after Lady Gwendolen took everything from you for being a sneaky bird?”

“And then they say I’m the bitch…” Gia groused and ruffled her feathers, staring daggers at Gilda as she wrote the check and gave it to Guile.

And Guile had a huge grin, giving the check to the northerner griffoness. She took some time examining it, but them she stored it under the display.

While she lifted the glass to grab the item, Gertha sat in front of her brother and grumbled at him. “Listen here, you big oaf… Get your feathers straight and wear some perfume. Maybe a tie. Talk like you’re civilized and don’t offer her a beer, or something.”

“You know I’m an adult, right?” He frowned and cocked an eyebrow at her.

And once the older griffoness handed him a nice package wrapped in blue linen, he put it under his wing and grinned at Gilda. “Thanks, boss! I won’t forget this! But I better get to her before she wakes up!”

Finally, he rushed over the bridge, making his way to the inn, and leaving them behind.

“Well, that was something.” The older northerner griffoness spoke in her calm manner, raising an eyebrow.

“Thanks?” Gertha grimaced at Gilda and frowned. “I guess?”

“Hey, no griffon ever gave me a nice jewel.” Gilda laughed. “I’d be happy!”

Well, except for Lady Gwendolen, but Gilda was pretty sure she didn’t mean it the same way Guile did. Maybe she was just in a good mood, and she grinned to the others. “Come on. Let’s see the city.”

Gia rolled her eyes but walked along anyways. “It’s nothing special. Just a boring frontier city.”

Gilda had never seen the boring frontier city, so she decided she’d have fun looking for a store or something that sold her a bow and a wrapping for Mythical.

The path snaked up a soft hill going towards the inner walls of the city all the way to the open inner gates. Another path turned down to the wayside, circling around the city’s inner walls and Gilda supposed that was a way to the north gates of the outer walls. The one she would be taking on her way out to Frozenlake.

The buildings all had a rustic charm to them. Stone and clear mortar walls, or tightly fit together walls of planks, all of them with the structure made entirely of thick logs covered in moss. Some of them had stone foundations and wooden walls, and others had slanted roofs that reached the ground instead of walls. Thatched roofs, or made with styled, tear shaped tiles made of wood covered the structures. Thick windows probably let the sunlight in but provided little visibility in exchange for the protection against the cold.

And it was cold. Every now and then thunder would sound from the windy and gray clouds above, but at the ground level it wasn’t more than a soft breeze. It was cold, though. It reminded her how far Gilda was from the hot Griffonstone.

It bothered Gilda a little, but Grunhilda seemed to be right at home, following her with a soft spring in her step.

The pathway was flanked with small shops. Open doors and displays of items in front, and a lot of griffons browsing the merchandise. Many of them seemed like refugees, trying to fit in. Or, maybe, not lose themselves in their insecurity. They just didn’t fit with the northerner griffons such as the lady selling jewelry. They wore protection against the cold, for example, such as scarves and coats.

Curiously enough, Gilda witnessed one of the local militias wearing leather armor politely asked that a southerner griffoness browsing stuff removed her red scarf.

“Most of them seem to be southerners going north…” Gia spoke in a bored voice. “Or just tourists, as though there wasn’t a war about to blow under their beaks.”

“What else are they supposed to do?” Gertha shrugged. “Hide inside their homes and pretend that there is nothing going on? I think they’re right, moving to the north before the war blows and they’re caught by the loyalists and end up being drafted into the GSA. Because that is what is going to happen sooner or later.”

Gilda nodded silently and Gia didn’t speak anymore. It hadn’t occurred to Gilda that southerner griffons would have reasons to fear for their safety. But it seemed obvious that the GSA, being scummy assholes. Like the murder-parents-for-petty-reasons degree assholes that they were, they would force the population to fight for them claiming patriotism and stuff.

Celestia would have little problems sanctioning support for the Chancellor, especially if Luna informs her of what she found last night. In her position, it would be incredibly easy to turn the world against us before we are ready to respond. I am taking steps to deal with that, however.

Around Gilda and her inner conversation with Mother Harpy, Gia and Gertha still spoke. And the former had her arrogant tone of a griffoness convinced that she was never wrong. “You are incredibly naïve if you think that The Lion isn’t going to use every griffon that he can get his paws on to fight the GSA as soon as the war starts. Moreover, I am convinced that he is likely to start the war as soon as he is comfortable.”

“At least then griffons would be fighting for their freedom to choose, not for a corrupt politician to keep exploiting them.” Gertha retorted.

True, Gilda agreed silently, but they both missed the point. The problem wasn’t only the griffon politicians. The problem was also Celestia and her ability to turn the world against Lord Gilad. Especially if she knew, through Luna, that The Harpy not only is real, but that she has been hiding from her and is preparing to take over Griffonia.

Despite her thoughts, the general mood was one of happiness. Until out of nowhere, a trio of small cubs, running like their lives depended on it, zoomed past them. One of them carried a large piece of something similar to a piece of ham in his beak and weaved his path between Gilda and Grunhilda as the two adults gasped and flared their wings in surprise. One of the other two literally dashed under Gertha and caused her to hop with a surprised yelp, and the third ran around them.

Seconds later, a furious tan griffoness came the same way they had come and flapped her wings like she was going to murder someone. “Get back here! You’re too old for these games!”

Gilda jumped out of her way and once the commotion was resolved Grunhilda giggled while Gertha approached them. “You okay?”

“Geez! What was that?” Gilda chuckled, patting the dirt out of her plumage.

“Kids…” Gia grumbled, and her feathers ruffled. “I hope I’ll dodge them for the duration of my life.”

Gertha chuckled too. “Aw… They’re not that bad. They’re just a lot of work sometimes.”

While the two of them exchanged arguments and Grunhilda helped Gilda get rid of the dirt, one thing got Gilda’s attention. There weren’t a lot of kids in Griffonstone. In comparison, the market was brimming with life in the form of excited and colorful little griffons. Not only from the southerner griffons that littered the place, but lots of young griffons helping their parents in the market.

Talking excitedly, jumping up and down, pulling their parents’ wings and begging for stuff, congregating around the stalls that sold foods or just running around. There were young griffons and kids everywhere. From the very young hiding behind their parents’ legs or young teenagers walking around and talking, proudly showing preened feathers or their red satin scarves.

Griffonstone wasn’t always like that though. It used to be filled with young griffon families and kids everywhere. Well, Gilda was no sociologist, but that seemed like a symptom of the mess Griffonia had become. She supposed parents felt unsafe having kids when the country was about to splinter.

It just spoke of how deeply ingrained and matured were Griffonia’s problems. Parents just up and left from Griffonstone towards the north, despite the threat of monsters. They believed that the dude that they barely knew from the North had a greater chance of protecting them than the politicians in the south.

Gilda raised an eyebrow at her thoughts as she couldn’t really fault those griffons. Then she stopped. Did Mother Harpy have anything to do with that? That would be reasonable.

Then Gertha’s excited voice distracted her. “Hey! Fritters!”

She rushed ahead to a larger stall surrounded with griffon kids sitting around and eating something with gusto. It had a large frying pan in a metallic stand over a fire and a large northerner griffoness covered in white and bronze deep fried something. Behind her probably was her house, a small and comfortable dwelling made of stone and wood.

“Good morning!” She smiled grandiosely. “Can I offer you some banana fritters? Only five Eagles each.”

“Oh! Yes!” Gertha promptly started rummaging her satchel for the money. “I want two!”

“Uh…” Gilda approached and looked at the griffon cubs half eating, half smearing the things on their faces. “I thought the northerners didn’t like sweet stuff.”

“Don’t worry m’lady.” The griffoness waved a paw at her and laughed. “It only has bananas, honey and dough. Madame Gelinda says this is perfectly fine for you.”

“Oh… I guess I’ll try one.” Gilda grinned and put out her paw for Grunhilda to give her the sack with their money. “One for my thrall too.”

After she paid the griffoness and she passed along the morsels of food Gia just stared with a bored expression. “You know this is good for cubs, don’t you? This isn’t adult food.”

“It’s good for the soul!” Gertha mumbled and chirped happily in between bites at her second fritter.

“Hum!” Gilda also mumbled happily. “This is really good!”

Gia sighed at the sight of the three happily eating those sweets in the middle of the little cubs. “I can’t believe how immature you are.”

Gilda gobbled down a piece of her fritter and smiled. “Nah. This stuff is good.”

It was a bit hot, and she was used to much sweeter desserts and snacks, but she wasn’t going to complain. Huh… Maybe she could bake ‘northerner-friendly’ scones in her new home. Anyways, she was going to offer a piece to Gia when she saw one of the little houses behind her. A sign said that was Gob’s hunting supplies.

“Oh!” She finished her fritter in a hurry. “This looks good!”

She walked up small wood steps to a wood door decorated with a nice lattice work. On the other side she found a small store with a table by the opposite wall and several bows and arrows hung on the right wall. Different kinds of wood and arrowheads distracted her until a griffon on the other side greeted her with a happy greeting.

“Welcome, m’lady!” She turned to see a nice-looking griffon guy with soft facial expressions and vibrant cyan eyes almost hiding behind the gray-tipped feathers that hung from his head. He sat behind a counter and friendly waved a paw at her. “I’m Gob and I work with hunting supplies! My mate makes a killer stew if you’re hungry! From deer hunted with my tools and with carrots from local farms!”

“Hey.” She greeted him with a smile too while Gertha and Grunhilda entered too, looking casually at the exposed items. “I’m looking for some stuff.”

She looked at Gertha, who also smiled at the storeowner, indicating Grunhilda with a paw. “Hi! We need a longbow for the big girl here. She’s quite strong so a heavier bow would be better.”

Before he could respond Gia entered and gasped as soon as she saw the griffon on the other side of the counter. “It’s a half-blood!”

“Say what now?” Gilda looked at her with a confused frown.

Gia even pulled at Gilda’s primary feathers. “Don’t go near him!”

“Yeah… Good morning to you too, milady…” The griffon deadpanned.

“Wait! What?” Gilda pulled her wing free. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“It’s a half-blood!” Gia backed against Geary and sat with him like she expected him to protect her.

“She means that my family is,” He kept a bored expression and made quotes with his fingers. “And I quote ‘tarnished with pony blood’.”

A griffoness came from a door behind the counter with an unfriendly frown. “Sweetie, is something wrong?”

Gia frowned and pouted. “Please tell me you’re not breeding.”

“Gia!” Gilda yelled at her, making the green griffoness jump. “Shut up!”

“But. But… It’s… Ugh.” Gia ruffled her feathers and made a disgusted grimace. “I’ll be waiting outside.”

“Geez!” Gilda growled while the other and Geary left. Meanwhile, Grunhilda and Gertha remained quiet and watched.

“It’s okay, m’lady.” The female told her slowly shaking her head. “We’re used to it.”

She was slightly smaller than the male, with yellow tips on her feathers and golden eyes. She kept close to him and kept her body with his, frowning a little. Not angry but frustrated.

“My mother was a hippogriff.” The male said and walked from behind the counter to show her his body covered in gray with a pattern of darker rosettes in his thick fur. His tail also didn’t look like a ‘normal’ griffon tail with the tuft of dark at the tip. His tail was a smooth and thickly furred appendage he wrapped around himself when he sat.

Gilda thought he looked nice. He was a nice-looking guy, even if he wasn’t as fit as some of the northerner dudes she met recently. Even if his tail didn’t look ‘traditional’, it was hardly something she had never seen before. His face looked a little smoother, with less pronounced facial traits, but he looked like a lot of griffons Gilda knew. The difference was that in Griffonstone other griffons didn’t treat them like crap for that.

But she supposed it made sense with all the drama about the hippogriffs and accusations that Celestia used them to poison the griffons. Maybe Gia could feel some magical thing radiating from him that said his ‘magic was broken’, or whatever. But to Gilda he was just a normal, nice griffon.

“Uh… Sorry about my friend…” Gilda scratched her nape. “That was kinda ugly.”

“Do they always treat you like that?” Gertha held a concerned and sad frown, nervously strumming her fingers together.

“No.” The male, Gob, shook his head. “Most of the northerners just want to do whatever and don’t bother with anything. All they really want is that you’re good enough at your job and do it for a fair price.”

“It really is these queens that made a fuss about it.” The female complained with a whine. “Particularly… You know…”

She gestured to her own neck. “The members of the Court of The Harpy.”

Gilda sighed. “Well, I don’t care for that stuff… I need a bow and something to protect my sword. I don’t like that it is exposed like this all the time.”

“Let me see.” Gob approached and sat, putting his paws out for her to give him Mythical while his mate remained behind the counter. He also turned to Gertha. “If you know what you’re doing, you can look at the bows I have for sale. I could also make a new one, but it would take me some three days to make you a decent one.”

“It’s just for practice.” Gertha said. “I’ll take a look.”

She called Grunhilda and started pointing at the bows in the wall and talking to her while Gob held Mythical. He held it by the blade with the guard up and looked at it with a delighted ‘oooh’.

“Gila, come here. Have a look at this.” He looked at his mate and she came around the counter. She had yellow and soft gray body, and a more ‘griffon-like’ tail, but if the Loremaster let her mate with him, she probably had some ‘damning’ Saddani trait. Gilda was just happy they let them be, even if they must not have the nicest of coexistence. At least they seemed to be thriving despite the occasional jerk.

“Oh… Would you look at this.” She examined the sword like he had and even tested its balance. She Mythical to balance with the flat of the blade on her paw. “Now, this is not the kind of sword that you buy in any random store in any random corner of a small city. This is the sort of magical weapon you will find exploring the ruins in the Whitescape. Maybe in a magical weapons shop in Brokenhorn, or paying millions of Eagles to a Griffindelian blacksmith. Honestly, I think that if you were a jerk like your friend, I’d be calling Captain Gosalynn by now. ‘Cause you don’t look like you can afford this.”

Grunhilda and Gertha quietly snerked at the comment but turned back to the wall and pretended to be minding the bows when Gilda turned to them. Sneaky birds…

“Well, there is a funny story about how it was forged.” Gilda blinked at Gila. “It was made by Master Galahault in Thunderpeak. For me… Uh… You know… He made it for me.”

“Oh… I see.” The female smiled and nodded. “You are the one griffons are calling the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani.”

Normally, being called that would have filled Gilda with pride, but given Gia’s outburst earlier, made it really awkward.

“Anyways,” The griffoness went on. “You really shouldn’t be walking around with this thing in display in the middle of the cities. It’s a magical weapon… Sure. It won’t suffer from exposure, and it will stick to your back. But you should have it in a scabbard, and you should wrap the hilt with a cloth, or something. Normal swords are already expensive enough that some lowlife might consider them worth the risk. But if someone yanks this thing from you and sells it to the right cat… They’ll be set for life. Or worse… To the right mare, if you know what I mean.”

Gilda frowned. “I actually don’t.”

“I guarantee you any Royal Guard smith or mage would be dying to study the enchantments in this weapon.” She explained with a grin. “I’m not trying to sell you my fish, I’m being honest. What you have here is a legendary weapon. And I understand wanting to show it off, but the time to do that is after you got to your brand-new estate in Griffindell and the Sky Sentry will eat the liver out of any idiot that tries to steal from you. When you go out adventuring, this should stay protected from eyes.”

She frowned, holding the weapon in her paws by the blade to look at it. “From the environment too… It’s respectful. It’s like a living being.”

“Maybe it’s silly, but this sword is more than just a weapon.” Then she shrugged. “Anyways, I can make you a decent scabbard for her, but not something of the caliber this sword deserves. For that I think you should go back to Master Galahault or look for Master Gilbert in Griffindell. Maybe someone in Frozenlake or Brokenhorn.”

“Hum…” Gilda stared at her.

“I’m just a local blacksmith that can fix a cart, a door or a tool. I can forge a simple sword, an axe or a working knife.” The griffoness shrugged. “I’m no master, but I can make you a usable scabbard until you can get a real artist to make one on par with your sword.”

“Alright…” Gilda scratched her beak. “How much for the bow, and the scabbard?”

The female looked at her mate, Gob. He looked at Gertha. And the pink griffoness held one of the bows to him. Gilda knew little about that thing so she didn’t oppose her choice, but it was a big bow that would require Grunhilda to stand so that she can wield it properly. It wasn’t like the bows the Imperial warriors used in Ghadah’s memories, but Gilda supposed that one was more modern.

“It would also be nice to have a few arrows.” Gertha added. “Like a sheaf. Nothing fancy, just so that Grunhilda isn’t using the good arrows for training. I’ll teach her to craft more.”

The male waved at her. “Eh, that goes for free. We have hundreds of them catching mold in the cellar.”

“Quite right.” The female agreed. “How about two hundred Eagles?”

“I’ll pay you three hundred.” Gilda said. “Because of the things my friend said.”

“I’m not going to deny…” Gob said. “She’s more prideful than I am, and money is good.”

“Give me the coins.” With the prices agreed on, Gilda put out her paw to Grunhilda.

Without further drama, Gilda paid the couple, and Gob got the arrows, complete with a quiver from the cellar. They did, in fact, smell like mold. But that didn’t bother Grunhilda as she happily worn the quiver under her shoulder with the leather strap across her chest and the bow across her other shoulder. Meanwhile, the griffoness measured Mythical and promised Gilda her scabbard would be done sometime after lunch. She would even find someone to locate Gilda and deliver it.

With everybody happy, they left the store and Gia was sulking outside. Funnily, the cubs were still stuffing themselves with the fritters.

“Hey, Grunhilda.” Gilda turned to her friend/thrall. “Get to the inn and leave this stuff safely in our room.”

Then she looked at Gertha. “Would you mind accompanying her?”

It took the pink griffoness a second to understand, between looking at Gilda and at Gia, but she gasped and nodded. “Oh! Yes. Sure. Let’s go Grunhilda.”

“Okay.” The white one said and walked off with Gertha while Gilda walked to Gia. The later may not have noticed, but Geary went with Grunhilda and Gertha too. Only after a few seconds she noticed what was happening.

“What?” The green griffoness already raised her voice defensively.

Gilda pointed at the small store/home, but she kept her voice down. “Don’t ever do that again in my presence, or I swear you’ll be traveling alone to Griffindell.”

“Do you remember that you were the one asking me to travel with you?”

Gilda came within a talon’s width of smacking that smug grin out of Gia’s beak. Apparently, she did learn something along the way. She just frowned and leaned against the other. “Cut it out! Those are hard-working griffons. It’s not cute like you and me perving over our thralls when you point fingers at them because their ancestors screwed up and tell them they are dirty.”

“Oh, come on… You agree that their parents screwed up, but you think that they-” Gilda didn’t let her finish. She held Gia’s beak with her paw and the green griffoness frowned angrily.

“Griffonia has a problem.” Gilda told her seriously, glaring at her. “And it’s not because of griffons that had the wrong parents, whose ancestors fooled around with ponies and hippogriffs. It’s because of entitled jerks that think that they can get away with being jerks.”

Gia freed her beak and shook her head, ruffling her feathers. “We’ll see what Lady Gwendolen thinks of that, hero.”

“Well, then she is wrong!” Gilda first let her voice raise, but she quickly got it under control again. “I’ll deal with that when I get to Griffindell, alright? I don’t know, maybe she’ll show me that I’m the one in the wrong… But for now, please… Griffons like these have enough troubles. Don’t add to it. It reminds me of the griffons that screwed up my life just because they could. Let’s not make the problem worse.”

“Fine.” Gia growled. “But you can’t ask me to like some disgusting half-blood because it makes you queasy.”

Gilda didn’t like her attitude at all, but she was happy enough Gia didn’t make the situation worse. Instead, the griffoness just went on her way. Presumably after Madam Gelinda, and Gilda followed her. Gertha, Geary and Grunhilda would catch up with them.

Discipline

Gia still wanted to see the older Loremaster, Gelinda, and Gilda figured she could exchange a few words with her too. As they walked along the small houses, Gilda also decided she could trade a few words with Gia. She didn’t want to end the conversation on a sour note after that talk of discrimination. For all the whining and complaining, Gilda convinced herself that she liked Gia as a friend. Even if it wasn’t exactly reciprocated just yet.

“Did you use to come here often?” She asked, walking by Gia’s side while Geary followed them from a respectful distance.

“Not really.” Gia held a bored expression, but despite that Gilda knew she had a place for her in Gia’s heart. Perhaps a cold, dark and out-of-the-way place, but it was still there. “I came here twice. Once when I first came from Griffindell. Then when a caravan was attacked on the way here and refused to leave without further protection.”

“Oh. What did you do? Did you get the big northerner fellow in Thunderpeak to assist?” Gilda picked up her pace with a bit of a happy spring. “Talk to them and get the northerners here to help?”

“No!” Gia cried as though Gilda’s idea was absurd. “I fired them and got the permit for Master Gillian.”

“Ah…” Gilda did her best not to laugh, but a grin came through. “I suppose that works too.”

Gia’s eyes rolled. “Southerner griffons can be bitchy about the northerners. They were iffy about an execution they witnessed and used the attack as an excuse. I don’t even know for sure what they wanted. They didn’t like it at all when I just replaced them, though.”

Gilda silenced after hearing that. Obviously, things were about to change and not many griffons would be happy with that. What a mess that was shaping up to be… But Gil adapted quickly. Griffons would too. It was still better than the corrupt nonsense of the Griffonian government. The ones that didn’t could always go live with the ponies, or something.

Not long into a silent walk they ran into Grunhilda accompanied by a teenager griffon. He was a nice-looking young fellow wearing a light version of the leather armor the local guards were wearing. The brown and yellows went nicely with his yellow covering and bluish head. Yet, he had the same serious and stern stare from the guards that didn’t really fit his young face.

Upon their approach, he raised a paw. “Ma’am! Lady Gilda, Captain Gosalynn would like to speak to you. She said it was important! Like, ‘right now’ kind of important. I found your thrall on the way to the inn.”

Gilda stared at him and nodded, but she also looked at Grunihlda. The white griffoness explained before she asked. “Miss Gertha took the things to the inn for me. I brought him to talk to you. I’m not supposed to leave your side, anyways.”

Gilda closed one eye and gave Grunhilda a distrusting stare. “You mean I can’t send you on an errand?”

Grunhilda didn’t answer with more than a silent hum, avoiding Gilda’s eyes and clicking her talons together.

“She’s just insecure…” Gia walked impatiently past them.

Gilda groaned, but said nothing to Grunhilda, instead turning to the teen again. “Where do I find this Gosalynn?”

He pointed up the walkway, the same way Gia was going. “She’s at Doctor Gordi’s clinic. One of the Sky Sentries is having trouble with her cubs, and everyone is there. You’ll find her there, ma’am.”

“Got it. Thanks.” She patted him on the head. “I suppose that’s where Gia and I are going anyways. Thanks for the head’s up, kid.”

She thought of maybe giving him a coin, or something. But he didn’t wait. As soon as she was done, he went his way. Gilda shrugged and pressed her step after Gia and Geary. She supposed the little guy had his duties as a cub Sky Sentry, or something.

“Hey, Gia…” Gilda approached her again. “What is it with the kid in leather armor?”

“He is almost a full adult.” Gia wasn’t too worried and shrugged without stopping or looking at Gilda. “It’s not like they’re throwing him to fight the monsters in the North. He’s on his way to be a Sky Sentry. Probably some Loremaster decided that he is Court of the Harpy material and that opens several doors. That put him early into contact with the military lifestyle of the Sky Sentry. It’s how things are in the North.”

“Wait… You can’t hunt monsters if you’re not in the Court?” Gilda frowned, but Gia only rolled her eyes.

“Of course, you can… Duh! But Sky Sentries are sponsored by Lady Gwendolen and professionally trained. With The Lion’s Army no less.” Gia explained with ostensive boredom. “The ones that do it on their own, though… They tend to be really good, but they’re not professional soldiers. The point is that the Sky Sentry are an elite. They are bodily fit soldiers tempered in combat against monsters.”

“Ah!” Gilda smiled, even if Gia didn’t see it. For all her edginess, Gia sure liked talking about stuff. “So, that’s why they sent the Sky Sentry to help in Thunderpeak?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gia spoke mindlessly, as though Gilda was a nuisance and just kept her eyes on the path, despite Gilda right next to her.

“Right there.” Gia pointed at a small clinic marked only as ‘Doctor’ by a plaque next to the door.

They had crossed into the inner part of the city. A spacious cobblestone street with a few walking griffons that minded their own business. Small homes, much smaller than the ones in Thunderpeak, flanked it and intertwined with the stores. They were all rustic, but the materials spoke of quality and wealth. Additionally, their cramped and small structures probably dealt better with the much colder air of the city. Gilda supposed that the noise of the stores was an acceptable tradeoff. Although, she also supposed that most of the store owners probably lived next to their stores.

Funny. The Northerners liked living together. Meanwhile, the griffons in Griffonstone could barely stand the thought of seeing another griffon first thing in the morning.

The clinic was a two story house in the middle of the larger stores and small homes. It had dark wood walls and a stone foundation. It also had eaves in between the floors, made of dark wooden tiles, like the main roof that topped off the house. Small windows with thick and blurred glass helped keep the warmth inside.

On the ground floor, stony steps led up to the open door and the waiting room beyond.

The house next to the doctor’s had a small stair leading to the closed door, and next to it was a small garden where a griffoness sat on a small white towel with some cubs.

She was a young and gorgeous white and gray northerner griffoness, wearing her red scarf. A trio of very small cubs sauntered about in the towel, all white, but a little darker than their mother. She just sat there, looking over them, like she was proud of what she had done. Her belly was a little flaccid and her teats were filled, but she just sat there like she was the queen of the city.

That looked like a sunbath, but Gilda just couldn’t shake the thoughts that the mother was displaying her cubs.

“Aw…” Grunhilda approached to look at the little griffons and did a happy tap dance. “They’re so cute!”

Then the trio of cubs started happily mimicking Grunhilda’s tap-dancing. Gilda was happy Grunhilda was not a pony, or she might have exploded out of cuteness overload, or something. Her happiness was contagious though, and the mother giggled, looking down at her cubs. “They seem to like your thrall.”

“I heard Gelinda was seeing the doctor?” Gia asked, uninterested and before Gilda could respond.

“Yes, madam Loremaster.” The mother told her respectfully and pointed at the clinic next door. “It seems a young mother had some issues with labor, and Doctor Gordi asked Madam Gelinda and her apprentice to assist.”

“Great.” Gia turned to leave. “Thank you.”

Grunhilda was entertained playing with the little cubs and Gilda felt like she wasn’t bothering the mother. Certainly not the cubs as she tapped the towel with her paw, and they tried to pounce at it. She left Grunhilda to her own devices and followed the green griffoness inside. But on the way, she approached and spoke in a soft voice as they walked a small wood stair.

“You know you don’t have to be like that all the time, don’t you?” Gilda also bumped her shoulder against Gia’s.

“Ugh…” Gia groaned and rolled her eyes as they entered the clinic. “I hate kids. They’re needy and annoying. And they don’t do anything for you other than giving you work and messing everything up!”

Yeah. Gilda could understand Gia. And in her case kids could also get you in trouble with the law, get your house burned, and then force you to leave the city.

Rescuing a poor lost girl was on Gilda, though.

You cannot deny, even though you are technically homeless, your life has much improved. And however you consider Grunhilda your servant or lover, she is quite good at both. Even if you had to start again, your present life is much better.

Yeah. That was true. Even though Gilda was particularly uncomfortable with hating the ‘half-bloods’ and she had reservations about the thrall thing. Truth be told, the latter seemed to skirt around some terribly shady business, but it seemed quirky and harmless. But the former was a bony fish to swallow.

For an instant, Gilda felt as though the voice in her head had something to say. And that chilled her blood. She was not in a position to defy her sponsor, and she knew well Lady Gwendolen’s position on that. And by extension, The Harpy’s position.

But the voice said nothing.

And the room was, indeed, a waiting room. Some griffons sat in there around a hearth fire. Some of them covered themselves in their wings and shivered. A bored, large griffon guy had a cut on his head and seemed more distressed by the waiting than his wound. And there was also a whole bunch of griffons Gilda had no idea what happened to them. Specifically, an anxiously fidgeting male and an older female that consoled him.

A staircase led to the floor above and a few doors led to other rooms on the ground floor. Some pained moaning came from the door on the far end, but it was all mostly silent. Gilda followed Gia around the room as nothing in there interested the green griffoness.

In her defense, Gilda just followed Gia and didn’t think about it. But when she came to, she was with her friend in what her short time in the Griffonstone hospital told her was a procedures room. It was the source of the pained moaning, but she didn’t have a lot of time to think about that or look at the room. As soon as they entered, a young Loremaster under her usual blue satin cape handed Gilda something. It was a white bundle of a towel that held a small and limp griffon cub covered in a slick liquid.

“Here.” The griffoness said, expecting Gilda to know what to do.

Gia was as surprised as Gilda was, but also relieved the other Loremaster hadn’t pawed her a lethargic newborn cub.

Gilda didn’t even have the time to scream or cry. She just held the little thing as though it might break if she breathed too intensely while holding it. “What! What am I supposed to do?!”

In an instant of self-deprecating humor, Gilda was glad she had managed to retain so much from the stupid book Goldina had given her. At the same time, she was panicking because she had read nothing about newborns. Of course, neither the Griffonian correctional system nor Griffonstone’s hospital would trust a criminal with a newborn.

The young Loremaster that had pawed her the cub turned to Gilda again with a serene smile. “It’s okay. Just rub his back and his chest with the towel until he starts crying.”

Panic was good, because it made Gilda not stop to think. She simply did exactly what the young Loremaster had told her despite her trembling paws and the constant feeling that the little cub was going to fall to his death if she blinked. But it worked like magic. She held him as tightly as she dared, and rubbed the little fragile thing with the towel as though her own life depended on it. Before she knew it, the little blue and green cub with a lovely metallic sheen on his head’s emerald feathers started crying.

“Oh my gosh!” He barely moved his little limbs, and she gasped, holding him tighter, still in fear he might fall, but the sight filled her with wonder. His little beak opened, and he cried so weakly Gilda feared he might be sick. She couldn’t suppress a smile and the wave of awe that washed over her. “Oh my gosh!”

The young Loremaster chortled, checking up on Gilda and the cub again. “There, there. You see, it worked just fine. You’re doing great.”

She was the younger Loremaster she had seen on her way into the city when the caravan first arrived. And for the moment, she just let Gilda hold the little cub. She spoke with a happy and relieved voice, certainly happy that things worked out. “Thank you. We had our paws full for a second there. You can clean him a little too. Don’t worry, he’s not really as fragile as he looks.”

“Oh! Sure!” She spoke faster and louder than needed, but Gilda softly rubbed the dry parts of the towel at the small, softly crying cub. He moved a little, but she made sure not to let him fall, despite her still trembling paws. So fragile and so weak, his crying was barely more than a whine. She couldn’t think of anything more fragile or precious that she had manipulated before. It took her a while, but she figured she had it under control and her unpracticed clumsiness wouldn’t kill him. It became easier, after the initial moment of panic.

She also finally had some time to look around the room. The windows were closed, and a small fireplace provided a comforting heat. It had a bed in the center where a tired griffoness laid on her side. The Older Loremaster, Gelinda, covered her with a white sheet before stroking her head and talking softly with her. She let four other cubs next to the mom’s belly.

A black griffon, with his back to them, washed his paws on a sink while yet another griffoness talked to the new mother. And she was the one Gilda found herself most curious about. She was small for a griffoness, and Gilda wondered for a second if she wasn’t a teenager. Maybe a younger sister?

Things calmed down, but there was yet controlled activity in the room. The younger Loremaster took a tray with surgical instruments and some wet sheets away. And Gelinda approached Gilda and Gia with a jesting chuckling, taking the cub from her with slow and careful paws. “Good morning, Gilda. Welcome to Wayfarer’s Rest.”

“Uh…” Gilda mumbled. “Thanks?”

“Miss Giovina had a complicated pregnancy.” Gelinda smiled, leaving the small cub with his siblings and their sleeping mother. “Griffonesses are supposed to have two or three cubs. She just birthed five. One of which you assisted. They were born small and one of them almost didn’t survive. He will be prone to diseases, but I am sure that the grandmother, aunts, and friends will help our new mother.”

“I uh… Oh… Yeah… Gia wanted to talk to you.” Gilda finally gathered her wits again and pointed at the green griffoness who pretended she wasn’t there.

“I’m sure she does.” Gelinda wasn’t impressed and the black griffon approached too.

It was a large griffon covered in black and with purple eyes. Very smooth feathers over his head and his body had a velvety fur with his feathers. He nodded when the Loremaster presented him to Gilda. “This is Doctor Gordi. He is my mate. Gordi, this is Gilda, the griffoness I told you about.”

“Greetings, Lady Gilda.” The black griffon offered her a paw for her to shake and she did with a smile and a nod. “Gelinda told me you and your company mean to go North to Griffindell. I suggest a medical check-up for all.”

“Oh! Nice! That’s a good idea.” Gilda beamed. “Sounds like the north is no joke!”

“Just make sure that your griffons show up before you depart. I’ll give you a special price.” He added with a calm smile. Meanwhile Gilda did her best not to show she thought he meant for free. But he didn’t linger, busy as he was. “I must see to the little ones now.”

He left them only to be replaced by the short griffon lady Gilda had seen before. She was about a head shorter than griffons usually were. But her feathers and fur were incredibly glossy. What she lacked in height, she made up with the sheen in her feathers. Her head was a greenish blue with even more blue in her neck. And while her chest lacked fluff, it more than made up with shiny feathers. Her beak also looked funny, being thin and long.

“Don’t you know you owe a visit to the chief of security of every city you visit?!” She hopped and beat her wings in the cramped place just so that she stood at Gilda’s height. Her voice was so high pitched and fast Gilda almost had trouble understanding what she was saying. Not to mention she spoke fast. “Huh? Huh?”

Taken aback, Gilda grimaced and sat on the floor. “Actually, I didn’t.”

“Gilda, meet Gosalynn.” Gelinda smiled. “The head of our weather team and Captain of our Sky Sentries.”

“Uh… Hi?” Gilda smiled awkwardly.

The small griffoness just hovered in front of Gilda, wings buzzing and eyes squinting. “Anyways, I need to talk to you!”

“Alright.” Gilda simply nodded and the small griffoness was already walking her way outside before she even agreed. So, since the griffoness left her behind and expected her to follow, Gilda followed with a shrug at the short one’s curious manners. Gelinda and Gia went along behind Gilda, while they talked in a reserved tone.

Their conversation was clearly something personal and Gilda didn’t bother with it. Instead, she hurried to catch up with the small griffoness.

“Uh… Is there a problem?” Gilda asked as they walked around Grunhilda playing with the little cubs outside. Gilda decided not to disturb her, but once she saw Gilda, Grunhilda joined them anyways.

“You’ll see.” Gosalynn said while she kept her eyes on the way and her buzzing wings kept her afloat.

They walked in relative silence among the small northerner griffon houses. The large cobblestones and dirt which made the road was easy walking for griffon paws. But as nice as it was, Gilda supposed she still hadn’t learned patience because she felt more anxious with each step. Not to mention Gosalynn’s calling her on not presenting herself earlier. So much she needed to learn about the northerners and their way of doing stuff.

Gia and Gelinda whispering to each other didn’t help her either. Especially because it sounded like a heated argument.

Soon enough the group arrived at the top of a small hill overlooking the path that circled around the outer part of the city to the north gate. A small wood fence kept distracted griffons from falling over and it was basically a section of the inner wall that held the small hill.

When she looked down the fence, Gilda’s eyes went wide.

Hundreds of griffons had camped there. Small tents tried to stay out of the way of passing caravans but left nary a thin passage in the middle of the road. Some griffons had even started small campfires and kept large, wooly oxen in an improvised pen made with several carts. And the carts were, of course, loaded with tall bundles of cargo wrapped in leather and ropes.

“What in The Harpy’s name…” Gia gasped as she too looked down the fence.

And that was when one of the griffons, a lanky guy with sand colored fur and feathers looked up at them. His eyes too went wide as he gasped comically loud. “Oh my gosh! It’s her! Guys! It’s Lady Gilda! Over there!”

That caused griffons to stare up to the lookout above the palisade and start cheering.

“What the fuck?” Gilda whispered with her jaw hanging and turned to the other griffonesses.

“We received a magical letter from Madam Gaetana in Thunderpeak,” The banker Loremaster, Gilda remembered as the local Loremaster explained. “Informing us of your impending arrival and the migrants caught wind of it.”

She stopped for a second, allowing Gilda to contemplate the griffons still cheering for her. “Some of them had been here waiting for quite some time, waiting for enough numbers for a caravan north. They decided to postpone their departure one more day just so that they could travel with the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani.”

Talk about beating a dead horse. So much for Gilda’s plan of a discreet trip north… She all but sighed in resignation and the prominent feathers in her head flopped.

“Ahem.” Gosalynn’s high-pitched voice clearing her throat drew Gilda’s attention.

“Last night something happened.” Gelinda nodded. “Someone activated the Red Dawn order in Griffonstone.”

“Ominous…” Gilda rolled her eyes. Meanwhile the griffons below still cheered. “Let me guess, it’s bad.”

“Not necessarily. Information hasn’t arrived yet on what happened, but it is meant to protect our assets in the city.” Gelinda explained with some gesturing. “Chances are that, indeed, something unfortunate happened… The Chancellor may have started to crack down on our supporters, or maybe some government official figured something out about our fronts. We don’t know. For us, it means that we are about to receive many griffons going north. Our cells will move our supporters out of Griffonstone via the teleporter to Thunderpeak and here by caravans. Hurriedly.”

Easy to see where the conversation was going, but Gilda said nothing yet. It was Gia that spoke.

“No. No way! Nu-uh.” The green griffoness threw a tantrum, shaking her head as widely and frantically as a griffon neck allowed. “We are, most certainly, not hauling anywhere near hundreds, much less thousands, of griffons with us!”

“Yeah…” Gosalynn flickered her wings and hovered at a proper height. “I was going to be nice and not spell it out, but we’re not really asking. The town can’t keep them. For one, we can’t feed them. And two, they’re just going to attract monsters and brigands. It’s going to turn into a mess I don’t want on my paws.”

The way her funny voice carried authority was an interesting thing to notice. Gilda would be amused if she didn’t feel so numb already. She was, in fact, about to include ‘stress relief’ to Grunhilda’s job.

Huh… A formal list of duties might be a fun thing to have.

As much as Gilda wanted to stay in her delusional distraction from reality, Gosalynn was still talking. “Of course, my Sky Sentries will assist you all the way to Frozenlake.”

Maybe Gelinda and her Loremaster senses detected Gilda’s silent distress and she followed on Gosalynn’s words. “Most of them won’t go as far as Griffindell.”

Once she had Gilda’s attention, she went on. “The practice is to keep them close to the border until they learn how to survive in the north. Build some resistance and some northerner wisdom into them. So, they travel to Frozenlake and they become Lord Graham and Lady Geena’s subjects. They will settle in the city or will be sent to recently founded villages in their jurisdiction.”

“Of course,” Gelinda went on. “Frozenlake has only so much territory where they can guarantee their safety each batch, so many will still go to Brokenhorn to live under Lord Griskjal. I am sure Lord Graham will provide some assistance too. It is what the Sky Sentry does.”

Finally, she concluded with a smile. “While Griffindell is our largest and most developed city, the area around it is not for new arrivals. Few go there in their first year. Chances are you will have a small and discreet caravan on the final leg of your journey. As is preferable.”

“While it is generally true that small caravans are better, that is so because of the speed.” Gelinda concluded with her professorial tone, sitting, and letting her blue cape rest around her. “A large caravan is better for transporting unprepared griffons, if its leaders know what they are doing and prepare accordingly. I trust Mister Gillian with that.”

“Yeah…” Gia rolled her eyes and held a derisive grimace. “Not to mention that Lady Gwendolen doesn’t want small villages ruining her view from Griffinsky.”

She didn’t like it. Gilda had initially decided on a quick stay in Wayfarer’s Rest, traveling as fast as they could to Griffindell. She had ancient memories floating around in her head added to just plain common sense. She knew that thing was going to be dangerous. However, compromises had already been made and she was neck deep into that mess. No way out. She helped the griffons in Thunderpeak and drew to herself a lot more attention than she needed. She supposed she was lucky some Royal Justiciar didn’t just teleport into her face already.

The truth was that she should just tell them to deal with their problems. She had her own problems. She has been dealing with her problems for a while, and ‘the griffon thing to do’ was to just leave.

Yet, with all that spinning around in her head, Gilda’s heart weighted in her chest. She turned back to the griffons below. They had stopped cheering, but there was definitely more activity going on in the road camp below. She could see some griffons talking excitedly to each other. Some of them even had that excited innocence of the ponies, hopping in place and talking like it was their birthday. They didn’t look like the hardened and grizzly northerners. Just normal griffons, like Greta and Gary, trying to live through the mess their country had turned into. There were kids too. Families. Although much fewer than one would expect, confirming her previous suspicion that the long-seated problems in Griffonia had upset would-be parents.

Gilda would be lying if she said she didn’t feel for them. They left their homes behind. Some of them were in a hurry and may have left too much behind. Never one for much of a sense of community, at the least Gilda knew that felt.

Do not shy from a sense of duty towards your brethren, My Child. It is a noble endeavor and a service I am most pleased with. Much less underestimate the benefits of your position or the privilege that is the ability of choosing who will serve your own designs.

A naughty grin showed in Gilda’s beak as a finger caressed her jaw. Some of those griffons looked like they were doing quite well for themselves despite their situation. She saw an older couple with an adult sitting at a comfortable set of pillows. Under guard from a trio of big and burly griffons. Rich griffons, looking for comfort and someone that knew what they’re doing to protect them. And with lots of money to buy that protection and comfort.

Not quite. Rich griffons are present in numbers larger than you would ever need them. Your position as my chosen puts you above monetary concerns. Try again.

Hum… Gilda squinted. Her eagle eyes scanned the agglomeration of griffons. It was not money that she should look for, of course. She soon found what her Mother expected her to see. A griffon that reminded her very much of Gertha and her brother Gui. Or the handsome guy in the hunting supplies shop, but he had a ‘proper’ griffon tail. Dark gray fur and feathers on his body, except on his black head and chest. Golden eyes he kept on a map strewn over a bundle of cargo. Gilda could see the butt of a firearm sticking out of his cargo. He looked like a mercenary. A griffon that could get stuff done and knew how to survive in the wild, but also was smart enough to not try and travel on his own.

Although, the hunter from the store knew how to craft his own tools. He was also a nice guy, given all the crap griffons like Gia gave him. She wasn’t used to analyzing creatures, but it spoke of character, as far as Gilda was concerned. Gilda doubted she could convince him, and his mate, to stick around her to be dragged further north.

What is your infatuation with that half-blood? You are of higher stock. Too much above his league. I would have him castrated for even touching you!

To be honest, Gilda wasn’t as surprised as she should be. Maybe it was because she had gotten used to The Harpy talking inside her head. But it was also because she already expected she might say something like that, given what Gilda had seen.

She tried not thinking about it, but how in the hot Tartarus does one avoid thinking about something?

Screw that… The Harpy was responsible for how griffons treated each other if she was responsible for the whole purity thing. Or… If Lady Gwendolen was following her command.

“Well, the dude is good looking and knows how to handle himself. He has skills and makes his own tools. That’s valuable.” She spoke aloud on impulse. “Not to mention that Gia was a dick to him, and he didn’t deserve it just because his parents were wrong!”

Only after she talked back to the voice she alone heard, she realized that the others were there right behind her. And probably thought she was going insane.

And you are not supposed to talk back to me! He is a danger to future generations of purer griffons. One of his ilk could ruin years of careful strategic mating. If they are not kept in their place, they will forget it. They will start believing the pony ways. That they are entitled to things.

“You’re exaggerating!” Gilda shot back. “Especially with griffons like him that are well aware he’s not supposed to have cubs.”

You are speaking out of place! Nobody understands griffons as I do. You are naíve and ideals the hooved ones have indoctrinated you with are blinding you to how easy it is to fall to their wicked ways. They turned My Children into weak-willed bastards that cannot be told they are unfit! They must accept it.

She stopped for a second.

They will suffer if they cannot.

Gilda gasped softly. Did she… She was convinced that they would suffer because they would believe they are entitled to something they couldn’t have. Gilda’s brow bent into a frown and she crossed her forelegs. “If you’re going to say that I’m so important to you, then you have to listen to me when you’re wrong! And you have to do something about griffons hating him over not being from a pure breed! It doesn’t work like that.”

The voice inside Gilda’s head literally gasped, but Gilda didn’t give her time to respond. “He seems like a hard-working griffon! One that is valuable to his community. This is true and you know it is because the local northerners treat him with respect, even at a distance! It is the entitled jerks like Gia that you enable, that give him trouble. Madam Gelinda, and Gladys in Griffonstone, said that Celestia is using hippogriffs to ruin the pure griffon bloodlines. If you truly believe that, you have to welcome them. Because by pushing the less pure griffons away, you are literally playing into Celestia’s hoof! Instead of accepting and understanding they can’t have cubs, they’ll join the enemy and have cubs anyways. You are driving them away and they’ll take whatever skill they have and will be helping the enemy! Not to mention all the sorrow and hating this will create among griffons that should be working together.”

I…

Gilda’s eyes widened. For the first time The Harpy hesitated, or even showed any sort of insecurity. “You are hurting them. Not hardening, or preparing them.”

As She went silent, Gilda allowed herself a small nod of victory. She put her forepaws on the top of the fencing at the top of the wall, barely believing what she had gotten away with. She was glad she opened her mind to The Harpy. She got angry, and she didn’t want to admit it, but Gilda was sure she had given her a good argument.

Most importantly, Gilda’s consciousness was clean. What a wonderful feeling that is.

The griffoness returned her gaze down to the agglomerated griffons with a confident smile that turned to a concerned frown. Did they leave any ‘half-blood’ behind? No… They wouldn’t. Most of these griffons probably didn’t even truly understand the concept.

Once again, squinting her eyes, she looked for interesting things in the group of griffons until Grunhilda interrupted. “Hum… Are you okay, Miss Gilda?”

Gilda turned to see the other griffonesses staring at her, each with their own measure of confusion and worry, in a single line side by side.

“Yeah…” Gilda did her best to make a reassuring grin instead of a mocking one. That certainly looked weird from their perspective. “I’m fine.”

“You really do talk to Her, don’t you?” Gia rolled her eyes walking next to Gilda to look down the fence. “This is dumb, anyways. We’ll be carrying the dinner bell and the whole buffet with us. Unless you can talk The Harpy into shooing the Windigos away for us.”

“I know what you think, Gia.” Gilda looked at her. “But these griffons need help. You heard something important happened.”

“I sure did.” Gia said sarcastically. “I just missed the part where that is our problem.”

“It is our problem. Just because I disagreed with Her, it doesn’t mean that we don’t need to help these griffons get home. To our real home.” Gilda pleaded, offering her paws, and giving Gia a begging stare.

“You know a whole total of one griffon that exactly one other griffon treated badly…” Gia reminded her with a deadpan. “I don’t buy your white knighting over treating the half-bloods like they’re equal to the members of the Court.”

Gilda groaned and turned to the griffons below, pointing a talon. “I don’t disagree that griffons are different, Gia. I’m sure that The Harpy has good reasons for doing what she does, getting Lady Gwendolen to teach such things to the Loremasters… But in the middle of those griffons there are both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ griffons; all of them are struggling together. If I hadn’t gotten help from other griffons, even pony-loving griffons, I, and my special blood, wouldn’t have gotten here!”

Beautiful, My Child.

Whoa… She was still listening. Gilda blinked blankly as though she was caught red-pawed stealing fish from the market.

What you lack in the sophistication of a Loremaster, your heart delivers in the passion of a griffon that has been exposed to suffering. You found compassion for your brethren and your choleric heart told me I am wrong. The same thing Grigory has told me in strategic thoughts that I considered misguided by a similar naivety to yours. Know that I have listened, and your words weigh heavily in my heart. I will take them into consideration, even if I believe you are unaware of the dangers the pony way of thinking presents to your brethren. I do not say this lightly, but the lives of My Children are too important not to consider the words of those close to me.

Gilda deflated a little. Something she didn’t fully understand made sense when she poured her heart out. And she spoke both to The Harpy and to Gia, still looking down at the agglomerated griffons below. “Let’s just try to find a position where we get stuff done without hurting our own. Alright?”

The voice in her head didn’t answer, but her silence was agreeable enough. Gia, however, groaned and rolled her eyes with a derisive grin. “You’re just hot for that half-blood, aren’t you? I still don’t know how any of this is my problem.”

“Well…” Gilda turned to Gia, poking her chest with a talon. “It’s my problem because I’m making it my problem by wanting to help. And that makes it your problem too because you’re stuck with me. Therefore, it’s our problem.”

That settled it. Gilda decided to go along with the large caravan plan. To help those griffons, yes. But also just to spite Gia. “Not much we can do… We’ll take them. We’ll leave in the morning with whoever made it here. And you’re going too. Because we’ll need your help as our Loremaster.”

Then Gilda chuckled. “Also, because Lady Gwendolen is just going to send someone to fetch you if you don’t go. And that is likely to end poorly for you.”

Grunhilda did a little giggle, hiding her beak with her paws and Geary just watched as though he had nothing to do with the whole conversation. Gelinda had a disappointed blank expression though. “I am sure Mother Harpy appreciates your enthusiasm, Gia. You are a Loremaster, for feather’s sake. You should recognize the signs of time. You just witnessed a griffoness talking to The Harpy. As far as I know, Lady Gwendolen used to be the only one.”

Meanwhile the short griffoness that was Gosalynn watched the interaction and didn’t speak. All she did was pay attention and rub her jaw with curiosity. No idea what went inside her head, but Gilda sure had more things to say.

“One thing, though.” Gilda added. “I wanna be in charge. And Mister Gillian will deal with caravan matters. I trust him and we have enough of a relationship already.”

Would be nice to know his opinion first, but if griffons thought that she was so awesome, they might as well put their money where their beaks were. The others didn’t complain and Gosalynn simply nodded at Gilda like she really was the boss.

“Sounds fair!” The pretty and short griffoness showed her a thumb up with a grin behind her weird long and thin beak.

“He should be in the market.” Gosalynn added cheerfully, and her wings fluttered to hover a few paws above the ground. Happy as though Gilda had removed a weight from her shoulders. Then she buzzed away. Probably before Gilda changed her mind.

“Ugh. Fine.” Gia growled and frowned with barely contained anger. “Whatever. Just give me the stupid witchweed.”

Gilda grimaced and recoiled at the older Loremaster reaction as she slapped Gia in the face. Then Gilda had to contain her laughter that turned to a grinning giggling. It was not really a harsh slap, but it wasn’t a soft one either. It was one of those slaps the right way to hurt one’s ego much more than their body.

“If you had paid attention to Lady Gwendolen’s classes, not only wouldn’t you need those weeds,” The older griffoness pointed a finger and waved it like she talked to a cub that had done wrong. “But you would understand the importance of protecting Her Children.”

“Yeah, yeah… Our Mother deals in griffons and her currency is our souls.” Gia sighed, frowned again, and rubbed her eyes. “Fine. I still need the feathering witchweed.”

So, that was what she was talking about with Gelinda before. Not that Gilda cared that much, but she supposed it was understandable. Gia probably made full use of Geary’s… Faculties. And didn’t like cubs. Gilda stole a glance at Geary, sitting next to Grunhilda. Patiently waiting for Gia to need something from him while she argued with the older Loremaster.

Gilda had to admit that he was quite handsome.

Wait a second. Gilda raised a paw. “Hey! I thought that we were not supposed to drink the witchweed tea. Although, that was because The Harpy wanted the Swordmaidens to have the Emperor’s cubs. Did that apply to the Loremasters too?”

Gilda blinked at her own words. “Wait. How is she supposed to not need it?”

“A Loremaster has full control of her mind and body.” Gelinda spoke with her majestic poise before she looked at Gia with a disdainful glare. “At least, they’re supposed to.”

That didn’t surprise Gilda. Maybe it was because of the memories from past lives seeping in, or because magic really did make anything possible. Especially now that she had some nifty magic of her own. Her face still showed her surprise, though. “Like… Can a Loremaster bang a dude during her cycle and not get pregnant? Without any magical devices, or pills, or teas? That… Sounds useful… You know. To get rid of ‘the fire’.”

“Actually, a Loremaster is not supposed to feel, much less give in to such urgings.” While Gia just showed a bored frown and remained silent, the older Gelinda laughed a little and nodded. “Surprised? It’s understandable. You have lived your whole life in the south and the myths, many of them true, about the Loremasters never reached you. Unlike the Swordmaidens, Loremasters are quite common in our time. The northerners learned to respect us in the few years Lady Gwendolen started sending us out from Griffindell.”

“How do I learn that?” After all, Gilda was supposed to be both a Swordmaiden and a Loremaster. Even as a swordsgriffon, control over her mind and body sounded useful.

“To master one’s body, one must first master one’s mind.” Gelinda used the professorial tone. “In the ancient times, the first stages of training of both Loremasters and Swordmaidens intertwined. Today, we don’t have enough griffonesses worthy of wielding a dancing sword.”

“I know two.” Gia shrugged. “But Gwineth went through Thunderpeak in a hurry. I barely got a chance to talk to her. Much less getting her to help liberate the city from Mayor Grosster and the Chancellor.”

“Did you mean recruiting her help to get the money for yourself?” Gilda Teased the other with the straightest face she had.

Gia didn’t answer, she just frowned and pouted while the older Loremaster gave a contained laughter. The former also quickly changed the subject. “Well, I taught you something. Remember?”

Gilda grinned. “You did! That meditation thing helped a lot to help me connect to my magic!”

“You should build upon that.” Gelinda added with a gesture. “Even if Lady Gwendolen is bound to properly training you, learning such skills and fostering your inner strength is paramount. Discipline and mindfulness are two of the most useful skills a griffon can learn. From a young tom that has just left cubhood to an old Loremaster such as myself. The heart of mastering the arcane lies within thoughtful practice.”

Finally, the old Loremaster concluded with a friendly smile. “Take some time off your day and look inside. The mind is a cavernous and mysterious place to explore. Ripe with treasury for those willing to dedicate themselves.”

“Thanks, Madam Gelinda.” Gilda even allowed herself a small respectful nod. “I’ll remember that.”

“Aren’t you going to be up in her case for talking back to The Harpy, or something?” Gia growled like a child with an injured ego.

Gelinda shrugged. “Who am I to tell her how to address Our Mother? I have precedence over telling griffons of our traditions and moral laws. I am a teacher foremost, but I cannot tell an adult griffon how to address Aya Harpyia. She is responsible for the way griffons treat her much as any other griffon is supposed to impose their limits upon others.”

The Raptorial Creed in practice.

Then Gelinda slapped Gia to the sound of a surprised yelp. Again. “And that is also something you should know.”

Again, Gilda found herself barely restraining her giggling while Gia rubbed her cheek. “Yeah, keep having fun at my expense, hero. We’ll see how that goes once Lady Gwendolen starts doing the same to you.”

Unfortunately for Gia, that didn’t have the effect she expected. Gilda just chucked at her and punched her shoulder lightly. “C’mon. Let’s get the others up to speed.”

The two were followed by their thralls, and Madam Gelinda walked by their side. Gilda’s side, because Gia changed to walk on her other side when the other approached. Gilda was going to make some light fun of her, but instead chose to talk of more serious matters.

“So, I suppose that we should prepare to receive a lot of griffons.” She talked to either of them. “Right?”

“So we should.” Gelinda agreed with her serene voice. “Though that is the responsibility of the city’s leadership. They will require my assistance and that of my apprentice, however. Not to mention that city guards will be required to check their belongings. But you might wish to ensure everything runs smoothly on your end. You’ll be the ones hauling inexperienced griffons into the lands of the Windigos. It is a good idea to ensure everything runs smoothly.”

“Or not.” She showed a mischievous grin that looked positively evil in the old griffoness’ beak. “Maybe you would prefer some griffons not make it with your caravan for personal reasons. What is the point of having power if you don’t use it, after all?”

“That sounds smart.” Gia cheered as she walked next to Gilda. “Can I get the others to vote out this stupid idea? Go back to ten-something griffons caravan?”

“No.” Gilda gave her a playful smile. “Democracies are for lame ponies.”

Since Gia’s reaction was an annoyed grimace, Gilda went on with a deeper grin. “Come on, Gia. Lighten up. At least it’s not like we’re going to be picking up any more ponies on the way.”

Author's Note

So, legitimate question for you people.

Does anyone feel my characters are talking heads? I write dialogue-heavy scenes, but I never thought it was a problem. Because I like characters talking, and I try to put a reasonable amount of gesturing and movement. They are generally doing something while they are talking.

Does anybody have some feedback on that account?

The Soulsmith

A quick walk took Gilda, her loremaster ‘friend’, their thralls, and the old local Loremaster to the entrance gate in the outer part of the city. That was a lot of griffons that had just come in, and more were still entering through the East Gate.

She had no idea how large their forces were, but it seemed that the entirety of the city’s guard was there talking to the new arrivals and that included the griffons from the Sky Sentry. She knew because they didn’t wear the leather armor, but their full black plates. And she recognized one of them from their meeting in the wild.

Gelinda’s apprentice, the younger griffon lady with the characteristic blue silk cape was already hard at work supervising the whole thing and Gelinda recruited Gia’s help to identify those elusive purer griffons in the middle of the mass. She didn’t like it but didn’t say no to the older Loremaster.

The newcomers were either too tired to bother or too scared to complain. Even as the fluffy and black, fire drooling simargl hounds started pointing at the forbidden stuff in what little they had brought with them.

The truth was that there wasn’t anything for Gilda to do there. Gia was busy helping the local Loremasters and Gilda’s griffons were all inside the inn, wisely out of minds and out of the way. That was probably the clever thing to do, but she decided to stay. Gilda had the impression that something could go bad in a hurry. She didn’t know what, or why she should care about it, but she convinced herself that she should be there.

Maybe it was that ‘sense of duty to her fellow griffons’, or whatever Her Mother had called it. She just hoped that staying there she could avoid someone getting shot over the candy their kids brought. Although that was probably unlikely as that group was from Thunderpeak and probably left not long after she had left herself.

That was the problem. That was why she was on edge. Gilda kept paying attention and a second look told her that they really didn’t look very well. There was coughing and some cubs cried among the refugees. The thought that they might already be griffons from Griffonstone chilled her spine and put a grimace in her beak. There were carts and old griffons. Some of them didn’t look like they could make the trip north. Had they traveled all night? All of them?

They would not be prepared for whatever the North would throw at them. Even with all that talk about how the process was meant to acclimatize them to their new home, it seemed daunting. She worried for them.

Fortunately, the innkeeper and her kids brought some food and drinks to those griffons. Mostly sausages, hot mead and teas as the cold had descended upon the town like the Windigos just wanted to show how much they hated everything.

Of course, that was her best guess based on obscure memories from the past and her gut feeling. Maybe the activation of that ominous sounding Red Dawn implied griffons from Thunderpeak should beat it to the north too. Although, the city was going to be attacked and she was pretty sure The Harpy would be cross at griffons fleeing instead of defending it.

Thunderpeak was an important city, if for nothing else, for the teleporter. It was one of those things that even the idiots that had no idea about warfare knew was important.

Grunhilda sat by her side, paying attention to the mess of griffons working or waiting for their turn. She kept right next to Gilda, close enough to touch. As though she needed physical contact to reassure her. But she didn’t shake or anything. She just stayed with Gilda and, somehow, radiated a nervous energy.

Or maybe it was Gilda that was nervous. She would go with the former because it seemed cooler that she was there for her friend.

“You, okay?” Gilda asked her without looking and put a wing behind her friend’s back. Still keeping her eyes in the activity, but her attention was on her friend.

“Yes…” Grunhilda spoke softly. “I’m just a little worried. It seems something bad is happening in Griffonstone. I didn’t really like it there, but I know that not all griffons are bad. Even the ones that don’t like the northerners. Like the griffons in the office. They were always nice to me.”

Gilda nodded softly and her thoughts drifted to Greta and Gary. So many nice griffons, despite it all, back in Griffonstone. Goldina and the crazy nurse, for example. That guy that was always next to her. The cute mailgriffoness that often delivered her letters like it was the happiest moment of her day. The two hookers Gilda had known in her brush with the legal system probably were safe if Gladys kept her word of looking out for them.

Suddenly angry barking and panicking griffon cries yanked Gilda out of her thoughts. She didn’t even think and reacted, rushing to where the sounds of the mess came from. Grunhilda followed her and soon there were simargls running towards the barking and screeching like they were drawn to it. Their leashes flayed in their mad dash and angry handlers, left behind, yelled at them.

Gilda soon found the source of the commotion. Other handlers were angry that their dogs were freaking out, and griffons circled around like they wanted nothing to do with it. But there was a cart in the middle of all that chaos, still attached to a panicking black wooly ox. The cart itself, loaded with cargo, looked ready to break apart, with the creaking sounds of cracking wood. The dogs jumped around the cart and the ox, barking like crazy at a thestral pony at the top, not at whatever was under the cowhide protection. The pony didn’t help either, hissing and screeching at them like it was the queen of the hill.

Curiously, none of the winged dogs actually used their wings to reach the thestral. They just jumped and barked insistently. Almost like they feared her. Meanwhile a griffon lady tried to calm the ox before it bolted and caused some real damage. The dog handlers tried to control their simargls with little effect, and to make things worse, the poor girl was on the brink of panic too.

The handlers pulled the dogs by their leashes and yelled commands to them, but they wouldn’t relent even when they whipped the dogs with their leashes. The pony kept screeching and hoofing at the mound of stuff she was on too. Her coat was a washed-out shade of blue with a beautiful sapphire mane she tied in a ponytail. She even flapped her leathery dark-blue wings and her cyan slitted eyes just seemed fiercer than the dogs and the chaos they caused.

“What the actual… Who…” Gilda’s face contorted into a confused frown with Gia coming to a stop next to her.

“Great, another damn pony.” The green one groaned like it was just a nuisance.

“Get these dogs under control, for feather’s sake!” Gosalynn cried, also landing next to Gilda, but to no avail.

The simargls were quite a bit larger than the ones Gilda recalled from the times of the Empire, but just as obstinate and even stronger. No matter what their handlers did, they kept jumping and barking like they wanted to rip the thestral apart.

It was only when Gelinda also landed next to Gilda the handlers managed to put some order in the mess and pulled the dogs away long enough that they calmed and were taken from there. The Loremaster took advantage of the new peace and pointed at the ground. “Get down, pony.”

“Word!” The pony hopped to the cobblestone street with a friendly smile despite her frown. She spoke in Common Equestrian with a very cheery voice and a lisp that was either charmingly annoying or aggravatingly cute. “Those things are dangerous!”

“What are you doing here?” Gelinda spoke in a heavily accented Common Equestrian and gave the pony a harsh stare from her higher stature. “Your kind is not welcome in these parts. The only ones we suffer are those we have no choice but to let through.”

The pony put up a hoof for Gelinda to shake, or bump, and smiled even more. The large cyan bow that held her mane bopped a few times with all the bouncing. “I’m Moonbow!”

She also showed the saddlebags that covered her thighs. Velvety blue and with a rainbow in front of a full moon.

Gellinda was quickly losing her patience and her tone indicated it clearly. “I didn’t ask your name, I told you are not welcome here. Go away.”

Gia kept her impatient scowl. “We’re not taking you North.”

“Aw! But you should!” The happy pony didn’t let the stares she received discourage her. “We’re very similar. We thestrals and you northerner griffons.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure you meant this as something good,” Gilda told her, closing the distance, and getting in Gelinda’s way before she slashed the pony’s throat, or something. “But what you just said sounded very offensive to them.”

Gilda also spoke in the Common Equestrian, but her pronunciation wasn’t so loaded with the North’s whistle-y accent. She supposed that it would be easier for the pony to understand.

“Well, I am sorry.” Moonbow hoofed at her chin and whined. “But it is true. You guys live isolated from the other griffons and my kind has sort of lived isolated too. Especially after all the ponies started hating us because of Nightmare Moon. Only recently we started to come out in the day. So, yeah… We kinda should understand and support each other. Right?”

She concluded with a very wide and very ‘pony’ smile adorned with her fangs.

“Ponies don’t know hatred.” Gelinda told the thestral in the northerner language before she turned and walked away. “Leave. We have no use for you, and you are a bother that doesn’t even talk our language. Your very presence is an offense to everything we believe.”

The pony, once again, didn’t let that dampen her mood and showed a dirty smile with her little fangs showing before speaking in perfect High Griffonese. “Well, you should know that as Chancellor in the Canterlot College of History, I am well studied in several aspects of that discipline. Not to mention that I am fluent in Modern Griffonese, High Griffonese, Pegasian, Cloud Pegasian, Unicornish, Ancient Unicornish, Yakayak, Buffalo smoke signals and even the Changeling Shik-ti. Including dialects from the long dead Changeling Broods. I am very useful!”

First, Gilda had to admit that the expression on Gelinda’s face was worth all the money she had left in the bank back in Thunderpeak. Also, that Gelinda was damn scary when she was angry. “What is it that you want, batpony?”

Gilda just got out of the way before Gelinda’s anger spilled on her. The thestral was on her own.

However, the Loremaster controlled herself, exhaling softly, returning to her superior poise. “We are dealing with an emergency. Please, leave us.”

“I know!” Moonbow nodded urgently. “That is why I am here! Something huge is happening and I came after my colleague Lost Temple. He doesn’t know it and doesn’t know me, but I’m the one who organized his expedition with Daring Do and I chose him because of his interest in Griffon History. He was perfect. But then everything went awry and… Well, here we are. I want to help! My position alone will be valuable! And… Come on! I can smell it! It’s History in the making!”

“No.” Gia cried. “We’re not taking yet another pony across the Whitescape to Griffindell! Especially not with hundreds of clueless griffons in tow!”

“Yes, we are!” Gilda grinned heartly at the pony and offered her a fist to bump. She did the latter with a grin that matched Gilda’s. “Welcome to the caravan, Miss Moonbow.”

Gia’s body shook and her feathers ruffled like she was having a seizure or something. “You don’t understand! Madam Gelinda, tell her!”

Gilda looked at the older Loremaster, but instead of siding with Gia, she just shrugged and showed a disinterested stare. “If that is what Lady Gilda wants. I’m sure that this one will be as useful to Lady Gwendolen as the unicorn. If for no other reason, her position.”

She walked and turned to face both Gilda and Gia. “The path forward is not always easy, young queen. But it is what Our Mother requires of us.”

“Yeah…” Gia deadpanned. “And that is why you’re coming with, right?”

“Of course not!” Gelinda gasped comically loud. “My duty lies within the city’s walls. I am important to the community!”

“Stop whining.” Gosalynn’s acute voice chastised Gia as she approached the group in the middle of the still gathered curious griffons. “The caravan will be much smaller and faster on the final hop across the Whitescape to Griffindell. And I’ll be going with you all the way to Frozenlake with the city’s entire Sky Sentry detachment.”

“Can we just get back to work?” Gosalynn whined, flaring her wings, and pulling back her head dramatically. “I’m getting hungry! You won’t like me when I’m hungry!”

Instead, Gia groaned to the clouded and violent sky while turning to Gilda. She even held Gilda’s shoulders with her wings. “Please, let’s leave the ponies. I’m not above doing sexual favors if that makes you change your mind… I rather do anything other than embarking on this suicide trip.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are over dramatic?” Gilda glared at her. “We’re going, and you’re going with us. If you want to get us the best chances we can get, why won’t you go see Mister Gillian and help him plan for the trip?”

But Gilda just couldn’t let slip the chance to poke at her. “I’ll tell The Harpy you were a good girl, despite trying to steal all the money from Thunderpeak.”

“Alright. Fine!” Gia glared back at Gilda, with a furious pout and fuming. “Just so that you know, I hate you. I hate your guts. And while I die with some frostmane chewing on my cute face, know that I’ll be yelling that it was all your fault!”

With that she harrumphed and stormed her way back to the inn, followed by Geary. But before following her, he stopped and grinned at Gilda. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll get her to help Mister Gillian.”

With the pair gone, Gelinda approached Gilda again. “As amusing as that was, she is not entirely incorrect. You should prepare yourself. Start by getting this batpony out of the streets. Keep her close to the unicorn and keep an eye on them.”

She concluded with a low voice and squinted at the pony who was talking to her apprentice and one of the guards some steps away. “The unicorn feels harmless, but this thestral makes me uneasy. Together, they’ll be trouble.”

“Will do.” Gilda nodded discreetly, before turning her gaze to the pony.

Gelinda and Gosalynn went their ways to deal with the newcomers and the bureaucratic mess that must have been all those griffons arriving out of the blue. They all had names and places of origin, not to mention they needed to go somewhere, after all. Gilda took the opportunity to push Grunhilda’s shoulder and get her attention from the guards bringing the simargls back.

“Hey, get the batpony inside and stay with her.” She told the white griffoness and acknowledged the obedient nod her thrall gave her. “I’ll be here checking out these new griffons for a while. If anything seems off, come find me.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda concluded with a too serious frown that Gilda was used to seeing in cubs playing some detective game. But before she could say or do anything Grunhilda was already talking to Moonbow. She just hoped that nothing ‘seems off’ until they’re ready to depart. Hopefully in the morning. And without additional ponies.

Fortunately, nothing cropped up in that mess of griffons other than a few candies being thrown in the stream out of town. Things proceeded smoothly as the morning went on and Grunhilda remained inside the inn with the ponies. Gia was too busy to complain, and the rest of Gilda’s associates remained out of the way.

Gilda kept next to Gosalynn while her guards and the Sky Sentries reorganized the whole mess of griffons. She seemed busy and maybe Gilda could help in some way.

“Like we needed another pony in here.” Gosalynn’s childish voice made her comment even better and Gilda chuckled at her pain.

“I feel you.” She still agreed, though. “Don’t worry, I’ll take her out of your feathers soon enough.”

“Thank you.” Gosalynn smiled at her. “This town is already a pawful.”

Gilda could have been seeing things. But when Gosalynn turned away to talk to a griffon that had called her, Gilda caught something with the corner of her eyes. It looked like someone entering the East Gate under a deep purple cloak. But when Gilda looked again, there was nothing more than griffons busying themselves and complaining teens. More and more griffons walking into town.

She had seen something. She was sure of it. She frowned and grimaced angrily, raising her paw to walk there and investigate, but Gosalynn poked at her side with her tail. “Hey, Gilda. “You’ll want to hear this.”

It nagged at Gilda, but she turned to Gosalynn and the kid she was talking to. He was scrawny, light tan with a darker head and yellow eyes, wearing a brown scarf and an even darker beret hat. A black leather satchel was across his chest, and when Gilda turned to them, he started again.

“So, I was saying I came from Griffonstone. Madam Gladys ordered me to come here and talk to you guys.” He showed his paw and started making gestures. “Things are a mess and not everyone managed to get out yet. We got the most important ones through though, and they are waiting in Thunderpeak for a caravan to bring them along. We’re hurrying it up, but there are too many griffons and Madam Gaetana insisted that records be thorough.”

Gilda burst out before Gosalynn could ask. “Is anyone hurt?”

“Yeah. The Griffonstone Local Militia got pissed we were trying to get our griffons out and the GSA detachment at Fort King Grover deployed to the city. They figured it out, somehow and started cracking down on the groups leaving home to the teleporter.” He sat and closed his fists. Started shaking them. “I hear the bastards shot at unarmed families!”

Yeah. That didn’t surprise Gilda and she frowned with inner anger. It really seemed the GSA’s rock bottom had a cellar.

“There was some shooting at the teleporter, but our guys managed to get most of those that arrived through.” He grimaced. “I don’t know what is going on right now, though. I came in the first group. I do know that Lady Gwineth took the northerner agents and went to the hospital. They turned King Grover’s Plaza to a battlefield, but they got Master Gabriel out alright. They’re in Thunderpeak and they’re preparing a faster transport here ‘cause Master Gabriel can’t walk, and there’s some sick old general. We also confirmed that there is a full GSA brigade moving in on Thunderpeak, and there’s some crazy talk that Celestia is in Griffonstone, doing Mother knows what. Overall, the situation is largely unknown for the moment.”

“Huh.” Gosalynn frowned. “I’ll ask Gelinda’s mate to prepare to meet them. Sounds like we could use a doctor. He’s probably around here somewhere already.”

Wait, wait! Gilda was glad they got Master Gabriel out. He was directly responsible for all the good things that happened to her after their meeting, after all. But what about Gilda’s friends? What if something happened to them?

Maybe she should pull on a few of the strings she’s been acquiring.

She smiled at the griffon kid. “Hey, can I ask you for a favor?”

The kid gasped and smiled so broadly she had a favor to ask him it convinced Gilda she should try it more often. “Anything you ask, Swordmaiden!”

She smiled at him. “I have some friends from Griffonstone and I need to know if they made it to Thunderpeak. And, if not, what is their situation back there.”

He grabbed a small notebook from his satchel and a pencil. “Yes! What are their names? Or descriptions?”

Gilda smiled again. “Gertrude and Grizelda. They were arrested with me one night and they were taken in by Madam Gladys for protection. Next are Greta and Gary. They’re nothing special, just my friends. There is also the nurse team in the Griffonstone Hospital. Especially one called Goldina.”

He finished taking his notes with a sharp point. “I know Grizelda and Gertrude! They were with the charity front. Yeah. They’re already at Thunderpeak. Do you want me to tell the brass where they should end once they’re here?”

“Yeah.” Gilda frowned. “Get them to Griffindell. I’ll be waiting for them.”

She waited until he was done writing again and looked at her. “Alright. I’m sorry about Greta and Gary, though… I don’t know them and I don’t know if they’re safe. Can I get a description? I’ll ask around in Thunderpeak and if they’re not there, I’ll get them moved ASAP.”

“Ah…” He deflated a little. “About the griffons from the hospital… Well, I doubt they’ll be coming. There’re a lot of injured griffons that need help back in Griffonstone and I suppose that healthcare workers are all working around the clock.”

“It’s cool.” She waved a paw at him. “Just do what you can.”

“Will do, ma’am!” He turned around to leave after a short description of her friends, but Gilda held his tail.

“Dude, are you just gonna fly back to Thunderpeak?” She gasped. “Just like that?”

“I’m a certified flyer with Lord Gilad’s army, ma’am!” He proudly showed her a brooch stuck to the inside of his satchel. It was a round golden button showing a rolled-up paper with wings. “I’m not even tired and I get free meals and lodging wherever I go! It’s a great way to know places and griffons too!”

Having said that, he just rushed out towards the gate, leaving Gilda and Gosalynn.

“Huh. Cool.” Gilda smiled. Seemed like a useful guy.

“Well, back to work…” Gosalynn showed an awkward smile and a frustrated frown. “These griffons won’t organize themselves.”

Maybe it was out of sympathy, maybe she could even help somehow. But Gilda stayed with the captain and watched as the mess of griffons slowly organized itself under the curation from the griffons of the city.

The local law enforcement basically created a line that separated two flavors of barely contained chaos. On one side stood the angry and frustrated griffons that still needed to be interviewed and cargo that needed to be inspected. On the other, the relieved griffons that had been cleared and were directed to the waiting area next to the North Gate. The ones that needed further inspecting or just needed clarification were taken away to the side, to the parking area of the inn.

It intimidated the crap out of the refugees, even if the locals were friendly. Basically, what had happened to Gilda and her caravan once they had arrived but scaled up to meet a metaphorical flood of griffons.

And that was where Gilda planted her useless ass next to Gosalynn, Madam Gelinda and a pair of Sky Sentries in full armor. She watched as they did their routine of asking questions, solving doubts, fixing kinks in the process, and letting griffons go their way for what felt like an hour.

Gilda imagined Gia and Gelinda’s apprentice were probably doing the same, but she didn’t know the younger local Loremaster and it would be awkward. She also didn’t want to be too close to Gia and her bad mood. Staying with Gelinda and Gosalynn sounded nicer.

A couple of hours passed, and they drew closer to lunchtime. Just as the dudes in armor let go a couple, she saw a cub walking their way. About five or six years old and coming their way like he had a grudge to settle. Gilda just sat there, watching the inexorably approaching cub like it was a meeting with destiny.

He stopped in front of Gosalynn, easily the highest authority if one didn’t know the Loremasters and their ‘uniform’. He glared at her like he could set her on fire.

“May I help you?” Gosalynn cocked an eyebrow. “Uh… Sir?”

He was a light shade of tan and sandy yellow with well-kept fur and feathers. Didn’t look like a homeless kid, and was slightly overweight. Funny enough, his voice was almost in the same range as Gosalynn’s.

“Yes, ma’am. Kindly!” He started with a serious and professional tone. “I demand compensation for my losses!”

Gosalynn blinked at him, and Gilda hid her chortling behind her paw. Gelinda chuckled softly at the cub, drawing his eyes. “Is that so? What seems to be the problem, young master?”

Just around the time Gilda started wondering when the kid was going to start regretting his antics, a frantic and panicked cry came from the mass of griffons. A young couple ran towards them on the brink of panic. She was a tan and green queen that wore a nice dress, transparent light green with a high collar. Next to her came a similarly young, but even more scared dude. Wearing one of those lame collars and tie the ponies use, his coat was a darker shade of tan, with light brown. Both with light brown eyes that were mimicked in their kid.

While they didn’t seem rich, they certainly looked like they had a comfortable life. And that was saying a lot in the situation Griffonia found itself.

“Govig, for the love of…” The mother started and gave the adults a scared grin, stumbling on her words of what would be acceptable to swear ‘for the love of’ given present company. Gilda cringed. Some griffon swearing to Celestia would be in trouble in those parts. “Of… For the love of everything that is sacred! Don’t just run off like that!”

“I am sorry ma’am!” The father didn’t know if he should look to the Captain or the Loremaster. Meanwhile, Gilda and the two Sky Sentries just enjoyed the show while he stumbled on words too. “He’s not used to-”

Both parents almost died when Gelinda rose a finger to her beak for them to shut up. If Gilda wasn’t so on edge because the cub could put them into trouble, she would have found that funny as all heck.

“Is Govig your name, youngling?” The Loremaster turned to the kid. “Are these your parents?”

“Yes!” He replied with certainty only a child could have in his situation.

“Well, Master Govig, what seems to be the problem?” She gave him a friendly and inquisitive stare.

The kid straightened his back and raised his beak, keeping a too-serious expression. “The provincial law enforcement has impounded my personal effects under legislation not sanctioned by the Hall of Friendship. Compensation and reparations are due under the scope of the law.”

The father hid it better than the mother, who held her face in her paws muttering something.

Well, we have a little lawyer on our paws. Quite amusing, if rather insufferable.

Gilda coughed a chuckle at Her comment. It helped alleviate her fear for the parents. Would that be a talent to foster? Gilda wondered with a curious stare at the kid and his oh-so educated and refined stance.

Hardly. He is merely mimicking the adults. My Children have no talents, no destinies to fulfill. This is not something to encourage. Cubs are meant to be cubs, and there is nothing more that they can be. He has learned that doing that the adults will give him attention, and oft will succumb to his whims. In the South, parents are particularly vulnerable.

The thought triggered a few of Gilda’s childhood memories. Never one to do things like the cub, she had her moments. Though she had never fully embodied a lawyer. Or one of those annoying know-it-alls…

Cubs will learn what drives their parents, what will change their minds. They will try to manipulate them. They will cry, they will do anything… Even mimic the adults for an advantage. They may not even realize that the adults find it funny. All that matters is the result.

Gilda could swear she felt the smile in The Harpy’s dusky beak.

He is, after all, one of My Children. And without the varnish of societal rules, nothing is more ‘griffon’ than a griffon cub. My faithful Loremaster will fix their behavioral problem.

Well, that was an interesting tidbit. Gilda’s eyes found some more respect for the diminutive chimera of lion and eagle in the middle of the adults.

Meanwhile, Gelinda petted the kid and spoke softly.

“You should notice that you will have more success here in the North if you stop trying to talk like an adult.” Gelinda spoke calmly, and then she rolled her eyes. “An annoying kind of adult, no less. In the North we don’t have patience for little cubs that try to be more than cubs, and it is the natural child-like behavior that charms us.”

Maybe it was her way of speaking. Gilda could swear Gelinda could say anything and make it sound as the most honest truth in the world. The kid just blinked at her with a blank expression and let go of his ‘ruse’ without a second thought. His serious expression turned around to an angry pout.

“I understand you are frustrated, little one.” Gelinda went on. “What did the city’s guards take from you? Candy? Toys?”

The little cub sat with an angry frown and complained with a whine, kicking a pebble with his little forepaw. “They threw the strawberry marshmallow in the stupid river. It was perfectly fine marshmallow.”

“Nothing about that sort of pony food is ‘fine’.” Gelinda explained patiently like she was herself his mother. “It is mostly made of starches that will ruin your body’s ability to process energy. It will destroy your eyes, your kidneys, and your brain. It makes you slow, both in the body and in the mind. It is a slow-killing poison.”

“The ponies eat it all the time.” He pouted in the most adorable and irritating way Gilda ever thought possible.

“Don’t talk back to the Madam Loremaster, Govig!” The father nearly panicked.

But Gilda noticed it was not the same as the respect the Northerners had for their Loremasters she saw represented in Grunhilda. He was scared. And it didn’t help it when Gelinda fixed the couple a death-stare of doom. “I am talking to the cub. You clearly wasted your opportunity of educating him, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Respect me and him. Make silence until I talk to you, or I will have the guards educate you and show we are not so lenient with the guilty adults.”

Damn. If stares could kill. Gilda grimaced discreetly but decided against bringing the wrath of the Loremaster upon herself by defending the parents. And curiously enough, the Loremaster chastising his parents emboldened the little squirt.

“Ponies still eat marshmallow all the time.” He gave Gelinda a petulant stare, expecting her to explain herself.

“Well, you are not a pony, are you?” Gelinda fixed him an equally childish petulant stare of her own and pulled at one of the feathers on his head. “No, you are not. You are a beautiful Child of The Harpy.”

He made a weirded and confused frown, petting his feathers. “Uh… No. Mom’s name is Gretel.”

“An uninitiated.” Gelinda smiled deviously in a way that would have freaked Gilda out was she the target. The parents certainly looked like they were freaked out. “It’s alright. It is quite common, after all. Southerner griffon families who think they will benefit from the agreements with the Northerners are common. They become supporters, hoping they will never have to deliver in the commitments that Our Mother requires. Most certainly leaving their cubs’ education as one of the Children of The Harpy unfulfilled.”

Oh man… The mood swinged around painfully in that conversation. Gelinda said it was okay, but her tone indicated it clearly wasn’t. Gilda’s first instinct was to come to the parent’s defense. They lived in the South, after all. They didn’t understand, as Gilda too didn’t understand not long ago. But fortunately, she said nothing, because Gelinda wasn’t done yet.

The old Loremaster’s eyes turned dangerous, like they were when Gilda first saw her talking to the mother. Just as Gilda first arrived in town. Yet she softly petted the kid’s head. “That is a lesson easily learned once griffons from the south realize that they are also the Children of The Harpy. That they are the apostate prodigal children that led easy and comfortable lives while the Eldest of The Harpy fought the Pegasi for every cubit of land. And the Windigos too. Loyal to the land itself and to their fallen ancestors, your eldest took hold of these cold and forgotten lands. They would never dare relinquish it to their fell magic.”

“Since they finally found the truth, griffons from the South rue learning about their boreal siblings. Who to this day and since times immemorial have shed their blood and buried family to defend the lands of griffons forgetful of their legends and tales. The southerner griffons know they are traitors who found comfort under the wings of the Matriarch of the Great Herd. That they have chosen sweet food and clear skies over the stormy mountains where we were born. All in spite of our Mother and Her Eldest.”

“Thus, the southerners soon understand why it is that the northerners are so sour and impatient with them.” Gelinda looked at the parents, then at Gilda. “Why the Mother of Storms doesn’t forget and much less forgives. Why blood is so important to Her and how deep goes the sacrilege of their forefathers that chose the Sun.”

“The little ones are luckier.” Again, Gelinda petted Govig’s little head with his confused frown. “They don’t understand the sins that haunt their parents now that the time of reckoning has come. Less tainted, they find it easier to adapt for learning is what they do best. Pony plushies and candy are easier to replace than coins with Celestia’s face in them and the comforts of a corrupt government.”

“You will find there is no use for lawyers in the North. The Law is the Will of The Harpy, and the courthouses are the halls of the lords of the land. Justice is Our Mother’s judgment, and the only executor is the Lord of the Skies.” Gelinda spoke with a mysterious voice, as though she was casting doom over them. “Take heart, though. The prodigal children should still be happier than the ones that never heard Her Cry. For all griffons are Her Children, and She loves all. But Her love is vicious, and Her memory is older than time.”

That didn’t help the two adults, if the dejected frowns and slumped shoulders on them were any indication. The two Sky Sentries with them kept their beaks shut and Gosalynn had a downward frown that was difficult to read.

Gilda herself understood where Gelinda was coming from. But it was not like those griffons had any guilt over any of that. Certainly not over the whole issue with the Pegasi. That was thousands of years ago, before the Windigos. They had no blame about the Windigos either; that was on the ponies, the Unicorn Kings.

Have you forgotten your own journey, my Child?

Gilda frowned, with another look at the two griffons and the confused cub. Until her brow shifted into a scowl. They were involved with the legal system. Same as Judge Gracey, that prick that helped the Mayor’s Wife fuck over her life. The same kind of griffons that would serve The Emperor first and then would turn their back on the lone Swordmaidens stranded in a hostile land. Who pointed fingers and had them hunted like animals to be used and then sacrificed in a macabre spectacle if it saved their own skins.

But Gilda focused on the Loremasters’s words, rather than on her own memories. A glance at Gelinda’s own scowl showed Gilda those were the right thoughts. She had just delivered to those two griffons exactly the words they needed to hear. Just like she did with Gil. And even Gilda. The way the Loremasters always knew what to say to get griffons to think was almost awe-inspiring.

Those were griffons that sided with the Northerners, but they didn’t share their culture. They wanted benefits. They were the indolent southerner griffons that lived in peace because their brothers and sisters in the north held the monsters from the Windigos at bay. And yet, they never acknowledged the Northerners and their plight until they needed them.

Until one day when Lord Gilad killed a giant monster near Greenleaf, and it made it to the news. Only then the griffons in the south realized they might have a worthy leader to choose other than the corrupt political class they had created over the centuries. Except now they had to look at the sins their ancestors had committed. Because The Harpy doesn’t forget.

And yet other than that, you would still not read about the northerners in the newspapers. It was only about how the northerners withheld the game meat and that drove prices up. How the northerners made a diplomatic blunder with the hippogriffs and that caused the price on imported foodstuffs to soar. Or about how the barbarians wanted to split with the nice and friendly ponies and cause a rift in Griffonia. Drag it into a civil war.

Gilda grimaced and her paw closed into a tight fist. Of course, the newspapers would never talk about how the Griffonian Standing Army would murder two heroes with a newborn child just because they felt threatened either.

Gilda would like to see their fat and silver-tongued chancellor fighting a monster. She had never seen The Lion fighting, but she could imagine the large and powerful griffon wielding a battleaxe and crying a mighty spell. Summoning The Harpy’s magic and bringing her power to bear against some undead monster. Why not, after all she had sparse recollections of The Emperor doing so.

Just the thoughts of him were enough to make her blush if she wasn’t careful. Such powerful and base instincts he brought on Gilda’s link to the past that was Ghadah. Because even The Emperor, cruel and brutal as he was, would not fall victim to corruption. If anything, it was his love and loyalty to his vassals that caused his downfall.

And those were the same newspapers that would go on and on about ‘The Mane Six’. The great heroes of Equestria and all their escapades. And how the great Griffonian Standing Army had helped them keep the world safe.

It was not like the ponies hadn’t done their share, but it was always about them, and never about the wrongdoing inside the Griffonian government. Much less the living tales and legends of the North. Like that Grimhammer dude that founded the very city they were in. What about Grunhilda’s dead parents? A great ranger and a legendary smith? They fought side by side with none other than Celestia. Heck… Master Galahault had made Gilda a legendary weapon, and nobody knew about it!

They will soon, Child. The legend of the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani is growing. And soon all that will be corrected. I promise you so.

Yeah… Gilda’s thoughts in that regard had changed. She wasn’t jealous anymore. Just frustrated that the ponies and the wrong griffons hogged all the limelight. Nobody knew about the things that happened behind the curtains. All the ancient griffons did. It just made Gilda all the more eager to be off on her journey north. To see Griffindell’s back walls.

About time the griffons learned the right way to be griffons. Gilda made it, after all. They would have all the help they would need. Like Gelinda, still talking to the little kid. She helped those griffons find a ‘north’ to their new life. They just had to wise up. Again, just like Gilda had.

They only needed to listen to The Harpy.

Still… Something deep inside told Gilda that a better path would be one of tolerance. Yes, grievances, especially ones that hurt so much shouldn’t be forgotten. Yet griffons still were griffons. And ponies were still ponies. And ponies were the enemy, not griffons. Griffons could be saved. Educated. Shown an example to follow. And that was Gilda’s job as the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani.

Enough introspection for the day. She turned her attention back to Gelinda talking to the kid and it was almost heartwarming.

“You are in a privileged position, child.” The old Loremaster told him with some mirth in her sharp blue eyes, holding his beak up so that he would look at her properly. “The way to raise griffon cubs, as Our Mother Harpy has taught the first griffons, is to excuse them until a certain age. To let them explore the world, and learn that fire burns and the fresh water from a clear stream is most refreshing.”

Gilda blinked the shock out of her. Did Gelinda just tell the kid he had a free pass at doing whatever he wanted? The panic on his mother’s face said everything.

“That doesn’t sound like good parenting…” Gilda gave Gelinda an inquisitive stare. She just couldn’t hold it. Just the thought of her young self let loose on the world was terrifying.

“But it is how Our Mother taught us.” The Loremaster explained further with a patient smile. “Young griffons ought to explore and learn new things. Guided by their parents, but they must set their own limits. They must learn what is good or bad by themselves. Listening to the experience of older griffons or hurting themselves if they won’t. Until they reached their teenage years. Then they must learn discipline, self-restraint. Stoicism with which to make educated decisions. The fortitude to dominate the negative emotions and the turmoil of sensations and desires their bodies will present to them.”

“And then…” The old griffoness smiled. “Once they have conquered their whims and mastered their own selves, they will be ready to govern over their own lives. They will know when and how to break the rules. They’ll be responsible and mature. They’ll be ready to know of the pleasures of life and how to take control of their own lives, instead of being controlled by their lives. And that is how the mighty griffons of our history were made. All you need is one glance at the majesty that is Lord Gilad, so called The Lion.”

Gilda almost heard the unsaid words about Chancellor Gail. Or maybe she was starting to wise up and could swear she heard the unsaid words about herself.

Gosalynn gave a small nod of agreement, as though the Loremaster had spoken the truth, through and through. Gilda stared at the small cub and his sparkling eyes. Once again, the Loremaster had spoken exactly what needed to be said.

“And that is why all griffons must make this peregrination north. They must find who they are and what their place is under Our Mother. Past the North Gates the Frozen North and the spawn of the Windigos await. They will put your strength to the test, and your resolve must not falter.” Gelinda let her voice raise as Gilda noticed griffons had gathered around to listen to her. “Celestia will give you everything and ask you to love her while the Allmother will let you suffer and doesn’t care if you hate her. You will be battered and humiliated, you will know pain and dread.”

“You will beg Her to help you, but She will not! Not until you have hardened your cores and conquered your weaknesses.” Gelinda turned around, speaking to the crowd, sitting on her haunches, and opening her forepaws. “You can hate Her all you want for it, and you can blaspheme and rage. She will not care, because She knows us in ways that you couldn’t ever. She knows what a griffon is made of and what will make or break one. That is how Our Mother made us. That is how Aya Harpyia has forged our souls and will temper it into steel in the cold of the Frozen North.”

There was no cheering or whooping. Only stern nods and downward stares of shame. Gilda supposed she was in a better position than most, but she still was nowhere near what Ghadah was. Not even close to Gelinda either. There was a time when she would have scoffed at the Loremaster’s words. But what they did that morning was light a fire inside Gilda’s chest. It had been burning for a while and if she had ever lacked resolve, it was not now.

Well… North was the way to go, and where she meant to go. She had even found space for some griffons to go along, to find themselves with her. Gilda supposed that she was doing well enough.

Anyways, the show was over, and the two parents had moved on with their cub. Along with a few words they may not have liked but needed to hear. Gilda would never gush over another griffon, but Gelinda conquered quite a lot of her respect in that meeting.

Either the old griffoness could actually read minds, or Gilda was more transparent than she cared to admit, because the Loremaster smiled at her. “Words are Our Mother’s mission for me, Swordmaiden.”

And no more words were needed.

Author's Note

I’m aware that G5’s Izzy’s second name is Moonbow, but this one actually has a bow.

Joking aside, no connection whatsoever. I just didn’t want to change the character’s name.

Preparations

Apparently, Gilda was a leader now, or something like a symbol. Having spent the remaining morning hours until lunchtime mingling with the arriving griffons, she caught them mumbling awkward words of amazement, or just staring at her in wonder. The griffons of Thunderpeak must have been spreading disproportional wonders about her, it seemed.

She was not complaining, though. It was awkward, but still nice to be acknowledged by griffons she didn’t even know.

She liked the sound of their voices muttering marvels about her, but curiosity also drove her. She wanted to know what would cause a griffon to leave their homes in the comfortable South and come to the savage and cold North. Turned out most of them didn’t really have a choice. When some dude in Griffonstone gave the order, it put things in motion and the gears ground everyone into shape regardless.

The most common story was that they were asleep in their homes when someone knocked on their doors and told them they had to leave. So, they did, because Northerners didn’t try to pull pranks. They knew it was serious. The rest were details. Some of them spoke of fighting in the city’s streets and blind panic, but they fortunately managed to get to the teleporter and made it to Thunderpeak, then to the first step of their journey further into the North. The lands under The Harpy’s command. That was how they saw Wayfarer’s Rest.

And Gilda couldn’t blame them, considering the locals wanted them gone as soon as possible.

Most of them were scared. Some of them were excited. A few were too excited. And seeing Gilda seemed to have galvanized those expectations. Especially with Gelinda hyping her up. Gilda had caught her doing it on multiple occasions.

Gilda supposed that the loremaster would want to see those griffons gone from Wayfarer’s Rest. And since her caravan was going to travel with a lot of griffons, they might as well take all they could. Kinda like a charity of sorts.

It would probably be a good idea if Gilda went to talk to the griffon guy that understands this caravan stuff and let him know they’ll be taking a few more with them. She decided she was done talking to the new arrivals once her stomach began complaining of the lack of food. Beyond the clouds, the sun had reached zenith and the cold had subsided enough that she found herself pulling at her scarf.

On her way back to the inn she found one of the innkeeper’s daughters with what smelled deliciously of roasted meat inside leaf packages. The green packs were stacked on a pair of trays on her back, and she wore a harness that held two more trays to her sides. She asked that each of the newcomers grab one, and two of the local law enforcement griffons kept close to her. Making sure everyone got theirs, but also that they didn’t grab more than one. Things were going nicely, compared to the tension those griffons suffered when going through inspection. They had learned quickly to behave in that place.

Gilda grimaced. The stakes by the entrance and the guards barking at them not to fly would have that effect alright.

“Hey.” Gilda approached the pretty queen with a friendly smile. “Nice of you guys to feed them.”

“Thanks!” She grinned at Gilda while standing in place for the griffons to get their food. “The city’s leadership is paying for the food. We’re just not profiting. And… Well, there’s the Law of Hospitality.”

“How’s that work?” Gilda sat next to her.

“Oh. It’s one of The Harpy’s Commandments.” She piped. “You’re not supposed to shun a griffon that asks for help. If you can, you must give them shelter and food until they can leave. No less than a night.”

“I see.” Gilda rubbed her chin. It was reasonable. Food wasn’t free anyways. Even if the inn had its own hunters, they’d need hunting supplies and have salaries to pay. Meanwhile this law of hospitality ensured that griffons in need would be helped. “Well, good job, anyways.”

She left the griffonness to her work of literally standing there while the others got their food and walked into the inn. One of the city guards opened the door for her and she nodded acknowledgement at him.

Inside, the main hall still smelled of good food and had a comfortable warmth. It reminded Gilda it was still cold outside after she had worn off all the walking and talking. The family of innkeepers worked hard as usual, but also kept the inn working with the mother behind the counter. She waved at Gilda with her typical enthusiasm and Gilda waved back at her.

Further in the back, Gilda found the two ponies under watch by the two ex-GSA soldiers and Grunhilda. The white griffoness sat next to them, staring them down with a focused glare. That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind when she asked Big Girl to keep an eye on the ponies, but she would take it.

Suddenly one of the innkeeper’s sons came to her with an award-winning grin and flared wings. “Lunch will be served soon, Lady Gilda! We’ve prepared the meeting room for you to feast with your servants!”

“Ah… Thanks.” She grinned awkwardly. “But they’re not my servants. They’re more like… Uh… Employees?”

He just stared at her with a confused blank expression that then shifted back into an excited grin. “Yes! Your servants! If you wait in the meeting room, we’ll serve some appetizing spiced wine too!”

Awkward, but she decided it would be best to just let go and accept it. She simply thanked him with her best grin. He walked around her with the happiest smile, going back to work.

Since the two soldier guys and Grunhilda had the ponies under control, she decided that she could do with some of that wine. After all, it was about time she started enjoying the finer things in life. The double doors were open, and she crossed them with a relaxed gait.

The smells of the main hall were replaced by the new roasting deer in the firepit, and the table had been reorganized around it with one single seat at the head of the U-shaped table.

“Oh boy…” She let escape. It was covered in expensive white sheets with black lining and discreet black bars by the corners. Lots of plates and cups too, including earthenware jugs.

It took her a moment to recover from the shock, but since she was going to embark on a difficult and long trip, she might as well let herself be pampered. And if the locals wanted to pamper her and her friends with fancy stuff, plentiful food, and expensive drinks, there was nothing wrong in accepting it. Much less enjoying it. Right?

It is time you stopped feeling so conscious about receiving bounty that is due to your station. I believe I have mentioned it before. It grows ever so more frustrating. What more must I do? What more must I relinquish unto you of my power so that you will understand you are a favorite of mine?

Right.

But Gilda contained her grin. Sitting next to the main table, at a desk covered in parchment, and armed with feather pen and ink, was Mister Gillian. She approached with the same calm steps.

“Hey.” She greeted him, letting her wings open a little.

“Hello, ma’am.” He said without looking at her for a couple of seconds. He was busy writing some numbers on one of the parchments. He had a large book with thick pages open over the desk and barely organized parchment all over. Gillian was reading from his older notes on that book and writing numbers on the parchment for a while. Not that Gilda could read any of that, as griffons were known for their horrible calligraphy.

Finally, he looked at her with a smile on his cyan beak. “So, it seems we’ll be actually traveling with a little more than ‘just a few griffons’.”

“Yeah.” She grinned sheepishly, clicking her talons together. “Sorry about that. Things kept getting complicated.”

He shook his head calmly. “It’s alright. It’s my job, after all. I’m used to it. The unexpected is almost expected in this line of work.”

She sat across the desk from him, on the red sitting pillow. “So… Is the whole caravanning thing too complicated? I suppose there is gotta be a lot of work involved. And things only professionals know. Especially with so many griffons and stuff to haul around.”

“No.” His focus went back to the parchment filled with tables, numbers, and a few graphs. All those things that Gilda hated. Her knowledge of mathematics ended at the rule of three. “It’s a matter of organization. Caravans are caravans, large or small. They all need some carts, food, repair parts, workers, and supplies in general. A few, or a lot.”

“Yeah, you may say that.” Gilda strummed her fingers on the table. “But I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t know what to do. And the locals would be likely to fleece me. I promise you that you and your griffons will be well paid.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He spoke again, focusing on the parchments. “A noble’s words mean a lot in the North. And I figure it is better to have friends rather than enemies. Regardless of what Gil thinks… I don’t believe that Griffonia is going to avoid change. Or even that it should.”

“Speaking of Gil…” Gilda’s eyes shifted to a conspicuous squint. “Are you aware your daughter is getting married?”

“Yes. To Guille.” He went back to writing numbers on that parchment. “I’d rather she did that than cause trouble. And he is a nice tom.”

“I don’t think you’ll be allowed to go back South.” Gilda’s eyes were big with worry.

“I didn’t think I would have to.” His eyes raised from the parchment to meet hers. “I thought I would be working for you.”

Gilda blinked a couple of times, but then spoke with certainty. “Right. At least until this mess of civil war is done and Griffonia is whole again.”

“I have no real attachments to the South. Or any place. I always went where my job took me.” He went back to his numbers. “And I’m likely to come out richer on the other side.”

“An opportunist survivor, huh?” Gilda smirked at him.

“So says Loremaster Gelinda.” He raised his eyes from the parchment to look at her with a smirk of his own this time. “I would be a terrible caravan master if I couldn’t smell the Eagles to be made in the places I went or with the griffons I worked for.”

“And just so that you know…” His attention went back to the parchment, and he started writing some numbers at a table. “Gia tried to recruit me to convince you to leave the ponies behind. As well as the refugees.”

“Sheesh…” Gilda showed an angry frown. “I should have known.”

“She really overestimates how persuasive she can be.” He chuckled. “I’d reign her in, if she worked for me and I couldn’t fire her.”

Gilda chortled at that, despite her previous irritation.

“She should be valuable, though.” Gillian looked at Gilda again. Seriousness clear in his eyes instead of jesting mirth. “She does know the region better than I do. And Lord Gryskjal is going to be difficult. Especially if we want to leave a few southerner griffons under his vassalage. If my knowledge of him is true.”

“I have been hearing some things about this dude.” Gilda frowned. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with him when the time comes. Just get us there and then to Griffindell. I’ll deal with Gia too… I suppose that having good associates is a good idea.”

“I would call it ‘retinue’. Sounds fancier that way.” He nodded and she responded with a fierce grin of appreciation. She had a lot to learn about being a northerner noble, but she was getting there. Gillian wasn’t done yet, though. “There is a small hitch. And I need to talk to you about it.”

“Shoot.” Gilda rested her elbow on the table.

“We’re gonna need more workers.” Gillian said. Although it was obvious. He put a talon to the parchment and ran it across the black ink. “More traction animals. More guards. Supplies are easy, but they cost money. Burden animals are harder and cost a lot too, but that is still manageable. Griffons… Well, we could ask among the refugees, but I doubt many of them have any experience in guard duty or caravanning.”

He shrugged. “It’s not just traveling with us. Most of them are just going to help set the caravan to leave. Load cargo and secure it, get paid and stay here when we leave.”

Gilda looked at the parchment then to him. Back to the parchment, and those numbers started to worry her. “There must be griffons looking for work in town.”

“Right.” He nodded again. “I just wanted to know if you were fine with it.”

“Do whatever you need to get us going.” Gilda shrugged. “And as fast as possible too. I would guess caravans take days to organize but do the best you can. Money shouldn’t be a problem. Even if I can’t pay, Lady Gwendolen can.”

Hopefully she wouldn’t object too much. But Gilda kept those thoughts behind her resolute expression.

“Alright.” He shrugged. “We already have our destination, and we don’t need to worry about prices and cargo other than a few possessions and griffons to haul. We can leave by the morning. Yes. Especially if I can get the locals to assist us.”

Gilda nodded her understanding again and he offered a paw before he spoke further. “Well, I’d like you to accompany me. If you were there to show your blessed, ‘Anointed of The Harpy’ face, it would help the negotiations.”

“Yeah. Makes sense.” She chuckled at his words, and in the end, in Griffonstone or in a random northerner city, griffons were still griffons. Gilda winked at him. “I’ll drag Gia along with us. Her Loremaster ‘visage’ will probably help a lot too. But it would be awesome if we could have lunch first. I’m kinda hungry.”

“Perfect!” He concluded with a smile and closed his book. The heavy leather cover was bent at the corners, but it looked solid. Especially with all the annexed pieces of parchment it had inside.

The innkeeper must have announced that lunch service would be starting, because the pair of ponies, Lost Temple and Moonbow, came inside. The mare even had a happy spring in her step, and he had the goofy smile ponies show when they’re having fun. At least he wouldn’t be so alone on the trip.

Grunhilda came after them, still watching them like a hawk, in the most ostensive and obtuse way possible. A deep, focused frown behind their necks the likes of which Gilda wondered how they didn’t feel like they were on fire.

Griffons were typically quite a bit larger than ponies but seeing Grunhilda next to them really showed how big she was.

The two ex-soldier guys entered the room too, but they were more… Gilda chose to call it ‘professional’. They nodded at her and then sat in different places on the table. At least, things would be under control if Grunhilda goofed up.

The innkeeper walked in right after, happier than the ponies were, and she spoke, flapping her wings once. “Please, take your place at the head of the table, Lady Gilda! And we’ll start serving lunch!”

“Great.” Gilda grinned and, after a second of thinking, she touched the rounder griffoness’ shoulder with a wing. “Good job.”

And that was how Gilda learned griffons could be so happy they figuratively floated when they walked. It gave her a nice feeling too, as she walked to her place at the table. Grunhilda didn’t wait and sat next to Gilda like it was her right.

It didn’t take long and the innkeeping family quickly served garlic bread and spiced wine. It struck Gilda that Gia wasn’t around, but she was distracted because the innkeeper entered the room with a young griffon cub almost too small to carry his charge. The scabbard for Mythical was ready and he gave it to her like he was handing her the sword itself.

She held the thing in her paws after turning on her seat. “It looks neat!”

Nothing too fancy, but it had a nice engraving in the hard upper half made of wood. It was finely carved, with scorched lines, making a beautiful design of a griffon’s head on profile. It looked like her, so Gilda decided it was her.

“Nice!” She grinned and looked back at the gray and white kid. “Did they pay you already?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said plainly. “Is that all? Do you need anything?”

“Oh, no. Thanks.” She beamed and shook her head. She also took a final and long look at the scabbard before she turned to Grunhilda. “Hey, get this to our room.”

“Okay!” The white griffoness showed a grin of her own and took the thing from Gilda’s paw before she hopped over the table and raced out of the room carrying it in her beak.

“After…” Gilda spoke alone just as Grunhilda’s tail disappeared past the door. “We’re done eating?”

Gertha chuckled on the closest seat to the right. “You can’t fault her for being dutiful.”

“I suppose I can’t.” Gilda chuckled too as Gertha sampled the spiced wine.

“So, boss…” The pink griffoness smiled and put her glass back on the table. “I’ll get started with Grunhilda’s training in the afternoon. Unless you need her for something.”

Gilda wouldn’t have thought much of what Gertha had said. If not because the suggestive tone in her voice, the poorly masked lewd grin, and the subtle blush in her cheeks.

“The heck is that supposed to mean?” She glowered at the pink griffoness.

“Nothing!” The other squealed and immediately turned the other way, taking her glass of spiced wine with her. She took a sip and simply ignored Gilda henceforth.

Gilda squinted at her and hummed but chose not to press out of Gertha whatever her imagination had conjured up. Something distracted her. The distinct lack of Gia and Geary in that room Gilda noticed just as Grunhilda returned to the table. Other griffons accompanied her; the short Gosalynn, Madam Gelinda, Gil, and her fiancé. Also came a few griffons from the caravan that were all too happy to be there and tried to sit as close as possible to Gilda. But no Gia nor Geary.

“Hey, where’s Gia?” She asked no one in particular.

Gelinda stopped in her tracks with an angry stare. More than her usual stern one. “She tried to slink her way out from work almost an hour early. I didn’t let her, but I have no idea where she went after we decided to stop for lunch.”

“Oh. She should be coming soon then.” Gilda watched as the Loremaster sat close to her. “Do you mind if I take her to help me deal with the suppliers for the caravan?”

“Not at all.” Gelinda washed her paws with water from one of the jugs on the table. Something Gilda kicked herself for forgetting. “While she is not a particularly good Loremaster, she is well-trained enough that she can be of use, but if you need her, then, by all means… Just don’t let her have it too easy.”

Gilda nodded a simple acknowledgement and promptly washed her paws, as she should among the northerners as soon as the actual food started being served.

The wine gave way to cold water, mead, beer (both cold and hot), and fruit juices. The innkeepers served crispy slices of the roasted deer. But not only that as other meats were served too. Particularly pork and fowl drenched in various sauces. They were accompanied by slices and whole fruits, some of them roasted and dipped in their own sauces. There were also rustic and chunky cakes with seeds, which were also available raw or toasted.

Gilda found herself licking her beak as the young family of the innkeeper delivered the portions meant for her and the griffons next to her. The full course was divided into several trays, bowls and cutting boards filled with portions for each section of the table.

Delicious was the first word on her head as soon as she started sampling the meats and sauces that they delivered to her plate. With a pawful of toasted seeds and some of the mead, it all made for a delicious lunch.

But then Gilda noticed Gia still hadn’t showed up and frowned as she laid her mug back on the table. Next to her, Grunhilda didn’t mind it all and just kept devouring the roasted deer. An uncertain frown on her face, Gilda turned to Gertha. The pink griffoness took several gulps of mead in between the bites at the slices of game meat before Gilda finally spoke.

“Did anyone see Gia? At all?” Gilda frowned. She’d kick her hind if Gia tried to avoid helping her with the caravan. That foxy jerk was important to the safety of the caravan, and it included her own safety. She would be traveling too, after all.

Since no one answered, and just stared dumbly at Gilda, it was the plump innkeeper that spoke while she and one of her sons took empty plates from the table. “I saw her arrive. Lady Gia should still be in her room, Lady Gilda. She would have to go through the main hall if she left, and I was there the whole time.”

Gilda’s feathers ruffled just a bit. “Gia is doing her bitch routine…”

The short silence after she spoke was broken by Gil, sitting next to Guille. “Uh… Molly.”

“Molly what?” Gilda turned to her with a particularly not amused glare.

“She’s a molly. As in… A cat. Bitch is a dog. We’re cats… And birds. Not dogs.” Gil rummaged the pile of toasted black seeds she had on her plate. “It’s how the northerners say it… Anyways…”

Gertha coughed into her fist. “Riiiiight… Do we just let her be?”

“Heck no!” Gilda stood and slammed her paws on the table. Then she started on her way around it, drawing stares. “I’m dragging her rump with me and Gillian to the market.”

She stopped at the door, though, staring at the mercenary siblings. “And Grunhilda is coming with me, as are you two.”

Finally, with the two red-shaded griffons by her side and Grunhilda taking her place behind her, Gilda turned to the ex-soldier dudes she didn’t know the name of. She really ought to have a conversation with them. “Just make sure the ponies don’t do anything stupid.”

They nodded at her, even though Gilda felt like she was just trying to be the boss. It was about time, anyway. She wasn’t good at it, and basically had no experience, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. If that thing was going to work, griffons had to know who’s the boss. And Gillian, the griffon Gilda had working for her to make the caravan work said they needed Gia. Therefore, Gia was going to help, like it or not.

As Gilda entered the main hall, the additional heat from the hearth fire waffled over her with the smell of burning wood and Gertha, her brother Guille, and Grunhilda fell in behind her. She walked with purpose towards the stairs that led to the guest rooms. Stares fell on her, but she didn’t relent from her angry stomping.

Once up the stairs, she would walk to the door, knock as dry and heavily as she could. Intimidation was important. Then she would demand that Gia opened the door, and then Gilda would give the green queen a piece of her mind. It’s not like it was Gilda’s fault her plan had failed. In fact, had it not been for her, Gia would probably have ended in jail, or something worse. Lady Gwendolen would have caught her anyway. Truth be told, Gilda saved Gia, and was her only path to salvation because Lady Gwendolen could have been much less lenient.

The group passed the wooden doors until they reached Gia’s. Gilda stopped in front of it. Sat with a serious expression and raised her fist. She inhaled her lungs full of air to yell at the griffoness on the other side as soon as she knocked.

Anguished wailing came from the other side and caused Gilda to reel bug-eyed into Grunhilda behind her.

“It’s not fair! It’s not faa-a-a-air!” Gia’s voice came from within the room. “I was supposed to be filthy rich by now!”

Her voice trailed in another high-pitched whine and wheezing crying. Gilda turned to the others and Gertha had a grimace while Grunhilda had a distressed frown.

Gertha’s brother shrugged. “That sounds bad…”

Gilda sighed after the initial shock. Maybe anger, yelling and threatening wouldn’t be the answer. But Gia wasn’t done yet and interrupted Gilda before she could knock on the door.

“It was all her fault!” She screeched from the other side of the door to the sound of angry pummeling against a mattress.

“Are we sure that Gia is not just a really tall child?” Gertha showed Gilda a very annoyed stare and spoke softly.

“She’s just upset.” Gilda showed a paw in a placating gesture. “Stealing is really shitty, and so is using the griffons that believed in her and in the liberation of the city. I mean… Ultimately, she betrayed The Lion and The Harpy, but she… Is kinda just doing what griffons do. Right?”

The three griffons with Gilda didn’t seem to appreciate her argument in defense of Gia and gave her a trio of reproaching glares. It was then Gilda realized all three of them worked for her and she had lost a great opportunity to keep her stupid beak shut.

Furthermore, Gia wasn’t done yet. “That stupid chickenbrain from Griffonstone ruined everything!”

Such indecipherable screeching followed that the four griffons recoiled from the door before Gilda could understand Gia again through her howling and whining. “I was supposed to be the savior of the town! I was supposed to take care of the money Gail had stolen! And I was supposed to be all the way across the ocean by now!”

“That…” Guille raised an eyebrow. “That sounds a lot like treason.”

Gilda’s beak hung open again. She knew Gia had ‘issues’, but she never expected it came to that point. After all, she wasn’t just some random griffon. She was a Loremaster of The Harpy. She knew things. Important things. And that was the point of her scheme in Thunderpeak. She wanted to abuse her position to get her paws on the Chancellor’s money. But… If she ever opened her beak to Celestia…

Gilda’s thoughts were interrupted by Geary’s gallant bravado. “Worry not, milady. I will assist you!”

“You will?” Gia’s hopeful whine filtered through.

“I will! On my honor!” He hesitated. “I will end this villainous… Usurper… Of… Plans!”

Gilda groused, nodding at the door. “Get this thing open, Grunhilda.”

“Okay.” The big griffoness simply walked over to the greenish door in the white-gray wood of the wall and forcefully leaned her shoulder at it. The poor thing gave in immediately with a sudden crack and creak. Splinters flew from the frame where the lock was meant to keep it shut and it banged against the wall on the other side. But the four griffons on the corridor just stood there without entering.

The room was similar to the one the innkeeper had called Grimhammer. It had a bed, a screen for the bathroom, a closet, and a dresser. Nothing out of the ordinary. But Gia was on the bed, wearing a bizarrely cute and short pink dress. She even had a pointy princess hat and veil. While Geary stood next to the bed, wearing a cheap and overly polished white armor and blue cape. It even had an open helm with a large and ostentatious feather for decoration.

Gia sat against the bed’s header, holding the dress over her belly and her lady business, blushing like she was a maid in her nuptials. Complete with the hot blush in her cheeks growing fiercer while the griffons by the door stared at her.

Silence. Thick as the smells of griffons doing lewd things.

“Get… Get out!” Gia screeched startled Gilda out of her befuddled trance.

Gilda closed the door and stood with her back to it. She stared at the others, who stared back at her, all with shocked and huge eyes.

“I feel dirty…” Grunhilda whined.

“Wait a second.” Gilda’s scared stare morphed into an angry scowl, and she pushed the door open again.

Immediately, Gia screeched again. “What the heck! Get out!”

Instead, Gilda walked up to the bed, grabbed the feathers on Gia’s head like they were a small rodent prey, and yanked her out of the bed.

“Oow! Excuse me?!” The green Gia cried as Gilda walked out and dragged her across the floor. She held Gilda's foreleg so that the pulling wouldn’t hurt her. “Stop!”

“Yeah, yeah… You and your thrall can work out your traumas and satisfy your kinks later. If you’re going to try and skimp out of work, you’re going to help Gillian and me get the materials and supplies for the trip.” Gilda nonchalantly dragged her ‘friend’ while she looked at Geary, still sitting next to the bed and looking stupid in that lame armor. “You too, dummy. And lose the outfit.”

Geary didn’t complain and the other two moved out of her way while Gilda glared at Gertha. “You and Grunhilda get started on that training thing.”

Guille just blinked dumbly at her when Gilda stopped and glared at him. “You… I don’t know! Do caravan guard things!”

While the others complied, Gilda wasn’t sure Gia would, so she dragged the young Loremaster further down the corridor while the latter complained in a low voice. At least until she finally lost her patience and screeched again at Gilda. “Fine! You win! Will you quit it already?!”

What stopped Gilda was not Gia’s screaming, but Gosalynn and her unamused frown by the stairs. “When you’re done, we should improvise a quick meeting. Mother knows I’ll have my paws full today, but since we’ll be traveling together, it would be a good idea.”

A stray thought surfaced in Gilda’s head that maybe Gelinda and the others just want them gone because of the mess they made in their town. But she ignored it.

Gia screeched from the floor, and Gilda didn’t mind it. She just nodded at Gosalynn before she let go of Gia and glared at her. “Get out of this stupid dress and join us. Or I swear I’ll cut you and serve you up to the frostmanes, or whatever they’re called, myself.”

With the drama resolved, Gia out of her stupid dress, and Grunhilda outside with Gertha, they met in the table. They held their meeting while the innkeeper and her family were still cleaning up after the meal and a few griffons had lingered for the beverages.

It almost bothered Gilda that Gosalynn kept a mug of mead next to her and she didn’t have any, but she paid attention to Mister Gillian and his two assistants. Gil was there too, because, apparently, she was good at the food thing.

It was a short meeting where Gillian quickly told them what they would need and Gosalynn, with one of her lieutenant’s, did the same. It would fall to Gillian and his assistants to provide everything, since they were the experienced caravanners. A quartermaster from the Sky Sentry would be joining them in procuring all they would need since the Sky Sentry also had experience in traveling the wilds. They were monster hunters, after all and the caravan would need protection. The protectors would need food and shelter, as everyone else.

Only then it hit Gilda that Gosalynn was actually both responsible for the city’s law enforcement and the city’s Sky Sentry detachment. They merged into an informal mess. ‘Griffons that liked hunting and griffons that liked protecting the town working together to keep it safe from bad griffons and evil monsters alike’.

Nothing like the Local Militia system that Griffonia had inherited from the ponies, with its rigid, quasi-military structure all the way back to Canterlot. Gilda supposed that the Sky Sentry probably responded to some sort of centralized command though. Probably The Lion himself. But the conversation wasn’t about that.

As Gosalynn’s subordinates still welcomed refugees into town, and promptly stripped them of any dangerous items or ideas, the projected size of the caravan grew. The report from her assistant said that small groups of families or friends kept coming through lunch with a few larger groups in between.

Inside Gilda’s head was the ridiculous image of a single line between Thunderpeak and Wayfarer’s Rest. Silly, as she knew groups were certainly coming under guard from Thunderpeak’s own very new law enforcement and the Sky Sentries Lady Gwendolen had sent.

Curious thought… They, the Griffindelian Sky Sentries, probably kept information about what was happening flowing back home.

Nonetheless, it was a good idea to get those griffons out of there with the certainty of an attack soon. For Gilda and the others, it meant they would have to handle a caravan of thousands. Or, as Gia grumbly put it, ‘an ambulatory buffet, leaving off dead, half-frozen griffons along the way so that we can feed as many monsters as possible’.

After Gelinda promptly slapped her across the beak, the conversation resumed in a more productive way.

Since Gosalynn and Gelinda would be busy sorting out the griffons that had come, and were still coming from Griffonstone, they wouldn’t be able to help. Gilda, Gillian, Gil and Gia would go to the market and get all the stuff that they needed. Hopefully, no kinks would arise, and they would be able to move out in the morning, accommodating what griffons arrived in the meantime.

Because things never went wrong in that whole stupid peregrination Gilda had been forced to embark on. But she had decided that, compared to the refugees, she was in a good enough situation that she could deal with the whole thing without getting angry. She might even enjoy going shopping for stuff she didn’t truly understand just to see Gia suffer.

With the conversation concluded and tasks agreed upon, they walked out. Gilda followed Gillian’s lead and his assistants, with the Sky Sentry guy following them. Gil and Guille went along and, on their way past the bridge over the stream, Gilda saw Grunhilda training her posturing under Gertha’s watch. Gilda regretted not being able to sit there and just stare at her Amazonian thrall. The white griffoness had such a focused frown it was almost cute.

Back in the market, Gilda started wondering what sort of thing they would need. In her self-acknowledged ignorance of the subject, one needed carts, food, and griffons for a caravan. And that was it. At worst, more of it for a big caravan.

Her silly self had no idea but turned out there are different kinds of carts. And each cart had different kinds of wheels, wings, and frames. Why did carts need wings when it was the griffon’s magic pulling it that made it fly? Simple: it made it easier to fly. Duh. But the problem was that they wouldn’t be using flying carts. Only heavy-framed carts. With iron-reinforced wheels pulled by large and furry oxen. They would have to follow a trail and they would move slowly. If there was deep snow, they would have to clear it because of the oxen.

Suddenly it started seeming as though the whole thing was going to be even more complicated than what Gilda already thought it was going to be.

But, of course, carts were only useful if you had animals to pull them. Because as Gilda learned, they couldn’t expect griffons to pull the heavy carts that would be involved. No. They needed animals of burden.

“Well, of course teams of pegasus ponies would be ideal,” Gia said in her arrogant, know-it-all tone, “but we don’t really have enough slaves nowadays. In fact, we don’t have them.”

“Do we really need them?” Gilda walked next to her, following Master Gillian and the other caravan-savvy griffons as they went to the next service provider they would need. The cramped houses and stores flanked the street that was already cramped with visiting griffons.

“What kind of question is that?” Gia rolled her eyes. “How come you get to be the Chosen of the Harpy, or whatever it is that you are asking questions like that?”

“Hey, it’s a legitimate question!” Gilda raised her beak. “It’s your job as a Loremaster to teach these things. So, educate me!”

“Fine.” Gia sighed, oh-so-tired. “We need them to do menial tasks that griffons find too boring. For example, pegasi to take care of our weather and to pull flying vehicles. Unicorns to clean stuff and do their magic thingy. Earth ponies for farming and hauling stuff… Maybe for taking care of animals… Diamond dogs for the mines… And not to mention that we gotta go back to sacrificing them for The Harpy. Or something. Lady Gwendolen says She liked that, and their meat was an important part of the rituals in Her honor, back in the day.”

Yeah, Gilda remembered that from her dreams. Particularly the one where she first met The Harpy. The recollection of it brought a shiver to her spine and ruffled her feathers and fur. Maybe, just maybe it would be a better idea to tone that down?

Just a thought. Modern griffons may not be very happy about slavery, sacrifices, and whatnot. But, even worse than that, Gilda’s stomach jumped at the thought of griffons feeding from ponies and she burped into her fist. She had to stop and recover her wind, let the sour taste in her mouth wash away.

“Do you need anything, Lady Gilda?” The Sky Sentry quartermaster with them stopped next to her and the others in the front turned around to her. “You don’t seem very well.”

She stared blankly for a second before she brought her wits together again. “Ah… No. I’m fine. Just… Some old… Uh… Memories.”

The griffon guy, white under his black armor nodded. “I understand. My sister is an acolyte in Griffindell. She says that the visions and dreams from past lives can be intense.”

His empathy was welcome, even if it was dry as the Northerners could be. It was sincere if anything. Gilda smiled at him, and he nodded again before they resumed walking. The green Loremaster remained close. “You’re not gonna survive in Griffindell if talking about that does you so much distress.”

Gilda was almost touched. Gia looked worried. Unironically. It made a smile show on the tan one’s beak. “We just… Don’t need a war with the whole world. And I’m afraid of what could happen if… We lost.”

We will see about those thoughts, Child. Your lack of faith is most disappointing.

Oh, shit! She heard it! It was not like Gilda had lot of sympathy left for the griffons that messed Griffonia or even the ponies. But a terrible foreboding sense of impending doom covered her like a foul miasma. Every time the conversation veered towards slaves, sacrifices and… Evil stuff!

Gia distracted her from her thoughts, though.

The green queen shrugged, unconcerned as she spoke. “Eh… I kinda resigned to the fact that I’m screwed. I wanted to be gone with the money, because Griffonia is going to turn into a crappy clerocracy with a king that follows The Cult of The Harpy and his own queen is going to be Her representative. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

No. No. No! If there was a way to keep one’s thoughts from being thought, Gilda wanted to learn that right now. She was just so scared of what would happen if things went wrong because of The Harpy’s ideals.

You should teach your friend, Child. This one is not only traitorous, but she is disloyal. One of my Children. One of my Chosen to educate. Do not allow her words to take root in your mind. Instead, help me discipline her.

They both pressed their steps to keep up with the others as Gia went on. Gilda silently begged Gia to shut up already, but she didn’t. “If I learned something in the statecraft classes Gwendolen made me attend, is that it’s not going to go well with the Hall of Friendship. She’s gonna make Lord Gilad enforce The Harpy’s bullshit and… It’s not gonna be pretty when they react. As a Loremaster I’ll be in the firing line.”

Gilda grimaced at the other’s words. That was, indeed, everything that happened with the Swordmaidens when the Emperor lost the war. She could imagine the younger and more vulnerable Loremasters didn’t do too well either. Shit… Gia was actually right!

Gilda just agreed with her, and her eyes almost teared at the ide of Gia going through what she had suffered in that dream. Back in Griffonstone, when Ghadah died centuries ago. But there was more. Grunhilda’s face floated before her. Even Gil’s and Guille’s.

Interesting. Your thoughts betray an insecurity I had believed corrected, Child. And your friend… She is in a dangerous position and should learn not to confide certain things.

“We’re supposed to learn from History.” Gia complained with a funny pained expression. “But Lady Gwendolen is too drunk in The Harpy’s, bloodlust.”

Gia sighed again. “As though she wasn’t making that stuff up to rile griffons.”

I am going to make this bird suffer…

“Shut up! She’s listening you idiot!” Gilda screamed after the words that echoed amid her thoughts and coughed nervously when all the other griffons stared at her. Then she did her best to get her nerves under control, but her jittery gestures betrayed her. “You might want to tone down on that opinion. Eh… I mean… Don’t you believe The Harpy talks to her? Didn’t you believe that she talked to me?”

“I was using you.” Gia blinked. “No offense, but it’s bullshit. It’s all Lady Gwendolen’s making stuff up. And I don’t know what goes on inside that head of yours, but I wouldn’t be too surprised if there’s some weird mind stuff going on. Like your head is filling in the blanks for her since you were in such a bad situation.”

“Yeah…” Gilda deadpanned and glared at Gia, forcing her expression over her panicked grimace. “Somehow I doubt that would’ve given me magical powers.”

“You have natural magical powers, birdbrain.” Gia showed Gilda her jerk smirk. “You were born with the capacity for flight that is at least half-magical. You can walk on clouds. Griffons are just not very magically oriented in their mindset. Lady Gwendolen just guides them. Like those ‘unlock your potential’ scammers.”

“Although, to be fair…” Gia frowned cutely as she had no business doing being such a jerk. “I don’t think I would have believed what happened in the fight back in Thunderpeak had I not witnessed it.”

“So, you believe?” Gilda’s eyebrow raised.

“No!” Gia cried. “I don’t know what is going on, but I sure as heck don’t believe in some goddess that happens to agree with Lady Gwendolen on everything.”

I will make sure that the Griffindell’s guards are creative with this one. And you, my dearest Child… We shall see what lurks beneath your shallow thoughts that disturb you so.

Gilda coughed, brought back to the fact that Gia was digging both their graves. But. She. Kept. Talking! “I’m almost surprised at how dumb griffons can be not to see this. In this stupid world filled with magic…”

“Oh! Look! We’ve arrived!” Gilda forced a smile and held Gia’s beak shut.

It was true, though. Mister Gillian was talking to another caravan master. The plan was that they would join efforts for the journey and split the payment accordingly. As expected, the steely gray northerner griffon didn’t like it, but Gia’s ‘Loremastery’ and Gilda’s promises of money, along with some appeals to Lady Gwendolen’s honor made the griffon see things their way.

If anything, the conversation washed away Gilda’s nervousness and replaced it with how much of a logistical nightmare that trip actually was.

The problem was that they needed more beasts of burden. Gia insisted that flying was too dangerous because of the winds and exposure. Gillian agreed because of how heavy their load would be. That meant ‘oxen’. Lots of the bulky northerner wooly oxen. Large, tan and covered in enough ‘wool’ to make quite a few of the ‘normal’ buffalos. According to Gia, they were related to the Appleloosian Buffalos the same way Crystal Ponies related to Heartland Earth Ponies.

Another drifting thought… It had never occurred to Gilda that earth ponies could be classified according to where they had come from. But it was kind of obvious, considering how much like griffons changed according to the places they lived in. Culturally, earth ponies from the Bay County area were quite different from the ones south in Heartland County. Gilda had just never imagined it could be the influence from the regional magic. She just had assumed that cosmopolitan Manehattian ponies would be different from Ponyville country bumpkins anyways.

Curious… Did that, thousands of years ago, influence the Princesses’ choice of building the capital in that place?

Eh, she was probably overthinking. The ponies themselves didn’t care for any of that.

The important thing was that the oxen had enough of a thick coat that they could withstand the cold weather and were bulky enough they could pull the heavy carts. They were also strong enough to power through the snow if needed. Of course, that also meant more griffons to handle them. More food and more shelters for both. More everything. And more of anything meant more money. Gilda’s money, but she supposed it would all be worth it in the end.

At the same time, she was starting to agree with Gia. At least on how difficult an endeavor that trip was shaping up to be.

But, despite the hurdles, they managed to secure everything. Supplies, griffons (including several thralls), cart-pulling oxen, the vehicles themselves. Gilda also acquired a headache from the exorbitant sum that creeped up on her funds. Some annoyance at the southerner griffons that insisted on taking photos with her too.

As the pony princesses ended the day, the merchants closed their stalls and shops. Fortunately, Gilda and the others were also done with talking to griffons about preparations. The actual work would go on, and hopefully everything would be ready to leave in the morning. But there was nothing that Gilda could do at that point anymore.

While the caravan would organize itself, the Sky Sentry and the city’s guards would ensure that the newly arrived griffons would be in place and ready to move. Fed and properly instructed, at least as not to say or do anything stupid.

Back at the inn, the throng of griffons that arrived hadn’t exactly grown smaller and Gilda suspected the city’s guards were in for a long night. They had set up fires and given heavy cloaks to the newcomers. The northerner griffons just seemed to shrug off the cold, though. Gilda herself, despite feeling it, the cold didn’t really bother her. It was a minor annoyance that refused to go to the back of her mind.

At least the northerners didn’t mind the tired, crying cubs throwing all sorts of tantrums. Even if their parents nearly panicked, the northerners remained calm.

Gilda found them annoying. Maybe it was the weariness. Walking around town, talking, negotiating was exhausting. Gilda was hungry and her body ached. She just didn’t have the patience. Yet, she smiled as they approached the inn. Grunhilda was still with Gertha as the pink queen showed her something in their training bow. Next to the stone wall of the building was a generic quadrupedal-shaped target with a few arrows sticking from it.

Grunhilda had a sharp frown, paying attention to whatever Gertha was telling her while running her talon along the bow. Curiously, Grunhilda was as comfortable in that cold as Gilda would’ve been on a beach, despite the black fur coat Gertha wore.

But Gilda decided against interfering with them and followed the others inside. Gia whined as she leaned on her side against the nearest wall with all the drama she could afford, and Geary promptly began massaging her back and whispering to her. Gilda had to admit it was heartwarming in the way she smiled at his attention.

“Welcome back, Lady Gilda!” The innkeeper happily greeted her. “We will be serving a nice warm soup in a short while. Please stay in the main hall if you want some of it.”

That sounded like a good idea, so Gilda sat herself on one of the sitting pillows by the fire and closed her eyes for a moment. She emptied her mind and just let the comforting warmth wash over her. Soon enough a contented sigh escaped her. Sure, the cold didn’t bother her much, but the soothing warmth that radiated from the fire, along with the smells of the constantly roasting meat had a feeling of ‘the end of the day’.

It didn’t take long before Gosalynn entered to sit next to Gilda, bringing with her a pouch filled with seeds. Of which she threw a pawful into her mouth.

“Hey.” Gilda greeted her a bit awkwardly, unsure how to address the other queen in a more informal environment. But Gosalynn didn’t let herself be bothered.

“Good evening.” The shorter and shinier griffoness smiled, waving off a mug of something the innkeeper offered her. “I just wanted to let you know we found some griffons willing and able to help with the caravan among the refugees.”

“Great.” Gilda smiled too. “Will they be able to leave in the morning?”

“Yes, yes…” The other gobbled up another pawful of black seeds. “They’re getting their tasks from my quartermaster, and everything should be ready to go at first light.”

Saying that, Gosalynn’s long beak opened wide with a yawn her paw did little to hide. “I’ll make sure that everything is ready to go at our headquarters.”

Finally, the captain waved Gilda goodbye and yawned again while she stood and left out the door. Gertha had opened it and politely walked out of the way for the captain to leave. Then the pink griffoness walked inside with Grunhilda in tow. The latter had her training bow across her back and the quiver with the arrows on her side, but most importantly, she opened a giant smile when she saw Gilda.

“Miss Gilda! Miss Gertha said I’m a natural with the bow!” She hopped closer and practically vibrated with excitement.

“That’s great!” Gilda smiled back at her while Gertha approached.

“Hey, get this stowed away like I showed you.” The pink mercenary patted Grunhilda’s back. “Then you can ask me anything you need.”

“Okay!” Grunhilda was quite larger than Gertha, and it was easy to forget that she was much younger than the other. Especially as she barely kept from running to their room.

“Thanks.” Gilda turned to Gertha with a smile. A tired, but sincere one.

“Hey, you’re welcome, boss.” Gertha sat next to her and stretched her back with a groan before she turned to Gilda again. “Grunhilda is an excellent apprentice.”

Soon the griffoness returned and by then the others had gathered around in the main hall for supper. A thick and fatty soup was served. It tasted spicy, thick with potatoes and pieces of meat.

Small groups formed and talked loudly. Mostly griffons that had been working around the city and went to the place for a final round of conversation and a hot meal before going home. As Gilda supposed. The inn also served as a bar, comparable to such establishments back in Griffonstone.

She saw Gia talking to Gelinda for a while, before the older one left. Gil and Guille were on their own corner, talking quietly and eating their soup. They seemed happy, and Gil giggled often. Gilda thought of going to the two ex-military guys and finally share a few words with them, but she was tired. There would be plenty of time during the trip.

Grunhilda and Geary sat next to each other, next to Gilda, but they talked in hushed tones and Gilda couldn’t make out what they were saying. Maybe she should worry about Grunhilda’s driven, focused stare and her blush, but Gilda was too tired to care. Her soup was a much more pressing matter at the moment.

Unlike the southerners that would use spoons, the griffons plucked the meat with their beaks. It was awkward at first but turned out to be more natural. Specially gulping the soup from the wooden bowls and licking them clean. That thing was delicious.

Once she was done, Gilda let her bowl in front of her sitting pillow and let a long and satisfying yawn escape. Some of the griffons around the fire stared at her, but they didn’t say anything. She smiled a little and yawned again. “Sorry. I guess I’m done for the day.”

“Yeah.” Gilda’s yawn infected Gertha and she yawned too. “I imagine preparing for a trip like this is not easy.”

“We’re rushing things.” Gilda shrugged. “Only by the goodwill of griffons and the weight of certain names things are going to happen so fast. But it was tiring anyways.”

“Better this way. The more we wait, the higher the chance something will go wrong. Especially with whatever happened in Griffonstone.” She sighed. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so tiresome if we didn’t rush through things, but we gotta go already.”

All that walking, the drama, talking to so many griffons. It was rather early, but Gilda was more than tired. She just wanted to drop on her bed and sleep as soon as possible. That was probably a good thing as the next morning they would leave on a long journey. Being rested was mandatory, especially if she wanted to make herself responsible, after all.

“Yeah, I’m going to bed.” Gilda turned the other side to see Grunhilda too finishing her soup. “You can stay up if you want, but you better get some good sleep too.”

“Okay.” Her thrall grinned and promptly wiped her beak with a small napkin from one of the many small plates before them. Gilda decided to do the same before she stood and left. But Grunhilda didn’t stay with the others, she followed Gilda closely. Ran in front of her and held the door open for her master.

“Do you want me to prepare a bath, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda quickly offered, moving closer once she had closed the door and wearing a smile.

“Nah.” Gilda shook her head slowly, nodded at the bed still smiling softly. “I just want to drop on the bed and sleep. I’m bushed from all that walking.”

“Oh.” Grunhilda sat and fidgeted her fingers together. “Don’t you want anything? Don’t you want me to do anything?”

“No, Grunhilda.” Gilda stopped smiling, but then she showed a tired smile again. “I know what you want, but I’m tired. It’s just not gonna be fun.”

“Okay…” The other deflated like a balloon, but Gilda poked her beak with a talon and her eyes went cross.

“You horny kitten.” The tan one spoke with faux seriousness. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, I’m just too tired.”

“Okay.” The ‘horny kitten’ giggled.

“Well, I’m gonna sleep now.” Gilda spoke again. “You can go and talk to the others if you want. But don’t forget we’ll start on a long trip first thing tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda repeated herself again.

Sometimes, Gilda wasn’t entirely sure her friend understood at all what she said. Nonetheless, she turned and climbed onto the bed. If anything, the cold kept her from sweating during the day and she didn’t feel dirty or like she needed a bath more than she was tired.

Plopping to her side, she relaxed on the bed with a sigh. Soon enough the mattress shifted with the weight of another griffon on the bed, and she let herself smile. Grunhilda laid behind her and scooted together, spooning against her back. Her paw tentatively moved over Gilda’s shoulder and when she didn’t complain, Grunhilda held her and pulled her closer still.

The warmness from her larger friend’s body soothed the pervading cold and her softness welcomed contact. Gilda nestled her head against Grunhilda’s neck and let herself be held. The sounds of rowdy griffons in the hall were surprisingly calming through the doors and it brought a sense of safety.

Calibrations

Gilda woke with a sudden gust of cold air. She was supposed to be on her bed, with her lover, friend, and thrall, snuggling and snoozing the cold night away. But she was not in the cozy ‘not-quite-so-cold’ room. She spread her legs in a lowered stance, ready to spring into action and her paws left shallow pawmarks on damp black sand. Her flared wings caught on the breeze, and it caressed her flight feathers. The sloshing of water drew her eyes. She was on a lakeside, and she had been there before.

As apparent as the water-like liquid gold lake and the black sand were the mountains that surrounded the valley taken by the magical lake. The crystal palace she remembered wasn’t there, however. It had been replaced by a tower. The strange, broken foundation that before held the magical structure now flowed perfectly into the replacement. Black stone, shiny like it was polished by an army of overzealous servants, aimed at the stormy sky. Thunder rumbled and echoed on the mountains and a dramatic bolt flashed behind the tower in the middle of the lake, at the top of the jutting rocks.

“Oh…” She folded her wings and made them comfortable at her sides, taking a more natural stance. “Guess I’m back here? Did Mother Harpy fix this place? Or something?”

She blinked a couple of times, and nothing happened. Gilda frowned and rolled her eyes. “It would be much easier if you just talked to me!”

Again, nothing happened, except for the sloshing of the water and the breeze that blew occasionally. Gilda sighed and took her paw to her face. “I just wanted a relaxing sleep. For feather’s sake!”

Still no response, she would be rested in the morning since she was actually sleeping anyways. She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine!”

Her wings opened and she flapped them with a hop. Gaining air, she flew over the golden chiming of the magical lake and a short flight took her to a landing with entrance of the tower. It was made of solid black rock, carved off the foundation and polished to a mirror-sheen. It made a comfortable landing spot, about a griffon and a half from the surface of the water. The heavy iron doors were adorned with the wings of a griffon in black and white, and they were polished and sparkly, despite the oppressive black of the iron.

The handle was a round knob, made of cast iron and it was decorated with precise and smooth, detailed lines. Pleased, Gilda nodded at it and pulled one of the doors open, causing a waft of warm and dry air to wash over her. It urged her to close the door quickly upon entering. Then she turned and what she saw made her sit by the door to stare with her beak hanging open.

The whole circular room was made with black stone walls and tightly fitting planks for the floor. Gilda wasn’t a specialist on wood, so she didn’t know what kind of wood that was, but the black tint and dark lines made it look special and unique. It was probably just ‘dream wood’ anyway. It would probably be a good idea to remember that place was a metaphor… Something… For the inside of her head.

In the center of the room, black stone isolated a hearth from the wooden floor, but the fire was unlike the one in the inn. Bright and intense, a roaring fire. Wide and tall to the point it couldn’t be practically used for roasting prey. But more than that, it pulsated. Like a living thing, breathing in and out. It hypnotized Gilda and held her eyes for so long they started stinging from the heat it radiated. It lit the whole room as much as it kept the air warm and filled it the with the smell of burning wood.

The room also had a pair of tables flanking the fire, covered in white sheets, and overcrowded with food. Meats and beverages, mostly, that smelled delicious when she approached. A few scones were there too. They were filled with minced meat and Gilda’s eyebrow raised at their presence. In the sides of the room, it was flanked by a few ‘chaise-longue’ of the exact same kind they used in the Empire in their sultry parties filled with alcohol, meats and horny griffons making out everywhere. “This is one of those stupid symbolic things, isn’t it?”

She received no answer, and her attention turned to the walls. The polished stone had engravings on it, like they were carved with fine tools. Magic should do too, especially since they were deep grooves filled with white metal. They were groups of simple images, compositions which covered the walls from ceiling to floor. And in the first one, left of the entrance, she saw a stream and a forest ensconced within mountains. A large griffon image with striped wings wide open made lighting shower over the valley. The larger image was surrounded by smaller ones, and they showed griffons hunting ponies. They showed prairies and open skies, forests, and storms. Underneath, the whole composition focused on a burning mountain and four horned pegasi flew above.

Simple symbols, but that summoned precise thoughts inside Gilda’s head. She was reading the High-Griffonese Glyphs, lost to Celestia’s onslaught on the History of her kind. Although the Nartani had successfully kept them alive.

“Huh…” Gilda let escape an amused hum. “I suppose that ponies have a weird tree with creepy doors, and griffons have a fiery hall with engravings of past lives. Fair enough.”

She blinked a few times before she spoke to herself again. “Or I suppose that is what this is? I sure don’t remember this.”

Then she scratched her head. “Or something. I guess this is the original Palace of the Self, as Mother had intended it before Luna took over? Yeah. That makes sense.”

There were more of those carvings, but a tall obsidian image of one that could only be Mother Harpy dominated the back. Much like the one Gilda had seen in the teleportation facility back in Griffonstone, but this one had its wings forward, covering the hall. Like she protected it. Or, like she owned it. Went both ways, supposedly.

Behind it were stairs that circled around the room to the floor above. But, in front of it, held by a fancy golden and silvery stand was Mythical. The base of the stand was a bulky golden square and the sides had engravings of a griffoness dancing with the sword.

Gilda smiled at it but took a step back and returned her attention to the engraved images. She could see that they were always dominated by the image of the great griffoness, lightning and something tragic that ranged from griffons laying in beds to broken bodies and everything in between. What they were saying is that the life of the griffon depicted in those stories was closely tied to the great griffon deity that dominated them.

One of them drew her more than the others did. Certainly, because she readily recognized everything that it held. She saw a city with tall pyramids in the desert. The great griffoness was there, showering lightning over the city, and beneath her a roaring fire engulfed a griffon tied to a stake.

Gilda’s body tensed with the sudden heat. Her tongue was covered in ash and burning flesh filled her nares. She gasped and coughed, but it all left her a second later, with nothing more than a slight headache when she forced her mind back into the moment. She grimaced and scowled fiercely at the thought that the ones responsible had left a legacy that muddied her kind. Some of them still lived, while others just made it worse. Their descendants thrived like a pox upon the land.

There was more in the composition, and she allowed her eyes to guide her thoughts, as the present ones were unpleasant and soured her mood. In the image, a griffon delivered a heart to the Great Griffoness, and sword fights and battling armies dominated most of the rest of the composition. But there were also tall Battlehorns, covered in thick armor, and deserts. A dead griffon, still holding a battleaxe, before the gates of a city drew her attention. Those were not exactly heartwarming, and she couldn’t remember where the griffon by the gates came from. Even if the glyphs spoke of the death of The Emperor. Maybe some memory she still hasn’t awakened yet? Well, it sucked for the zebra, but the first time she saw The Harpy made an impression on Gilda and it only grew. She really came to like her.

Her eyes found another image to the right. The last one.

A wide griffon city surrounded by a river was definitively Griffonstone and next to it, clouds and columns showed Cloudsdale without a doubt. In between them, a small house burned and crumbled. The same sensation from the other image returned. Heat, ash and burning death. But Gilda scoffed at it and shoved the emotions aside with the sheer power of her anger.

In another part of the composition, she hugged a large, stripped griffon, with her back to a pegasus that could only be Rainbow Dash, sitting in the distance. Gilda rolled her eyes at the symbolism but kept scanning the image. She found a merry group of griffons partying with mugs next to a hearth fire and saw herself, flying above a building, yielding a skyward sword.

Most of the image, if the composition was to be the same size as the others, was still blank. Just smooth stone. She supposed that was good, as that one clearly represented her present life. Again, taking a step back, she figured she could spend days looking at the engravings on the wall, but also supposed she had a meeting to attend.

She turned to the stairs and a quick trot took her to the first steps. On her way up, the stone had no engravings, but the exquisite and supernaturally perfect fitting of the stones reminded her again she was dreaming. No further details drew her attention, and she rushed her way up the stairs. The only sounds were the tip-tapping of her feet and the crackling of the fire.

She reached the floor above and it was something else entirely. It was taller still, its walls were covered by bookcases, and there was something weird about those. Not only were they ridiculously tall and wide, but the circular nature of the room gave them an otherworldly and bewildering aura. Their size and the sheer number of books they contained seemed unnatural. Books in every color and shape too.

Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t alone. In the center of the room was a wide and heavy throne. White wood carved with decorative glyphs and black upholstery. Iron for decoration where Gilda would expect some shiny metal, but polished and just as glossy. Aya Harpyia occupied it, holding one of the books in her paw. She closed it and the book vanished, undone in a shimmering mist on its way back to its place.

“Welcome, Child.” Her jet black beak had a smile and she seemed to be in a better mood than she generally was whenever Gilda met her in her dreams. “This is our shared home within your mind. I hope you like it. I have done away with all of Luna’s impudent trespassing. Most of it, anyways.”

That small addendum made Gilda curious, and she resumed walking towards the chair, but the white and black griffoness stood from the chair and approached Gilda to meet her halfway. She had a dangerous glint in her eyes that worried Gilda. But she had done nothing wrong. Had she failed, somehow?

The two sat in front of each other. The larger creature embraced Gilda with her mighty wings and her paw, with long talons, caressed Gilda’s nape, furrowing along her plumage. The combination of feather-soft embrace and her streaking talons made for a strangely seducing danger that made Gilda’s feathers and her fur stand.

That being evoked such a bizarre array of emotions. It ranged from the innocent and heartwarming filial love and devotion to the very adult and physical fiery desire. It abruptly changed to a tense fear when her talons closed behind Gilda’s neck and threatened to break her skin.

“I am jealous of My Children, and Luna has left hoof marks all over the place.” The Allmother spoke softly, in a dangerous whisper. “Have you been a naughty kitten behind my back?”

But once the initial shock had washed over her, Gilda spoke with certainty in her voice and in her knotted brow. “I did nothing wrong.”

The great griffoness’ black beak opened in a soft gasp, and her grasp on Gilda lessened. Gilda continued with the same steel-strong certainty. “It was not Luna that saved me. It wasn’t her that gave me my strength back in that dirty alley. And it was not because of Luna I killed griffons in Thunderpeak.”

“It was not Luna that gave me Grunhilda.” Gilda held onto the feathers on Her Mother’s fluffy chest and rested her face on them. “And it was not because of her important griffons now know I even exist.”

“Why do you fear, then?” Aya Harpyia’s paw softly glided on Gilda’s feathers.

“I don’t fear you anymore.” Gilda spoke without moving from her position, letting the subtle yet powerful scent of ‘griffoness’ flood her nares. “I fear losing you. Everything you have given me… But most of all, you.”

“Do you not fear losing Grunhilda?” The Harpy asked Gilda, holding her softly. “Or your new friends? Your… ‘Employees’?”

Gilda didn’t move. She didn’t even think. But fears pressed on her mind, and she didn’t know where they came from. She whimpered and didn’t answer.

Mother Harpy’s stormy gray eyes focused back on Gilda, and she had an unsure gaze Gilda hadn’t seen on her yet. But she caressed Gilda’s feathers again, as she seemed to see something in Gilda that bothered her. Until she spoke again. “I can see the tides of emotions. The strings of connected thought. It pulls at your heart, but I cannot see what it is.”

Then she frowned and her expression lost the unsureness, replaced with contained anger. “You talked to Luna. You could not hide it from me, and you chose me. But I can see she has influenced you in a way I do not understand. You have no memories that would explain it. It is unsettling.”

Well, damn. If she thought it was unsettling, how in the ever-loving heck should Gilda be feeling? She smiled and chuckled softly at the ridiculous situation she was in where a goddess that made minds couldn’t understand what another goddess had done inside her head.

“It is amusing…” The Harpy agreed and chuckled too, even if Gilda hadn’t said anything. But it didn’t bother the smaller griffoness. She was so used to The Harpy inside of her head it seemed natural.

The fun ceased when Gilda remembered it meant Luna had done something to her and she had no idea what it was. Or even how she’d done it. Her smile died on her face, and she turned her gaze to the floor, finding instead the great griffoness’ belly. That old feeling of inadequacy that accompanied her most of her life found her again.

“Tell me, My Child.” Aya Harpyia’s talon caught on Gilda’s beak and pulled it up for the shorter one to stare at her gray eyes. They could see into her soul without any metaphor whatsoever. “What is it that you fear?”

She let go of her beak and Gilda found herself fidgeting and holding her own paws nervously. “I… I don’t want to go back. I liked baking scones. And I had friends… But I’m so scared. I… I…”

Stupid words. Why were they so difficult?

It was because she wasn’t talking to Grunhilda. The Harpy didn’t look up to Gilda like a homeless puppy… Or rather a clingy girlfriend. A horny one.

“You make too many assumptions, Child.” Her sharp voice drew Gilda’s gaze upward. Whatever that smirk meant, Gilda resumed her brooding, searching for the right words. Seconds later she gave up and just said it as simple as words came out of her heart.

“I’m afraid that if we’re not careful…” She started slowly, but her voice grew in intensity as the words came out and she ended doing wild and frantic gestures. “If we’re not careful, we’ll end up with another war we can’t win! And then… And then, Grunhilda is going to Shatteredrock! Gertha is going to get killed, and so is her brother! And, and Gia! And all the others! And then Griffonia is gonna get fucked harder than it already is! And… You… You won’t be here anymore. You’ll be gone. You will be gone! Celestia is gonna kill you! There! I said it!”

Gilda stared at the larger griffoness for a couple of seconds strumming her talons together. “Please don’t be angry.”

Gilda expected an angry scowl. Maybe a slap to her face, like Gelinda kept doing to Gia. For doubting when she should have had a stronger… Faith? Was that the word?

Instead, she received a loving pat on top of her head that flattened her feathers. It might have actually been condescending, but Gilda chose to believe it was a loving pat on the head.

“It seems a deeper look into your mind is in order. I would expect that you should embrace the culture of the most loyal of My Children, but I may have misjudged.” The Allmother encouraged Gilda to walk with a wing on her back. “You must understand that I do not force those on you, as I cannot. And that is why you may, so awkwardly, shy from them.”

“You want me to hate a dude just because his ancestors fucked a pony?” Gilda walked with her and kept her head low, but she still found the courage to speak. “They can be good griffons… Good Children of The Harpy, despite that.”

“It is their due to endure.” The Harpy explained as they walked. “They should not exist. I understand your empathy, but it is misplaced. They must understand that other griffons are to be discouraged from generating more of them. There is no place for them, they do not fit. All their birth did for them was condemn them to a lifetime of inadequacy.”

“Well, cool!” Gilda’s voice raised. “But instead of encouraging griffons to be jerks to them… I don’t know. There has to be a better way of dealing with this! But let them live in peace! They can be productive and happy.”

The Allmother didn’t answer. Maybe Gilda had gotten across to her. Maybe she was just angry. But something told Gilda it was worth insisting because she was right. “Even if the Saddani get in the way of purer griffons, they are still griffons. And some of them are even more loyal.”

“I encouraged you to remember your past life.” Gilda let her speak. “One’s death is always so traumatic, but such violent rape and death by fire can be particularly damaging. More so when you held such unbreakable loyalty to your sisters. You are expected to remember more, as the magic in the land itself will trigger dreams and visions. You are also expected to overcome such trauma. However, I also expected your hatred of those that betrayed you would facilitate your acceptance of my Commandments regarding the stained blood of the Saddani. Especially with Ghadah’s memories for context. That you would see it for the blight it is on your kind.”

Or maybe she hadn’t. And it did sound fair The Harpy would expect that from Gilda. But the way she blamed things on ancestry angered Gilda, and she stomped her forepaw. “That dude in Wayfarer’s Rest didn’t burn my former home. He isn’t the problem! Racist jerks like Gia probably cause more damage to us than a whole litter of Saddani! There are good griffons in the South, even if their blood is a mess. They are good and they thrive, despite the mess that Griffonia became.”

“How would you know such a thing?” Harpyia retorted with a frustrated tone in her voice as she walked. “Do you not see the arcane power that runs in your own untainted blood?”

“Yeah! But you know what? You don’t have a problem with gay griffons not producing pure cubs for you.” Gilda went on, letting her voice raise again. “You even expect griffons will break rules. You don’t even punish them if they don’t get caught, and you praise their resourcefulness. Your problem is with Celestia, not the Saddani and not even the hippogriffs!”

“Or are you going to tell me that you’d be okay with that rapist dude they killed when I arrived in Wayfarer’s Rest because he was an oh-so-pure Nartani?” Emboldened, she raised her voice further. “Because I know you’re cool with griffons being dicks to each other, but rape is too far even to the purest of griffons!”

The Harpy silenced for a while as they climbed the stairs. It spiraled behind the bookcases and continued from the stairs that had brought Gilda from the floor below. Much of the same, the stairs of polished stone weren’t as impressive as they were the first time, and she was irritated after the things she had said. But Gilda had to admit that the female-oriented side of her preferences found the sight of the great lioness hinds in front of her distracting. Despite being angry at her.

The Harpy climbed the stairs and Gilda followed, letting the larger one think about what she had said. Finally, the former spoke, and a new tone indicated begrudgingly accepting Gilda’s opinions. “I suppose that you are right, the Saddani among My Children are loyal. As I told you on the other occasion, you are not the first to bring this to my attention.”

“Regardless…” Once they reached the floor above, The Harpy turned on herself to stare at Gilda. “Snow Mountains does not tolerate permissiveness, and seldom does it give clemency. It forged the Nartani into the resilient survivors they are, and you must follow in their example. If you want to survive the journey. If you wish your charge to survive. The griffons that joined you belong to me, and you will answer to me should an ill fate befall them. Even if you will talk back to me over my decisions on the future of Griffonkind, do not do so regarding your journey.”

Gilda gave the larger one a serious stare, but inside she was giggling like a teenager. She just couldn’t let her win. Gilda was going to say that she would take good care of them, but arriving on the next floor, she raised a forepaw and stopped mid step. “What the fu- What is this place?!”

Gilda walked into the middle of the room as The Harpy remained by the stairs, watching. The tan griffoness let her beak hang open as she looked around the place with wide and surprised eyes. If she was anywhere else, she might have been horrified by what she saw.

The floor was taken by a rich black carpeting and the walls were the same as the rest of the structure, with cut stone fitting together with a paltry use of mortar. The light came from torches on the walls, held by iron sconces and from a considerable black candelabra hanging from the ceiling. The ceiling was wood again. A clear wood wall separated a small portion of the floor with a simple door. And there was a beautiful painting of The Harpy above the door. Just her bust, showing her profile with sharp lines, black beak, gray eyes, and her ‘crown’ of black feathers.

But all that was small business compared to the rest of the room. If someone had asked Gilda what Dr. Hoofenstein’s laboratory looked like, she would probably have described something like the room The Harpy had led her into.

Beyond the typical nice things most living rooms contained, and some furniture under white sheets, this one had several cylindrical glass containers. Each large enough to hold an adult griffon, connecting to the floor and ceiling with brass structures and bronze fittings. One held a heart and what Gilda supposed was a complete network of blood vessels, pulsating in waves after the heart. That would’ve been sufficiently creepy, but another also held an entire digestive system. From the tongue to the anus, and it… Squirmed.

As The Harpy walked past Gilda, she turned and saw another tube with lungs and air sacs that gave griffons the edge in stamina and high altitudes. They were animated and moved on their own, breathing in and out of the trachea inside their glass cage filled with a clear liquid.

There was a life-sized, uncannily real model of herself, like a stuffed animal, stuck to rods that kept it standing. It breathed and its eyes were so full of life Gilda would have screamed had she not remembered that it was ultimately a dream. Same as another very real model of all her bones and yet another of her muscles, as though her skin had been peeled off.

Despite the strangeness, she was distracted. She felt safe. She didn’t see, much less expect, The Harpy covering her back with a wing and guiding her to the other side of the room where an examination table, large enough for a griffon to lay was. Gilda froze.

“Stop resisting.” The Harpy’s voice came low and threatening while her talons shot sharp pain on Gilda’s neck. “If you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.”

Blind fear was exactly what didn’t allow her to think reasonably and see that all she had to do was relax and not resist. The pungent smell of chemical disinfectants and the bare, clinical aspect of the table, with the overall environment of that room made for a terrifying image inside her mind. But above all, she feared there really was something inside of her head that would make The Harpy angry.

Gilda cried as her bones rattled and The Harpy’s grasp became tighter still on her nape. Then she half-dragged, half-forced Gilda to walk and lay on the metal examination table. Images of the old Loremaster holding Gil to the wall flooded her mind and she regretted her lack of empathy at the time.

Cold steel, mirror-like, with grooves and drains. Her paws slid unstably, and she would’ve struggled to keep her balance even without the other pulling and shoving her. With sharp talons hurting her skin and cold metal against her underside, she gave in to dread and screeched, trying to escape. But her paws found no stability in the slippery metal and that only caused The Harpy to press harder at her neck and hold her tighter still. The cold in her stomach only became worse and her legs kept flailing in vain.

“Please, Mother! I swear I didn’t do anything!” She cried through the sound of her talons and claws skipping at the metal. “I didn’t do anything! I swear! I won’t talk back to you again! I-“

“Quiet!” The Harpy screamed sharply at her and her voice broke through. A second later, she spoke again, softer, with a soothing chirp. “Be calm… I will not hurt you.”

Gilda did her best to relax and forced her muscles to go limp, but the cold and the submissive position didn’t help, and she still trembled, trying to fight. Her breathing was too quick, and she couldn’t get it under control, her eyes shifted side to side, but she couldn’t find the larger griffoness. She couldn’t even move her head with her chin on the metal.

But that was Mother Harpy. Right? Mother loved her. She saved her. It was all Luna’s fault. Gilda’s beak chattered nervously before she managed to speak, finally closing her eyes. Her voice broke and she had to breathe faster to get the words out. “I didn’t do anything with Luna! I Swear!”

“You are acting like an unruly cub.” She eased Gilda with her back to the cold metallic surface. Staring at the wooden ceiling, her eyes soon found the Harpy and her worried expression made it more bearable. “Behave.”

Gilda pulled back her paws close to her chest at the other’s cold frown and blushed as her stormy eyes ran over her exposed belly and crotch. She knew better than trying to protect herself, though. Harpyia’s eyes didn’t carry any sensuality whatsoever.

Gilda squirmed, but she suddenly couldn’t move. Her limbs and her body weren’t arrested in place by chains or anything though. More like her mind refused to connect the intention of movement with the actual movement. Her face showed a fearful frown and, deep inside, a cold icicle of dread froze in her stomach. Her mouth wouldn’t respond to her commands to beg Her Mother to stop.

She hadn’t done anything, but there was something that Mother mustn’t find. It would ruin everything, and Gilda didn’t know what it was. But there was ‘something’ not even she knew what was. Maybe Mother was right… Maybe Luna had done something. That was why she was so angry.

The large white griffoness gave Gilda a searing stare while holding a strange device that reminded Gilda of that speculum thing her doctor used to examine her private parts with. It was golden, longer, thinner, and scarier. It had an open point, and on the other side it had a handle she held it with, along with a small device like the backside of a magical device with gems and golden wires. “This will not hurt you in any way whatsoever.”

She slowly inserted the speculum-thing into Gilda’s right nostril. It didn’t scrape or cause her pain, but it was cold, and it forced its way inside with a metallic smell that made her skin crawl. Gilda could swear it was much wider than it seemed. Thank goodness, or thank The Harpy, she couldn’t move, or she could have gotten herself hurt with how deep that thing went. It wasn't any less unpleasant, however.

Metallic clinking announced that the Harpy had procured another tool. Gilda couldn’t see because the external part of the speculum-thing obstructed her view, but the unnerving frown she saw on The Harpy’s white face worried her.

She felt the metal vibrate and heard it in her skull as something scraped its way inside the speculum and it went deep. She felt no pain, but a strange pressure against the back of her nostrils, and the smell of blood startled her. Even more when the rod came out and its tip was a sharp blade wet with blood.

“Calm yourself, child. I know what I am doing.” Saying that, The Harpy put that thing away with a metallic clatter and picked another tool. She tested it, staring inquisitively at the tip and it buzzed twice with an acute whirl.

Gilda tried asking her what that thing was. When she trained the tool’s tip to go into the speculum-thing Gilda would have jumped off the table. But her body refused to move, and her voice never found its way out of her beak. Her heart thumped in her chest and the fact that it was just so real, when all her body just stopped responding, stole away her ability to think straight. Her eyes shifted frantically, but she couldn’t see anything other than Mother Harpy sticking that thing into her nostril with a critical squint.

She heard the whirring resonating inside her head and whatever that was, it vibrated in her whole skull. She closed her eyes tightly and the smell of burnt flesh twisted her innards. Tears squeezed through her eyelids, but the whole ordeal was over just as soon as it started.

“I understand it is disturbing.” The white one admonished, pulling out the blood-stained tool. “But it is necessary. I do not wish to lose you to Luna.”

She wanted to cry and say that she was sorry. Do anything. But she was stuck inside her head. With that smell and a ghost of the noise that refused to die. All the while The Harpy deftly picked yet another tool. A small metallic needle with a red gem held by minuscule claws at the end of a rod, which also had a handle with a trigger.

“This is a probe. It will help me pinpoint exactly what Luna has done to you.” She held it by the handle like a firearm while speaking.

Again, the thought caused Gilda’s innards to quake and freeze, but she resisted it as best as she could. She still had her thoughts. Instead, she focused her mind on the other griffoness’ shapely paws and the security with which she handled such delicate instruments. The ‘probe’ went inside the tube sticking out of Gilda’s nostril and, again, it vibrated and sounded at her skull. It unnerved her, and she closed her eyes tightly until the sensation passed. And soon the rod came out without the needle and gem. She hadn’t felt a thing.

Then she understood that probe-thing was inside of her head and Gilda frantically shook her thoughts not to focus on that fact.

“You keep overreacting.” The Harpy removed the ‘speculum’ too and stood to walk away. Gilda’s eyes focused on her and her swaying tail tipped by a black tuft. “It is over, and you are free to move now.”

Gilda startled again and held her beak. Nothing seemed different. Her beak was the same it always was. Only a small speck of blood caught on her paw. She moved her jaw and sniffed. Only a faint smell of blood remained. But there was something inside of her head, and there was nothing she could do about it. Only trust Her Mother.

Sitting on the metal table, Gilda saw her pulling the sheets from over a large machine. It was a strange magical contraption, and she knew it was magical because it looked a lot like Luna’s magical system. Instead, the present one had rectangles with black glass. Several of them, above and to the sides of a sitting pillow and a ‘board’ with ‘keys’ that reminded Gilda of a typing machine.

As The Harpy sat on the pillow and flicked a switch that turned the thing on, the glasses showed green images and text. Graphs and ‘stuff’, much like the one Luna had used. But the typing machine part was much more conducive to be used with The Harpy’s talons than with pony hooves. Obviously, the reason Luna used magic.

It was eerily similar in the way strange text and words ran across some of the images on the glasses. Gilda sat behind the larger griffoness, leaning to the side to watch. But the other pointed at a small platform next to the machine. “Sit there.”

Gilda obeyed, walking over, and sitting. It was a metallic, round platform with a comfortable white pillow. Above, too close for comfort, was a similar metallic piece, but it had sharp and pointy rods sticking downward. Almost touching the top of Gilda’s head.

“Do not move.” Harpyia was serious, and Gilda didn’t even think about disobeying.

But the machine made whirring and clicking sounds, with the top part emitting clacks and buzzing sounds. Suddenly, Gilda could swear something inside her head just moved. Her first reaction was to try and reach it, somehow, but she feared moving would invoke The Harpy’s anger. So, she closed her eyes, as tight as she could. She tried thinking of Grunhilda. Maybe distract herself from all that, but her thoughts were forced on herself, and her mind instead went to the conversation she had with Luna.

“Your childish fright is interfering with the probing process.” Mother’s annoyed scowl made her even more anxious. “I will give you a reward if you behave.”

Mental fortitude of a Loremaster. Gilda breathed in and out. She must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death- That stupid machine kept clacking and cracking like it was going to fall on her head any second and was going to run her through with those prongs!

Fear started turning to anger and she wanted to rip that thing apart.

Irrespective of her will, and making it worse, recollection played before her mind’s eye. Luna told her she was under attack from a Nightmare, and she laughed in her thoughts. Her chest swelled with pride reliving the moment when she opened the doors to Her Mother.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, it was over. The clicking and whirring remained, but the clacking and buzzing were gone. There was nothing inside her head, only the mighty magic of Her Mother.

Slowly, Gilda opened her eyes, still sitting on the cramped platform, but The Harpy offered a small guilty smile and raised her forelegs to her. “I apologize, Gilda… I distrusted you unfairly. And I will properly reward and compensate you.”

Gilda didn’t think. She just jumped off the platform and clinged to Her Mother like her life depended on it. Holding to her warm body with both forelegs and burying her face in her chest. It was over. At least she didn’t cry.

“The idea that you might betray me for Luna hurt me... It scared me.” The larger griffoness held her tight. Gilda listened to her, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Mother Harpy still loved her. Gilda’s paws held to the fluffy chest and her face remained glued to it as the white griffoness concluded. “You are too important.”

“It’s okay… I’m sorry I made you suspicious.” She replied with a barely audible voice.

The Harpy didn’t respond. Instead, she just caressed Gilda’s feathers on the top of her head for long seconds before Gilda heard her whisper. “I am sorry… My Child.”

Gilda frowned and looked up with a quizzical raised eyebrow. Her tone was so strange. But The Harpy just smiled and kept caressing Gilda’s feathers as she spoke. “I do hope Gehenna returns home from her mission. She will relish the chance to teach you. Your ability to recall the memories imprinted on your soul is outstanding. You do it without even noticing. It is the combination of your particular soul and of your past lives. It makes you incredibly important, but it also makes you vulnerable. Luna has exploited that to steer you to resist me.”

“What?” Gilda looked up at her with a hanging beak and a worried frown, paws on Harpyia’s chest.

“She has imprinted something on your soul. It makes you resist openly accepting the Northerner traditions. It has, in a way I am not entirely sure, convinced you we will meet with failure when the time comes to challenge the Alicorn Tetrarchy and take back our world.”

Gilda still let her beak hang and shook her head with an even more confused frown. Did that bastard alicorn try to deny Gilda use of her abilities to help her Mother? Did Luna hope that Gilda would be too afraid to fight?

The Harpy continued explaining patiently. “It aligns to the moral compass you have grown with. You believe the hunter and trader from Wayfarer’s Rest must not be made to suffer for the sins of his parents. More than that, whatever Luna has done to you has convinced you that such will deny us victory. I do not fully understand.”

The Harpy frowned. “Maybe it is the trauma you endured in your past life… All the distress caused by our defeat. I imagined it would have inflamed your heart against the traitors and their Saddani descendants. But it may have affected you in a way I had mistakenly disregarded. Luna may have exploited this and made you afeared of our traditions. Again, I cannot say that I know.”

Gilda gasped and something worrying dawned on her mind. Did she want The Harpy to just take away the memories from her past life? The pain she suffered. The humiliation they imposed into her, and the dread she went through. She didn’t. It was partially what kept her moving forward. She would have her revenge but on the right griffons.

“Now, cease these foolish thoughts. You know well enough I would never do that.” Her large and strong paw playfully held and squeezed Gilda’s beak.

“What I will do, however, is help you focus on the good things. In the end, it will still be up to you, to be loyal. But I believe it should not be a problem.” The Harpy concluded with a silky voice that was as much a caring reassurance as it was a half-playful threat. But Gilda had gotten used to it. She simply nodded.

“Splendid!” The larger griffoness left Gilda and walked over across the circular room to a tall glass-door cabinet she then opened. “This should not take long.”

That machine made Gilda uncomfortable, so she walked a few steps from it with a distrusting backward glance. And once in the middle of the room again, she focused back on the large griffoness as she rummaged and looked around for something in the cabinet. It was the same kind of wood as the floor, but with beautiful arabesques carved on the sides and traced with iron.

“So.” Gilda fidgeted with her fingers as the other had her back to her. “You’re going to do something to me that is gonna make me… I’m not entirely sure. It’s gonna make me agree with things I normally wouldn’t?”

“No.” The Harpy turned patiently. “I cannot make you agree with me. I cannot force you to agree or impose my opinion on your decision-making processes. I can only nudge your subconscious mind to inform the conscious part of what you want.”

“Wait. Uh…” Gilda’s shoulders slumped while she was sitting on the floor, and she sulked. “Don’t I make my own decisions?”

“What we colloquially call free will is not so.” The Harpy brought Gilda closer with a wing and still spoke patiently. “In reality, it is a series of processes which exist in constant flux. Ever procuring information from your memory, your inner state, and from the environment you find yourself in. It strives to form the best available mental image of the world and thus inform your conscious mind of what ‘feels right’ when a course of action is required. It is, in a way, free will, as your conscious processes are still part of it, but not the entirety of it.”

“In your case, memories from your past lives are also available and that is why you can yield a sword without proper training, drawing from your memories of your past life.” Her elegant beak showed a smile. “The greatest feat and also the greatest vulnerability of this system is that it is hungry for information. This can be used to skew the results if one understands the intimacies of its functioning and how to prime it. As Luna obviously does.”

“How?!” Gilda gasped.

“I could take you apart and correct the microscopic pathways of your metaphorical brain cells with tools so small you cannot see with the naked eye. But that would be highly distressing for you, and I owe you an apology after what you have already been through. So, we are going to make use of the emotional response systems of your mind. With new emotionally charged memories.”

With a beaming smile, The Harpy turned back to the cabinet again and resumed rummaging around it. “Your cure will also be your reward for being such a good little queen. I will prime your limbic system so that you are more open to enjoying the luxuries of your position in the near future. That should skew your mind the right way. As much as towards remembering the right memories from your past. Not to mention, remember your boon once your journey is complete.”

Giddiness was an understatement. Maybe it was her way of speaking, but she had Gilda feeling like her Mother was about to give her a cookie. She beamed too and clicked her talons together. “So… What exactly is my reward?”

“Any intense activation of certain neural pathways would suffice. There are drives that are powerful as the desire to live itself. I would be ruining the desired effect if I explained it, but it includes…” Her black and white wings opened a little. The feathers on her neck ruffled and she stopped rummaging for a moment. “Coitus.”

Gilda cocked her head, taken aback for an instant. She even blinked a few times. Did she just hear that right? “Uh… Like… Banging?”

Gilda chuckled awkwardly and planted her forefeet firmly on the floor. “You want me to… Bang someone?”

She retreated an inch and let her wings raise from her sides. “Wait. Wait! I’m not sure what is going on here anymore!”

That earned Gilda a condescending smile. “You have not since the moment we started.”

Gilda groused. She wanted to say something witty, but words failed her.

“Worry not, My Child.” The Harpy grinned widely, turning back to the cabinet. “I know very well what I am doing.”

Author's Note

A/N: Next chapter is the cloppy one and is skippable if that is not your thing.

The Horny Harvest (clop)

Gilda left The Harpy to find whatever she was looking for in that cabinet and turned her attention back to that creepy laboratory. The metal examination table was there, along with a tray containing the different tools The Harpy had used to examine her. Gilda would rather not think about those anymore.

It was a bit of a stupid thought that distracted her, but there were enough ‘parts’ to assemble a griffon in there. She didn’t even know the purpose of those things floating inside the tanks, much less of the life-size models. Maybe it was part of some sort of monitoring system? She didn’t know.

Kidneys and the tube-thingies Gilda had forgotten the name of, and a bladder. A brain with the spinal cord and a mesh of ‘strings’ that sprouted from it. And the creepiest thing of all, it had eyes attached to it via the ‘optic nerves’, as Gilda supposed they were called. And, of course, there was also the split tube-like uterus with the ovaries, a vagina, and a vulva on the other end.

Giggling inside like a dumb teenager, she wondered if she was a tom… Would those be the dangly bits and the thus named ‘red pickle’? Such a stupid thing to wonder. But she had been a long time without one of those to play with.

“Did you know the griffon penis was supposed to have barbs and be much smaller?” Mother Harpy had turned to Gilda again. The sudden words and the fact that she had caught Gilda thinking naughty things startled her. Gilda wanted to die after the image that formed in her head.

“Why would you tell me that?” She whined as she turned to the other griffoness.

“Because you are curious and titillated by your imagination.” The larger one spoke matter-of-factly. “And also, because I seldom have a chance to talk about this subject.”

“But… Why?!” Gilda squirmed.

“Griffonesses do not ovulate spontaneously. They must be in the fertile part of their cycle and properly stimulated. That was the purpose of the barbs, to rake the walls of the vagina. The pain and destroyed cells in the vaginal wall would liberate substances which induce ovulation once the male withdrew. It prevented the loss of viable eggs, as they would only be invested if there was semen present. It is part of the reason toms like holding their queens by their napes and vice-versa. Additionally, mating was over within ten seconds. It was all meant to ensure the mating was successful, as there were so few of you in the beginning.”

“Okay…” Gilda raised an eyebrow. Ten seconds. Lame. “That is a weird subject to talk about, but I suppose it is interesting. Uh… I think I know the answer, but why change it? If it did what it was supposed to do?”

“You do not know the answer. You think you do.” The other spoke calmly as Gilda approached when she beckoned her closer with a finger. “Pain is subjective. And you are educated enough to know that in your race, it has an intimate relationship with sexual pleasure. If it was supposed to happen but missing, intercourse would leave the female unsatisfied. Not that it mattered in the beginning, when you were animals ruled by instinct, but there it is.”

“However, females being hurt by penile spines, saving gametes, or holding partners in place… None of those were the reason I changed it.” The Harpy made a mindless swirl with her paw, explaining. “It was because such process was ill-fitted for a sentient species that civilized and made the process of courtship and sex more deliberate and paced. Not to mention dominance became an integral part of it. You had intercourse for the pleasure it provided. Sometimes also as a form of control. As a display of power, of subservience, or trust. Not because it yielded cubs. As far as the modern griffon is concerned, sex has become a combination of all that, whether they are aware or not.”

“And I loved it.” Her black beak made a smile and a fierce grin. “But it was a problem.”

Gilda stared with confusion. But mostly with mild amusement at her excitement to talk about that.

“You kept ‘using it wrong’. At first, I thought males trying to mate with each other and females humping each other were just confused.” Good gracious, the Allmother was actually beet-red blushing and holding a lecherous grin like a horny girl that just discovered pornography. “Then I realized that you liked the sensations more than I expected.”

The Harpy explained, again as matter-of-factly as was possible, despite her expression. “So, I made it all oriented towards pleasure and not breeding. That is, instinct, desire and pleasure were supposed to be the drive all along, but I had never experienced it. The short of it was that I decided your kind should not have sex because it gave you cubs. But because it felt nice and that was why I redesigned the male organ.”

“I quite like it, to be honest.” The mighty white and black griffoness gestured with her paws for the proper measurements while staring as though she held the real thing. And if that wasn’t enough, she had a lewd grin and shine in her eyes that complemented the frantic movement in her tail tuft. “It is much more aesthetically pleasant with the individual shades of red in its mucous membrane. The elongated shaft covered in little bumps that replaced the keratinous barbs is also much more elegant and appealing. Such a delight to play with one’s tongue or paws. And then there is the bulbous base implicating such virility and power while providing the most enjoyable of fulfilling sensations. So close to the holiness of the male’s seed-producing orbs!”

Gilda suddenly became quite proud of how successful her effort of holding back her laughter was. Including keeping her eyes from rolling despite the telling gestures The Harpy did with her paws. Especially when she held the air talking about the ‘Holy Balls’ and then made a little hole with her fingers. “The spear-shaped tip perfectly fits into the graceful and delicate labia of the griffoness and splits them, making way for the perfectly textured shaft. Providing her clitoris with all the stimulation she would ever need to gleefully welcome her partner inside her.”

“You really should consider it a gift. I could not even fully understand!” She frowned more cutely than she had any right. “But you liked it, and it made you happy. So, it made me happy too.”

“Let me guess…” Gilda gave her a knowing smile and made twinkling gestures with her fingers. “Some big, ferocious, hunk of a tom carrying a dead pony dragged you inside his cave and showed you why they liked it so much?”

“Yes and no.” Harpyia smiled naughtily. “The first time I was summoned into the realm of the living I was busy killing alicorns. It was much later when Emperor Gaven visited me in my tower. You never knew him prior to the Empire, but he used to be a gladiator that rebelled against his master and took control of the city. It became a nation, and then an empire. He impressed me with his skills and his strength, braving the Frozen North. He climbed his way into the Stormy Eyrie after the Windigos tried to kill him, dropping him out of the sky with hurricane winds, cold as their rotten hearts.”

“His various skills were endearing to me.” She blushed again, and it was just too much for Gilda. “Among those was his understanding on how to sway the hearts of griffons… Particularly those of griffonesses and how to assist them. In exploring. Their sexuality…”

“So, in a nutshell, you decided the future of Griffonkind was to be ruled by your first boyfriend.” Gilda smirked a S-tier shit-eating grin at The Harpy. “Basically, because you were a horny virgin that knew everything there was to know about sex but had never actually done it.”

“You are not entirely wrong.” The Harpy showed an amused smile. “But I lost my virginity to an emperor feared by the entire world. Yours was to one you called an ‘egghead’ that did the mathematics homework for you.”

Gilda grinned too. “Show off…”

“Curiously enough…” The Harpy held her own beak with an amused grin. “So was Gaven, but in his time, education was not as readily available. One who dominated mental faculties such as his would inevitably be lauded… Desirable. The separation between the skills of the mind and of the body are a modern thing. There is no reason a griffon cannot be as mentally skilled as he physically is. And that is why I like Lord Gilad. And Grigory. And also, Lord Griskjal. You should meet them soon enough. Maybe I should visit Griskjal again.”

Cheeky giggling bubbled from Gilda’s throat. How in the heck did that happen? She was in a dream, inside her mind (if that made any sense), inside a creepy laboratory (or whatever that was). Talking to the creator of her race about schlongs, sex, and boyfriends.

“You should not laugh.” The Harpy smiled too. “As a future Loremaster, you are supposed to understand such details of a griffon’s living experience.”

“Fair enough.” Gilda’s eyes shifted away with a blush on her cheeks. She smiled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness when she fixed them back on The Harpy. “So, you’re going to wake me up and I’ll do Grunhilda? Or… I don’t know.”

Finally, the larger griffoness stopped fumbling with things inside the cabinet and turned to Gilda with a triumphant grin, holding a rectangular box. “No, Child. We shall prime your limbic system so that it is open to the pleasurable reward of sex. As I said, it should steer you towards appreciating more the gifts I have given you. Like your adorable thrall. Especially after your boring, passionless life before. It shall be a glimpse of what awaits, should you successfully brave the frozen wilds. You should soon meet with The Emperor again, when you succeed. You know what this means!”

“You’re just horny, aren’t you?” Gilda glared at her. “You’re just gonna make me horny?! How’s that supposed to help?”

“Now, now. This is a gross oversimplification.” The Harpy made a small appeasing gesture and Gilda was sure that was the case, because if it wasn’t, she would just have told Gilda what was going to happen and there was nothing she could do about it. “You must trust me. I know what I am doing. I am offering you a pleasurable alternative to a traumatic experience. It will help you grow more powerful and further bond with your friends. With your lovely thrall. And with me.”

She concluded with her paw on her chest, while the other still held the box. “Bonding with me is incredibly important to your development as a Swordmaiden and as a Loremaster. Do you not remember?”

“Alright. Fine.” Gilda showed an uncomfortable grin with a blush of her own. Yes, she remembered, alright. It wouldn’t be the first time Ghadah’s memories of intimacies with other griffons sneaked on Gilda. And her goddess was very present in those. She had a predilection for the little Swordmaiden. Even more than The Emperor himself. Gilda’s blush only grew hotter.

“Oh, I know you remember, Child.” The Harpy had a knowing smile as she caressed the box, speaking with a husky whisper.

“Alright!” Gilda, sat on the floor, tip-tapped her forelegs tail swishing behind her, and matched the other’s smile. “What do I do?”

The Harpy opened the box in her paws. “I need your nectar.”

“My what?” Gilda’s thoughts ground to a halt and she watched as the larger griffoness removed an object from the purple velvety confines of the box. And it was exactly what she expected after an instant of rational thought. A dildo.

But not just ‘a dildo’. It was made of… Was that the metallic alloy they used for money? Electrum? Boringly cylindrical, except most of it was a pretty mirror sheen with expensive-looking golden adornments that made for subtle relief on the surface. It had comfortably rounded grooves with small holes inside. Likely for ‘collection’.

“All you see here is a mental image…” Gilda’s actual goddess and creator held the sex toy next to her face and stroked it with the lightness of a feather. “So, is it too much to accept that secretions that respond to sexual arousal are part of the process? Especially when such is a potent magical ingredient in the waking world as well?”

“I guess not…” Gilda let the words out while processing what she had said. Finally, she frowned an annoyed glare again. “You’re really just horny.”

“Is it so hard to imagine? I was born into the mortal world and bound to a body much like yours. I have desires, needs and fantasies. Sometimes, it gets my imagination going.” Her wings opened a little and her free paw caressed her own chest and her belly, drawing Gilda’s attention to her very perky nipples.

Gilda surrendered a sheepishly lewd grin, shuffling her fingers together. “So, uh… I guess it is pretty straightforward, huh? How to use this thing…”

“Quite right.” The Harpy agreed, waving the object in front of her with a lewd grin of her own and as her tail swiped from one side to the other. “What do you say then? Do you want to harvest yourself, or should I?”

Before Gilda could respond that she wanted to try it for herself, the sneaky larger griffoness moved so fast she didn’t even see it before she was on the floor. The Harpy’s wings flared open, and she hoisted Gilda in the air to plant her down on her side like some close quarters combat technique.

She didn’t stand a chance against the other’s larger mass and stronger muscles. She hopped on top of Gilda, hoisting her chest onto Gilda’s flank and gave her a smug, superior grin, when Gilda raised her head and tried to stand.

“Oh. Too late.” She declared with her wings flared to the ceiling, holding Gilda’s haunches with her black talons, and still whipping her tail around. Pure mirth in her gray eyes while her talons poked at Gilda’s butt, and she squeezed it.

But they weren’t in the creepy laboratory anymore. It had changed for a large and luxurious room. Dark walls were slanted towards the center as the tip of a pyramid and at a point the walls would be too low, they became straight, upright walls. A large bed was covered with white sheets, silky as milk over a comfortable mattress. A circular passage let enter the moonlight with the sounds of a garden and the sights of the night desert sands beyond. It was a bit chilly, but the large and hot body over Gilda’s became more sensual because of that.

A small group of griffons behind white curtains played musical instruments. Their sound brought forward the memories of The Allmother’s room in the stepped pyramid that was The Harpy’s residence, in her holy city of Aen Hader. Torches provided a dim and wavering light.

Finally, talons squeezed Gilda’s buttock and she squealed, snapping back to The Harpy’s mischievous grin. “Pay attention to me…”

Then a detail about the situation dawned on Gilda. It simultaneously blew her mind and filled her chest with a bubbly warmness. She was there, doing naughty things with The Harpy. The almighty goddess, the creator of her kind, so mighty and above the mortals, but like they were horny friends with benefits. Weird how she suddenly was so close, unlike the overbearing and unreachable deity that she was before.

Gilda landed her paw on her white flank and let it slide over her stripped butt. Yeah… She was definitely within reach now. “Guess you gotta do something to get my attention…”

A deep chuckle raised from the other’s throat, and she turned, caressing the length of Gilda’s leg with her fingers. She stopped when Gilda talked, though.

“Uh… What do I call you?” Gilda’s brain just blanched. That wasn’t Grunhilda that was so completely submissive. “I mean…”

The Harpy raised her head and turned to give Gilda an unbearable smirk. “Others have called me ‘a dirty harlot’, and ‘a needy slut’ but I am not in the right period of my cycle, and you lack the proper equipment to sufficiently stimulate me. But you may call me ‘Mommy’ if you want.”

How does one even respond to that? Gilda just stared dumbly at her and her brain didn’t provide a better option. She mumbled something not even she understood what it was before she could form proper words. “You know, you may have issues.”

“Do all creatures not have issues?” She responded before she gave Gilda her ‘predator grin’ and turned the other side.

She shoved her beak in between Gilda’s thighs and nudged them until Gilda spread her hindlegs and laid on her back for a more comfortable position on the heavenly soft mattress. Her godly lover cooed happily and lowered her face on Gilda’s little mounds. She sniffed and ran her beak in between Gilda’s teats, carrying a wave of titillating warmness that focused on her crotch and made every hair stand.

A moan sneaked out of Gilda’s beak, and she closed her eyes with another soft moan as her partner’s meaty tongue flicked at one of Gilda’s nipples. The tips of her beak pinching at the soft and sensitive skin. She shuddered as the black beak traveled on the valley between her teats with the wet tongue trailing behind.

“Ooooh…” Gilda held at the plumage on her own chest and squirmed with her head laying on its side. “Oooooh!”

“Say it…” The Harpy’s husky and warm breath wafted just under Gilda’s lowest pair of teats.

“No!” Gilda whined with a giggle. “You creepy jerk…”

A hoarse chuckling was followed by another sniff as The Harpy’s beak encroached on Gilda’s lips covered in uncomfortably wet tan fur. It nudged at the region, just short of touching the engorged labia.

“Say it…” She teased, her sharp commanding voice carrying a mirthful undertone that wouldn’t fool Gilda.

“No!” Gilda cried and chuckled between her labored breathing, but she was interrupted when her lover’s black fingers massaged her vulva,and parted her open, pulling them up as much as apart. Expertly avoiding so much as touching the fragile pink her with her talons. Gilda gasped and squirmed again, incapable of moving further under her weight.

“Oh… What a nice little flower you have.” Gilda’s tormentor whispered hoarsely before the curved part of her beak nudged at it and the shocking sensation tightened her nethers with a spasm. She took agonizingly long, teasing her beak against Gilda’s pink insides. Her sharp beak almost grated against it, but what followed was her tongue traveling down her folds and pressing at the entrance, but never actually penetrating her.

“Aaa-aaaaaaah! Goddess!” Her muscles pulled in a bolt of pleasure that shot from her sex. Her fists closed and let out a whiny moan when the sensation trailed away with that expert tongue reaching back into her wet fur and under her tail.

“Why, yes… I am.” In between tortured gasps Gilda wished she could swipe the smug grin she was sure her partner had. “He will love burying his meat inside this warm, slippery, tight, and adorably pink special place you have.”

“But before…” Gilda gasped quietly when the tip of their fancy ‘vaginal secretions collector’ stroked the fur between her teats. She squeaked at how cold it was, but held in place, she couldn’t do anything while the other teased her, poking and skimming it over her skin. “Say it…”

“You’re sick!” Gilda giggled in between her breathless panting and wiggled her hindlegs again. The tip of her tail also couldn’t seem to stand still. But she stopped, almost worried she might have taken it too far when The Harpy lifted her weight off Gilda’s body. She popped her head up with a confusing mixture of arousal and fear only to see The Harpy showing her the object. A small bolt of lightning danced around her talon and clacked at the clear metal. It started humming and Gilda squeaked again as its tip poked in between her teats. It was vibrating and it sent a metaphorical bolt across her stomach.

She watched and grew increasingly aroused as the vibration traveled down to her crotch. She didn’t even notice her hanging beak and gasping moan before she noticed The Harpy’s grinning. Her eyes just followed the object. Until the tip found its way in between the soaked lips of her pink opening, guided by the black paw. It didn’t even press inside, and Gilda collapsed with a loud, unrestrained moan at the vibration against her privates.

But, of course, she didn’t push it inside and Gilda’s pleasure-filled frown turned to frustration.

“Say it…” The commanding voice whispered sharply.

“Alright! Fine!” Gilda snapped with a disorienting combination of bubbly giddiness, angry frustration, and wet arousal. “Please, put it inside me, mommy! There! I said it! Are you happy, you evil bitch?! Aa-aaah…”

“Yes, I am quite satisfied.” Gilda’s ‘mommy’ grinned like the evil, teasing, monster that she was, and Gilda gasped, tensing up her whole body as the metallic, now warm, thing stretched its way inside her.

Laying against the mattress as though she could melt into it, she half-closed her eyes and bit at her finger with a throaty grunt. She kept her eyes on the large, black, and white griffoness, also delighted that she had her stormy eyes, shining with delight at Gilda’s delightful anguish. Harpyia’s heavy and strong left paw held Gilda against the mattress, pushing at her chest, and her tongue licked at her obsidian beak. Her right paw twisted the vibrating device and pulled it back just to push it in again until her silky black paw lapped at Gilda’s lips and then almost out again. Again, and again. Painfully slowly.

Gilda’s partner left the toy shoved all the way inside her and the weight on top of her shifted. Harpyia’s paw gently squeezed one of Gilda’s lower teats before she laid on top of her and a wet paw held Gilda’s nape. The other supported the large griffoness’ weight against the mattress, still bringing them closer. A perfect blending of painful aggressiveness and tender caress. She ground her larger body against Gilda’s and the smaller, tan griffoness held her sides firmly as her lover pecked at her facial plumage.

“This is why one should not make decisions while feeling frisky.” Harpyia showed a new smirk and spoke in a hushed voice. “I should have gotten us one of those double-headed ones.”

She followed by fitting her black beak on Gilda’s. Her tongue invaded Gilda’s mouth and a quivering hum escaped her nostrils. The fleshy invasion made the pinned griffoness so much more conscious of the vibrating object filling her vagina. Her paws closed, slipping talons over her larger lover’s body.

Finally, Harpyia allowed her breath through her mouth again, herself letting out a husky breath. “Do you want more?”

“Ah… Yes!” Gilda summoned all her remaining mental composure through the overwhelming vibration in her crotch.

The larger griffoness chuckled, rising from Gilda’s body and she watched where she was going. The Harpy kept eye contact and smiled with a seductive lick on her black beak as she sat before a pile of pillows. Then she pulled Gilda to her, sensuously as she laid on her back and made Gilda lay against herself.

She made Gilda lay on top of her, grinning like an evil witch as Gilda slowly made herself comfortable on top of the larger griffoness, leaning over her. She gripped Gilda’s nape again and held it tight while Gilda ground her stomach against hers, humping and pecking at the larger griffoness’ chest with soft murmurs. Soft fur against soft fur over their teats, rubbing against each other. The vibrating toy shifted with her moving legs, and Gilda let out a small cry as she made herself comfortable against the other.

The Harpy reached their toy over her rump, past Gilda’s raised tail, and held it, pushing inside her harder and increasingly faster each time she almost pulled it out. Gilda let herself cry at the attention dispensed by the great griffoness, helplessly taking the full size of their toy each time. It wasn’t that big, but it seemed appropriate, fitting snugly with just enough stretching to reach the next level of arousing. And. It. Vibrated.

She held her paws at The Harpy’s chest and bucked her hips like her body had taken control. Her expert partner timed her thrusts with Gilda’s bucking and said nothing. Her eyes just scanned Gilda’s writhing body like she was delighted at it, holding her back and forcing her against her own

“Delightful…” The Harpy whispered, pecking at the feathers on Gilda’s head. Her tongue followed, wetting Gilda’s feathers, but she barely registered. “Aah…”

Her world became the pulsating waves of sheer physical gratification that flooded her body. She whined breathlessly as the wind escaped her lungs and her body refused to do anything other than squeezing at that object inside her walls. It suddenly felt larger than it was when she throbbed around it. It missed the firm softness of the real deal, but it was the next best thing for sure.

Her talons scratched at Harpyia’s skin in a final wave of release when her partner caressed her rump and pulled her tail stretched. Then the white griffoness pulled their spent toy from inside her. She felt empty, gaping, and her fingers found their way into her soft folds to draw the last drops of pleasure, her body limp over her larger lover. And The Harpy held Gilda with a strong embrace.

“It has been some time since you had a truly accomplished intercourse, has it not, sweet Child?” The Harpy smiled like she knew every detail and examined the metallic device dripping at her black fingers. Her other foreleg held Gilda against her.

“Hm-hum…” Gilda nodded silently, with barely a hum of acknowledgement, laying her head on The Harpy’s warm and fluffy chest. Poor Grunhilda did her best and was amazing. But she just didn’t have… The touch. It was a shame she wasn’t there. Although she had a really great tongue and Gilda giggled at the thought, squirming a little.

“Oh, don’t worry.” The Harpy’s paw slid down Gilda’s back. She spoke with a conspiratorial hiss. “She should only get better, so dedicated she is.”

Gilda turned her back to the other, watching as she held the device aloft. Point up like it was a piece of art and she was appraising it. Complete with a satisfied tone. “This should be enough. Good work.”

“Shouldn’t I be Uh… Reciprocating?” Gilda giggled and stretched, still laying against the other and tail swishing. “You did all the work.”

“Acceptance is paramount.” She looked at Gilda. “And it is not necessary. I have all that I should need. If you are willing to go through with it. Trust me, you will ‘reciprocate’.”

Wait. Was she talking about the mind thing? By the way, why did that sound like a threat? A really lewd and horny threat?

The Harpy smiled and their used toy vanished in a small bolt of lightning. “I guarantee you will not be disappointed, much less by the lasting effects of your cooperation.”

Gilda stood and sat on the bed, looking at The Harpy. Her smile turned mellow. Which was ungodly strange in her sharp and fierce visage. “You should enjoy it. The coming days will be harsh and trying. If there is one thing the Frozen North has taught the Nartani is that respite is to be relished. Wherever it can be found.”

Finally, she became serious and grim. “Our bonding is not complete yet. If you are too gravely injured, there will be nothing I can do other than mourn for your great destiny not to be.”

“Does fucking increase our bond?” Gilda allowed herself a petulant grin. “You enjoyed doing that, didn’t you?”

“Thoroughly.” The Harpy admitted, and a stray thought pictured Gilda humping the larger one. But instead of a reproaching scowl or a berating finger, Gilda received a grin that one-upped her own. “And apparently it does. You seem to be forgetting who I am.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on biting it.” Gilda poked her own chest with a thumb. She meant to be serious, but she supposed she came off cocky. “Not before I make all those fuckwits back in Griffonstone pay for what they did to me. Not now that my life feels worthy.”

“Words to live by.” Harpyia smiled and covered Gilda’s eyes. “Now, go back to your charming thrall…”

The Red Banner

Gilda woke suddenly with the noise of splashing and glass shattering. She jumped off the bed with a scream and her room was dark, but the window in the bathroom area allowed enough moonlight to enter that she could see.

She saw Grunhilda sitting in the center of the room, hiding behind a tray and with a puddle of steaming water that smelled of ginger and mint. A glass was broken into pieces on the floor.

“Oh, for crying out loud…” She let herself drop on the bed and covered her eyes while her breathing and her heart returned to normal rates.

“I’m sorry!” Grunhilda squealed. “I just wanted you to have a nice tea!”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.” Gilda sat on the bed and put a paw on her head to try and soothe her headache. “What time is it?”

“Sunrise seems to be a bit late.” Grunhilda piped and spoke so fast Gilda had some trouble making out what she was saying. “I already prepared a bath for you! And I already checked out and prepared our luggage! Mister Gillian has assured me that they have everything we should need, so I should just make sure that our luggage is prepared! And the bath! The bath is ready! But the tea! The tea is all over the floor now. I’m sorry because the tea was for you.”

She stared down at the puddle that was the tea. “I’ll get more tea! Do you want tea? Never mind I’ll get more tea anyway! You’re gonna love the tea!”

“Grunhilda, wait…” Blam! The door closed somewhere between Gilda opening her beak and the first syllables leaving it. “What the?”

Since she was just staring at a door in the dark, and all sleepiness had left her like a flock of scared birds, she shrugged and hopped off the bed. Splayed her fingers and stretched her back, touching her fluffy chest on the floor and putting her rump up in the air. Her tail whipped one side and the other and she yawned the rest of her sleepiness off.

The door opened again and Grunhilda squealed from the corridor as a wooden cup went to the floor with all its contents. The two stared at the other with the white one by the door blushing like her cheeks would catch fire. Not to mention her wings flared and slapped someone in the corridor, judging by the surprised yelp.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you another!” Grunhilda chirped and slammed the door shut again.

“Grunhilda!” Gilda called too late, so she just stood there, silently and somewhat confused.

Finally, she stretched her neck and a hindleg backwards. Then the other. She eyed the door like Grunhilda could burst in at any moment, but she didn’t. Gilda let a scowl creep into her face and sat by the door. She waited and waited like a predator waiting for her prey.

She waited a little longer.

Slam! The door opened and Gilda grabbed both the steaming cup and Grunhilda’s beak.

“Hmmm!” The surprised white griffoness said before she walked into the room when Gilda pulled her.

“What’s gotten into you?” She glared. Gilda also took a sip from the tea because it smelled nice. It tasted delicious of ginger and mint.

“I had a dream with Mother Harpy!” Grunhilda squealed and barely kept her feet in place with excitement.

Gilda’s eyes flew wide. She gasped, the tea went down the wrong tube and she coughed it out, barely managing to form words. “A dream?! What did she do to you?!”

The white griffoness gave her a strange combination of an innocent stare and an excited glare after blinking a few times. “She told me I am doing a great job as your thrall and to keep it up! That I need to learn more and become an even better thrall!”

“Oh…” Gilda breathed a little easier and let out a relieved chuckle. “I thought that she had done something to you.”

“Nuh-uh!” Grunhilda couldn’t sit still, hopping in place like the floor was sizzling hot. Gilda was going to tell her thrall to relax because she was doing a great job. But Big Girl wouldn’t shut up.

“How’s the tea? Did you like the tea? Do you want another tea? I’ll bring you another tea! Wait, did I already bring you another tea? I’ll bring you another tea anyway!” Gilda hadn’t seen a beak move that fast in her life.

“Hey! Hey! Focus!” She snapped her fingers in front of her thrall. “You are doing a great job! If you’re so full of energy, go see if you can help Mister Gillian with anything. Like carrying stuff!”

“Okay!” Blam! The door closed behind Grunhilda.

Gilda stared at the door for a couple of seconds before she took another sip of her tea and walked to the bathtub behind the screen. Whatever was going on, it could wait. The sun wasn’t up yet, and the tub was filled with water. Yes, the world could wait for a few minutes. Coming closer, she saw the tub was full of cold water, but it smelled of roses and even had several vividly red petals floating.

“Oh. Right.” Gilda rolled her eyes. “No hot baths because they would be going out. It is better to let the body get used to the cold. The others are probably waiting for me, but since Grunhilda prepared it, I might as well…”

There was even a small table to leave her cup of tea next to the tub. Trying to avoid too much thinking, she just climbed into the water and ignored the initial shock. The cold was nice after a while. Also, after that dream she had shared with The Harpy. She rested her back against the tub, letting the water soak into her fur and her feathers.

“Ah… This is nice.” She sighed and reached for her tea.

Bang! The door opened forcefully again, slamming against the wall. Gilda yelped and the jerky movement sent her tea into her bathwater. On the other side of the door was her not-quite friendly Loremaster friend Gia, wearing a cloak of black wolfskin. “Will you get that thrall, lover, daughter… Whatever the heck Grunhilda is… Under control?”

In the background, she could hear shattering earthenware and Grunhilda babbling on about something before Gia slammed the door shut. Not even a couple of seconds later the door swung open again with the pink griffonness in chainmail armor that was Gertha looking inside with an alarmed expression. “Boss! There’s a hitch with the carts! You gotta talk to Mister Gillian as soon as possible!”

Of course, Gertha slammed the door shut too, but it didn’t stay closed. Gilda could swear she heard stabbing noises and Gosalynn’s high-pitched voice going on about the right way of cutting ham. At the top of her lungs.

“Gilda! The batpony is missing!” Gil’s voice screamed through the noise, fidgeting nervously by the door.

Still laying against the tub, mostly submerged into the roses, ginger and mint bathwater, Gilda closed her eyes, but the noises didn’t go away. In fact, glass crashed and shattered somewhere before she heard Grunhilda again. “Sorry! I’ll clean it right away!”

Immediately after, the clang and ringing of silverware hitting the floor drilled into her head. It was still dark outside. It would be awesome if someone put order in the hell beyond that door.

Oh, yeah… Gilda was a leader now.

Her eyes rolled to find the plank ceiling. “Any advice since you like me so much?”

No answer from The Harpy. She was probably still sleeping or something…

Gilda sighed again, although in a significantly different way from before. She raised from the water to rinse and pat her fur and feathers down with the towel provided by the inn. Before leaving the room, she donned her red scarf and put Mythical on top of her back. As ridiculous as it sounded, even the sword seemed to sleep snugly inside her scabbard.

She opened the door, and her thoughts were cut short by Grunhilda hissing and a panicked male squealing. “Aaah! I swear I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You don’t get to talk about our Swordmaiden like that!” Guille roared. “Sic’em Grunhilda!”

Despite a deliberate attempt to spend time drying her fur and feathers, whatever was happening didn’t end. More panicked screaming followed with sounds of things getting toppled over as Gilda walked down the stairs to the main hall. There she found one of the pillars was on fire. Grunhilda held a panicked griffon in leather armor above her head, the innkeeper’s sons and daughters yelled at each other. Guille, Gertha, two of Gillian’s workers and a couple of unknown griffons traded punches and insults around the hearth fire. All while Gosalynn screeched at the top of her lungs from the door. The unicorn, Lost Temple, hid behind a bench turned on its side and Gil was on the kitchen’s door making gestures and talking about something Gilda couldn’t hear because of the racket.

In the small table under her room’s balcony, was a small oasis of peace. Gilda found Madam Gelinda calmly enjoying a tea. Her mate, the doctor, was in the fight, though Gilda didn’t know on which side. The same to the couple of ex-soldiers. Gia was yelling commands to Geary while taking cover from behind the bar counter, and her thrall was also engaged in the fight. The innkeeper just sat next to Gia cleaning a series of metallic mugs like nothing was happening.

Gilda sat with Madam Gelinda across from the table, who served her some tea in one of the small metallic mugs. “Good morning, Gilda.”

“Morning. Don’t griffons sleep in the North?” She sat by the table with the Loremaster, trying to ignore the mess.

“They do.” Gelinda told her in between sips. “Sunrise seems to be late. And griffons get antsy before important events, such as a departing caravan to Griffindell. Additionally, Gia told Grunhilda that if she wanted to be a good thrall, she should drink five cups of coffee. And a caravan carrying grape juice from a local vineyard arrived. One of them was angry at Grunhilda’s hyperactivity and said her master is an irresponsible lout. Your subordinates took offense to that, and we have the present situation.”

Gilda blinked and watched as one of the unknown griffons, a big one that was probably used to pulling large carts hit Gertha with the almighty chair. Then was promptly punched by her brother who yelled something about his little sister.

“Shouldn’t you…” Gilda looked back at the Loremaster. “You know… Be doing something? Like Gosalynn?”

Speaking of her, her face took a red tint thanks to her screaming, and she was now hovering above the fight wings flapping so fast Gilda couldn’t see them, with a random piece of boarding wood. At one moment Grunhilda pounced from somewhere at a griffon in the middle of that mess.

“Oh, this is actually quite healthy.” Gelinda took another sip of her tea. “Griffon tempers are an explosive combination of short fuses and strong opinions. As long as nobody is using talons, this is quite common in large northerner households. Normal griffons fight a lot and in the next moment they’re drinking mead together. Although you could make a significant sum with Grunhilda on the fighting rings.”

“That sounds like abuse.” Gilda deadpanned as the innkeeper left a mug of tea for her too.

“Quite the contrary. Grunhilda yearns to be useful. Keeping her occupied with ‘thrall duties’ would be a good idea. It will make her feel important and useful. It should assuage her fears that you will abandon her. She is young and hasn’t been properly educated nor had her confidence fostered. It became your responsibility. You’ll understand these nuances better once your training commences. You have the privilege that is usually due of Loremasters to be educated on the matter of griffons by Lady Gwendolen. Then again, you are also a Loremaster, so I suppose that is only right.”

“I have the feeling that the Mother of Storms has a significant plan for both of you.” Gelinda concluded, watching as some random griffon toppled and punched her mate. She threw her empty mug like a guided magical missile to clonk at the other griffon’s head. Then she turned to Gilda like nothing had happened. “Finally, you still have an additional responsibility in this journey.”

“I do?” Gilda blinked at her.

“Unless you don’t care that Gia is likely to slip into an unsavory path for a Loremaster.” The innkeeper brought her another mug with tea. “You don’t want to know what Lady Gwendolen is bound to do with Gia if she is found to be… Inadequate. She already knows too much to be left to her own designs.”

“Yeah… I missed the part where this is my problem.” The ‘coffee incident’ steered Gilda’s answer and her disinterested deadpan.

“The worst kind of lie a griffon can tell is to themselves, Gilda.” Gelinda’s knowing smile was particularly punchable.

But still, the old griffoness’ words made Gilda look at her group’s Loremaster. Gia had hopped on top of Guille (Geary was too small for that) and provided support with a tactical wooden ladle.

“Fuck…” Gilda bumped her forehead on the solid wood table and held it in her paws. “I do care about her.”

Gilda glared at the old, never wrong loremaster again, her chin on the table. “Shouldn’t you help her?”

“No. She has had teachers. The best.” Gelinda spoke calmly. “What best teaches a griffon like her is necessity, not example. Which is why Lady Gwendolen sends her newly minted Loremasters to distant griffon communities. A griffon can memorize the answer to a theoretical question and answer it correctly a million times, but it is with practical application that knowledge becomes wisdom.”

“Yeah… I get that. Fine.” Gilda shrugged. “Gia is going to turn to a nice friend eventually.”

“What did I just tell you about the worst kind of lie?” Gelinda chuckled.

“I’m trying to convince myself!” Gilda growled and she was finally going to taste some more of that ginger and mint tea. Or she would, if someone hadn’t thrown some random griffon into their table and sent her mug to the floor.

“Will you dweebs knock it off?!” She cried and screamed at the same time and that caused the whole hall to freeze. “I swear the next one that causes trouble is going to end up pulling the heaviest cart I can find!”

“I’m not even in your caravan!” The griffon rising from under her table, a mid-aged charcoal shade of black and white complained.

“I. Don’t. Care!” She banged her fist on the table and a single thunder echoed outside. She was actually as surprised as everyone else but didn’t complain when they started putting the furniture back in its place and split into individual groups.

“Hum…” Gertha started once she was next to Gilda and the innkeeper had brought yet another mug. She raised a finger, sitting next to the table with her crest of blonde feathers in disarray. “There actually is a hitch.”

“I’m going to murder you if this is a joke about carts…” Gilda’s voice came out uncharacteristically low as she glowered at the pink queen.

“What? No!” Gertha wagged her head and frowned. “There really is a problem. You gotta talk to Mister Gillian. He’s outside. In the back.”

“Alright.” Gilda stood, but also took her mug of tea with her.

Madam Gelinda’s mate, the doctor, sat with her and Gelinda petted his ruffled feathers. The others calmed themselves and Grunhilda groaned, rubbing her paw over her head, but she didn’t seem to be injured.

“Help the innkeepers fix anything that is broken and then help them clean this mess.” Gilda talked sternly to the white griffoness. “Once you’re all done, wait for me. And no more coffee.”

“Okay…”

“And you come with me, Gia.” Gilda turned to the green griffon lady sitting next to the bar with Geary straightening out the feathers in her wings.

“Since when do you order me around?” She pouted at Gilda.

“Since I caught you whining to your tomfriend about how evil I am for stopping your plot to make away with the money. While wearing a pink tutu and a princess hat like some sick kink.” Gilda pointed at the door. “Get your hind moving or I’ll pluck your feathers, princess!”

Gia huffed like an angry teenager and started on her way to the door followed by Geary and his poorly disguised campy grin.

Outside, the sky was still dark above the tumultuous clouds, colors were dull, and Gilda silently cursed the princesses’ lazy hindquarters. All the light came from the sconces on the inn’s wall, and in posts in the empty ground. She didn’t even know if sunrise really was late or if those griffons were driving her crazy, but she complained under her breath anyway. The air smelled of the coniferous trees from the region and it was cold, but she was fine with the temperature. There was a breeze, but it was more relaxing than chilly. The cobblestone was stupid cold, though.

The caravan was already assembled in the road area inside the city’s outer walls. It had the rough sketch of a formation, but most griffons seemed to be inside small tents or around the few campfires. So many city griffons from the South that had no idea what they were doing she was thankful nothing caught fire in the night. Not that she would have known what to do in their place, but she felt entitled to some more grouchy mumbling. They seemed cold, though, hugging themselves and huddling together. But, at least, nobody was angry or creating more problems. They seemed to understand their situation.

Gertha seemed cold, but she kept it to herself and took Gilda to Mister Gillian. He was wearing a brown cotton coat and talked to a large gray and white northerner griffon with a straw hat. They were outside an improvised pen with six of the big beasts of burden that were the wooly oxen. It hadn’t snowed much so the pen was full of half-hard mud that stuck to their long and thick hair. As the group stopped to talk to the two males, one of the oxen sneezed a noseful of snot on Gia.

“Apologies.” The large beast sniffled with a deep bass voice.

“Bless you!” Gertha giggled while Gia pretended she wasn’t dying inside.

“Some of our oxen are sick.” Gillian indicated with a gesture in his typical professional demeanor. “The breeder refuses to let us take them.”

“Just pay extra…” Gia growled as she cleaned herself with her wolfskin coat. “He can replace the ones that die, and we can cover his costs.”

“Hah!” The gray griffon scoffed.

“Yeah, not everyone is evil like you, Gia.” Gertha deadpanned.

“Some of them are bound to die anyway.” Gia shrugged. “Even griffons are bound to die. We’re taking old and sick griffons with us. You’re delusional if you think that everyone is going to make it.”

“Actually, the town leadership has agreed to settle the older and sick griffons in the town and surrounding villages.” Gillian turned to Gia, then to Gilda. “There’s a nearby vineyard and their griffons passing through agreed to take them. There seems to be easy and relaxing work for the elderly and frail in there, as well as comfortable homes in their villa.”

“Great!” Gilda grinned. “But I suppose that we still need the oxen?”

Gillian nodded solemnly and Gia rolled her eyes. “We can eat the animals that die… Geez.”

“Then we’d just be stuck with heavy carts we can’t pull in the middle of the wilds, genius.” Gertha squawked. “I thought Loremasters were supposed to be clever.”

Gilda glared at her green ‘friend’ and gestured to the animals in the pen. “I’m not going to take these poor guys to die in a cold place far from home! We’ll distribute the weight again and find volunteers to pull the extra carts.”

“I’ll get our paws working on that, Lady Gilda.” Gillian nodded. “It should only take a couple of extra hours. And a few more Eagles to buy additional light carts and hire helpers. But since we’re not renting some of the animals we planned for, it shouldn’t be too much.”

“Thanks Mister Gillian.” Gilda nodded to him and then turned back to Gia. “And you. Why don’t you try to be more useful?”

“I don’t like you enough to be useful.” Gia said nonchalantly, patting her fluffy chest clean. “In fact, I don’t think I like any of you.”

“Yeah, well, go help Mister Gillian figure out the new numbers and I’ll pay you some Eagles. That way you can have some of the luxuries you’re used to.” Gilda pointed at the griffon that walked with the ox breeder. “I’ll even tell Lady Gwendolen you helped.”

“Fine.” The other rolled her eyes and started on her way, leaving Gilda with Gertha and the oxen.

“Can’t we leave Gia behind?” Gertha grumbled.

“Don’t start it.” Gilda moaned. “Grunhilda is enough of a pawful already. She and Gia are more than enough.”

“Well, I do declare that griffon lady was exceedingly vexatious and bothersome. So uncivilized.” The ox offered a dirty paw. “Me and my associates are most pleased with your thoughtful compassion, ma’am.”

Gertha blinked a few times at the mud-covered ox, and Gilda started walking back to the inn. “Yeah. You guys take care of yourselves. Come on, Gertha. We should probably eat something.”

When she remembered she was holding it, Gilda’s tea was already cooling, but she drank it anyway. The pink griffoness in armor walked next to her and they walked past some of the griffons already waking up and leaving their cramped tents. They would stretch and complain of the cold while the city’s guards would groan or grunt just to acknowledge they had said something. If at all.

Finally, the night changed for the day as Gilda and Gertha reached the inn’s door. They stopped and looked at the sky as the clouds shifted from pure black to gray. Better late than never, she supposed. At least she could see right.

“Finally.” Gertha looked back at Gilda. “Feels like they were late.”

“Yeah… It sure feels like that.” Gilda frowned. “Stupid pony princesses. At least they usually compensate with a longer day when they screw up the timing of the sunrise.”

Inside the inn’s main hall, peace still reigned. Grunhilda had a broom and was busy sweeping away dirt from a broken flower pot. The others either helped or sat in their pillows by the fire without creating problems like well-behaved children. The innkeepers served tea, hot spicy wine, and sausages. The smell filled the room, coming from the kitchen with roasting sausages and other foodstuff. It was impossible not to improve one’s mood and on her way to the hearth fire, Gilda left her mug on the counter.

Gilda sat by the two nameless ex-soldiers, and with Guille and Gil, who held a washing cloth with snow to the side of his head. One of the soldiers, the light tan and white one, spoke to her with a friendly smile and a mug of spiced wine. “You reminded me of the Sarge for a moment back there.”

“Is that good?” She smiled as she washed her paws with the pitcher and towel next to grab one of the sausages in their wooden plate.

The other, the dark tan soldier, chuckled. “The poor Sarge couldn’t even properly intimidate his recruits because Princess Twilight Sparkle put out some regulations when she visited.”

“I kindly bid you esteemed recruits of the Griffonian Standing Army maintain silence or I shall fairly and measurably discipline you within the confines of paragraph twelve, item B of the revised statute of codified disciplinary actions.” The former made air quotes with his empty paw and mimicked a deep voice. “All that while screaming at the top of his lungs. Poor guy. He was great though. Ponies meddling in his job was the problem. I felt like I was back in kindergarten.”

“Ponies and griffons are just different.” Guille nodded as though it was something extremely deep he had just said. But if he was happy, Gilda was happy too.

“Hey, I don’t think I ever caught your names.” She grabbed another sausage, showing a pleasant smile.

“Oh! I’m Gunner.” The dark shaded tan one pointed a thumb to his white chest.

“Yeah…” The other, the one with the lighter shade of tan fur rubbed his crest. “The thing is that I’m Gunner too. He’s Gunner of Griffonstone. And I’m Gunner of Beachhome.”

Gilda Shrugged. “So? There are only so many griffon names. I’m Gilda of Griffonstone. I’m sure there are a few other Gildas around.”

“Yeah. Sure. But… Uh… While we were in the army, I was a left gunner for the Second Artillery Company.” The dark one, Gunner of Griffonstone, offered a paw as he explained. “And he was a right gunner in the same piece.”

Since griffons simply stared at him with mild confusion, Gunner of Griffonstone explained further. “I primed the gun and loaded it with powder. Left gunner is supposed to bring the powder and shoot it at the officer’s command.”

“Yeah…” Gunner of Beachhome deadpanned. “Lieutenant thought it was hilarious.”

Gertha hid her beak behind a paw and chuckled. “At least they didn’t name you after stuff, like some ponies.”

“Speaking of ponies…” Gil growled while still holding the snow to her mate’s temple. “While you were destroying the inn, I was trying to tell you all that the batpony was gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Gilda moaned.

Right on cue, the door to outside swung open and one of Wayfarer’s Rest guards walked in escorting said thestral all the way to Gilda. A large female about Gilda’s age with leather armor over her shiny silver coat and white chest. “Please take care of your pet.”

Moonbow snorted an offended neigh.

The guard didn’t even wait for an answer and left. Gilda squinted at the pony. “What were you up to? Didn’t I tell you not to create problems?”

“I was just seeing the town!” She batted her leathery wings. “As far as I know, that is not a crime!”

“Whatever.” Gilda sighed. “Is your stuff ready? We’ll be, finally, leaving within a couple of hours. As soon as Mister Gillian is done dealing with a problem we had with the oxen. Stay close to Lost Temple.”

“Sure thing!” The pony grinned with all the typical ‘ponyness’ and nodded at her saddlebags. “All I need is right here with me!”

“Good. Now, please stay with Lost Temple and don’t wander off. Or… Do cheeky pony stuff.” Gilda glared at the pony. “You’re not on vacation.”

“Sheesh. Fine.” The thestral rolled her eyes and sighed, sitting and waving her hooves like she was telling a horror story. “I’ll just sit in the corner and try not to ‘pony up’ your air.”

With a final pout the pony went her way and one of the Innkeeper’s daughters came to Gilda and poured some more of the hot spiced wine for her from a jug. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you, Lady Gilda.”

“Thanks.” Gilda raised her mug to the helpful griffoness and took a sip of the warm spiced wine. She finally didn’t feel so tense from all the morning drama. Seconds later, Gia approached with her thrall in tow. Her wolfskin coat was gone.

“Where’s your coat?” Gil asked.

“In a fire.” Gia sat on one of the sitting pillows and Geary did the same, both washing their paws. “So, the issue has been resolved and Mister Gillian said we have an hour or so before we’re ready to get our monster buffet moving.”

Gilda chose to ignore Gia’s quip. “Cool.”

The latter picked one of the sausages for her and Gil beamed while reaching for something behind her sitting pillow. “Oh! This is the time to talk about the banner!”

She pulled a red cloth in front of her with a half-embroidered needlework of a griffon holding a sword made with golden wire. The thing was more like a long pennant, all red with half of the griffon still to be stitched into it.

“The northerners told me that we’re supposed to have a banner!” Gil started with a happy chirp before Gia interrupted her.

“It’s a flag… Banners are fixed in place…” Her voice trailed off with her typical joy-suffocating sarcasm.

“Well, it’s meant to be hung once we reach our destination.” Gil didn’t let the other mar her enthusiasm. “Look! This is you!”

“You are aware…” Gia started before biting a sausage and stopped talking for a few irritating seconds before she continued. “That the color red is meant as a sign of aggression, aren’t you? It's why pirates use the red flag once they’re done waiting for you to surrender… Or why raiding bands use them.”

“Uh…” Gil held the red cloth close to her chest. “Well… I wanted something different from the others. And all the colors were kinda taken.”

“Yes, you idiot.” Gia massaged her temples. “Because no caravan would fly a red flag!”

Gil pouted. “Well, it’s also the color of Gilda’s scarf as a member of the Court of The Harpy, right?”

Gilda finally shrugged. “I don’t think that the monsters will mind. We’ll use Gil’s flag. Nobody is gonna be idiot enough to think we’re raiders, or whatever, with a buttload of refugees trailing behind us.”

“Geez… A couple of ponies, a clueless Swordmaiden, numberless hooflicker refugees, sick animals, and a red flag…” Gia groused behind her mug with the spiced wine. “This is off to a great start.”

“You forgot the incompetent Loremaster…” Gilda smirked at her and couldn’t decide what was the best that followed. Gia’s outraged huff or the murderous stare she gave Geary when he laugh-choked on his spiced wine.

The rest of breakfast proceeded without issues as Grunhilda joined. They even managed to exchange some mindless banter, mostly about the brawl in the inn. Once it was over, it was finally time to depart.

The unexpected drama that is sure to crop up before every trip was dealt with. The sun was in the sky. Above the impenetrable clouds, but still. Griffons had properly awakened and had been fed. All bruises were tended to, and outlying issues dealt with. But before leaving the inn Gilda put her magical tiara on her head and the bracelets in her forelegs. Mythical was already on her back and things moved on their own regarding the caravan. She placed herself by the north gate, sitting on the snow and watching things happen.

The local guards helped organize the whole thing and the caravan slowly started moving like a lumbering beast. Despite all the hitches, it was a small miracle that things worked out in the end. Just the fact that all those griffons made it out of Griffonstone and the Royal Guard hadn’t teleported right at the city’s gates was enough to be thankful for.

She watched as the procession of oxen, several kinds of open and closed carts, and griffons of all ages and colors walked in front of her. Gosalynn and a few of her Sky Sentries moved out ahead to scout the route. Gillian went in the front with the Sky Sentry quartermaster and Gil followed, proudly holding their flag on her shoulder. The rest of the Sky Sentries walled off the procession so that nobody would wander off, but they seemed few and far between. Gilda’s ‘retinue’ would be in the back making sure nobody stayed behind.

She tried measuring the overall morale and it was surprisingly high. Cubs hopped around and ran along the line. A few adults carried bundles or pulled smaller carts with their few personal effects or their families and their extra supplies. Groups of friends talked between themselves and helped each other. It was another small miracle. Griffons were usually independent jerks, but Gilda supposed that they could work together when they must.

Maybe she should feel proud that it was the result of some leadership. Or screaming.

Speaking of miracles, Gilda’s eyes aimed at the stormy clouds above. “Hey… You there?”

No answer came and it caused a knot of apprehension to form in her gut. Gilda supposed that, in the end, there really was nothing that needed to be said anymore and she was to take care of herself and the griffons under her responsibility.

Madam Gelinda approached Gilda and sat with her. “Feeling anxious?”

“Yeah…” Gilda didn’t look at her, instead kept her eyes on the moving mass of griffons and beasts of burden.

“I wonder… She won’t answer you because she is busy.” Gelinda spoke, also eyeing the moving caravan under the cloudy sky. “Things didn’t go smoothly in Griffonstone if what I have been hearing is true. I’m afraid not everyone managed to make it here.”

Gilda looked at the older griffoness that spoke again. “That is likely why she’s not answering. She’s busy tending to our dead.”

It was a bit jarring to think of it like that, but Gilda supposed that she wasn’t the most important griffoness in existence. And even if she was, The Harpy’s attention might be needed elsewhere. It was not like she had shown that she is omniscient or anything. Gilda wondered for a second, after never pondering on the matter, if The Harpy wasn’t somewhere, hiding from Celestia. Maybe she was in Griffindell?

“Well…” Gelinda smiled and interrupted her thoughts. “From a certain point of view, it means she’s confident she can deal with other matters and trust you to take care of Her Children without her supervision.”

The words pulled at the knot in Gilda’s gut, but at the same time, her chest warmed with pride.

The loremaster hummed silently. “She’ll likely reach you soon. But don’t forget that she will not save you if there is trouble. We are supposed to take care of our own problems. And among these griffons, you are the one most powerful.”

“Yeah… I understand.” Gilda nodded mindlessly. The moving mass was almost hypnotizing, with chatting griffons and the noise of the wheels on the cobblestone. “We’re supposed to pull our weight, aren’t we?”

“Sounds fair…” Gilda hummed in conclusion. Especially after all that had happened. In a way she felt like she used to during the finals when she was in school.

She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. Because the lives of griffons wouldn’t be in danger because she got an F on Mathematics.

“Trust your instincts, Gilda.” The venerable loremaster spoke again. Uncanny how they always seemed to read Gilda’s thoughts. “You came where you are with Her help, but there isn’t much She can do if a griffon won’t help themselves. Remember that you are also a Loremaster and your memories from past lives will often contain answers.”

“Also, beware you are going into a land filled with magic and powerful emotions.” Gelinda’s voice took on a lugubrious tone. “You will have visions, dreams… Remember that you are not alone. The hatred of the Windigos will follow you all the way. They hate us, and you are special.”

Gilda didn’t answer. She simply nodded.

Finally, the line of griffons and beasts of burden was over. Their supplies and the bulk of their guards, both Sky Sentries and hired griffons waited outside the gates and fell in line after. Gertha, her brother, the two soldiers, Grunhilda, Gia and Geary, and the two ponies came to her after the last ox had crossed under the gate.

“Everyone is away, boss.” Gertha announced with a happy chirp. She and her brother wore their armor above cotton padding and carried their weapons ready. “We’ll be in the front. That’s where Gil should be with the flag and the big goof here wants to be with her.”

“Sure.” Gilda nodded. “I’ll be right along.”

The two took flight and hurried above the walking column as Gia and Geary approached with the others. She wore her blue satin cape instead of the red scarf and spoke with her best disinterested tone. “Since I’m the Loremaster in this ambulatory monster food carnival, I better make sure no one slows us down. I’ll be moving along the caravan as we travel. I’ll meet you in the front when we stop.”

“Just slap her if she gives you trouble, Gilda.” Gelinda chuckled. “Lady Gwendolen has conditioned the young Loremasters to respond to that.”

Gia stopped and stared at both griffonesses while they kept their faces straight. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? This isn’t funny.”

“Maybe I am.” Gelinda shrugged with a small, amused smile. “Maybe I’m not. I suppose Gilda will find out.”

Gia sighed and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Geary. I can’t stand this place anymore.”

She, along with her thrall also took flight and the ponies just hurried along, but Geary gave Gilda a respectful nod before following his master. The two ex-soldiers nodded at the column. “We’ll be in the back.”

“Okay.” Gilda nodded at them too, but she pointed at them. Their weapons looked different. “Hey, what happened to your muskets?”

“We sold them to a local blacksmith.” The other guy said. “The northerners said firearms won’t do you much good if monsters attack anyways. We swapped them for hunting rifles and had our pikes enchanted.”

With the stragglers closing the rear guard, they walked after them. Grunhilda joined Gilda. She didn’t carry their stuff in her fox pelt backpack. Instead, she wore, and damn well, the armor Gilda had bought for her. The hammer was on her flank and her mother’s bow rested slung over her left shoulder and her back, with the quiver of iron arrows on her side.

“Looking great, Big Girl.” She smiled and Grunhilda did her happy tap-dance, giggling like a kid that got a compliment and clinking armor.

Then, the road that circled the inner palisade of the city was almost empty. Gilda saw a young griffon sitting by the stream that came out of the city and circled around to the east gate. A young dark-tan and white tom sat on the cobblestone with a pair of short firearms hanging from the straps around his neck. He held a small bundle of a little blue griffon fledgling crying low and coarsely. The tired poor thing couldn’t even cry anymore, and the barely adult griffon seemed so tired. There was something poignant in the way he held a toy chicken plushie too and next to him was a similarly young queen with the most beautiful of azure and white colors.

Gilda thought that the couple was particularly pretty. Were they a couple? The tired crying baby looked like it could be theirs. But they had no clothes, no luggage, except for the two firearms the tom carried.

“Hey, aren’t you coming?” Gilda approached them and so did Grunhilda.

Coming closer, Gilda could see they were too similar and concluded they were siblings, and about as young as Grunhilda. She supposed the baby was their younger sister, though she was so young it was hard to see her gender in that dirty bundle of white and blue blankets she was in. The older sister didn’t react at all, and she had an empty stare to the cobblestone that made Gilda frown.

“We’re waiting for our father.” The tom kept staring at nothing like he was lost in his own world. Gilda wasn’t sure the queen even was aware of the world around her.

Something told her their father wouldn’t be coming. Maybe it was the fact that they were alone, and he had not mentioned his mother. The weapons made her curious, but she decided against asking. Instead, she nodded at the north gate.

“Come on, let’s go.” She told him softly.

He gave a soft shake of his head for a second before he replied with the certainty of a lost child. “We… We’re waiting for pappa…”

“I’m not asking.” Gilda pointed at the gates with the stern voice that usually worked on her thrall. “Grunhilda, help him with the guns and the baby.”

“Okay!” Big Girl chirped and took the weapons, hanging them around her neck and taking the bundle with the baby and the toy. The little thing stopped crying and gave Grunhilda a long curious stare with her big cerulean eyes. The large goofy griffon that was Grunhilda giggled and cradled the fledgling, tickling her with her beak. “Hi baby!”

She did a little hop and beat her wings to keep herself aloft while holding the small bundle of now giggling baby and waited.

“Her name is Giza…” He finally stared at Gilda. “I’m Godwin. And she’s Georgia.”

“And I’m Gilda.” She smiled and put a paw on his back.

When Griffons Go On A Journey

Gilda was hoping for some snow. Whenever it snowed in Griffonstone it just turned the dirty street to muddy dirty streets and clogged drains. If you were lucky to live in an area with paved streets that was also serviced by the underground sewer system. Most just had central gutters. She never could appreciate how actually beautiful fresh snow was. Or so they told her.

In the North there should be plenty of clean, untouched snow in the wilderness. She supposed she would have the chance to appreciate it during the trip. But the climate was not so gracious. There was no snow last night, only the dry cold met them in the first day of their journey.

But one thing she had learned during her journey was patience.

The dry road brought another problem. It was a beaten dirt path of black soil, etched into the yellow grass by countless passing carts and feet. If there was one thing the south was superior at, it was infrastructure. Even if it was poorly maintained, it was there, and most cities were connected in a network of streets. Ironically, the reason they were poorly maintained was few griffons using them. The ones which received priority maintenance were the ones used by large freighting companies. And even then, in the times of good economy.

All water under the bridge, however.

Most of the rocks had been bumped out of the way though, thus they mostly walked over a half-hardened ground. Additionally, the winds were calm and allowed griffons to rest their sore feet with short flights.

“Haha. No.” said Captain Gosalynn with her shrill voice and long black beak. “There will be no flying unless there is an emergency. Flying monsters will attack from above and I don’t want clueless southerners distracting our escorts.”

Hey, at least she didn’t call them hooflickers.

Fair or no, nobody, including Gilda, wanted to test if they would let arrows fly on anyone. Apparently, she had successfully scared the cubs into keeping their paws on the ground too. Gilda even wondered if the whole ‘no flying’ thing was more about enforcing a random rule for the sake of enforcing rules. Still no flying, though.

Walking spent less energy anyways and griffons had spirits high enough. Additionally, if they walked, they could talk among themselves with less noise, which was another thing Gosalynn had said to keep to a minimum. These, and other self-deluding excuses worked, but the point was griffons remained on their feet or on carts. The goal wasn’t to enjoy the trip or have a leisure walk in the park anyway. It was to cross the wilderness as fast as possible without leaving anyone behind.

After the entire morning, a fast lunch, and most of the afternoon walking in between the farms which provided for Wayfarer’s Rest, they were finally in the actual wilderness. The path became softer and there was more grass on the way, but also some rocks. It was mostly fine and there was still beauty to see in the northern lands. The same kind of terrain Gilda saw before entering Wayfarer’s Rest remained beyond the North Gate.

Black soil and frequent, small fast streams intertwined with the green-yellow grass and dark-green shrubs adorned with beautiful little red fruits. Birds flew overhead and Gilda saw a pair of eagles, and a few crows too. Game animals avoided the caravan, but she saw them too before they fled to the nearby woods. Occasionally, they passed a small, wooded area with gray trees showing yellowing and red leaves.

In the distance there were always mountains. They were ubiquitous and their serene majesty made for a beautiful scenery. Snow Mountains was a good name for the hold and the varied scenery made the initial hours of the journey quite pleasant.

The cold was bearable, and the wind was little more than a soft breeze refreshing the mass of moving animals. More than that, the smells of nature reinvigorated those city griffons and Gilda included herself again. Griffonstone was clearly in a bad place, and Gilda doubted there was much any single griffon could do. It smelled bad. Too many shortcuts, too much corruption, not enough money left behind or well-meaning griffons to actually get the job done just because it is the decent thing.

It missed a mighty king that would unite griffons. Or at least make them work together, as not even the Idol of Boreas could withstand the Chancellor Office’s incompetence. Come to think of it, how would The Lion deal with something like the idol? Or The Harpy? Probably as what it is, an important artifact of historical value.

The wilderness seemed much more appealing, anyways.

She walked next to Gosalynn, also lost in her own thoughts, accompanying the head of the group of traveling griffons behind their scouts, several cubits ahead of them. Some of the travelers pulled personal carts and their families laid on top, chatting pleasantly as did groups of friends walking together. Some friendships even started after they left the gates.

Grunhilda had laid on her belly atop one of the carts the owner had allowed her to use. Her eyes scanned through the blacksmithing book Gilda had bought for her like there was nothing else of interest in the world. Gosalynn had said the beginning was almost certainly safe, so Gilda decided to let her study a little. Big Girl was happy as a cub with a ball of yarn, eventually turning on her back and holding the book up and then back on her belly again.

One of the Sky Sentry soldiers next to Gilda and Gosalynn suddenly rushed to the nearby woods. A few minutes passed before he was back with a collection of glass jars containing chunks of honeycombs and a lot of honey. All of them tied with thin cords and strung over his neck and back. Gilda supposed they used to be inside his backpack and that he had brought them for that express purpose.

She smiled, imagining a dad figured the younglings could do with something sweet after the carnage of sweets and forbidden foodstuffs when they arrived in Wayfarer’s Rest. Those jars turned into a giant moving party for the cubs across the caravan and Gia had to spend some time explaining why honey was acceptable when marshmallows weren’t.

Thus, the caravan progressed in the first half of the first day of travel. Every now and then rangers left the caravan. They would return with fruits, dead foxes or rabbits that were added to the supply train following the caravan of walking griffons and oxen-pulled carts.

A cold land, but far from dead. Would the perpetually snowed lands would be less alive? Her guts told her they wouldn’t. The Nartani made a living there. Scratch that, they thrived there. Of course, that was what griffons did. To thrive in adversity. She supposed she would see once they arrived at the worst parts. After all, the most important city was all the way to the north.

Something nagged at Gilda’s mind, though. Something kept her from fully relaxing like everyone else seemed to. Maybe it was the anxiety her caravan was full of city griffons who couldn’t survive on their own in that place. Because, even if the Nartani could, they lived their whole lives in there. Even in the relatively easy area of Wayfarer’s Rest the southerners might struggle too much.

No. That’s not it. The northerners would help them. Even if they were helpless, they were still griffons and they would survive. They would learn and they would thrive, eventually. Their cubs would grow and be even stronger.

She couldn’t tell if that was one of her past selves telling her everything would be fine, or if it she was trying to convince herself, so she wouldn’t be anxious.

Happy gossiping, spinning wheels, calling birds… The area was alive indeed. Griffons were happy, looking forward to their new adventure. Maybe that was it. They didn’t entirely understand. Maybe they could all go back to the places where living is easier for them when the Chancellor is finally dealt with?

Walking on the damp trail, at the head of the caravan, Gilda raised an eyebrow at her own thoughts. Maybe she should stop thinking like she’s everyone’s mom and let griffons own what comes out of their decisions. Maybe they wanted to go live in the North. Maybe they did believe they would be happier in the harsh northerner lands. Maybe they did believe Mother Harpy wanted that for them. Not to mention they could return to the south once the situation was dealt with. Her Mother would need loyal griffons to deal with the dissident southerners in the aftermath. Not to mention to run the regions.

A grimace crept into her face. Maybe she should stop calling Her ‘Mother’ after she had sex with Her. It was kinda creepy.

“Are you feeling well?” Gosalynn, walked next to Gilda and frowned at her. “I can’t decide if you are locked in a deep internal debate or if you need to go to the bathroom…”

Gilda chuckled and her cheeks tinted a little bit. “Sorry. I’m thinking about something.”

Gosalynn rolled her eyes and took a sip from a bottle she carried across her chest on a leather strap. Its beauty drew Gilda’s eyes, with a honeycomb design filled with shiny stones of various colors. But while it would be expected someone would bring some water for a long walk, that stuff didn’t smell like water at all.

“What’s that?” Gilda stared curiously and Gosalynn offered her the bottle.

It looked like a common glass bottle beneath the decorations and whatever was inside tasted like strawberry and watered-down mead. She wasn’t sure what it tasted like, and it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t for her. It had a strange twang of sugar and alcohol. Like a watered-down stiff drink made of honey and strawberries. Very sweet, to the point was too much for Gilda.

She stuck out her tongue. “Bleh!”

The small but quick and colorful griffoness laughed and took her bottle back. “I need this for long exercises. My body works faster than most… Or something. Madam Gelinda worked this out with me. It’s rich in easy to digest energy and it doesn’t infringe upon our customs.”

Gilda just stared at her. Gosalynn chuckled some more. “It’s a… Oh well… Madam Gelinda could explain this better. I basically took the short stick when it comes from inheriting things from your parents. Sometimes Astrani can have these… Difficulties.”

Finally, she shrugged and sighed. “Don’t ask me. I’m the Captain of the Sky Sentry. My job is killing monsters and keeping citizens from killing each other. Not figuring out the mysteries of griffon-ness. All griffons usually need to know is it’s not contagious.”

“Hehe. I understand.” Gilda chortled too, but both fell into silence as they kept walking.

It was a nice chat, and kind of interesting too. And yet, she was still uneasy, but she at least she understood. It was the silence that pierced the noises of a chatty griffon caravan. Gilda had gotten used to Mother talking to her every once in a while. She missed Her voice. No remark on their experience, nor on Gosalynn’s quip or condition. Gilda expected a remark on her silly insecurities… It seemed things had been less than ideal in Griffonstone and Gilda worried. For her friends, for griffons in general and for Her Mother. Maybe she should dedicate some time to seeing if someone she knows is in the caravan.

“Yes, this is a good spot for a first stop.” The Sky Sentry quartermaster suddenly spoke to Mister Gillian a few bodies ahead of her and broke through her thoughts.

Their words drew Gilda’s attention and soon after the latter raised his paw the whole mass of griffons stopped behind Gilda. Gillian spoke with all his experience in dealing with caravans, slow and methodical, but also loud. “Let the others know. We’ll be staying here a few hours early. But we are in a bit of a hurry. Tomorrow we will depart before sunrise, and we will only stop a few minutes for lunch and then after sundown. Six hours of sleep, at most as the movement will fight the cold. Rest this night. Get used to the cold, and don’t worry. It’s gonna be fine.”

The older griffon in the blue and golden Sky Sentry armor raised his paw too. “We’ll get food to everyone. Don’t worry and don’t start trouble. We need to remain united, or we will invite the wrath of the Windigos. And it will get worse the further north we go.”

Those words got some of the southerners nervous, with shifty eyes and nervous mumbling. But other than a few frowns, nothing happened. Griffons just prepared to set their small tents for the camp, moving out of the road. Though it was mostly a trail in the dark soil where the grass was trampled enough times. Curiously, in general, they seemed more excited with the idea that something fundamental was changing more than they feared missing anything from their old lives. Maybe Gelinda’s speech really had worked her ‘Loremaster magic’ on them.

Grunhilda hopped off the cart after putting the book away with their assigned luggage and stuffed her chest out. “I’ll get our tent up!”

Gilda smiled. “You do that, Big Girl. I’m gonna go check on our new friends.”

Grunhilda gave her an excited nod and chirp before joining the others. Each grabbing their stuff from the cart while a handler gave water to the wooly ox cow who pulled it. Her light tan, thick layer of hair had caught some grime and she drank like it was her last chance, but she seemed barely even tired.

“Hey boss!” Gertha stopped wrestling with the poles and sheets of her tent. “Might wanna bring the kids closer to you. I don’t think the girl is very well.”

Gilda nodded. What was her name? Georgia. Yeah, she really didn’t seem well when Gilda had first found them. “You’re right. I’ll do that.”

“You can count on me if you need help with the fledgling!” Gil offered as she forcefully tried sticking their flag into the ground. Failing didn’t make her less excited, though. “I’m good with kids!”

Gilda nodded acknowledgement as she walked down the semi-maintained formation next to the road. She found Godwin and his two sisters easily and soon enough. He was all flustered trying to get their small tent assembled while a pair of very pretty and young northerner queens talked to him. One held baby Giza like it was her own and the other sat next to Godwin doing all the excessive flirty things the teenagers think are subtle. Like a catalogue of desperation… Smiling, winking, sexy posing, subtly flashing her lady bumps on her belly.

The one with the baby was a bright emerald and white, while the other was steely gray and white. Both wore the red scarf and brooch of the Court of The Harpy, same as Godwin and his older sister. Georgia just sat there, ignored and in her own distant world. Something about that scene made Gilda angry with the two queens.

But before Gilda could intervene and save the tom from dying of embarrassment, Madam Gelinda came out of nowhere and approached them too, with the patented ‘I’m a Loremaster and I’m about to ruin your day’ scowl. Wearing her blue satin cape and with Gia following, but the latter only wore her typical bored, disinterested, and flat expression.

“Where are your families?” Gelinda snapped at young griffons, and the three almost had a collective heart-attack. Gasps, startled jitters and even a few flying feathers from flared wings.

“Madam Gelinda! I thought you hadn’t come. We’re down the column, Madam Loremaster!” Green squeaked at her, straightening her red scarf. “Our families are just finishing setting up for the camp.”

“We thought we should come here and let Godwin and his sisters know we can help with whatever they might need!” The gray one concluded with a half-panicked smile.

“I know very well what you wanted to help him with.” Gelinda’s scowl only intensified as she grabbed a freaking whip from under her wing. One of those with nine strands and Gilda’s eyes flew wide at the sight. “If you two have time and energy to distract this tom, I can find things for you to do! Go make yourselves useful or you’ll spend the night with a nice tan on your hides!”

The pair squeaked and high-tailed from there so fast Gilda almost couldn’t keep from laughing.

“Thank… Thank you, madam Loremaster.” Godwin stumbled with the words, timidly fidgeting. Until she whipped him on his flank with a loud ‘whap’. “OW!”

“If I catch you staring at another griffoness like that again, I am going to flog you so hard The Harpy will pity you!” She yelled at him as he hid behind his paws and closed his wings around him.

“Aah! I’m sorry madam Loremaster!” He squealed while his baby sister giggled.

“Hey, Gelinda, I thought you were…” Gilda started, but was interrupted when the old griffoness glared at her. She squeaked and covered her face too. “I swear I didn’t do anything!”

“I decided I should come see these two, since you dragged them with you. I may have business in Frozenlake, depending.” Gelinda pointed with her righteous weapon after she was convinced Gilda was innocent. “I’ll return with the Sky Sentry afterward.”

Then, in a move which wisdom Gilda deeply questioned, Gelinda gave the whip to Gia. The wide and beaming grin the green griffoness opened concerned her, but Gelinda wasn’t done yet.

“Come, youngling. Let me see you.” She beckoned to the tom, and he approached. Sat in front of Madam Gelinda with a sheepish downward stare but looked at her when she held his jaw and moved his head for her to examine. “You are beautiful, child. A very pure Shaddani. No wonder those brainless hens were so enthralled with you.”

Gilda was no Loremaster, but she knew what a hot dude was, and the griffon fit the bill. Gelinda started showing him to Gilda before she could appraise him further. “He is no child but is barely an adult. He is a very pure Shaddani with beautiful and vibrant colors and you can see the very fierce facial traits of the Astrani. In his pronounced supraorbital ridge and in his discreet lores. His lower eyelids are the right proportion, and his maxilla is smooth with elongated nares. You can see his mandible is shaped after the rest of his beak and it is also particularly glossy. But, most of all, there is also something in his stare…”

“The tan is very common in the Griffonland area, but they are rarely so perfect in their plumage and coat. It often comes with yellow or brown eyes. Golden is a sign of a pure Shaddani, while other shades in the brown spectrum indicate they have some Haderani.”

“But there is only so much you can tell only by looking at the surface.” She smiled before her gaze turned down and then her smile turned to a delighted grin. “He’s been very well educated and properly raised. You can see he is healthy and fit. Obedient, but he doesn’t like being told what to do, nor that he is still treated like a cub. To obey is a choice he makes, but it violates his nature. You can see Our Mother’s ferocity in him. The physical power to impose his will if he so chooses. He is ready to be recognized as an adult.”

Maybe it was just because she had said it, but Gilda could see it. There was a fierce griffon in there, hiding under the obedient attitude of the ‘kid’. Gilda smiled an appraising grin, holding her own jaw. “Hum… Yeah. I see what you mean.”

Although what was on Gilda’s head was more on the lines of something which might get her whipped too. Fortunately, Madam Gladys didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she turned to the queen and smiled, signaling her to come over. “Come, dear. Let me see you too.”

But the pretty blue griffoness that was Georgia didn’t respond. All she did was breath in and out softly, with her downcast eyes to the ground, ignoring Gelinda altogether.

For a second Gilda feared Gelinda would treat her the same way she had treated Gil in the bath, but instead the loremaster’s eyes turned worried with a frown. She casually walked over to the griffon girl and softly held her jaw too, reading her. Her lack of reactions worried Gilda and she moved closer too while Gelinda quickly examined the female’s body, but with not as much dedication.

Gilda didn’t know what played inside her head, but Gelinda turned to the tom with a scowl. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were home… Pappa woke us and told us we needed to leave Griffonstone. He initiated the Red Dawn protocol.” He didn’t even react. Just started talking as soon as she asked.

“Was your father Gast of Griffonstone?” Gelinda kept her severe frown. “And your mother Guella of Griffindell?”

The tom nodded quietly, but without much delay he resumed telling his story. “Mamma went to see Madam Gladys. Georgia and I took our little sister and went to our supporters to inform them of the order and to take them to the teleporter.”

He changed his complying neutral stare to one of contained anger. “The plaza was taken by GSA soldiers and two Blackfeather agents…”

“Blackfeather?” Gilda turned to Gia with an inquisitive stare.

“Intelligence officers… You know…” Gia grimaced. “The kind who murders and tortures for the good of the nation. Most griffons don’t even know they exist.”

“Hush.” Gelinda glared at them. “Continue, tom.”

By then, their little patch of the camp was crowded with curious griffons that wanted to listen to the story or just wanted to know what was going on. Both northerners, some Sky Sentries in armor, and southerners. They kept silent and the thestral pony was among them, in the first row, since most griffons were larger than she was.

“We met a unicorn mercenary… Tempest Shadow, the Kingslayer Traitor. She wanted passage through the teleporter but lacked the activation command. We teamed up and her mercenary outfit let us into the facility. She was working with a mercenary griffon by the name of Gaki.” Godwin closed his eyes and his voice strained with sorrow. “We made it into the facility via a gift shop and… We found mamma and Madam Gladys dead. Tied and shot!”

Gilda gasped. She knew it was going to be bad, but that was something else. She said nothing, though. The tom continued under angry and sorrowful stares. ‘Who kills a Loremaster? Let alone two?’ they mumbled among themselves, and ‘Who shows a cub their dead mother?’. Others still quietly confirmed the story, saying they were there, outside the facility’s gates.

“The mercenaries argued among themselves. I don’t remember exactly what happened.” His crest of tan and white feathers bent sadly, and he cast his eyes downward again. “They took us outside to the Blackfeather agents and they knew who my sisters and I were. They wanted Mamma and Madam Gladys alive and wanted to know where Pappa was.”

“Do go on, child.” Gelinda encouraged him with a gesture. “You will feel better.”

“One of the officers, Colonel Gaspar, knew Pappa and tried to protect us. He told the Blackfeathers to leave us alone, but they threatened him.” He gave a curious frown. “Then an old veteran the soldiers called General Gamaliel came and started talking to the soldiers. About a military operation that derailed a train to cover up for the Blackfeathers murdering two northerner citizens. The soldiers became angry, and Colonel Gaspar led them in a mutiny.”

“No way!” Gilda gasped with her paw before her beak. Was that about Grunhilda’s parents? She hoped to know more, and maybe be sure. But she let the kid keep talking, as it was likely he wouldn’t know. Thank The Harpy Grunhilda wasn’t there to listen to his testimony.

“There was fighting in the city and Colonel Gaspar hurried all he could through the teleporter. Meanwhile, the mercenary tried to walk away.” Godwin growled and scowled fiercely. His whole body tensed up. “I told him the only place he was going to was the Scorch. They gave me a pistol and I shot him.”

Some gasped, others nodded. Most, such as Madam Gelinda simply listened while his voice raised, and tears wet his plumage and his angry grimace. “I made him lay on the ground and look at me. Then I shot him!”

“I told him he was a filthy Saddani and I would love to see what the Allmother was going to do with a dirty unclean that killed Our Mother’s Chosen for Bits. And I shot him!” The fierce facial traits Gelinda had mentioned became glaringly apparent with his furious scowl. “I watched him fall limp with a bloody hole in his head. I watched as the rain washed his blood away. He was gone. Mamma is gone and I am scared Pappa is too. And we stayed behind…”

Madam Gelinda put a wing behind his back as he finally broke his restrained demeanor and she let him weep with his face on her fluffy chest. It was an awkward situation where all the dumb griffons around them wanted to say or do something to help. Anything. But there really wasn’t anything. Like Gilda and her sagging wings, they just let the young griffon cry his tears out, holding on to Madam Gelinda like she was his mother, and nobody bothered them. His sister cried too. For the first time she showed a reaction, and it was crying like a weaned cub, hiding her eyes behind her paws.

Yeah… Gilda wasn’t one of those griffons who understood everything like Madam Gelinda or Madam Gladys, but she figured it was good the girl was letting it out. Gilda was going to hold her, but she was surprised when Gia walked over to Georgia and held her in her forelegs and in her wings, letting her rest her head on her chest too.

Grunhilda approached Gilda with a distraught stare and after Gilda held her for a few seconds, Grunhilda went to the baby. Little Giza started whining and complaining, threatening to cry, upset her big siblings were so distraught. Gilda’s white and big thrall held the baby and beaked softly at it. She had a sad smile and made small cooing sounds which calmed her.

There was nothing anyone could do, but Gilda knew what losing their mother at such a young age felt like. She still wanted to do something. Anything. But she knew there was nothing she could do. What a terrible time The Harpy had chosen to stop talking to her. The only thing she felt like she could do, talking to Their Mother, was not possible when she felt she needed it the most.

Her feet shuffled mindlessly in the grass, and she stared at them. She could, at least, share in their moment. It seemed the entirety of their quickly assembled caravan did. Most of those griffons were only there because these kids’ family made it possible.

A few minutes passed before the two siblings started to gain some control over their sobbing and returned to breathing normally. It was when Madam Gelinda looked up at the stormy sky whose gray clouds had tinted in the reds and oranges of sunset and drew a deep breath.

“You didn’t stay behind.” She closed her eyes. “And they are not gone either.”

Gelinda caught Gilda by surprise. Her beak hung open for a second before she gathered her wits. In the confusing mess of emotions swirling in her head, she imagined maybe it was better to just purse her beak, instead of throwing platitudes like Gelinda was going to.

Gilda was reminded she knows nothing and the surrounding griffons and thestral became enthralled by her words.

“Every griffon is on an eternal journey. It is Our Mother’s gift for us. We are meant to be born, to live, and die. But however, we die, we are not gone. No. We are too precious that Our Mother would let us vanish into nothing.”

“There is a vast, empty desert. Cold, snow and wind. It is the Whitescape much as we know it.” She made a grand gesture to the horizon. “Nothing but the white mist of snow and wind. Griffons will find themselves stranded in a place they don’t know. They may not remember what happened, but something inside urges them to follow to the West. The Stormy Eyrie calls them home to the Allmother’s Halls. But the life and death of a griffon is a trial of their character.”

“The fell power of the Windigos will assault their minds and their corrupted minions will accost them on their final journey.” Gelinda frowned and her eyes took an upset glint to them, but she kept talking, still holding the distraught young griffon with her. “Tired of their long trek and under attack, instinct tells them they must make it home. They are Children of The Harpy. The Windigos could not defeat us thousands of years ago and they cannot today.”

“They will find a frozen city by a lake of ice. Always the unbridled hatred of our ancient enemy will seek to destroy them. It is all they can do… The Windigos have no power to create, they have no will and all they can do is shovel their vapid hatred into the empty husks of their minions and seethe at the glory they cannot have.” Gelinda looked at the others too as she spoke. “Draugar. Undead griffons, blind and cold by their envy will try to stop them and make their victims as miserable as they are. Frostmane ghosts will wail and charge like the mindless beasts they have become. Their Sun has abandoned them. She has become a politician and she has changed the faith of her children for the bed of compromising politicians who see nothing more than golden coins.”

“The empty souls of griffons and ponies confined to the torment of undeath share a common envy and goal. Their horrendous masters will crack their whips and the undying will oblige. But conflict is the life of a griffon whose soul Our Mother has forged in the fires of wrath. Hunting monsters is the due of Her Children since the moment the Unicorn Kings declared war on us so long ago our own brethren will not believe us.”

“Hollow shells and restless spirits of creatures dead so long ago they don’t recall that when lightning owns the skies and thunder roars, they ought to fear. There is no stopping the valorous and dauntless Children of The Harpy. They will reach the mountains. An island of sanity within the terrible domain of the frozen evil. Every griffon knows the way.”

“Within the mountains they will find a verdant valley where temperatures are pleasant, and prey is abundant. A city like a mountain takes the center, and you can hear the music of the flashforges where the Astrani blacksmiths make weapons of might and steel for Her champions! Their songs will fill the newcomers’ souls with awe as they walk on soft grass and among mighty trees.”

She closed her eyes again and smiled. “They will follow the promenade amid the statues of our legends and griffons will stop what they are doing to cheer for the arrival of their brethren at the end of their journey. They heard the songs the Skalds sang of their lives and want to meet them. They will follow as the newcomers enter the Fólkvangr and the great heroes of our race will sing the tales of their lives to Our Mother. Their ancestors and friends that had fallen in the past will welcome to them. They will feast and they will celebrate for many lifetimes until they are ready to return to the Land of the Living and will again glorify Our Mother’s power.”

“It is the due of all griffons and all will die one day. Until then…” She looked at the two young griffons and spoke to them again. “Until then you will make your life a worthy one. Your parents and Our Mother will listen to the Skalds singing of your deeds and when you meet your death, you too will brave the corrupted power of our cold enemy. You will overcome and will meet Gast and Guella again before Our Mother. Not as cubs, but as worthy Children of The Harpy. But until then, you will live.”

Georgia sniffled and looked at her paws, lost in thought. The tom, Godwin smiled at the old griffoness. “Thank you, Madam Loremaster.”

Her voice became soft and comforting as she ruffled his crest affectionately. “Be proud. Be brave. You are a Child of The Harpy, not some pitiful grassbreath abandoned to the eddies of arcane energies.”

“What happened to the mercenary?” Georgia finally spoke and it almost startled her brother who shivered whole and flared his wings, turning to her. The griffons around them smiled though. Gilda thought that it was worth a smile too, but also turned to the Loremaster. That was still her show.

“If he is lucky, the Windigos got to him. He will become a draugr, or some other manner of undead monster and will wander from the Frozen North…” She spoke in a carefree tone and shrugged. “Mayhap you will see him again. Folk often say they found bad griffons turned undead while exploring the ruins among the snow. Those that nobody bothered burying according to Our Mother’s commands. Kindly strike him down if you do. One day the Windigos ought to tire of him and let him go out of tedium. He would vanish into nothingness. Eventually. It would be unfortunate… He is still a griffon and a soul that should be one of us in another life. I do hope that Our Mother may eventually collect him. I don’t know the answer.”

The girl blinked a few times with her big, expressive, and vibrant eyes. “What if he is unlucky?”

“Well, then not even the Windigos could save him from The Harpy.” Gelinda grinned like the told the punchline of a joke. “Good question. I truly don’t know what fate awaits the spirits taken by the Windigos and what Aya Harpyia will do to him is speculation only. If you go all the way to Griffindell, which I suggest you do, ask Lady Gwendolen. She surely knows.”

“Now… Let us eat. I am an old griffon and do like my dinner.” Gelinda smiled warmly at the young griffoness and petted her head too. “Do you mind if they share dinner with us, Gilda?”

Gilda chuckled. She loved the way Gelinda basically invited herself to dine with her and friends, but Gilda supposed she was a guest of honor.

“Not at all!” Gilda beamed. “I think it would be awesome!”

“I will be with you in a while.” Gelinda smiled again before she disappeared in the middle of the now dispersing griffons. Of course, ‘dispersing’ really just meant they were going back to the small campfires they had prepared for dinner and some socialization before they retreated into their tents.

“What separates a teenager from an adult, Gia?” Gilda walked next to the green loremaster as they returned to the ‘head’ of the camping ground. The sentinels, the local armored Sky Sentries placed themselves around the perimeter. Sitting with spears on their paws, shields on their backs and watchful eyes. They nodded respectfully at the pair as they walked past. A couple of them were armed with bows and Gilda supposed it was because of the monsters. They didn’t expect to be attacked by brigands, but by monsters.

Guns for civilized creatures, bows for beasts and monsters, it seemed.

“It’s the Gathering Storm.” Gia shrugged, looking at Gilda by her side.

“It’s not really a rule and many cubs go to it just to have fun and hear The Cry of The Harpy.” She stopped and held her jaw in her typical pensive way when she forgets that she ‘doesn’t like anything and anyone’. “It is more of a milestone to the members of the Court of The Harpy. Since… You know… They get to do ‘adult stuff’. But in the end, everyone has fun. It’s the members who are much more controlled than the others. Nobody cares what some random commoner is doing. They are kind of allowed to deviate from tradition… It’s the nobility that must set the example.”

So long as they aren’t ‘filthy Saddani’ with improper traits, like too thick a tail ending the wrong way? But Gilda kept her annoyance at bay and her beak remained in a peaceful smile. This was not the time.

“I’m surprised you don’t have some sort of trial by combat…” Gilda rolled her eyes. “Maybe some ritual hunt or… ‘You have to kill a monster to be considered an adult! Rawr rawr!’ You know?”

“A griffon’s entire life is a trial.” Gia responded, surprisingly mature and sympathetic in her mellow stare back to the kid hugging his sister. The little baby was blessedly unaware and looked up at her siblings with little hops, wanting to be included. She was also free of her bundle of blankets and Grunhilda followed Gilda.

“I suppose you are right.” Gilda nodded, turning her eyes to her path. She didn’t dwell on the thoughts about all the weird turns her life had taken. She’d done enough of that.

The travelers had organized in small groups that returned to their campfires once the show was over and conversations became islands of griffons talking in low voices. Gertha had graciously made a fire for Gilda and the others in the central area around which their tents were raised. She was feeding wood to the fire just as they approached, and Gil still struggled to stick their flagpole in the ground. She held it down with her weight and spun it in her paws with her tongue sticking out of her beak like she was on a personal mission.

Meanwhile Gillian talked with Gosalynn and the Sky Sentry quartermaster. They were talking in a reserved tone over a map, but it was a spontaneous conversation. Gilda approached as casually as their conversation was and sat with them, watching the map-pointing and tool-poking.

With her approach, Mister Gillian spoke without looking at her. “We seem to have progressed further than we expected.”

“What?” Her expression turned to bewilderment, and she scratched her head. “How is that possible?!”

“Notice how the weather is constantly heavily clouded?” Gillian pointed up and Gilda nodded like a good student. “Mother Harpy’s magic shrouds the entire region from… Let’s say prying equine eyes that might or might not be sitting her flank in Canterlot with a huge telescope. Or so the Northerners say. But she also lends us her magic.”

Since she didn’t want to seem like a fool, Gilda pretended she had understood how that would even work. Gosalynn squinted, though. “I wish. She’s in Griffonstone right now. Sticking her hooves all over griffon matters.”

“Well, the important thing is that the Allmother’s magic is helping us progress.” The quartermaster said. “I don’t care how it works, so long as it works.”

Fair enough. Gilda nodded and excused herself, turning and making her way to the group of griffons around the nearby campfire. Guille and Geary, with the two Gunner soldier boys talked about something while they prepared raw sausages on sticks and piled them on a plate with a red sauce prior to being roasted. Lost Temple already sat by the fire, wearing a dark green cotton cloak and a deep blue neckerchief that had a brooch of his cutie mark of a roll of parchment and a shovel. Paying attention to the griffons.

“Pony, is there some sort of artisan who makes customized brooches of cutie marks for sale?” Gunner of Griffonstone asked. Or the other… Gilda wasn’t sure which one was it. But he was also passing around mugs with hot spiced wine.

“Ah. Yes.” The pony blinked his big violet eyes. “Yes. There are quite a few in every city, actually.”

“It’s part of their identity.” Gilda sat by the fire and put out her paws to it. Only then she noticed just how cold it was and how the night had suddenly fallen when she wasn’t paying attention. While they talked, the thestral returned from the bushes. Gilda kept talking to the others, paying her little attention. “It’s like a griffon that wants their name on their stuff.”

“I think it’s alright.” Gunner from Griffonstone started pawing out the sticks with the sausages, just as Madam Gelinda sat next to Gia. It made the green griffoness incredibly uncomfortable as she scooted away a few fingers. That notwithstanding, the griffon ex-soldier went on. “Reminds me of a story in the news about a hen that wanted a cutie mark.”

“Why would the newspaper publish a story about that?” Gia forgot Gelinda and raised an eyebrow like she was personally offended.

“Because newspapers in the south are like that.” Gilda sighed, holding her sausage to the fire. “The news can’t be too depressing and since Princess Celestia wasn’t in town to judge a cake contest, and there were no buildings on fire, they’d publish stupid shit like that. Not to mention everyone is so damn tired of the news about politicians being investigated griffons would stop buying the papers.”

After a round of chuckles they silenced and enjoyed their meals. With Grunhilda happily gobbling down a sausage next to her, Gilda stared at the fire. A distant thunder reminded her of the silence The Harpy had kept the whole day. Dead griffons, fleeing from Windigos and their monsters haunted her thoughts. Trying to reach the Stormy Eyrie. Maybe lost and confused. It seemed needlessly cruel to tell a couple of kids who had just lost their parents. But she supposed a good story needed some drama instead of dead griffons simply popping into existence in the Stormy Eyrie. Northerner kids would like stories about their parents being awe-inspiring. Come to think of it, the story ponies tell probably have their culture etched into it too. Probably all cultures did so.

Then she realized she didn’t actually know anything. In fact, she had never thought about what happened to a griffon after they died. Perhaps just some thoughts about resting and being reborn eventually, as that was what the Loremasters and their memories of past lives implied. It was the commonly accepted view of what passes for an afterlife all over the world.

Gia scoffed with a grumpy scowl. “As though some nice story was going to change their harsh reality.”

Then, much like a cat finally managing to corner the mouse, she made a petulant grin and turned to Gelinda with a metaphorical pounce. “Like an honored old Loremaster telling the youth some exaggerated tale about their parents fighting monsters and whatnot to reach their final resting place.”

Other than the fact that ‘the youth’ was probably no more than five years, give or take, younger than Gia and herself, Gilda was more shocked by Madam Gelinda’s surprise at Gia’s sting.

“What tale?” The old loremaster blinked her gray eyes innocently as Godwin’s baby sister.

“No.” Gia nagged as her face twisted into a grouchy scowl. “There is no way you actually know what happens when we die. No way. Loremaster memories are of previous lives, not of some fabled afterlife. You made that up from the folk tales of the Astrani.”

“What makes you think that the Stormborn were wrong? They lived with Mother Harpy in the Stormy Eyrie before the Windigos. And even if it is just an empty tale, it did the cubs good. They are barely adults, and they lost their parents. No cub should ever see their parents tied up and shot.” Gelinda initially showed no outward emotion, but then she made a pitiful smile and softly petted Gia’s crest. “Don’t worry, Gia… I am absolutely sure Lady Gwendolen is going to fix whatever is wrong with you.”

Gia could have afforded not to bat away Gelinda’s paw so angrily, though. “You know I am a Loremaster too, don’t you?”

“Might as well start behaving as one, then.” Gelinda didn’t even waste a breath.

They looked like they would keep bickering for the mutual annoyance and entertainment of their companions, but the thestral clopped her hoof on the grass. It produced little sound, but she had their attention anyway. “The ponies… Uh…”

She started and made an expression like she had the most bitter of lemons in her mouth. “Princess Luna says that there is really no afterlife to speak of.”

Her ears flopped and her eyes turned sad while her hoof circled in at the grass. “There is a river of magic which carries the souls back to the Sun… Where they rest in the Pool of Souls before they return to the world of the living again. Like… Princess Luna protects them from the Nightmares and such on their journey… But the souls aren’t even aware.”

She finished with an awkward grimace, turning her eyes away from the group.

“Before the Windigos, griffons found no opposition to return to the Stormy Eyrie when their time came.” Gelinda spoke calmly. “I don’t care what Celestia says. It is taught to us the strife we must endure is a consequence of the presence of the Windigos. The Stormy Eyrie is deep within their claimed lands and when griffons die, they must reach it to rest. Their life must be a mindful preparation for such journey. Maybe there is something else. But I don’t know. And until I learn it is relevant to my kind, I will gleefully ignore it as I ignore all pony matters.”

The pony murmured with an angry squint and pursed lips showing her little fangs, but Gilda was busy with something else in her mind.

What of her mother? Did she make it? She was no northerner griffon. Did all the southerners end up with the Windigos? Maybe Gelinda really was just telling them a heroic story. She meant to ask, but not in front of the kids and they had just arrived. Georgia particularly. She had washed her face and straightened her crest of wonderful blue feathers. She carried her little sister on her back and almost looked like a different creature altogether.

“Ma’am.” Godwin started, sitting with his sisters between the group. “I wish to thank you for bringing us with you.”

“Nah, don’t mention it.” Gilda waved her paw at him with a happy grin. “Madam Gelinda would have taken care of you.”

“I thought that that you had obligations back on the city.” Gia complained more than she spoke to the other, hiding behind her sausage like she was sharing her grievances with it. Gilda almost worried about her.

“Yes. But as I noticed Gilda had taken them under her wing, I decided to come help.” Gelinda smiled and pet Georgia’s head. “Don’t worry, Gia, I will leave you alone soon. I will merely stay for a few days in Frozenlake. I must talk to Lady Geena.”

“Oh! Right!” The green one suddenly livened up with a beaming grin. “The Gathering Storm!”

“No.” Gelinda poked her with the little stick that held her sausage. “There is more to the Gathering Storm than getting poked by cute young toms. Lady Geena is my hierarchical superior. After hearing the younglings’ story, I must discuss important matters with her. Military matters. Information must make its way all the way up to Lady Gwendolen and magic is not always reliable or private enough. Matters for mature and reliable loremasters.”

Gia mumbled something while she took a sip from her mug of spiced wine.

“Can I help?” Gilda put a paw on her chest, with the other holding the stick with half of a sausage. “I mean… In the service of my liege, right?”

Gelinda chuckled. “Quite right, Gilda. But don’t worry, you are already helping more than enough taking me to her. But if you do want to help further, get these three to Griffindell for me.”

“Hum… Griffindell?” Georgia’s sheepish tone was worried and uncertain. “The most north we’ve ever been to is Frozenlake. For the training camp.”

Gia rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. You’re in the Court. You get the best of the best by default.”

“Your parents served directly under the Lion and Lady Gwendolen.” Gelinda explained, significantly more patient while resting her paw on Georgia’s shoulder. “Lady Gwendolen is going to take care of you, your brother, and your little sister. We take care of our own. Especially under these circumstances.”

“You are still young.” Gelinda next smiled at the tom. “And you must follow the commands of your elders. But that is to end with The Gathering Storm. If you decide against it, you can leave later.”

Gilda hummed. Gelinda just left unsaid that they should do whatever Lady Gwendolen tells them and they’re golden. Part of the cool griffons club. Not that Gilda could say anything against it, herself being another. It worked. Make yourself useful and we’ll take care of you. Sure, the basic income was great, but in Gilda’s case it meant a one-way trip to a griffon prison. In the kids’ case it meant… Whatever the hell those ‘Blackfeather’ guys could think of.

Her feathers rippled with the creepy wave of cold climbing up Gilda’s back with that thought. Her experiences as Ghadah probably weren’t too far. And she wasn’t going to gamble with their safety.

She spent a few seconds watching Georgia feeding her little fledgling sister with pieces of sausage. Holding it up in her talons and letting her do little hops and attack it with her beak.

The sister looked like she was alive after Gelinda told them that story. True? Untrue? Gilda didn’t care. It brought the young queen out of her shell. Even if she still had a distant stare sometimes. Time should work its magic eventually.

The important thing was that they were under her care now, and she was going to see them to Lady Gwendolen. It was part of her mission.

Author's Note

If anyone is curious, Godwin and his sisters appear in chapters 'Red Dawn' parts I through IV of Piece of Parchment. I don't think it's necessary, but if you want to see them, that's where they are.

Big Bird Eat Small Bird Pt. II

Gilda flew with the northerner Sky Sentry monster hunters. Their blue and gold cuirasses and varied weapons made their flight noisy, but nobody complained. They adopted a double V formation and Gilda followed Gosalynn’s lead with one of her Sky Sentries on the other side. Grunhilda followed Gilda while Gertha, as well as her brother, Gia and Geary had all spread along the formation. It was the sort of thing nobody had ever taught griffons, and they just did naturally. At least Gilda believed so until recent events. She was pretty sure the Allmother had taught griffons at some point, and they kept learning from each other to fly in such a way. Surely there were beneficial effects that came from their formation.

Speaking of Her, it would be a great time for Her to speak to Gilda again. But She didn’t.

They flew in sullen silence, but the loud wind wouldn’t let them communicate casually anyway and nobody had anything too important to say anyway. They flew fast, though. Gilda, if anything, rejoiced she had properly imparted the urgency of their mission to rescue the poor griffon still alive.

Meanwhile, her thoughts kept going to how her attacks had missed the important parts of those giant birds. She should have ended the whole thing before they made away with her caravanner. She supposed she had cut the male on its leg and the wound ought to kill it eventually. But she wasn’t sure. Ghadah’s memories told her she had missed the large artery.

She could even see at the back of her mind, Ghadah’s instructor shaking her head at Gilda’s clumsy technique. She intended on fixing that problem. As soon as she saw the damn bird again, it was as good as dead.

Something bothered her about those rocs, though. In all the books she had read in Cloudsdale, they never looked like that. It meant a lot as the stupid pegasi took flying almost like a cult. They had entire encyclopedias on all sorts of flying monsters. Rocs were just large birds. Typically, hawks. The ones which attacked the caravan were a strange mixture with the zu birds, hunted to extinction during the Empire.

Something didn’t add up, but as the monotonous flight and tense atmosphere consumed her focus, such thoughts slipped away.

The landscape seemed much different from the sky, and at the same time, not so much. It still consisted of snow, trees, rocks, and more snow. The mountains dominated the scenery, and lone protruding rocks broke the otherwise monotonous landscape.

The five peaks justified their name and resembled a line of spears pointed at the clouds, cramped against each other like a line of soldiers holding a line. Their snowed peaks atop the gray stone gave the ancient rock a cold appearance. Few trees managed to take root in the rolling hills as they became the mighty mountains. And still, the snowy white covered most under its pristine blanket.

Something eerie hung in the air, and it wasn’t the cold. Something of magical nature. It smelled of snow and chilled her pelt in their speedy flight, but she didn’t care. Either because some magic protected her, or because her blood boiled with anger.

From a distance the peaks didn’t seem so tall, much less so large and it became obvious why the scouts had to go ahead. It wouldn’t do to spread the group in search of the birds. Too many caves for them to hide into, too many recesses where they could hide their nest. Gilda didn’t even know what sort of place they would nest. The pointlessness of the question kept her from asking after they had left, she would know once the scouts returned.

The wind picked up speed as they approached the peaks. It carried a strange sense of foreboding in the sudden cold it carried. Gilda’s budding magical senses alerted her to something she couldn’t quite identify. She didn’t know what, but something terrible lurked in those parts.

It was the smell the wind carried. Not a real smell as roasting game meat, thick and powerful, but something ephemeral. Not really there, but still present. Gilda couldn’t explain it to save her life and it unsettled her. She looked at the others and found them looking at the terrain and at the sky around them. Their heads jerked with edginess. Grunhilda, especially, had a worried frown and kept her bow with a nocked arrow. She even cast a concerned stare at Gilda, seeking reassurance.

Gilda waved a paw and smiled at her although she too suffered from the contagious anxiety.

“Wait!” An elongated cry in Gil’s voice reached them.

“Oh, for feather’s sake…” Gilda turned to be graced with the sight of the lime-colored griffoness flying at full speed while holding the long shaft of their red banner. Next to her was the infuriating thestral and the kid she had expressly ordered not to follow.

The griffons in the formation stopped and hovered, forming a circle the newcomers flew into. Gosalynn was the first to let her rage spew. “What in the flaming pools of the Scorch are you doing here?! This place is dangerous!”

The griffons and batpony approached her and Gilda. Panting and flapping backward to a hover, Gia held the pole to her chest. “I thought the banner should follow you! Gilda is our caravan sponsor and our leader.”

“What the…” Gilda first massaged her temples before yelling at them. “This isn’t a game!”

“Precisely because of that!” The other shot back with an offended pout.

Moonbow raised her indigo hoof. “The flag bearer was often the most important soldier in a division, given the significance of their charge to the rest of their comrades!”

“Shut up, phony vampire.” Gilda yelled and the pony gasped, but only gave the former a pout. “And you, dipshit?!”

Young Godwin reeled, holding tight the hilt of the longsword he had gotten Harpy knew from where. He pushed it into the fluff on his chest, defensively. “I… They… They decided to come and rushed out before the others could react. I came with them because I didn’t want them to be attacked alone, or something.”

She pointed a talon at his face and let it rip. “You get your hide and this pair of dumbfuck numb skulls back to the caravan and pray to The Harpy I won’t tan your hide!”

Between thoughts of tearing their faces apart and spanking that brat, Gilda wondered when she started sounding like her mother. Regardless, she drew in air because they weren’t done suffering her righteous wrath.

“Attention all!” One of Gosalynn’s shouted and brought Gilda out of her rant. “Our scouts return! Ahead low!”

Gilda saw them. The hunters-turned-scouts flew low beneath them to climb once they closed the distance. The oldest, a grizzly dark-gray mister with blue eyes approached in front of the others. He had his black cape tied so it wouldn’t disturb his flight and his bow strung at the quiver, part of his backpack. A round shield of black wood sported a pair of white eagle eyes under his axe. A northerner ranger through and through in Gilda’s imagination.

“We found them, captain.” He turned slightly to point at the fourth peak. “Beyond the summit is an icy outcropping supported by rocks. Most unnatural. Gretchen thinks it’s the ruins of some ancient building the rocs made their nest into.”

“How is the guy they captured?” Gilda hovered close, forgetting the three and the scout acknowledged her. “Is he still alive?”

“Impossible to know, ma’am.” He shook his head. “The summit is pocked with ice bird nests. They would have alerted the rocs had we tried to approach.”

Ice birds. Gilda didn’t know them, but she supposed they were some sort of magical nonsense like ‘snowolves’ and ‘timberwolves’.

“He was laying on their nest, though. I think I saw a chick.” A similar female added. “But I’m not sure he ever moved or breathed.”

Gosalynn frowned and cursed under her breath before turning to Gilda. “Are we doing this?”

Gilda’s back burned with a dozen pairs of eyes on her and the weight of responsibility made her flap her wings harder. She hesitated for a second before images of the poor blue griffon torn to shreds invaded her mind. “I am going.”

A gust of cold wind blew past them, carrying the smell of carrion.

“Something isn’t right.” Gosalynn mumbled. Her head jerked and scanned the horizon. Other griffons showed a similar unease. Others still hugged themselves as the warmth had been stolen from them. Moonbow and Gil grimaced. Godwin hid it better, but his eyes showed apprehension.

Maybe Gilda was going crazy, but instead of fear, wrath warmed her like a wave from her heart to the very tips of her talons and claws. She closed her paws, as though the tingling warmth would escape her, like lightning, barely contained. It resonated with conviction; a fierce raptor cried inside her as she spoke. “I fear abandoning that griffon who trusted me with his safety more than I fear anything skulking in those mountains.”

She saw it reflected on Gosalynn’s blue eyes. They alit with the same smoldering radiance that raged inside Gilda as the Sky Sentry Captain steeled her stare and her posture. “I will follow you.”

Gilda turned to the others too. All eyes fixated on her, she turned and flapped her wings with purpose, propelling herself in the air toward the mountains. Before she knew it, she led a group of a dozen-and-a-half or so griffons and one thestral.

Not shying from the task, she let the glowing might guide her against the glooming shadow hovering over the mountains, despite the bright sun whose light filtered through the clouds. She spearheaded the group into the wide gap between the summits and against the wind whispering doom into her mind’s ears.

They banked to the right and the unnatural outcropping the scout had mentioned came into view. Her sharp eyes saw glinting blue shapes flying around the peak and bluish-white nests dotting the snow in between the occasional projecting rock or humble leafless tree.

The large nest of the rocs dominated the view, a construct of trees teared apart and wrung together into the snow. The ice beneath clung to the remains of an ancient stone platform and the broken bridges that protruded from it. One of the rocs laid motionless next to their home and the other poked at a small, barely moving chick. The blue griffon they had come after was left next to it, inside the nest.

Given the scout’s description of the area, Gilda assumed the white birds whose wings were covered with a sheet of ice were good candidates for the ice birds. They were quite beautiful, even from afar.

Before Gilda could make sense of what she saw, a chilling cold grabbed hold of the air and grasped her like one of the thugs back in Griffonstone. Her wings failed, as though they decided no longer to provide her with lift for flight. Scared and surprised griffons shared her shocked cry as they briefly lost altitude. Once they were able, they hovered next to each other, each ensuring the others were there.

The fear didn’t leave them, however. Godwin clutched his sword, hovered closer to Gilda and cried, panic-stricken. “What was that?!”

“Did…” Gia frantically looked every which way. “Did Magic just fail for a second? What the hell?”

“Is everyone okay?” Gosalynn cried to the others as Gilda saw the shiny ice birds had all collapsed from the sky. The awake roc shifted nervously; its head jerked in every direction with panicked chirps.

The sky filled with grim blackness and the agitated stormy gray clouds congealed into a cold white, as if the sky itself had frozen. A terrible growl came from above and a blizzard of cutting icy thorns showered Gilda’s group. The clouds descended as though they signaled the end of times. Their oppressive white and a vertigo-inducing spiral of frost descended into the hills. It trapped the peaks inside a tornado of ice that stung Gilda and stole the life out of her limbs.

Panicked cries and shrieks surrounded Gilda, the biting cold hurt her eyes and her wings. She flapped them as hard as she could under penalty of the wind carrying her and covered her eyes with her forelegs.

“We have to get out of here!” Gosalynn’s shaken voice pierced through the hurricane roaring in Gilda’s ears.

But she didn’t respond. Gilda heard the Sky Sentry Captain, but her attention was elsewhere.

The white clouds ruptured like a glacier snapping in half with a boom that resounded inside Gilda as much as it did at the mountains. Too many stars of icy shards spun and whistled, echoing a monstrous breathing. The magic in the air turned foul, colder than the coldest winter. More fell than all the evil that could ever be. A ghostly monstrosity came into being, slowly, shimmering, ripping apart reality into frozen shards of insanity that fell from it.

Its mane flailed in the frozen wind and threatened to steal away what remained of the sky. Mighty ghostly hooves sparkled, and snow fell from it, but held nothing of the childish glee of fresh snow.

The titanic equine face scowled and grimaced but shifted into a twisted sneer of unfiltered loathing. The cold shimmering of never-ending winter shone in its eyes and its gaze assaulted Gilda’s sanity with promises of catastrophe and unspeakable horrors. When its mouth opened, whatever was the sound of malice and hatred, it was what Gilda heard, reverberating inside her head like a splitting headache.

“King of beast, king of air. Weaving virtue and vice, the dualities you bear. Loyalty, strength, and nobility. Vanity, sloth, and cruelty. Of greed so fast, the might of emperors miscast. Eldest of the world, your time is past.”

Her ears threatened to fail with broken sound and struck her with blinding pain. Gilda screamed and covered her ears. Around her griffons cried and wailed too. She wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from the sheer horror, but her limbs trembled and refused to move if not to keep her from falling.

“Mother, save us!” Someone sobbed.

“Miss Gilda, please let’s go!” Grunhilda begged and she pulled at Gilda’s shoulders mid-hover.

“Spawn of the Raptor Queen, of eyes so keen. Pawns in the unseen, forever under her wean. Rejects to the Matriarch of the Sun, the other’s a vanity project done. Mortals, to dance is your sin. Their insane aria your hymn.”

“Please!” Grunhilda’s weep pierced the unspeakable roar of unfathomable magic turned to wind.

Gilda couldn’t hear the others anymore.

“This land is to be your doom. These peaks will be your tomb. Persevere against all odds. Meet the might of gods.”

Suddenly, the hurricane of arcane energies ceased and the colossal monster undid itself in a shearing wind. It crushed into the peak of the mountain with a rock splitting tremor and an unspeakable smell of carrion wafted colder still. The adult roc which before laid protective over the little chick cried an unnamable groan and its wings jerked like a perverse child pulled at a doll.

“No! Stop!” Moonbow’s voice reached Gilda through the growl of the wind. She yelled in Common Equestrian to no avail, as the wind silenced her.

The roc stood and let out a broken chirp of pain as its neck grew a thick black plumage. Its beak cracked and became jagged, protruded forward from its face with naked muscle sprouting blood. Bone ruptured from its brow and grew thick and bulbous like a cancer covering the creature’s head as a helmet. Its wings sprouted wicked spikes, dripping blood and its plumage turned to dull black.

The other roc reanimated with spastic and unsettling jerking, shifting in the same way. It breathed coarsely and loudly at the same time and the shiny ice birds grounded in the snow grew with oversized wings and their glassy beaks grew wide and rugged. Their icy feathers tinged dark and grew jagged.

As though it was the final note in a show of horror, the roc in the nest put its foot on top of the blue griffon and screamed a guttural sound, blowing black bile from its throat as the little chick stumbled away.

The ice birds flapped their wings once covered in crystal feathers and cried in a chorus of monstrous whines as they launched themselves in the air toward Gilda. Aghast at the scene, her head filled with fear and despair. The cries of the other griffons and the flapping of their wings at full retreat echoed inside. She turned to Grunhilda, who pulled desperately at Gilda’s foreleg, taken by panic clear to see in her white face.

The dread in Big Girl’s eyes snapped Gilda out of her stupor to move. She flapped her wings to fly forward and flee with her friend. The white wall of thick clouds and the biting wind stole the warmth from her. The sight of those experienced hunters and slayers flying away filled her with cold fear.

“There shall be no escaping.” The monstrous voice told her.

The wind was too strong, and those abominations would reach them. She couldn’t see the others and Grunhilda sobbing filled her with indescribable sorrow. A mocking neighing filled her ears and froze her heart.

Gilda had felt fear many times during her life. Her mother’s death was one. When the powers that be decided she wouldn’t be receiving any monetary assistance anymore, she feared again. When she was put in jail, and when she faced the judge, she feared too. But the first time she feared for the immediate loss of her life was when the three thugs attacked her at Griffonstone. But that time, something had changed. She wasn’t alone anymore. And even if She wouldn’t talk to her, Gilda knew she had access to a power that wasn’t her own. And if evidence was ever needed, it was Thunderpeak.

The memory, like an ember, burned and melted through the glacial horror. Gilda was not a helpless hen anymore. Something burned inside of her chest, and its warmth thawed the Windigo’s bone-chilling voice.

She shook free of Grunhilda’s grasp with an angry scowl, flapped her wings so she would spin in the air and before she even noticed her paw reached to her back. The horrific ethereal equine stared down at her and she met its stare. Her fingers closed around Mythical’s leather-wrapped hilt, and the sword held to her with a will of its own. She pointed it forward and it growled as a furious lioness, its blade gleamed as though it was filled with lightning, barely contained and about to release.

“You are no god. You are a disease of a world out of balance.” Her voice came clear and unwavering, carrying the righteous fury she heard herself condemn her executors with, lifetimes ago. The voice of a thousand griffonesses echoed in her head, filled with the power of the Swordmaidens and the certainty of the Loremasters. “My god sings with thunder and singes with lightning. Her creations are beautiful things, and all you can do is twist and pervert. My kind has resisted and forbidden you to claim this land since the times when the mountains were young. Go back to your icy desert and leave The Children of The Harpy!”

The once beautiful birds covered in frost and made of ice flew at her with sharp and jagged beaks. Broken bird calls and a wall of fast approaching living missiles formed before Gilda. She saw each and every one of them. Their flight was slow and sluggish to her eyes. Mythical’s blade swirled and cut the air with a musical whistle. Each one of the enslaved creatures shattered and evanesced against the blade.

She slashed with her sword and flapped her wings. Gravity held her and she glided, spinning her body, and twirling her weapon in a deadly dance with the blazing light. Each spin, cut and twirl meant a destroyed monster until she thrust the sword through the air, trained at the monstrous roc below, guarding the unconscious griffon. The blade roared and Gilda cried. Her open wings spread her feathers and they shone with the same gleam in the eyes of the Allmother.

In an instant, reality snapped and mighty magic, unseen to griffon eyes in thousands of years flashed. Gilda’s world became searing light like she had turned into living lightning and Mythical pierced past the rock-hard layer of ice encrusted in the feathers covering the roc’s chest. The monster’s pained cry mixed with a resounding thunder echoing at the mountains and drowned the mocking neighing.

She pulled Mythical free of the thick bile the monster had for blood and pirouetted into the air when the other roc tried kicking her. It missed by an inch, but to Gilda entire seconds had passed. Magically charged feathers shot from her wings when she flapped them once and the roc startled, falling to its side when the magical missiles exploded at its reinforced plumage.

She landed on her hindlegs, holding Mythical before her body. Waiting for an attack which never came. The rocs stood side by side and screeched at her repeatedly, scratching at the rocky snow with an unholy wrath that didn’t belong to them. The cold light of the Windigo’s eyes shone in theirs, but they didn’t attack yet.

The ground shook, snow and ice crumbled from the side of the mountain to reveal a gaping entrance. The snow flowed around the sides and revealed a pair of enormous stone griffons sitting at each side, holding crossing swords to make the archway out of the stone.

Countless icy blue lights shimmered in the dark. Before Gilda even understood what had happened, a line of strange griffons trotted into sight and with practiced movements, almost synchronized, put down tall shields they stood behind and trained large crossbows at her.

“What the… Oh! Shit!” Gilda squawked, taking an awkward backpedaling step. Her reflexes made her swing her weapon, catching a crossbow bolt with Mythical’s blade, splintering it, and showering her pelt with wooden shards as others whizzed past her and clacked against the frozen stone.

Much as a river flowing around a rocky outcrop. More griffons flowed around the sides, fast as trained soldiers who rushed to take positions around her sides while leaving enough space that the crossbows could fire again. Which they did.

Their twanging alerted her, and she danced, spinning out of the way and her sword caught two more bolts.

Slow as everything moved around her, while Mythical caught the long tip of one spear, Gilda was forced to resort to her instincts and bent her body out of the way of the second. The third was still aimed at her chest, but she closed her wing and the blade, somehow, scraped and sparked against it before glancing off away.

She lost her balance with the impact and collapsed on her side with a yelp. Helpless to defend herself she saw the griffon behind the shield. Parched, featherless skin and sunken eyes on its gray-green skin.

For a second, overwhelmed with the surrounding evil magic she stared at it. Carrion and cold surrounded her as her eyes locked on the monster’s. The glowing orbs it had for eyes poured hatred that mirrored on its parched face. The unholy voice of the Windigo distorted its chirps and cruel laughter. It didn’t quite hit as hard as their initial encounter, but the approaching spear tip made her heart skip a beat.

Gilda yelped again as she was yanked away and the world spun before she regained her bearings, laying on her side against the snow. Grunhilda screamed, throwing her weight at the griffon in the middle of the formation and toppling him. She tumbled on top of the undead griffon and fell on the ice behind them.

Gilda screamed when the crossbows fired again. One glanced off the side of Grunhilda’s armor and two stuck against her armor but didn’t go deep. The white griffoness yelped but stood again. Without a heartbeat of hesitation Gilda screamed a piercing cry and jumped at the shielded griffons. They had turned to Grunhilda and Mythical cut her target’s desiccated flesh head to tail, spilling no more than dry, tarnished flesh that turned to flakes.

“Draugar!” A male griffon yelled from above. “Pin them down!”

Arrows rained at the cave’s entrance and forced the crossbow-wielding griffons to hide behind their shields. But Gilda’s attention returned to the immediate threat of the one closest to her. Too close to thrust at her with its spear, it brought it down to swing the elongated and sharp tip at her. She caught the shaft with Mythical, stopping its momentum and promptly slashed through the shield at the monstrous griffon. It cut parched meat and bones, opened a gash across its chest and ancient metallic armor.

Without pause, she quickly sidestepped past the monster and dodged under another spear. She saw Grunhilda standing again, and one of those things laid dead next to her, with an arrow through its forehead. She shot an arrow at another, but it thunked on its shield. She wasn’t dumb enough to stay in one place and hopped with her wings, dodging another spear. While she lacked the same instinctual prowess, Grunhilda was simply strong and agile.

Their formation was a mess and the crossbows no longer shot now their wielders had to defend themselves. The arrival of Gosalynn’s Sky Sentries forced them to draw swords and fight. Several of the very alive griffons in their blue cuirasses landed next to Gilda. Their long halberds struck true at necks and any exposed flesh to be found in the parched monsters.

“Watch out!” Gilda screamed, preparing to jump when one of the rocs stomped awkwardly, but fast at them. It didn’t come close. Five Sky Sentries flew overhead, throwing the ‘spikes’. The short spears, with their lit fuses mostly glanced off the monster’s ice-reinforced feathers, but a couple stuck. At first it barely chirped or stopped. When they exploded, they sent the roc on its side with a pained caw and a spectacle of icy shards, fire, and smoke.

The other roc took off with surprising agility and chased the flying sentries while others pinned the injured one against the stone wall next to the entrance of the cave.

“Don’t bunch-up together, you morons!” Gia cried from above. She was hiding behind Geary and his shield mid-hover. “You’ll just invite the rocs to attack you!”

“How about you come down here and fight too?” Gilda cried back, pointing a talon at the frozen stone.

“Are you out of your mind?” The former held on to Geary’s shoulders as a random crossbow bolt hit his shield. “I don’t have a blessed magical sword! I’m more of a ‘strategy type’ than a brawler! Behind you!”

A draugr, armed with a longsword landed close to Gilda. Already on its hindlegs, it swung its weapon at her, at the same time protecting itself behind a hexagonal shield. She didn’t have time to waste on details, and simply brought Mythical to block the blade. She shoved him back and removed its weapon from the way, next to bat the shield with her sword. Finally, she thrust Mythical through its armor and undead flesh.

Another came at her, but she saw it soon enough. Before it could bring down its sword, Mythical slashed up in a diagonal and ended its undeath, parting the creature in half across the chest. Just as soon as Gilda had recovered from that swing the flying roc landed next to her with a vicious kick. She parried it with a swing of her sword, but the creature’s sheer physical strength forced her to retreat a couple of steps.

All around her, the stony platform was taken by Sky Sentries fighting the monsters. Their weapons didn’t ignore armors and shields as did Mythical, but they had the training and practice to compensate. She grimaced for a second… More like she had the magical weapons and gifts to compensate for her lack of training and skill.

The roc brought her back from her thoughts. Its head thrust at Gilda with an angry caw and missed as the griffoness quickly dodged it to the side. Mythical bit deep at the thick helmet with a blast of bony shards. Once, and then twice as the creature recovered from the impact. Gilda prepared a third swing, but the beast’s wing came at her from the side and its wicked spike grazed her skin, coating the wound with black ichor.

Before Gilda realized what had happened, she doubled over as her stomach had seemingly caught fire and she screamed at the terrible pain. The roc kicked her and sent her flying to fall on the cold snow. The pain passed quickly enough, but the cursed bird was already on top of her, ready to tear Gilda apart with its beak.

She raised Mythical in time, slashing up. The blade connected solidly with the creature’s mutated beak and the impact cracked it. The wound left the monster bleeding abundantly and thrashing in a panicked flail of beak and wings. Its black blood coated Gilda and burned her skin, but her anger burned hotter. With a growl between pain and fury, she thrusted the sword at the monster’s neck. Mythical’s magical blade pierced easily into magical ice armor, scales, and flesh. The roc gagged and pulled away from her. A crossbow bolt pierced the base of its skull from the side and the roc squawked, dropping to the side.

Grunhilda slid on the ice to stop near Gilda, aiming up with her bow, but her arrow missed the softer, damaged slit. Instead, the arrow shattered at the scales and icy armor over the neck. The white griffoness stood in front of Gilda as Gosalynn came out of nowhere, landing on the creature to dig into the back of the beast’s neck with her rapier, but she failed to do any lethal damage.

“Will you kindly die already?!” She screeched so angrily it was almost funny. She beat her wings, pulling back the creature’s head with her talons and exposing the wound Mythical had carved on its neck.

Gertha, behind Gilda, aimed in a split second and hit the target with a bolt. For an anguishing second, the monster gasped for air and beat its wings, wheezing in panic as others threw more ‘spikes’ at it and they connected under the wings. For a second, Gilda’s resolve dropped, and she stopped, lowering her sword, staring at the dying creature. Something about the way it moved, the way it reacted… It reminded Gilda more of an animal than a monster. When the spikes exploded, they sent gore and black ichor everywhere and the roc collapsed, still wheezing laboriously.

The fiery-tempered and short griffoness fell on top of Gilda with a squeak and forced the air out of the tan one’s lungs with a cough. All the black goo caught on her plumage, but mostly on her armor, and Gosalynn let out a dry retch. “Ugh, this is nasty.”

“Can you imagine the fun I’m having?” Gilda shoved her to the side, still to the sounds of screeching roc and griffons along with the clashing of steel.

She sat with Grunhilda’s help, while Gertha and her brother came close, and she helped Gosalynn

“Is this a common occurrence in these parts?” The pink mercenary squeaked.

“Ack. Damn thing burns!” Gosalynn shook her head and pawed at the monster’s blood. “No. I think the Windigos really don’t like Gilda!”

Barely closing her beak, her wings beat and Gosalynn soared to join her sentries trading blows with flying, spear-wielding undead griffons. Gilda barely had time to catch her breath or do anything about the bath of poisonous black ichor she had received, but a quick rinsing with the cold snow, even if Grunhilda helped her. She saw Godwin striking down one of the draugar with his sword.

Gia then came running to her, still carrying the long pole with the red flag. “Uh… Here’s the banner…”

The thestral pony shrugged next to her. But before Gilda could tell her where to shove that thing, she turned to see Godwin struggling, locked swords with a draugr. One of the sentries next to him tried to help, but he was busy fighting his own opponent. It was an ugly five-to-five match with tired griffons and undead monsters with unlimited stamina.

“Get those things, Grunhilda!” Gilda secured Mythical on her back and pounced with a flap of her wings. An arrow flew past her and glanced off the undead’s armor but distracted it long enough Gilda landed on it and rolled on the frozen stone. With her back to the cold, she watched as the young griffon ran his sword through the monster’s neck, and it fell next to her. The other sentries seemed to have the situation under control.

“Thank you miss Gilda.” Godwin breathed and helped her stand.

“I’m still angry at you for even being here!” She yelled while Gertha and Grunhilda shot other draugar that weren’t engaged in fights yet. More of the ‘spikes’ exploded and the still living roc complained, but there seemed to be no end to the undead griffons.

“More of them are pouring out of the mountain!” Gia cried, still hiding behind Geary and his shield that had three bolts stuck to it. “We have to go!”

Gilda quickly scanned the area and found the rocs’ nest. She put Mythical to rest on her back and her talons skipped on the ice, but she rushed to the oversized bird’s nest. With a simple wing-powered hop she reached the edge. Holding to the broken trunk of a tree, she saw the blue griffon. He was shivering but didn’t move. Next to him was the roc chick. A pretty thing, like an oversized hawk with remains of its baby plumage. It chirped at Gilda and tried putting up a threatening display, ruffling its feathers and opening its wings, but its eyes were frozen with fear and confusion.

Gilda frowned. Shiny gray wings and a crest of silvery feathers. None of the long and scaled neck, much less of the bizarre mutations the other rocs had suffered. Her frown deepened into a fierce scowl.

“You motherfucker…” The words came from deep and coarsely with a ragged breath charged with fury.

Letting go off the edge of the nest, she turned to the entrance of the cave under the crossed stone swords. No one around her seemed to have noticed, including the undead griffons and the roc that was still alive, and making an infernal racket. But a cold wind blew from inside the opening in the mountain.

Torches and pyres lining the inside walls lit with eerie blue flame. A cold light danced in the form of eyes in the shade as a silhouette slowly came into view. The distinctive shape and gait of a female griffon with her wings open behind her preluded a naked monster with most of the feathers on her wings long gone. Muscles strained under the leathery skin and what feathers remained had dried and broke long ago. She was once a griffon queen whose face was perpetually shriveled and twisted into a scowl of pain and hatred.

Gilda’s eyes locked with hers and from at least thirty hooves she felt the cold that emanated from that creature. She didn’t know how many cubits that was, but something reached across. It was a creature begging for respite inside a frigid cage.

Gilda stepped back as the full weight hit her. She saw the mountain, tinted in reds and oranges of a sunset, naked of the snow. A beautiful and young griffon queen, barely an adult, danced. The reds and oranges from the sky bounced off the clear blade of her weapon and tinged the gold that covered her. The cold wind of the mountain bothered her none, adorned in golden garments and standing on her hindlegs, twirling the magical weapon around her body like a deadly partner. Every muscle in her body was strong under the pristine shades of orange that covered them. The summit had been adorned with carved images of mountains and a mighty tower under a griffon as the skies showered with lightning.

Some of the guards and miners had gathered to watch her ritual, even if the works hadn’t been concluded. The five elevators that connected the landing to the harbor at the base had stopped for the day as their operators also witnessed her dance. The wide river shone as the gold she wore, and a single ship took away the precious iron to the north. Several ships waited in the harbor as the workers loaded them with ingots and hauls of the precious metals they had extracted from the mountain.

Smoke rose from the sides of the mountain as it brimmed with life. Griffons flew to and from the imposing homes carved out of the stone or planted into the rock. Mansions and small homes amid tall and imponent statues of sitting griffons holding spears and clad in armor as the two imponent guards by the mine’s entrance and their crossed swords. But they were covered in pieces of gold and precious stones just before the snow came and washed the colors away.

The gold in her decorative strands remained as shiny as it was in the day her garment was made for her, but with broken strands and the cold had swept away her vibrant shades of orange. Her crown of golden spikes was gnarled and broken. In the past they had accentuated her golden crest, but now were a testament of the corruption that had taken hold of that place. The tinkling from the golden coins in her bracelets were a mockery of the music they made as she danced, and her dancing sword was nowhere to be seen.

The bells that once indicated the official end of the day’s work changed for the clashing of steel and the swordmaiden’s exultant laugher became the enraged screeches of the undead.

A pained frown took Gilda’s face while she took another step back and her reality turned back to the frozen nesting grounds of horrifically metamorphosed rocs. The summit was covered in snow and all the gold had vanished from the statues that guarded the entrance.

“Now, dance… Swordmaiden.” The monstrous growling neighed and laughed.

The undead gold-clad monster screeched and scowled all the hatred it contained in a foul and cold miasma, dense as the fog amid the tombs. She threw herself at Gilda so furiously and so fast the tan griffoness barely had any time to react. She sat on her hind and held the undead assailant’s attack by her wrists. She was so cold to the touch Gilda let out a cry.

“Wait!” She cried again, standing on her hindlegs not to allow the other to topple her, and when the pain was too much to bear, she shifted her weight and threw the draugr to the side.

It didn’t work, as the undead swordmaiden simply grappled with her again, but this time Gilda let herself roll and threw the other with a hindleg. She barely managed to stand before the monster was already too close for comfort and her talons flashed in front of Gilda’s face. The only thing that kept her from being blinded and having her face shredded was that she managed to grab the other’s paws again.

It screeched at Gilda’s face and freezing drops of saliva pelted her. Before she could even gather her wits, the draugr freed her left paw and immediately reached for Mythical’s hilt behind Gilda’s shoulder.

“Give me!” It screeched when Gilda resisted and finally managed to shove her away with a good amount of effort.

But Gilda sat on the ice with a scared glare at the griffoness that tumbled on the ice. In seconds she was already on her feet again, launching another attack. The undead griffoness screamed with its ragged voice filled with hate, a hateful and wailing cry, like the monster trapped a sorrowful child inside. “Give me!”

Gilda reached for her sword and wielded it, that thing freaked her out enough and it was about time she ended the whole thing. But as she held the sword, standing on her hindlegs, the draugr screeched and lunged at her again. Her terrible screeching betrayed sorrow, and envy. Her eyes, held hostage by the eyrie light of the Windigo’s own, showed an unspeakable pain. Gilda lowered her weapon, holding Mythical across her chest in both paws.

The draugr reached and grasped it in her own paws. It pulled with another terrible screech and her paws ignited the magic inside the blade. Mythical seared the undead’s parched flesh, but she still didn’t let go. She still pulled, with all her significant strength.

Gilda’s distressed scowl softened. She still held the sword with all her strength and resisted the other, but it was not against a fearsome monster anymore.

Guille came out of nowhere. Around Gilda and the undead swordmaiden the fight still raged on, and Gertha’s brother lunged at the draugr. He thrust his sword at her, aiming to trespass her chest side to side. The undead swordmaiden reacted too quickly for even the experienced mercenary. It surprised Gilda, shoving her back. Uncannily fast, she stepped back and hit his face with a quick jab, immediately grabbing his right wrist and twisting it as she wrested control of his weapon, taking it above. She brought it down with practiced ease, slashing across his neck and grinding his chainmail armor. Gilda saw blood on the snow and Guille collapsed with a gurgling gasp.

“No!” She cried, lunging at the draugr before it could harm Guille further, forcing her to defend herself.

She caught the undead’s blade with Mythical when she shoved the lower part of Guille’s greatsword at her face. Gilda pushed her away and Mythical’s shorter blade gave her an advantage. But however memories worked in her state, the undead swordmaiden must have been an exceptional duelist in her time. She caught Gilda’s attack on the heavy sword and stepped closer, shoving Gilda’s sword out of the way.

Gilda closed her eyes and hoped to The Harpy the magic in her jewelry would protect her from the strike to come. But it never arrived. The draugr reached for Mythical again and they fell when her weight toppled Gilda.

“Give!” She screeched and her paws burned again at the blade’s magic, while freezing blood dripped from them, reaching Gilda’s own paws. “Give me!”

Her reflexes led Gilda to hold the draugr’s face in her paw. She barely understood what she had done until her magic had already focused and unleashed with a mighty clash of thunder. Her opponent flew into the air and when Gilda stood, she found her lying motionless on the snow, smoking, and scorched. The light was gone from her eyes, all that remained were the dried remains of an unmoving corpse.

The silence surprised Gilda and a quick glance around the platform revealed panting griffons and unmoving undead monsters… No. Undead griffons, motionless on the snow and ice. The blizzard was gone. The foul-smelling magic too. The Windigo was gone. At least three Sky Sentries laid on the ground, recuperating their strength. But at least four others didn’t move and the deadly scars they showed were also frozen by the evil magic.

But Gilda also found Guile with Gia over him and his sister holding him, crying for him to calm down while Gia complained he was moving too much. He was gasping and there was way more blood than Gilda would’ve liked to see. Gia kept her distance, next to the pony, holding on to the flag, with a barely contained crying grimace.

“Gia!” Gilda cried, lowering herself to her height. Gia’s bloody paws kept the nasty gash at the base of his neck open as she examined it. Suddenly, a gush of red flowed over his already bloody, crimson plumage.

“Oh, shit…” Gia’s wide eyes and frantic grimace painted a grim image. “Shit, shit.”

Meanwhile Grunhilda did her nervous tap-dance across from them with a panicky stare. “Miss Gilda!”

It took Gilda a moment to understand, but then she pointed at the injured griffon and yelled at her thrall. “Stop acting like an idiot and give Gia one of the healing potions!”

“Wait, what?” Gia raised her head. “You still have those?”

The white griffoness obeyed with a nervous yelp and Gia broke open the flask as soon as she had cleaned her paws of the slippery blood. Then she poured all the sparkly, grape colored liquid into his beak in a single long downing.

“Is it working?” Gil whined behind Gia, as Gosalynn held her when she tried to approach.

The miraculous magical concoction did work. First the flow of steaming blood ceased, and the flesh literally began knitting itself as soon as he fell into an easy slumber.

Gilda gasped and smiled. Then she looked at the others. “Is anyone else hurt?”

None of the survivors seemed too bad other than the nasty frostbitten flesh where the draugar weapons had cut them. They looked around, but no one complained. One of the hunters had a vicious cut on his thigh, but it wasn’t letting out gushes of blood and he simply limped, while trying to walk on his four legs.

A rugged fellow covered with a light-gray and white pelt and feathers waved a paw. “No offense, but I’m not dying. I rather let the Loremaster stitch me up than use some pony magic.”

“Fair enough.” Gilda turned back to Guille and he slept peacefully on top of his sister who held him like she was never going to let go again and Gil hugged his waist with a similar sentiment.

Gia washed herself off with the snow. “He’ll be fine. His body should eat up any blood that stayed locked up after the wound closed. He’ll just need a blood transfusion we can get from Gertha. Rest and some meat.”

She blinked at Gilda. “I suppose I should go see that guy the damn birds took off with.”

“You should.” Gilda walked with her, and they hopped to the rocs’ nest. The griffon was still there and so was one of the hunters, examining the roc chick while a Sky Sentry sat next to the blue griffon they had come to rescue. His thorax moved weirdly, but he was still breathing. Gilda stayed with Gia as she examined the tom.

She pawed at his neck, his chest, looked inside his beak, pulled open an eye and pinched him. Then, as Geary approached, Gia started pawing at his stomach after pulling him to lay on his back. His male bits seemed fine, and his pelt had but a few cuts, but was mostly okay on the outside.

Soon enough, the young loremaster clicked her tongue and stood to talk to Gilda. “They crushed his bones while they carried him. It must have punctured his organs and he seems to have lost a massive amount of blood to his internal cavities.”

“Unless you’re willing to part with another healing potion, he’ll be dead before we can even take him back to the caravan.” Gia concluded with a shrug. “I wouldn’t… He may die, even with the potion. It may even meld his bones in all the wrong ways…”

“Well, fortunately for him, I’m not you.” Gilda glared at her, then she signaled for Grunhilda to come. “I swear, Gia… There are greedy griffons, heartless assholes, King Sombra, and then there is you.”

Her green feathers ruffled. “Well, it’s my professional appraisal.”

She still opened the flask and poured the potion into the tom’s mouth anyway. Gia also told Grunhilda and Geary to help her hold him in the right position. Meanwhile Gilda went to the hunter tom next to the roc chick. He had his ear to the little monster’s chest, but stood, sitting right when Gilda approached.

“What’s up with it?” She looked at the infantile giant bird. Quick breaths, unmoving shuddering every now and then. It didn’t even bother with their presence.

“I think it’s sick.” The hunter nodded at the bird. “I think it has pneumonia.”

Gia soon joined them and nodded. “Yeah. Looks about right. It seems very emaciated. I think the parents have been neglecting it.”

“Whatever the Windigo did to them caused this…” Gilda mused, staring at the defenseless and barely alive creature. It had none of the horrific mutations the evil magic twisted its parents with. Not even the long, scaly neck. It just looked like an oversized hawk. A very young one. Alone. About to die because some evil monster with a god complex thought that its parents were mere toys and pawns.

Like that poor young swordmaiden.

Gilda went to Grunhilda and put out her paw. “Give me the last potion.”

“Wait… Wait! What?!” Gia rushed to them, but Gilda mostly ignored her, walking toward the chick with the flask in her beak. “Wait, Gilda! This thing is not only ridiculously expensive, but it might be needed later on!”

“I’m aware.” She spoke the best she could with the thing in the way.

“No! No! Think this through!” Gilda pulled at her wing, but Gilda pulled it away as she walked. “This is the last one! What if I need it?”

“I don’t care.” Gilda growled while the hunter turned the roc chick on its side and pulled its beak open. “We’ll make do. I’m not letting that vile piece of frozen turd take it too. I’ll show them whose time is past. I’ll show them who calls the shots.”

“Wait! What? What are you talking about?” Gia flared her wings. “The Windigo?”

“What?!” Gia cried, almost yelled again. “Do you think it was about you?!”

“I don’t know… All I know is that I’m not letting the evil fucker win.” She held the bulbous base and the tip in her paws to snap it open. Then she carefully poured everything into the large roc’s mouth. It was about half a body larger than a griffon. Hopefully the potion would be enough.

“It would be better to sacrifice it, Gilda.” Gia deflated and her crest bent with her sigh. “You’re not also going to adopt another silly creature, are you?”

Gilda took a second to look at Grunhilda wrapping a bandage around Godwin’s paw before she turned to Gia. “Why not? I’ve kind of adopted you, haven’t I?”

Requiem for the Astrani

Being good only for flaunting sword skills and an occasional griffon spell, Gilda decided to stay out of the way. She found herself a spot at a respectful distance and sat on the cold stone, letting the hunters and Sky Sentries work, and content to watch.

The former worked on tying the roc chick up to restrain its movements and preparing it for transport. Gilda supposed that part one was getting the creature to the caravan. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but he wouldn’t be getting himself hurt trying to escape with beak, limbs and wings tied. The next step would be to contain it properly in a cage, back with the caravan. More than that, Gia, even after all her complaining, stuffed a bunch of remedies in its mouth. She claimed they would keep their new mascot fast asleep.

Gilda thanked all of them. She couldn’t do it on her own and the griffons were more than ready to help her and the chick. She didn’t have to ask, and they worked quickly. After all, if the creature woke up it would cause all sorts of havoc, and nobody wanted that. Even then, their solicitousness touched her.

Fortunately, nobody except her Loremaster friend complained of her using the last life-saving potion either. Would it work? Could a roc be domesticated? She might have wasted the potion, but she didn’t want to leave it to die, alone and defenseless. In the cold and with no one to take care of it.

While the hunters were busy, most of the Sky Sentries followed Gosalynn into the mine. At least, that’s what the place was, according to her vision. Gilda wanted to go too, but Gosalynn disallowed it. It was probably for the best and the short queen explained she only wanted to make sure the place was clear before they did or decided anything. Only after they were gone, about thirty minutes later, Gilda came to her senses and accepted she was just going to get in the way of the professionals. She thanked herself for not doing anything rash.

The remaining Sky Sentries, and the hunters once they were done with the roc, busied themselves sorting out the battlefield. They inspected bodies, collected weapons and usable items, and then prepared to burn the dead draugar. The melancholic dead trees provided enough wood they could improvise a funeral pyre. Not simply a bonfire, but a raised wooden platform where they started laying the bodies. Not in any hurry, but respectfully.

Grunhilda, Gil and Godwin remained close to her like they were her bodyguards. The thestral too, but at least, she didn’t look like she was on guard duty. For better or worse, the silly flag was there, and Gil still held it next to Gilda like it was her life’s mission.

“Why don’t you go stay with Guille?” Gilda smiled at the lime-colored queen. But she didn’t reply. Gil’s eyes shifted, and she looked away. Gilda stared for a second, but if she wasn’t going to share, Gilda would leave her alone with her thoughts.

It was then Gilda noticed Guille’s sister, Gertha had come to them. The pink mercenary had a small frown knitted onto her forehead and carried something on her back. Her face had taken a few scratches, and her chainmail suffered a few dings. More than Gilda would’ve expected from a bunch of undead griffons. Although, nothing serious as the expression Gertha made when she sat and presented a weapon to Gilda.

“Is it wrong if I take this thing?” Her frown deepened.

It was a crossbow, and it had the structure and shape of a crossbow, but it was built with an exquisite fairing in the shape of griffon wings over the limbs. The parts that tensed the cord which propelled the bolt when released. Polished dark metal made its frame and fairings, as well as the ammunition. It was bulkier than Gilda’s idea of an ideal crossbow, but it was the price for the exquisite and artful relief drawings of a mountain under the clouds. The wing fairings resembled real wings, made of metallic feathers. It even had a trigger, like a pistol, or a musket, when crossbows usually had a much sturdier lever underneath the frame.

Much like Grunhilda’s thunderbow, it was a work of art and a weapon that contradicted common sense. Even more, it had rails holding about ten bolts waiting to fall onto the weapon, locked into place with a spring.

Even at a passing glance, the thing was ridiculously well-crafted, with impossibly minute details and springs too thin to work.

“Wow… This looks… Cool.” She gawked at the thing.

“It is!” Gertha cheered and pointed the thing down, against the ground. Using two talon-like blades to support its weight, she pulled the lever with a metallic sound. It slid effortlessly and the weapon tensed. One of the bolts fell into it and a clack of something locking into place followed. Gertha then pointed the weapon at the ground further away and pulled the guarded trigger under the weapon. A bolt shot from the crossbow and stuck to the ice. Faster than Gilda could process, the weapon was ready to fire again when Gertha redid the process.

“Nifty!” Gilda wasn’t in the mood, but the thing was impressive. She beamed.

“Yeah!” Gertha grinned too. “The secret is in the sliding mechanism that allows a new bolt to fall and primes the firing mechanism. They tried to make this thing work all over the Federation, but military versions need usable power so they can pierce. Because of that, they needed sturdy parts, but they always caught or broke. Pony weaponsmiths tried using magic, but the materials don’t work right and get too expensive or ridiculously heavy. But this thing… It’s… Just wow.”

Gilda held the weapon and contemplated it for a moment. It was much lighter than its build and the materials implied, and it was warm. Not to the touch, but to her magical senses. “This is an Astrani weapon.”

So obvious. They lived in the area before the Windigos came. They were the griffons who built Griffindell and settled the northerner region to become the Nartani. The ones who decided the Windigos would be stopping in the North. That frozen turd came South of Griffindell though. How did that work? It was probably this bastion of undeath that allowed that thing to manifest? Common sense said that was it. So, if they cleared the place, it would stay clean.

They owed it to the Astrani.

“I mean…” The mercenary whined when Gilda returned the crossbow. “This stuff is awesome.”

“Yeah. It is. What’s the issue?”

“Well…” Gertha nodded with a tilt of her head to the side, indicating the griffons laying spears, swords, shields and crossbows along with the bodies atop the pyre.

Before Gilda could answer, one of the hunters, one of the younger ones, approached them with Gia. He pointed at the weapon. “Did you steal it?”

Gertha hummed and looked down at the weapon and then at the griffon. “I kinda did. I took it from a dead… Undead dude.”

“Who cares?” Gia sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s valid battle loot. It’s better than burning it with the bodies.”

But the griffon next to her ignored Gia and her manners.

“This is not stealing. It belonged to someone who has died. They have no family which can be found and there is no record of who they were. It doesn’t belong to anyone but whoever claims it.” The griffon shook his head. “Their shields are a bit too heavy, but their weapons are excellent. There is no point in leaving them to the snowolves. They will serve us as they served their makers.”

He waved at the weapon Gertha held. “This is a prize. It is a recognition of a foe’s strength and a display of valor. There is nothing wrong in taking it or the bolts it fires. Use it with pride. If the original owner could see it, he would be proud. And not the draugr, but whoever they were before the Windigos cursed their soul.”

“Yep.” Gilda nodded. “Sounds fair.”

“Sorry.” Gertha looked at the pyre as a pair of griffons hovered above and deposited a draugr corpse in its armor. “You’re destroying the weapons. I thought there was something wrong with them.”

“They’re not destroying the weapons, you dummy.” Gia had suddenly become brave again as soon as the fight ended. Gilda was of a half-mind to slap her in Gelinda’s absence. “They’re cremating them with the bodies.”

The griffon with her shook his head patiently and explained in solemn words. “When griffons die, we cremate them with their weapons, or any weapon that is available. Loved ones will craft ceremonial weapons, shields. Sometimes even armor and elegant robes. We cremate them so that Mother Harpy will see that Her Children have passed away and she will take them to the Whitescape. They will journey through the Eternal Winter to the Stormy Eyrie and along the way the servants of the Windigos will hound them. We send them with their weapons, so that they can fight their way back Home.”

“This is not the story you heard in the South, is it?” His voice didn’t carry any accusation whatsoever, but a smidgeon of contempt. Gilda and Gertha acquiesced quietly. “It is Our Mother’s commandment. We are born, we fight, we die, we fight again. We never yield. Our enemy must not win. This land belonged to our forefathers. It is ours and it will belong to our children. The Windigos have simply occupied it.”

While the Sky Sentries laid their fallen comrades along with the draugar and the weapons, the griffon talked with a soft stare at Gilda, but it hardened when he aimed his eyes at the thestral. “The ponies don’t own it either. It is ours. Our Mother made it and gave it to us. All Griffonia will be ours, and whole under Our Mother again. Our blood defends these lands, and the Frozen North and the Whitescape will go back to what they were. Griffonia will go back to the glory of Emperor Grigor. The Hader will be ours again. I speak with the voices of all my people: there will be no compromises.”

The batpony had a frown over the griffons working on the funeral, and turned slowly to stare at the griffon talking to her. She didn’t respond, though. Instead, she simply kept her eyes down until the griffon left.

“I hate undead creatures.” Moonbow sighed with her ears hanging from her head. “Necromancy is just evil. Both to the dead and to the living.”

Gilda didn’t say or do anything. Gia had her blank expression and Geary sat close to Gilda and Gertha. “You should take whatever you need. It’s okay. Just don’t take it from the pyre and don’t overdo it. I think that a spear would do you some good, Grunhilda.”

Gertha nodded and so did Grunhilda, also watching the griffons work.

“Do you think this is how we’re going to end?” Gil finally said something, not taking her eyes from the griffons. “The Windigos will just freeze us to death and revive us into monsters?”

“No.” Something inside her head told Gilda the answer was a resounding ‘no!’. She couldn’t put her talon on what gave her such certainty, but she was sure. She kept her eyes on the working griffons as they poured oil over the bodies. Thick and yellow, it penetrated the gaps between bodies and items, eventually dripping to the frozen stone. “No, we’ll beat the Windigos.”

Gosalynn’s return with her Sentries stopped the conversation. The griffons leaving the passage under the statues brought an injured Sentry along. Fortunately, it didn’t seem serious, but Gia rushed to meet them, as did the other Sentries that had stayed outside. Gilda, however, waited for Gosalynn to come to her once she was ready.

The way Gil straightened up to hold the pole with the silly flag made Gilda smile, and Gosalynn smiled at the lime queen before acknowledging Gilda. She was dirty with dust and looked tired, brushing some spiderwebs from her armor before she sat next to Gilda.

“Do you need anything?” Looked at her.

“No. Thank you.” The short griffoness took a long sip from her bottle of watered-down mead, nodding at the entrance under the guarding statues. “It’s a mine, alright. An Astrani mine. There is a city by the mountain’s foot, covered in snow and probably filled with draugar too. Maybe worse creatures.”

“But inside, the mountain is awe-inspiring.” Gosalynn smiled. “Living quarters, communal areas, the mine itself and a giant blacksmith. It’s like another city inside the mountain. And I think it has a flashforge. Lady Gwendolen is gonna gush over this place. We gotta get it in working order again.”

“So, it really is Astrani…” Gia mused.

Gosalynn gave a tired sigh, gesturing to the area around them. “There are countless ruins around the region. More and more the further north you go. Mostly husks of settlements… Useless archaeological remains of their cities. But this place is special. The mountain must have protected it from the environment. I don’t know. Maybe it’s the inherent magic of the flashforge. But right now, it's crawling with draugar.”

“If we kill the draugar…” Gia started, and her grin became larger as she spoke. “We can sell the weapons, the armors and everything.”

“Sell to whom, genius?” Gilda glared. “The ponies?”

“This belongs to Lord Graham. He has the first pick after us and he will take care of the rest.” Gosalynn, despite her tiredness, spoke with closing finality. “No trophies or selling. I swear, if I ever found out anyone has sold a single piece of these weapons, I will hang them. These weapons are sacred. This place is a hallowed ground where our ancestors lived… It could be a flashforge. It’s surreal how important this place may turn out to be. We must clear it. It’s our duty. Just not right now…”

As the captain spoke, one of her subordinates approached them and she let him talk to Gilda. A middle-aged sand-yellow and white guy, carrying something in his beak. He took it on his paw and offered it to Gilda. “We took it from the Swordmaiden draugr. We decided it should be yours.”

She took it, holding the chain on her fingers. A delicate set of golden chains made a shiny ribbon with a pendant resting on her paw, but she let it hang. It was the same Astrani craftsmanship she witnessed before. A griffoness holding her wings spread open, standing on a hindleg, and pushing her dancing sword upward, where it held to the chain. Outstanding details on her feathers and her tail, while her eyes were a pair of delicately cut orange gems. Her beak was open in an exultant cry and Gilda could even see the strain on her muscles. It was exquisite, otherworldly and beautiful. Sensuous and sensual like a dancing Swordmaiden.

“There are too many of them and we can’t keep the caravan waiting.” Gosalynn took another quick sip from her watered-down mead bottle. “We’ll mark this on a map, and I’ll ask the Frozenlake Sky Sentry to come clear it.”

She silenced once the griffons set the funeral pyre on fire. The fire caught quickly on the oil and spread, raising a black smoke the wind carried away. Gilda frowned at the bright yellow flames and the murky fumes, watching it past the jewel she held. “Please don’t. I want to return to this place and help clear it myself.”

“Alright.” The short one responded in a breath. “Fair.”

The whole thing burned and radiated a comforting wave of warmth that took away the cold. The oil, the armor pieces. The spears, swords and shields. All set ablaze. The bodies quickly blackened, but the smell wasn’t as unpleasant as Gilda remembered. Instead of a cruel execution, the flame shone with a gleam of liberation. The wooden structure burned too. The flames reached high, and the wind took away the ashes as the fire both cleansed and elevated their mortal remains.

Griffons stopped working, and even the ones that tended to the wounded stopped to watch. One of the female Sentries pulled out a small chord instrument she played with her talons. She extracted twanging notes into a melancholic melody at first. Then she ran her talons along the strings and the result was a high-spirited crying of notes coming and going. Similar to a violin, but more like the wind between the mountains.

Nothing fancy. No whoops, no high-pitched squeals, or complex rhythms. Just the sorrowful melody of the wind as though it followed her lead. The rhythm of creaking flames, and powerful male voices, enunciating and projecting the syllables filled with emotions.

Generosity was broken,

Kindness merely a token.

Forsworn they had Loyalty,

No Laughter in their halls of royalty.

For lies they have traded Honesty,

Their Gift of Magic but a travesty.

The Ancient Pact broken,

An Oath jestly spoken.

Cursed our land in hatred untold,

Did the great Unicorn Kings of old.

Sun and Moon for themselves they wanted,

All the land under the heavens daunted.

A storm in the sky,

The heart never shy.

Our blood to the field,

This land never to yield.

Sorrow and scorn. Old tales and ancient memories. Remembrance and vindictiveness.

“I will free this place, sister. One ruin at a time. One tormented abomination at a time.” Gilda whispered to the small golden dancing griffoness in her paw. Past it, the dead bodies contorted in a macabre dance. She took a deep breath and snapped the clasp shut behind her neck. The jewel was meant to be worn as a choker and it fit around her neck comfortably enough it wouldn’t inconvenience her, but she wouldn’t forget it was there.

After a long while of griffons watching the flames in silence, the fire cleansed and consumed everything. The wind washed away all the ashes and nothing remained on the cold stone.

Gosalynn finally broke the silence. “We ought to return. The caravan can’t linger for long.”

Griffons helped carry the bundles of weapons that had been left apart and the hunters strapped themselves to four ropes securing the infant roc. They spread their wings, beating them softly in warming exercises as the others finished preparations to leave.

Finally, the group took off. The griffons carrying the roc struggled, but overcame their burden before long. They gained altitude, but Gilda remained and took a deep breath. All the oppressive magic was gone, and the air flowed easily into her nares to fill her lungs. Even if the place was still taken by undead griffons inside the mountain. The Windigo really was gone. She doubted it was dead, though.

Good… The monster should have killed her. She had a track record of things making her stronger.

“Are you okay, boss?” Gertha walked closer to Gilda with a smile. Gia, Grunhilda and the thestral pony followed.

“I don’t know…” All that surrounded them were Her Mother’s soothing stormy sky and the peaceful white of the virgin snow. The charred bones of the two dead rocs remained and attested the creatures too were free of their torment. “I’m not sure. I can’t put a talon on it, but I feel… Rattled.”

“Well, those things were pretty scary.” Grunhilda gave her a reassuring bump with her body.

“I don’t think that’s the problem, Grunhilda.” Gertha smiled.

“Do I pay you to be my shrink too?” Gilda gave her a snarky grin and the other returned in kind.

“Eh…” The mercenary shrugged and closed her eyes. “With how much you pay me, I’m willing to bet you probably do.”

“Wait…” Gilda blinked a couple of times. “How much am I paying you?!”

“I don’t actually know either.” Gertha chortled and covered her beak. “I do know what griffons say about you and that you have memories from your past lives, or something like that. Freaky… But… Uh… Did you remember something creepy? Like… Was she… You? Or were you her?”

“No…” Gilda shook her head slowly. “That’s not it. I don’t know how these monsters work either, but I don’t think that I would be here if she was me in another life. I mean… I suppose I need my soul, so it’s not trapped inside an undead monster…”

“But…” Gilda’s paw touched the small pendant hanging from her new choker. “It hit me… The magnitude of the problem. Of the Windigos… Whatever happened that caused them to take this land as theirs. The Astrani… They did such great things, but the Windigos destroyed it all.”

Gilda gestured to show something miniscule. “I am this close from convincing myself that everything bad that’s happened is their fault. I want to avenge the Astrani. Take back our land. Beat those frozen turds, monster by monster, and see Snow Mountains the way it was before the Windigos. See griffons able to return to the Stormy Eyrie without having to fight their way through the Windigos and their spawn.”

“How would that even work?” Gia rolled her eyes. “When a griffon feels like it’s about to croak, he’s supposed to buy an airship ticket to the Stormy Eyrie? You know it’s actually a physical place, don’t you? Can you imagine? It’s full of dead griffons waiting to be reborn. Or something. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense under scrutiny.”

“I’m just a stupid Griffonstonian catbird that got her home burned and was arrested for punching a kid!” Gilda put a paw on her head. “I’m rambling my dumb bird brain out. Does any of that make any sense?”

“It makes enough sense that I feel like letting you pay me to help you kill some frost monsters, Boss.” Gertha nodded softly.

Author's Note

Changed the chapter's ending. Removed a bit of conversation that didn't really add more than awkwardness.

Perfectly Normal Griffoning In Session

Gilda enjoyed the trip back to the caravan a lot more than the one before their rescue mission. A pony or a southerner griffon might have complained the gray clouds still dominated the sky and the occasional rumble of thunder could be heard. Gilda had already learned to appreciate the right kind of stormy clouds. They vibrated, for lack of a better word, with Her Mother’s magic and even the smell of the storm made itself present, untainted by evil magic.

The oppressive cold and the feeling of impending doom had left them. The snowed fields, hills, and groves returned to being nothing more than the northerner snowed terrain. Cold, but tolerably so, even beautiful to behold from above.

The cold became Gilda’s friend, but she looked forward to wearing her new cloak. Perhaps a hot bath with Grunhilda. She followed Gosalynn’s lead, along the formation and the winds assisted them. A small boon to the battle-weary griffons. The hunters carrying her roc fledgling flew beneath them. Strong griffons, the additional weight didn’t bother them. They knew what they were doing and how to transport large animals.

The Sky Sentries carried the wounded in a similar fashion, bundled up in protective cocoons of leather and hoisted by pairs. They gave the stash of weapons and armors they procured a similar treatment. It resulted in a neat formation of griffons and a mess of randomly placed griffons carrying stuff, but everyone flew in their place.

Grunhilda flew next to Gilda and so did Godwin. Gertha and Gil flew next to Guille, out of formation as the griffons carrying the wounded. Gia and her thrall flew next to the blue griffon they rescued from the mutated rocs. Gia wanted to be sure he would be okay. She had also said she would need Gelinda’s help to deal with the problem. Something related to massive blood loss, and misaligned bones. Maybe something even more exoteric Gilda’s instinctive magical knowledge had no hope of understanding.

With no fog present, after a short flight she could see the distant tents and the carts spread around the area. With the sun still high above the clouds, the sentries around the camping ground noticed them. A commotion started and griffons congregated just outside the area delineated by the tents. Some jumped, others stood on their hindlegs, pumping their fists and cheering. Others hopped and flapped their wings while the smaller and nimbler cubs made quick pirouettes and happy dances. Others still broke into spontaneous singing with happy chirping and warbling.

Once they had landed, the hunters and Sky Sentries who had remained, along with caravan workers, hurried to help them with the cargo and the injured. The cheering of griffons didn’t diminish, though. The old Sky Sentry quartermaster went to Gosalynn as soon as she touched the snow and Gil’s father, Mister Gillian went to his daughter.

Madam Gelinda walked over to Gilda and smiled. “Welcome back. You seem to have found something interesting.”

“Just wait until we tell you the story!” Gilda beamed at her and the older griffoness laughed.

“I am glad you have returned mostly unharmed. I should see to the injured with Gia. Excuse me.” She smiled again and granted Gilda a curt nod before she trotted over to the area the injured were ‘craned’ to, near the tents. Gia had already landed there.

The thestral, shivering and chattering her teeth rushed to the tent she shared with the unicorn, who waited for her. Gil, after talking to her father, returned to Gilda, still carrying the flag. Gertha went to Guille, and Gilda figured she should too. But before, with Grunhilda and Godwin along, she went to the hunters who had brought the roc.

The northerner hunter griffons untethered themselves from the roc, but let it safely tied up, still asleep. When she approached, one of them, their older, graying out leader turned to Gilda with a satisfied grin. “He tolerated the trip well enough!”

“Of course, he did…” The younger, female version of him came closer. “Poor thing probably could’ve died from the stress alone. The Loremaster even knocked it out cold.”

“Better than him waking up in the air, losing his mind and dragging us along to a tree.” The older griffon concluded and the other agreed silently.

“What are you going to do with it, Lady Gilda?” The queen did a couple of excited little hops and grinned. “Do you think it can be domesticated? Maybe teach it to hunt? To fight?”

“Let’s hope it can be domesticated.” Gilda smiled. “I suppose that I’ll try and see what he can be taught. If it can even be domesticated. I’m gonna get Madam Gelinda to look at him as soon as she’s free.”

“Sounds good!” The older griffon nodded. “We’ll craft a cage for it. Something we can strap to the back of a cart, but strong enough to hold it gets grumpy. We can’t have it tied up like that all the way to Griffindell.”

“Great. Please do.” Gilda took a couple of seconds looking at the small roc, surrounded by curious griffons, tied up like a chicken on the way to the oven. “How can I repay you guys?”

The older griffon stared at her blankly for a second before he started laughing. The younger queen elbowed his flank. “I think she means it, Pappa.”

“I had never hunted, much less captured a roc like this!” The griffon slapped Gilda’s back and made her cough. “I should be the one thanking you!”

His daughter winked at Gilda. “We’ll let you know once we get his cage ready!”

“Well, thanks anyway.” Gilda grinned and talked to the griffons following her. “Come on, let’s give them space to work.

She barely had time to turn before Godwin’s beautiful sister latched on to him and squeezed the air out of him with a hug. Meanwhile their little sister grabbed on to his foreleg. “Godwin! Are you hurt?!”

Gilda and Grunhilda gave them space, and after he recovered his breath, he greeted his sisters. He petted the little chick and smiled at his older sister. “I’m just a little bruised. Lady Gilda and Grunhilda kind of took care of me.

“Kind of?” Gilda smirked and Grunhilda giggled. “If Grunhilda hadn’t put an arrow on that draugr you’d be Windigo chow by now.”

He coughed into his fist. “Anyway… I’m not hurt. Did everything go alright here?”

She frowned and twisted the corners of her beak. “We were all very worried. I was very worried! Madam Gelinda gave me some things to do so I wasn’t nervous, even though I had to watch Giza.”

They looked at the wee tiny griffon sitting on the snow and looking up at them before Georgia continued, relaxing her frown. “I was helping the others prepare arrows with the other younglings while watching Giza. Now I have to help Madam Gelinda with the injured griffons. Can you watch Giza for me?”

“Do you need me to do anything, Miss Gilda?” He asked Gilda and she shook her head.

“Go watch your little sister.” Gilda pointed. “If you guys need anything, you can look for me.”

He picked up the fledgling when she raised her little paws and walked off with her before Georgia hurried to join Gelinda and the injured griffons.

“I like them!” Grunhilda chirped, flaring her wings, and smiling.

Gilda chuckled. “I like them too, Grunhilda. Hey, go get yourself out of this armor and relax for a bit. Bring me my cloak.”

“Okay!” The Big Girl cawed.

Gilda watched her trot away before turning and joining Gelinda. Georgia was busy talking to one of the injured but conscious griffons while the Loremaster examined Guille. She had pulled open the leather and blanket the others had protected Guille with for the flight, and he was unconscious. He still bled a little out of his mouth and his breathing seemed too fast. It fired off some alarms in Gilda’s head.

“Precise cut. Someone really wanted him dead and knew what they were doing.” Gelinda remained calm, looking inquisitively at Gilda.

“An undead Swordmaiden.” Gilda raised her head so the Loremaster could see her new choker. “The Sky Sentries thought I should have this thing they found on her.”

Gelinda hummed, taking a couple of seconds to closely examine the jewel. “This is of Astrani make. I hope you dispatched her to the Stormy Eyrie.”

“I literally shot a lightning bolt at her.” Gilda frowned. “I think.”

“Well then, practice it. Use it willingly when you fight.” Gelinda frowned. “If you have this ability, it is your responsibility to control and use it properly.”

Gelinda turned back to Guille. “He should heal within days with the proper medications.” The old Loremaster told his mate and his sister close to Gilda. “We will need a sheltered place with some space so I can properly care for him and the other wounded. Additionally, some volunteers.”

Georgia immediately put her paw on her chest and so did Gilda. Her experience at the hospital, short as it was, ought to help. Gil kept holding the flag as she watched Gertha raise her paw.

“What is wrong with you dimwits?” Gelinda sighed. “You are fighters, and we have enough volunteers. You ought to help protect the camp and rest when you’re not fighting.”

“Well, you’re welcome!” Gertha glared at the old griffoness and Gilda laughed.

“Come on, Gertha. Let’s grab something to eat.” Gilda put a wing on her back and the pink griffoness grinned at her.

“Sure! I’ll get rid of this thing.” She bit at the chainmail she wore and started on her way to her tent. But she stopped and turned to look at Gelinda. “Hum... Please take good care of him. He’s a big goof but I like him.”

Gilda turned back to Gelinda. “Yeah. He got like this trying to help me.”

“Don’t worry, either of you.” The older griffoness smiled. “It’s my job. And I am quite good at it.”

Gertha turned again to leave, and Gelinda indicated the sleeping roc. “So, you seem to have found a new friend, Gilda…”

“I couldn’t leave him to die…” Gilda looked at the roc too, and at the griffons taking measurements. “The Windigos messed up his parents. Gia said it has probably been neglected by them because of it. The poor thing was terrified.”

Gelinda nodded. “I’ll see if I can help him. Nobody likes suffering infants of any species.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” Gilda smiled and waved goodbye.

Walking away, Gilda stretched the soreness out of her wings and limbs, trotting to the caravan’s actual camping ground. She saw a few griffons carrying weapons and horns. Surely southerner volunteers, and even a few caravan workers. They mostly acknowledged her presence. Some griffons traveling with the caravan, resting for the time, smiled, and waved at her. Some even approached her to meet and talk.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gil carrying the flag and following her around. Gilda rolled her eyes and decided not to make a scene out of it. Instead, she occupied herself with something else.

The smell of roasting chicken guided her beak and her suddenly complaining stomach. She found a curiously small campfire where a cub, about ten years old, stood on his hindlegs to spin a crank for a spit roasting duck. Flakes of seasoning stuck to it as the small griffon, filled with determination, spun and watched it with hawk eyes..

The fire sat on a properly secured campfire, under an improvised spit made of freshly cut and debarked wood. A small communal tent had been assembled nearby, but it would be empty if not for the camping tools, little beds, and a few magical heaters. A wooden slab served as a table and a collection of many aged teenagers and cubs plucked the feathers out of dead ducks. One of the older griffon cubs taught a trio of the youngsters how to properly clean the fowl of innards. Another group prepared arrows with the usable feathers and yet another seasoned the ducks.

The only adults in sight, guards armed with spears, shields, and bows, kept their distance. They let the cubs take care of themselves, merely watching from afar.

While Gilda studied the junior camp, a griffoness approached her. Old cub, or a very young queen? Much like Georgia and Godwin, Gilda found her stuck in a limbo between young adult and old cub. Funny Gilda had been told of the lack of importance of the festival, but kept finding among cubs the young adults, by any definition of the word but cultural. And one who didn’t even wear the red scarf.

Very pretty, anyway. Snowy white with silver highlights, her long and voluminous feathers bent around her head like a mane and curled at the tips in delicate adornments. And while not another Grunhilda, she had the build of a ‘northerner warrior’, with the familiar fierceness in her gray eyes.

She smiled a very northerner, contained, but earnest smile at Gilda. “Hello, Lady Gilda. May I help you with anything?”

“Yeah.” She waved an arching gesture. “Is this the junior camp, or what? And why aren’t the southerner parents freaking out with their kids decapitating ducks?”

The young northerner, a few fingers shorter than Gilda giggled despite her stern expression. “Well, the adults are with the adults, learning adult northerner things. The cubs are with the cubs, learning cub northerner things. I don’t suppose they have much time to worry about it.”

She shrugged. “They have to learn this one way or another. And it is better if they learn while young. The cubs aren’t obligated to come. You know, since they can do whatever they want. They came of their own will. The little ones learn quickly and have fun with everything. Sleep time turns into a short party because everyone is so tired.”

Gilda chuckled at the images her words conjured in her head. “Why aren’t Georgia and Godwin here?”

“Well, Georgia was.” The other explained. “But since she had training at Frozenlake, Madam Gelinda ‘volunteered’ her to help with the injured griffons. And Godwin went after the crazy banner lady and the batpony.”

She blushed and sat to hold her cheeks. “I hope he comes back. I really like having him around.”

“Ahem.” Gil, the crazy banner lady, cleared her throat behind Gilda. The latter turned to her with a growl.

“Do you plan on following me around with this thing the whole trip now?” Gilda initially scowled at her, along with a groan, but her expression turned to a frown. “Wouldn’t you rather be with Guille?”

“Well, yes!” Gil answered with a scowl of her own, but she turned her face and her voice turned sad. “Yes… But… But…”

“Okay…” The young northerner took a couple of steps back. “I’ll go back to supervising the cubs.”

While the other made a quick retreat, Gilda approached Gil, but with a concerned frown and a wing over her back. “Will you spill it out? Something’s been bothering you since the end of the fight. Are you scared Guille will die, or something? We gave him one of those fancy healing potions and Madam Gelinda is looking after him. He’ll be alright. It will just take a while.”

“I want to… But…” Gil stumbled on the words. “Look, it’s nothing.”

Gilda rolled her eyes. “I’m not a shrink. You either tell me what’s bothering you or I swear I’m gonna get Madam Gelinda involved.”

“Hum… Gia told me he needs to rest so the potion can work to its full potential.” Gil told her, trying to hide behind the pole with the flag. “And I’m a little scared, to be honest.”

“Scared?” Gilda cocked an eyebrow. “When I first saw you two together, I thought he was just some big guy you could hook up with to protect you. You know… The northerners being how they are, and how spooked you were.”

Gilda made sure to keep her voice down. Especially because Godwin or Grunhilda could come back at any moment.

She immediately kicked herself. When did she start worrying about such dumb stuff? He wasn’t even a ‘kid’! He was as adult as Grunhilda, and the only difference being a tradition she couldn’t care less about.

Apparently, Gilda identified as a northerner now and Gil showed a confused frown. She too had some thoughts in need of sorting, it seemed.

“Well, I…” Gil finally spoke, and her cheeks tinted. Not like when a griffon thinks naughty things, out of real, serious shame in her eyes she showed in her tearing eyes. “He was… All I really wanted a big dumb guy to protect me, since I was going to be living here whether I wanted or not. Then he gave me this thing, and…”

She raised her paw and showed Gilda the ring on her fourth finger. When Gilda agreed she would pay for it, she did it because it struck her as the right thing to do. She even concluded, correctly, Gil was just taking care of herself and Guille was being silly.

Gil looked at the ring too. A simple band of gold with a pattern of delicate repeating knot designs inlaid with green metal. Her voice broke, staring at it. “When he gave me this thing, I told him. That I was just looking for someone to protect me because I was scared… That I didn’t really feel anything for him. He thought for a while and just told me he would protect me. And… When I saw him lying on the red snow... It scared me more than losing my protector. Do you… Understand? I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I think I actually do, Gil.” Gilda told her softly, with a smile.

Apparently, The harpy was right and that was how griffons hashed love. They wanted to be independent, but they eventually concluded they needed one another. They joined for the benefits and before they knew it, just the thought of being apart hurt them. Typical griffon mindset too. Just don’t overthink it and the pieces will fall into their places. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t hit a griffon on the face like a brick on their way, though.

How healthy was the whole thing? Eh… Sanity was relative anyway. “I’m not one for sappy romance, but I think you gotta talk to him when he wakes up. And, you know, tell him your real feelings. I mean… It’s not like you’re breaking up, but the opposite. This is a good thing.”

Gilda even smiled at her and Gil smiled too, despite her frowny tear-stained face. “Hmm… I suppose you’re right…”

Maybe Gilda was more mature than she thought. Maybe she simply had a clear head. So silly.

“Great!” Gilda beamed, but then frowned. “Now, can you please stop following me around with this stupid thing?”

Gil stared at her for a second before she looked up at the flag. “Oh! Ah. Sure.”

She gave an uncomfortable chuckle and retreated a couple of steps. “I’ll plant it near the main campfire.”

It also amused Gilda how fast embarrassment could make a griffon run on three legs while holding an awkward pole. Well, as long as the drama was resolved…

“Gilda, we need to talk.” Captain Gosalynn came out of nowhere while she wasn’t looking.

“Speaking of drama…” She rolled her eyes.

“What?” The short griffoness cocked her head.

“Nothing.” Gilda responded quickly. “What’s up?”

“Do you remember the old griffon Godwin mentioned?” Gosalynn sat on the snow and Gilda did the same. “Who started telling the soldiers about the bad things the Griffonian government did and caused the soldiers to rebel back at Griffonstone?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gilda nodded. “Sure! Didn’t he move to the villa close to Wayfarer’s Rest?”

Gosalynn shook her head. “He came with us. He’ll be going to Frozenlake to meet Lady Geena. But that’s not the problem. He was in command of the operation that killed Grunhilda’s parents.”

Gilda hummed quietly and her cheery expression turned to a frown.

“He wants to talk to Grunhilda. To tell her of what he did and set things right.”

“How in the feather can he set things right?” Gilda almost raised her voice, but Gosalynn merely shrugged.

“Good griffons will see the virtue of a sincere apology.” True. “But Grunhilda is still your thrall. You get to say no and end it right here if you want.”

Also true, but was that right? Should she protect Grunhilda? Or would she be keeping her from getting some degree of closure?

Grunhilda arrived soon. Her legs carried her with a happy trot as she brought Gilda’s new cape. She sat and offered it to Gilda. “Here you go, Miss Gilda!”

Gilda didn’t take it, instead kept staring at the bigger griffoness and so did Gosalynn. Until Grunhilda deflated and her ‘feather ears’ flopped. “Hum… Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Grunhilda. You didn’t.” Gilda finally took her cape and donned it. “Would you like to talk to someone who was involved in the military operation Master Galahault mentioned? The one where they killed your parents and took you to Griffonstone?”

Grunhilda sat and frowned as she stared at the snow and then back at Gilda only to turn to the snow again. Gilda spoke again. “He wants to speak to you, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She whined and clicked her talons together. “What should I do, Miss Gilda?”

“Listen…” Gilda looked at her while Gosalynn waited. “If you don’t know, then perhaps it is a bad idea.”

Gosalynn took a second staring at Gilda before the latter nodded. Gosalynn then focused on Grunhilda. “He is not proud. He is an old griffon who did bad things he regrets. It may not make a difference for you, as it won’t change much. But talking to you may be important to him. I know griffons and I doubt he means ill. He’s suffering.”

Gilda would never get used to seeing the short griffoness with a thin voice talking so seriously, but her attention turned to Grunhilda. Her big friend wasn’t hard to read but remained silent and whatever went on inside her head remained behind an empty expression. Finally, after long enough griffons became curious about the silent conversation, she looked at Gilda. “I think I want to talk to him, Miss Gilda.”

“Alright.” Gilda nodded at her before she turned to Gosalynn. “Can you get it arranged?”

“I will. In a couple of minutes.” The Captain agreed before she left the two alone.

“Can you go with me, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda added after the other was out of earshot. Showing the concerned frown Gilda had grown used to seeing on her face when she felt vulnerable.

“Sure. No problem.” She smiled at Grunhilda and the other smiled back. “Just chill until then. Think up the questions you may have for him. And remember he is probably some poor old dude feeling guilty. Well… He should… But the point is that he changed.”

“I understand, Miss Gilda.” Big Girl smiled. “I’m not angry.”

“Great.” Gilda petted her on top of the head with a smile. “Let’s get this done, then we can get something to eat.”

Gosalynn didn’t take long to return. A curt nod from her, and Gilda encouraged Grunhilda with a tap of her wing on her back. “Come on, Grunhilda. Since you want to, let’s get this done.”

Grunhilda followed her to Gosalynn and the three of them walked along the tents with relaxing griffons outside, minding their businesses. Gosalynn led them to one of the tents among the many others. One of Gosalynn’s Sky Sentry stood watch and pulled open the flap for them.

Inside it looked just like Gelinda’s tent, with the bed rolled up among the rest of the supplies into a corner and a small table the old griffon sat behind. A young queen guarded him like his personal bodyguard. She shared in his completely gray coat, without the loss of luster by old age. Gilda nodded a silent greeting to her and to the old griffon.

She had the distinct impression she had seen that old griffon somewhere, but he merely acknowledged her arrival. When Grunhilda entered, his very lucid and blue eyes glinted with tears, and he covered his face with his paws, muttering something to himself.

The griffoness next to him softly called him ‘grandpa’ and held him. Gilda remained in silence, not to intrude on Grunhilda’s moment. Her friend white griffoness shuffled her feet as she sat on the tent’s floor, witnessing the old griffon’s distress. “Hum… I am not really angry… I just thought you wanted to meet me. So… I came…”

“Mother above… It is like she has come back to haunt me.” The old griffon finally looked at Grunhilda again, speaking with a weak, croaky voice. He released a subtle sigh. “I don’t deserve your sympathy.”

Grunhilda didn’t respond. Her eyes simply shifted to the side for a second and the griffon went on. “The Northerners tell me you have become Miss Gilda’s thrall because of my actions. That you owe her your life.

“Hum…” Grunhilda shuffled her feet nervously again. “Yes…”

“My superiors have taken everything from me, Grunhilda.” He held the edge of the table. “My rank, my family. They forced me to retire and then took my home and my possessions. But I took away your mother and your father. I would give anything if it would undo what I did.”

“I’m not angry at you, mister.” She spoke softly, almost as though she thought she shouldn’t. “I’m angry at the bad griffons at Griffonstone.”

He still focused on her and spoke despite nodding to her words. “The Mother of Storms spoke to me. She has commanded I return to the northerner lands. She has said I shall recover my strength and that I will see my family and my honor restored. And yet, Her words mean nothing next to this shame. It keeps me from surrendering as I have a debt I must pay.”

“I do not deserve redemption.” He concluded. “There is no easy way of doing this, so I will be forthcoming.”

He stopped and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. “My mistakes have cost you dearly, Miss Grunhilda. It is a debt that I don’t believe can be paid. It is the sort of thing only blood will satisfy.”

His tired old limbs reached under the table, and he produced a weapon. He placed it on the table and Grunhilda already grimaced at the sight of the weapon itself before he even spoke. “I believe the life I have lived is tarnished by what I have done to yours. And this is the only way I can see to diminish this abyss.

“Grandpa…” The young griffon lady gasped. “You cannot. The Harpy has decided there is still much you must do.”

“I love you, Glenda. But I haven’t asked you your opinion.” He frowned. “This is between me and Miss Grunhilda. Even She cannot take away the weight of what I have done to this young lady.”

Grunhilda’s eyes stayed on the weapon and Gilda refrained from wincing. The black iron, polished like a mirror shone under the magical light hanging from the ceiling. Silver finishings and varnished wood completed the simple weapon. Unlike the complex model the militias used, it belonged to an older model. The sort which was probably used in the Second Griffon War. The hammer had been locked back, and the metal pan it would strike sat in place to generate the spark which would ignite the powder inside. Only the trigger needed to be pulled and it would fire.

“I have lived my life and squandered it trusting the wrong griffons.” He added. “It is a paltry offering, but if The Harpy’s words hold true, then it still has some value to it.”

Much as it distressed Gilda, she found logic in the old griffon’s reasoning. And she too saw Grunhilda had the right to decide. She did her best not to show anything outwardly, but Gilda held her breath when Grunhilda’s paw reached for the weapon. The old griffon showed no reaction other than keeping his eyes straight at Grunhilda.

She saw the panicked stare on his granddaughter. Her frantic eyes, shifting from Gilda to Grunhilda and the weapon. But Gilda decided to ignore her unless she tried to stop Grunhilda. She trusted Grunhilda to make the right decision. More than that, her decision.

Her friend held the weapon in her paws, and she freed the hammer, letting it rest before she returned the weapon to the table. “I don’t want you to die, mister. I understand what you mean, but it wouldn’t make me happy.”

“Instead, I want you to help the Northerners win.” Grunhilda still spoke. “If Mother Harpy has uses for you, my decision is that you do everything you can to bring us victory.”

He nodded and closed his eyes.

“I mean it.” She added, raising her voice. “I want to see the griffons who ruined both our lives suffering for what they did.”

Then she concluded. “And I forgive you.”

The old griffon took his weapon from the table. “I promise you, Miss Grunhilda. They will regret what they did.”

“I guess we are done, then?” Gilda stood on her four legs and Grunhilda followed. “If you need anything, Mister Gamaliel?”

He nodded and Gilda continued. “If you need anything, you can ask. I’m sure the northerners are taking good care of you but do let me know if I can do anything.”

“I will, Lady Gilda. Thank you for allowing me to reach Grunhilda.” He had changed. His face didn’t show as many tired wrinkles. She nodded at him and then at his granddaughter and left with Grunhilda.

Outside, the cold and the snow remained the same and they walked in silence for a couple of minutes. Gilda steered her friend towards their tent, and the smell of food being prepared came from everywhere. Something to eat would do both of them wonders.

“Did I do the right thing, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda finally spoke, but kept her eyes on the snow. “I feel as though some griffons would have expected me to kill him.”

“Just because it worked for Godwin, it doesn’t mean it would’ve worked for you, Grunhilda.” She didn’t take her eyes from their path either. “He’s an old and respected general. Not some scummy mercenary lowlife. He regretted what he did, and not just because you could’ve killed him. He had decided he was ready to die a long time ago because of what he did.”

“You’re a good griffon, Grunhilda.” Gilda smiled, looking at her friend at her side.

They walked in silence among the happy griffons, talking and preparing for dinner as the sun prepared to dip beyond the horizon at the Princess’ command. The party’s return with their captured comrade elevated spirits and most of them had no idea what had transpired. But anyway, the result was satisfactory.

But Grunhilda spoke again. “Do you think Mamma and Pappa made it? To the Stormy eyrie?”

Gilda chuckled. “By the story Master Galahault told us, I’m sure they did.”

But her chuckle died in her throat and her beak lost its smile. What of her own mother? Gilda didn’t even know her father. Once the Allmother talked to her again, Gilda would ask. Hopefully, she would get a straight answer. She smiled to herself, though. She didn’t even consider the possibility of what Gelinda had told them being false. Just a tale, as Gia had put it. She just hoped mom didn’t become some Windigo slave.

Then again, once The Harpy’s plans came to fruition, she supposed all the griffons the Windigos had claimed would be free. What an epic sight it would be.

“Can we eat something, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda looked at her. “I am really hungry now.”

“Yeah.” Gilda smiled at her. “Let’s grab some food. I’m starved.”

Her destination was the agglomerated tents of ‘the leadership’. She supposed someone would have some food ready for her and the others. However, a short walk on the way took them close to the large ‘single griffon’ communal tent and a commotion made itself heard.

Gilda found a perplexed Gelinda sitting on the snow as she watched a congregation of angry griffons doing what they did best. Complaining and not lifting a talon to actually fix whatever the problem was. Even Gertha sat on the snow and made angry gestures at a male flapping his wings, each talking over each other. While most of the present griffons wore cloaks, capes, and other garments to guard against the cold, the pink mercenary wore the cotton undergarment she usually used under her armor.

Camping furniture and chests, bundles of assorted items and supplies littered the area. Even the level-headed Gillian could be found amid the pointless mess of angry griffons shouting at each other.

Gilda could die. Just as she had witnessed her insecure friend deal with the old griffon and their grievances. Why, Mother Harpy? Why were griffons like that?

Once the general feeling of hopelessness passed away, and sitting on the snow, staring at the sky, became awkward, she resumed walking to approach the very confused Madam Gelinda.

Such a shame Gelinda didn’t become confused very often. She had the most adorable perplexed stare Gilda had ever seen. Despite Gilda’s arrival, the Loremaster spoke to the griffon yelling with Gililan.

“What do you mean, tom?” She gave a frown and even tilted her head slightly. “Do you mean there is no space for all of you?”

“I don’t have a clue what is going on, ma’am.” The griffon more complained than he explained as he picked up bundles of leather from the snow. “All I know is that I may have to spend the night outside because of this mess!”

Once he grabbed all the bundles he stomped away and left Gelinda blinking her confusion-filled eyes. She turned to Gilda, as though it was some ‘southerner griffon issue’ she could explain.

Before he could leave, Gilda held the griffon by his tail. He yelped, dropping the leather again. “Dude, instead of bitching like you’re in a bar during elections, why don’t you talk to the griffons that can do something about the problem? Us, for example.”

He pulled his tail and glared at her. “I don’t really know what is going on!”

“My brother is injured, out in the cold!” Gertha came to Gilda too, flared wings and a scowl. “We have a problem with the communal tents. There’s some sort of disagreement.”

Gilda threw her forelegs open. “What kind of disagreement? Madam Gelinda said she needed the tent to care for the wounded griffons! There is nothing to disagree about!”

“Geldar is the one who talked to Garnet and she’s the one that said it’s not happening.” The male griffon straightened the fur on his tail. “All I know is that we can’t take our stuff to the other tent.”

“Who the frick are Geldar and Garnet?!” Gilda sighed.

“Geldar is our leader.” The griffon sat with a frown, once satisfied with his tail. “You know. Of the LOL. Garnet is the leader of the… Also, the LOL, but a different one.”

“Uh… Come again?” Gertha frowned. Grunhilda scratched her head.

Gelinda shook her head. “Gilda, I feel lost, and I hate this feeling. What is happening? Are they splitting into factions? Or is it a split within one faction we didn’t even know existed? Is this normal?”

Gillian approached them. “It’s not about factions, Madam Gelinda. We didn’t know, but the griffons from one communal tent don’t like the ones from the other tent.”

Gilda ignored them and stared at the griffon. His eyes shifted and he raised a paw from the snow with a hum before she spoke. “I don’t like this. This sounds stupid. I don’t want that in my caravan. If anyone is going to say who can or can’t sleep anywhere, it’s me. So… tell me where these Geldar and Garnet are because we gotta talk.”

Gelinda waved at Gilda. “Don’t go to them. Summon them to you.”

Gilda gave a blank stare and then she blinked a couple of times, soon letting a grin grow on her beak. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Fetch me this Geldar and this Garnet. We are going to have a conversation.”

“Uh… Me?” He took a step back. “Now? I’m in the middle of-”

“Yes. You.” Gilda’s glare intensified. “Now.”

He left the leather pieces and rushed away, needing no more encouragement. Gilda then turned to the congregated griffons. “The rest of you shut up and go make yourselves useful. Nobody is sleeping out. I’m gonna fix this mess.”

Gertha let out a dry chuckle. “Eh… I think they just decided to choose a leader. Or something. You know… A bunch of griffons with a sort of leadership to organize their efforts. Doesn’t seem so bad.”

“It is ‘so bad’.” Gelinda retorted curtly. “‘Or something’ gets griffons killed in the Northern Wilderness. The caravan already has leadership. Gilda, Master Gillian, Captain Gosalynn. Any degree of leadership, even beneath theirs, must be carefully curated and seldom dispensed.”

“Especially among southerner griffons. They know little of the North or caravanning.” Gillian spoke calmly. “There is a good reason I defer to all input from Quartermaster Godden and Captain Gosalynn. Er… Lady Gilda too… After all, she’s paying my wages and sponsoring the expedition.”

Gilda rolled her eyes. Supposedly, she ought to do whatever Lady Gwendolen said then. Well, she kinda was, already. Nonetheless, he turned to them. “I don’t like this nonsense. If they create trouble, I’m gonna deal with them and I don’t care if the others don’t like it. This whole expedition thing was an accident. My plan was to travel alone to Grifindell. Certainly not to take responsibility for a whole caravan of thousands of clueless griffons.”

Finally, she concluded by waving her paw in a gesture ending the discussion. “This is the Gilda Show. And if I’m not happy, things change. They’re only here because I accepted taking them with me.”

“Well, I don’t call you ‘boss’ for nothing…” Gertha chuckled and Grunhilda remained quiet.

The caravan master, Master Gillian, shrugged. “Sounds fair.”

“Congratulations, Gilda. You are learning.” Her superior smile didn’t amuse, though.

She thought of calling Gosalynn too. But the number of griffons who started gathering around out of curiosity should attract her soon enough. And Gilda didn’t have to wait for a long time before the griffon she had sent returned. He didn’t bring a pair of griffons though. He brought at least twenty griffons and none of them seemed friendly.

Thoughts of a rebellion budding on her caravan suddenly occupied her thoughts, as ridiculous as the idea sounded. In the middle of the wilderness, completely dependent on the northerners. But she had heard of griffons doing stupid things before, like electing the same corrupt politicians over and over.

Only when they stopped in front of her, she noticed something peculiar. All griffons around the communal tent were male. The griffon she assumed was Geldar was male, and all the griffons behind him too. But Garnet was female, and so were all the griffons with her.

“Aw, for feather’s sake…” She massaged her lores. “I can’t believe this.”

Still Perfectly Normal Griffoning

“Are you griffons for real?” Gilda screamed so loud her voice cracked and griffons winced around her. Maybe the crescent chill of the night got to her throat, or more likely, she just screeched at them. Regardless, it helped her retain her sanity. “You stupid birdbrains literally just fled Griffonstone for survival! How can you be making up stupid, petty squabbles less than a week later?! Right now? In the middle of wilderness you know next to nothing about? How does that happen?”

Something had to be wrong with griffons. Gilda could understand dividing the sleeping quarters into genders, maybe even age. Unwillingness to share the damn tent for a night or two because griffons got injured, she couldn’t. Griffons got injured while defending the caravan against the rocs, and then rescuing one of theirs. Now, Gilda never thought herself a nice griffon, but the situation reached a level of pettiness beyond her ability to process.

“What?” Gelinda’s head kept turning from one side to the other, to the group of griffons and back to Gilda. If anything, Gelinda’s helpless expression helped Gilda bear the situation, so amusing her confusion was. “What’s wrong?”

Caravan master Gillian winced and scratched his head. “We never thought about it, and they split on their own into male and female camps… They may have a point, Lady Gilda.”

“We are not going to share our space with the males!” The one who could only be Garnet stomped a paw against the snow and raised her voice, taking advantage of what he said. “You guys should have anticipated this! You look like amateurs in the business!”

A young and pretty, tan with white griffoness, Garnet showed a distinctive red gradient towards the tips of her wings and the feathers on her crest. It fell on the sides of her head, dangling like she wore some sort of headdress contrasting with her white. Her red eyes carried so much petulance Gilda felt like ripping them out just staring at her. As if that was not enough, her tone and her way of speaking took Gilda back to Griffonstone. To when she met the Mayor’s wife before King Grover’s statue. Except elegant and easier on the eyes. Even one such as Gilda who didn’t really have a lot of knowledge saw a very pure Shaddani, or even an Astrani in Garnet.

Gilda really didn’t like her though.

“Listen…” Gilda reverted to a neutral tone, taking her time to sit on the snow and let her frustration wind down. “Who put you in charge?”

Garnet raised her beak and put a paw on her fluffy, immaculate chest. “I was democratically elected by the occupants of our communal tent. These wise hens have seen the competent leader in my…”

Shame she didn’t seem to understand Gilda owned her butt for the duration of the trip.

“‘Democratically’, my hind! This is my caravan.” Gilda made air quotes with her fingers. Apparently, winding down didn’t help. She groaned, trying to calm down once more, taking a deep breath, massaging her temples, and closing her eyes. Finally, Gilda turned to Geldar.

He was a few years older than Garnet. Short white feathers topped his head with a black tint mimicked in the spots covering his white fluff and dark-gray body. He looked dapper under the flickering light from the campfire and held a fitting countenance. The fiery light seemed appropriate, glinting off his angry eyes under the scowl knitted on his forehead while he glared past Gilda at Garnet. He even pointed a finger at the latter. “This is typical of her. She can’t stand not being the center of attention. Anything she can…”

Gilda growled, and backpaw slapped his paw away. He shut his beak before she glared at him and his crumbling appearance of more maturity. “What, were you ‘democratically elected’ too?”

He cleared his throat, pulling at his gullet and raising his beak as a canterlotian unicorn with a wounded ego. “No ma’am. I was chosen because the good griffons of the League of Lions-”

“The League of Lions?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes.” He resumed his downward stare at her. “They believed me to be the better leader because I am older than most of them, and I am also experienced in-”

“Cheating on your wife, prevarication, corruption, nepotism and money laundering.” Garnet donned an unimpressed blank stare, counting the words with her fingers.

He promptly gasped and reeled back a step with wings fully on display. “Lies. Lies, I tell you! Lies!”

He dramatically put up his fist and raised his chin so high Gilda wondered if his back could snap. “The High Court never convicted me. All of this is hearsay! And I never cheated! Not on you, not on any of my previous wives! Most of all, I chose you for Treasury! If I was guilty of nepotism, it was by putting you in the office! I don’t remember you complaining of all the collars and expensive dresses, and all the dinners!”

She gasped and showed an exaggerated hurt frown, holding her paw to her chest.

Unreal. The word defined the situation and Gilda’s heart dropped as she looked to one and the other as their squabble went back and forth. How did accepting the caravan deal land herself in the middle of a quarreling couple. How? Why has fate decided to punish her so? Not only they annoyed the feathers out of her, but they actively disturbed the smooth functioning of her caravan. The plan never included such drama, the goal was getting her and Grunhilda to Griffindell!

“Shut up or I will have you both hanged!” Gilda yelled louder than both. Gelinda watched with curious amusement next to them and a small crowd of northerner griffons slowly formed around them, albeit from a safe distance. Gillian and the other southerners distancing themselves might have informed them regarding the situation. Or maybe they were just wary of Gilda and her stare coming close to set Garnet on fire. “Don’t tell me you named your group The League of Lionesses!”

“Well…” Garnet frowned, raising her beak with an indignant pout. “When you put it like this, it does sound silly.”

“It’s not silly, it’s downright stupid!” Gilda pulled at the feathers on top of her head and put on a fierce grimace. “Harpy above! We had griffons injured when the caravan was attacked. They defended you! One of them had to be rescued and he needs some comfort to heal. Another is my friend. And they’re in the cold because you don’t want to share space with the guys! Is this just because you don’t want to sleep with your ex? Just sleep on opposite sides of the damn tent!”

“Well, it is not my fault, but yours.” Garnet took a step back at Gilda’s rage but kept her defensive frown of indignation. “You are the ones who should have anticipated this problem and provided additional tents.”

“We assumed the southerners would share between males and females, Gilda.” Gelinda shrugged. “Males and females sleep in barracks and sleeping quarters in the north. The only separation is over rank. Nobody does anything unsavory, and everyone enjoys camaraderie. I don’t understand what the issue is. If anything, it even helps relationships form as griffons know each other better.”

Garnet gasped yet again. “Oh, my goodness! You can’t force the females to sleep with the males! It’s not safe! We have very young and innocent little chicks.”

Gilda could see some reason behind Garnet’s argument, but she couldn’t find the patience to parse it out and care about it. Garnet’s behavior felt too much like a threat, and her position an excuse.

“Dude, the innocent and little cubs, of both genders and varied ages are with the teenagers right now learning ‘how to north’.” Gilda insistently pointed a few angry times with a talon. “While you are here making up stupid shit. Does anyone in the ‘female tent’ agree with you?”

“Of course we do!” A small and big-eyed queen, younger than Garnet, stepped forward. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be Garnet’s daughter, or any kind of relative. Gilda probably would have lost her cool. What little of it remained. Showing off her green and gray, flared wings, and soft melodic voice, she took a step forward to speak. “Miss Garnet took every step necessary to guarantee the safety or all the members of the League of Lionesses.”

“Actually, I don’t really care.” Another griffoness spoke, sitting a little back, but instead of taking a step forward, she simply remained seated on the snow and shrugged her orange shoulders. “I just voted because Garnet said she’d take care of us… And there really was no one else to vote for.”

Unbelievable. Gilda had found in her caravan the equivalent of griffons electing the damn worst possible griffons for the position of Chancellor. Except for the position of ‘Head Squabbler’ and to create problems in her already problematic life.

“Yeah.” Another, next to her, spoke and raised a paw with a smile. “Some of the guys are even kinda cute. I don’t mind either.”

“Girls!” Garnet cried and turned, whipping her tail around to speak with irritating and whiny elongated vowels. “We must remain united!”

Yeah… They had officially become a union now…

“Alright! Shut up!” Gilda glared at Geldar and then at Garnet with her most intimidating stare. “This is what is gonna happen: you’re all gonna share the tent, and everyone is gonna behave. No one is going to complain, and no one is going to do anything dumb. We’re all gonna work together. Madam Gelinda will take care of our injured, and as soon as we can, we’ll move again. Likely tomorrow. You can represent them, but you’re both gonna can the league bullshit, and I don’t want to hear of either of you creating trouble ever again!”

Since every word came out louder than the last, Mister Gillian cleared his throat into his fist and approached the quarreling females again. He made some appeasing gestures and spoke to Garnet, although remaining close to Gilda. “We prioritized the families because they need more privacy, and their cubs might disrupt the others. This is a temporary situation. There are no bad griffons in our group. I can guarantee your safety, Miss Garnet.”

“Well, I refuse to accept this!” Garnet flared her wings and fluffed up her chest at Gilda. If anything, the latter’s chest brimmed with pride at how she resisted the urge to throttle the other. At least, Garnet addressed her and not Gillian. She understood who’s boss. “It is outrageous. You cannot force me to sleep in a dangerous place.”

“Miss Garnet, you are not going to get a tent of your own.” Gelinda smirked at the griffoness and it just infuriated the other more. Gilda’s head snapped to Gelinda, back to Garnet, and then to Gelinda again. Either Gilda was dense, or Gelinda was incredibly perceptive, but if Gilda knew one thing, it was that Garnet would not be getting a tent all for herself as long she lived.

The smug chuckling from Geldar amused Gilda, though. Well, he wouldn’t be getting a tent either, if that’s what he imagined. Garnet’s shocked gasp and surprised hop distracted Gilda from him though. “I never! I swear my concerns are only to my fellow griffonesses. Why, I would never… How could you… I… I…”

“You’re done.” Gilda pushed her chest and reveled at her shocked expression at being touched. Gilda’s paw had snow stuck to it, and she didn’t even mean it, but she wouldn’t apologize either. “You’re gonna sleep in the damn tent with everyone else, or you’re gonna sleep outside.”

“We can hang a tarp, or something, to split the tent.” Geldar offered with a shrug, although his voice carried tones of contempt and smugness. Gilda almost unleashed on him too, just because she didn’t want him thinking he had won.

“There!” Gilda groaned. “You happy?”

“Absolutely not!” Garnet flapped her wings and slapped Gilda’s paw away. “You can’t just impose your will like that on us!”

“Actually, I can!” Gilda smiled broadly and stood on her hindlegs. She drew Mythical from her back and shoved the tip to the ground with a satisfying crunch at the snow and frozen earth beneath. “I have a pretty good opinion enhancer!”

Garnet’s eyes bulged and she took a step back. The others around her either grimaced or sighed. One or two decided things had become too thick for them and high-tailed it out of there. Good. Gilda’s point got across.

“No one is gonna start anything.” Gilda started counting on her fingers, resting her legs on the sword’s guard. “No staring, no touching, no joking, no kissing, no petting, no screwing, and no holding paws inside the tent. If anyone causes me to hear from this annoying hen ever again, I am going to nail you to a fucking cross!”

“Now, kindly, behave like adults, and get out of my sight!” Gilda screamed and thankfully both groups quickly dispersed or returned to their work of clearing the tent.

She let out a forceful huff and sat on the snow again, laying Mythical on her back, satisfied the problem griffons had cleared out. Maybe she overdid it, but at least she wouldn’t be feeling guilty if she needed to follow up on her promises later.

“Do you need some herbal tea?” Gia, who Gilda hadn’t even realized stood there, clacked her beak with all her annoying know-it-all attitude. “Also, historically, we never used crosses. It was the Battlehorns that either crucified or had their pegasus auxiliaries drop the condemned from the clouds.”

Yeah… Griffons only raped and tied others to burning stakes. Gilda’s glare properly made Gia regret talking to her and take a step back, all her smugness vanishing. “Why aren’t you working?”

“Well, that is solved.” Gillian coughed into his fist as the green loremaster rushed away. “I’ll be with the Quartermaster, unpacking medical supplies.”

He concluded with a polite bow and, as he walked away, Gelinda approached and smiled at Gilda. “Good job. Some griffons only respect strength. In the south, I fear it has become an irritating form of entitlement. Thank you, anyway. I will make sure the space is well-used.”

Gilda sighed. “You’re welcome, Madam Gelinda. Say, where are the two Gunner guys? I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“They left with our rangers and will be back soon.” Gelinda pointed at the treeline beyond a thin strip of white snow in the dark beyond the light from the campfires. “They are procuring additional supplies, healing herbs, some stones and animal fat for salves.”

Gilda nodded her understanding at Madam Gelinda and the loremaster set out to work too. Just as soon as Gilda had solved the issue with the tents, things flowed again. Gelinda took control of the situation and griffons resumed getting their stuff out while others brought in supplies and furniture to turn the tent into a medical facility.

Gilda watched them work, but she frowned to herself. Garnet felt like she could be trouble and that Geldar dude too. In fact, Gilda knew politicians enough to imagine the two could very well have fabricated the situation and the idea made her lock her beak and frown. As she had done with Grahan, she should nip the problem at the bud. Beat them to the punch, although not do anything too drastic. Perhaps just show them, and the others, she was the top cat. Just in case someone hadn’t understood the conversation they just had.

The northerner griffons who had gathered to see the show had dispersed, and while she sat there, the volunteers brought the first injured griffons to the tent. Madam Gelinda, Gil and Gertha came with Guille while one of the hunters dragged him. They improvised a sled with a sheet of all-purpose leather and some ropes over the hunter’s shoulders. Others dragged the remaining injured with similar methods and most of the tent ended up occupied within minutes. Hurt griffons, supplies, a few magical heaters, and some tables took up most of the open space in the tent. The injured seemed a combination of hurt griffons with lesser injuries from the normal traveling, their defense against the rocs, and the rescue mission.

Some of the tables even held more supplies, often piled to leave the center open for working. One of the volunteers, a steely gray northerner caravanner griffoness, mashed small black leaves with a strong alcohol in a mortar and pestle. Both made of wood and treated with fire, giving them a blackened and shiny finish. She seemed to enjoy the work, humming to herself. Others opened supply packages or grabbed water into bowls from animal bladders stacked onto tables and sloshing with water.

Other griffons still hurried out, as more things needed to be delivered. Among them walked Gertha, who had somehow managed to get into the volunteer action without incurring Gelinda’s wrath again. Apparently, the loremaster didn’t care so much. Or maybe her reasoning included Gertha being Guille’s sister.

Gilda watched as she came out of the tent, and she understood what it was the old Loremaster had meant before when she disallowed the pair to help. She sighed at her own silliness, but she needed Gertha. “Hey, Gertha, I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, boss?” She grinned at Gilda, stopping next to her with big attentive eyes and a couple of black wool blankets folded on her back.

“Can I ask you to keep an eye on the communal tent? I mean, the other, where griffons will be sleeping.” Gilda gave her a tired frown. “I’m pretty sure either Garnet or Geldar will start something if they are not supervised. They may even be together in this.”

“Ah.” Gertha chuckled. “Sure thing! I’ll just help them get Guille settled in, then I’ll make my way there!”

Gilda thanked her as the pink griffoness took her bouncy self back inside the tent. Grunhilda sat closer to Gilda, as though to let her know she was there. It made Gilda happy, but she had decided she couldn’t just leave things on their own.

Just to be sure, Gilda entered the tent too and Grunhilda followed. As injured griffons arrived, the volunteers quickly placed them on comfortable little improvised beds of leather and fluffy pelts. Godwin’s sister, Georgia, ran one way and another with enviable energy, fetching ingredients and flasks smelling of alcohol one way or another. One of the huntresses sat by a pile of assorted supplies, pointing at them with a pencil and noting things down.

A true field hospital had materialized. The ones in worse condition received attention from Madam Gelinda and Gia. Namely, the blue griffon guy they rescued and Guille. The older griffoness ordered Gia and Georgia around like the chef in a kitchen and some volunteers helped keep things under control. Of course, Gilda wouldn’t forget Mister Gillian and the Sky Sentry quartermaster who had properly supplied the caravan.

A couple of minutes later everything had settled into place. Volunteer travelers (under supervision), hunters and huntresses busied themselves cleaning wounds and stitching them closed as Gelinda busied herself with Guille. She softly pawed at his neck with Gil watching closely. Gilda approached with Grunhilda following.

“He is fine.” She said without turning to them or stopping. “Structures seem to have healed properly and at most I can feel some liquid collections. His body should deal with it, but just in case, and since we need him to heal quickly, I will drain those. It may look ugly, but it is for his benefit. I will ask that he is given healthy rations of rich meat in the following days… I don’t think he will need a transfusion.”

There was nothing external Gilda could see pointing to what she said. Gelinda certainly had much more experience feeling for the anatomical structure underneath a griffon’s pelt. All Gilda could see was a small failure on his plumage where the undead swordmaiden had cut his throat. And some disarranged feathers where they had rinsed the blood off with water.

“Hey, you’re the one that knows stuff.” Gilda shrugged and Gil nodded a few times too many. “I just want Guille to get well.”

Georgia brought Gelinda a set of tools in a leather wrap and instead of sitting there and doing nothing useful, Gilda gave them space. Looking around the tent, she found the blue male they had set out to rescue.

Laying on a leather and furs bed out of the way, he also had an extra layer of wool on his bedding and covering him. Next to him a pair of boxes and wooly black fur made for an improvised raised bed. A big black griffon guy laid on top of it, on his belly, with his head up, despite his squinting eyes and about to doze off. He had a plate full of dark-brown roasted meat strips and a canteen between his forelegs. A tube filled with red stuck to his foreleg and to blue griffon’s.

Gilda was no specialist, but she raised an eyebrow at the setup. Something about the whole thing seemed ‘not right’. The blue griffon stirred and distracted her before she said anything. He opened his eyes tiredly and smiled at her, speaking with a weak, croaked voice. “Hi… Thank you, Lady Gilda. I’ll never forget you guys really came after me.”

“Hey…” She smiled at him and even stroked his forehead. Not nearly as big as even some of the southerner griffons could get, he seemed like some random griffon one might meet walking on the street at Griffonstone.

“He’s been thanking everyone since he woke up outside.” Gilda turned to the bored black griffon on top of the crate-bed. “He’s thanked me three times already.”

“His brain isn’t working very well right now.” Gia walked next to them, stood with a leg on the raised bed, pulled the black griffon’s eyelid and stared for a second. Next, she touched the blue griffon on his forehead with the back of her paw before she addressed Gilda again. “He’ll be alright. Some crushed bones and punctured organs, but the potion saved his life. His bones are mostly in place, but there was too much damage. He would need an excessive number of surgeries to fix everything. As a result, he may have some pains here and there, but he’ll live a mostly normal life.”

Gia shrugged. “Better than dying, if you ask me…”

Gilda frowned and hummed. “Not that I regret it, but will he stall us even further?”

Gia shook her head. “No. Not at all. Between Guille and this guy… His name’s Gobby, by the way, we should be able to move right before dawn, as planned. We’ll just stick them on top of a cart and give them a few blankets.”

“Great. Please, take care of him, Gia.” Gilda put a paw on her shoulder and Gia graced her with one of her rare smiles and friendly nods.

Turning from the young Loremaster, Gilda found Gertha sitting by the tent’s entrance, shuffling her feet like a scolded schoolcub. Gilda groaned and approached the pink mercenary with a less than amicable glare.

“Didn’t I ask you to keep an eye on Garnet?” She growled, and fortunately, Gertha had enough brains to understand Gilda wasn’t angry at her, but she still shuffled nervously and avoided Gilda’s eyes.

“Yeah… This is kinda silly… But Geldar said that if there’s gonna be a female watching the others in the tent, he wants a male too.” She concluded raising her paws helplessly. “He wants to make sure the females don’t do anything to incriminate them. Apparently, I’m included, since... Well…”

A quick stream of thoughts told Gilda it would be less of a hassle to just assign a male counterpart to Gertha on supervising duty. Less than to actually nail a pair of griffons to a cross, at least. Also, she just remembered the ponies used to do that and Gia was right when she mentioned so. Griffons were more about stoning and decapitations. Her finger stroked her chin and she smiled. Maybe she could find some griffons sufficiently annoyed at the pair. She could find plenty of stones along the trail.

“Uh, boss?” Gertha blinked twice at her as Gilda held her beak pensively.

Although procuring materials wouldn’t be too hard with the woods nearby, the noise and smells would likely draw unwanted attention. It would also be tasteless, considering she had died in a similar way once and the caravan was full of cubs and some nice griffons doing their best. Maybe she shouldn’t expose them to such things.

“You’re not actually considering…” Gertha winced.

“It’s probably better to just give in this time.” Gilda finally focused on Gertha again. “I’d send Guille with you, but he’s unavailable. And I rather not bother the Sky Sentries or the hunters. Gia is likely to throw a fit if I take Geary away from her and Godwin is busy with his little sister. Uh… Get one of the Gunner guys to help you when they return. They’re just helping the hunters grab herbs anyway and should be back soon.”

Gertha grinned awkwardly and coughed once. “Alrighty then! Later!”

She turned and walked away on the snow as one of the northerner huntresses approached from inside the tent. “I’m not sure I understand what is going on with that.”

Fierce, but confused blue eyes, and snowy plumage before her silvery-gray fur, the northerner queen seemed around her thirties as she sat on the leather ‘flooring’ of the tent. Her large framed and muscular body drew Gilda’s eyes, but she spoke again, settling her anxious wings on her sides. “Why are the southerners angry with each other? Did someone do anything? Can’t we just hang then and be done with the drama?”

“They didn’t do anything. They’re just worried someone is going to take advantage of one of the queens.” Gilda rolled her eyes. “I mean, I get it, but I think Madam Gelinda had it right. Garnet really just wanted a tent all for herself.”

“She is a troublemaker.” Gelinda approached them bringing a bloody cloth to be washed. She delivered it to a young tom among the others using basins, a fire and melted snow to wash things outside. “I recommend you ditch both as soon as we arrive on Frozenlake. If you take them to Brokenhorn, I can guarantee you Lord Griskjal will not have them on his domain. Lord Graham and Lady Geena will be more accommodating. If they behave.”

“You should have asked.” The big northerner huntress frowned. “I wouldn’t mind taking one of the southerner toms into my tent. There’s plenty of space and some of them are even passable. Maybe we’d end up with a few matings along the way to celebrate at Frozenlake.”

Gilda stared at her, who stared back so convinced of her words she didn’t even smile. All northerner griffon seriousness in her blue eyes. Gilda did chuckle, though. “I don’t think you understand the problem…”

To be fair, Gilda didn’t understand it either, but griffons will be griffons. She sighed and massaged her lores. “I swear, part of the problem is that those two ended up with supporters and they hate each other. It’s one of the reasons I never got myself married. Er… Mated.”

“This sort of disagreement tarnishes a family’s honor.” Gelinda continued. “It doesn’t help that most of the griffons here didn’t bring more relatives than their immediate families.”

The blue-eyed huntress nodded and squinted. “In the northerner lands, their relatives would have solved the problem for you. Failing that, it’s up to the town lord. Since you are what passes for the caravan’s leader…”

“Hurray…” Gilda groaned sarcastically and looked at Gelinda. “Anyway, let me know if you need anything. If it comes to that, I’ll scare griffons into submission for you.”

Gelinda chuckled at Gilda’s joke and the latter turned to the huntress northerner. “I don’t like the idea of northerner griffonesses inviting southerner males into your tents. The chances of things going wrong are just too many. I’m tired. I don’t want to deal with you complaining because they crossed boundaries.”

“What do you mean, Lady Gilda?” Despite her fierce visage and her strong physique, her confused expression was too damn cute.

Both looked at Gelinda when she explained calmly. “Gilda is concerned a southerner tom would assume an attractive northerner queen would have sensual intentions when inviting one of them to their tent.”

“Well…” The northerner queen, with her impressive size, tout muscles and fierce predatorial mien joined her fingers together like a cub asking mom for the cookie. “I wouldn’t mind… Sleeping alone in a tent, far from the community, is disheartening. I wouldn’t mind a cute southerner griffon to hug… Or… You know…”

Gilda blinked twice as she processed the huntress’ words. Her mind blew and Gelinda looked at her, waiting for Gilda’s decision.

She would think a northerner huntress from a city like Wayfarer’s Rest, which practically survived on hunting, would think a southerner griffon incredibly lame. Like, griffons who didn’t know how to survive in the north and basically depended on the northerners to make their way to their new homes. They would arrive on said homes and would again depend on northerner griffons, to teach them how to make a living.

What the heck? Did she miss something? How come the tough northerner queens didn’t want a tough tom to mate with? Gilda scratched her head, still staring at the griffoness, still waiting like she needed Gilda’s permission.

“Uh… Why?” Gilda gave her a confused frown. “Don’t you have badass northerner griffons around to get yourself involved with? Griffons you don’t have to teach everything and who can take care of their own? Who grew up understanding the northerner culture and wouldn’t need you to teach them everything?”

“Well, the southerners are griffons. Good griffons. They are willing to learn, they are just new around here and there’s nothing wrong with them. If the southerner queens don’t want them, I suppose they’re fair game.” The northerner queen shrugged and showed her paws, then she gave Gilda a hopeful grin and put forward her paws. “Hum… They think I am exotic simply by being born here. Right?”

Gilda’s mind exploded again. They thought the southerner toms easier catches than the northerner singles. And it totally made sense because, for one, they were singles too while everyone in their northerner communities were likely taken as they grew up together. Not to mention the southerner griffons needed help, they likely knew so, and the northerner queens were willing to invest in them.

It made Gilda think of Gil and Guille and the opportunistic nature of griffon relations. About Grunhilda and herself and how feelings grew from a necessity, from loneliness.

Best of all, it would likely piss off Garnet and Geldar.

Gilda opened a wide grin and threw her paws. “I get it. Do the others feel like you? I mean, if you gals want to bonk a southerner tom in the head and drag them to your tent, I’m cool with that.”

The other opened a similar, though much more excited grin and ruffled her feathers. She even let her wings open a little in the cramped space. “We can do that?!”

“She’s joking…” Gelinda deadpanned, and the huntress deflated a little. “Please don’t give the southerners the impression we are savages, but the single toms are fair game. After you are done with work here, of course.”

The northerner queen nodded respectfully at Gelinda and smiled at Gilda with a bow. Then she grabbed the mortar and pestle, resuming the circular movement with renewed gusto. Apparently, some griffons would be very happy in the morning, and both Geldar and Garnet would be powerless and properly infuriated.

Turning to Gelinda, she put up a grin. “I’ll see if I can’t find anything to eat and make sure nobody is coming up with more stupid nonsense.”

Because stupid nonsense seemed to be a theme with griffons anyway and Gilda had had enough of it in her caravan. Grunhilda followed her in silence and the increasing rustling from the trees insinuated it would be a good idea to just be done with the day already. The nightly air brought a chill and the snow seemed colder under her feet.

A quick round took her along the ‘somewhat in formation’ tents making up their stretched thin camp and things seemed under control. She found the inane shared tent she didn’t want to think about with Gertha yelling at Garnet and pointing inside the tent. A campfire nearby had males and females with annoyed expressions working on preparing some dishes for serving. Everything seemed under control.

She came upon her roc rescue, several paces from the main camp. Several stakes with torches and a sizable campfire where the northerners merrily prepared food provided a comfortable night light despite the wind. Not all their hunters, though. A group had decided to settle next to the roc and erected tents around the campfire.

She walked to the roc infant, still fast asleep, but inside a cage. The hunters had built it quickly, but it seemed sturdy to Gilda’s eyes and trying one of its bars confirmed it. The roc’s back raised and lowered rhythmically, calmly dragging in air, and putting out steam into the cold night. He even had a couple of wool blankets to keep it warm in the absence of its parents, on its sides and over him. He looked almost comfortable! The northerners sure seemed to have taken a liking to the little guy for a bunch of hardened hunters and trappers.

She turned back to the cage. A board of half-logs tied together, and caked mud provided sturdy floor and foundation. They tied the logs with ropes and long green branches using wood beams for support and mud they dried with fire, judging by the burnt pieces of moss. Six wooden rails added underneath, molded, and cut into improvised blades would allow them to drag the cage around with the caravan. They would certainly need replacing, but someone surely thought of that too. Cool.

Then they used branches of increasing thickness to tie sturdy lengths of wood into a triangular cage. Barely more than twice the roc’s width, three times his length and about once and a half as tall when standing. She tested the cage again and gave a satisfied grin at how sturdy and plain adequate it seemed.

“Won’t he be cold out here?” Grunhilda whined.

“We’re doing the best we can.” Gilda shrugged. “It’s not like we can take him inside our tent and a magical heater would probably be wasted in this case.”

Yes, the night brought a harsher cold. It likely would be colder still as the night dragged on, but they were already doing what they could. Besides, the little guy already lived in the cold, and no matter what, with the circumstances of his rescue, he had lived through worse.

One of the rangers approached them. A mid-aged blue and white tom with gray eyes accompanying the excitable huntress who talked to Gilda when they arrived. Both wore wolfskin capes, gray for him and black for her. He gave Gilda a respectful bow. “We’ll keep an eye on him through the night, Lady Gilda. We have watches nearby too.”

“Madam Gelinda said he should sleep through.” The female chirped with a hop on her forelegs. “We’ll even have some game meat ready to feed him when he wakes up!”

The male nodded as she spoke and concluded with a friendly smile. “We’ll call you if anything happens you should know.”

Great. She smiled radiantly at the pair. “Thanks a lot. I really mean it.”

They both bowed almost simultaneously at her and, in the typical northerner way, didn’t waste any more time with pleasantries, getting on their way back to their comrades. Sitting on the snow, Gilda watched them walk for a while before he turned to the sleeping roc. She smiled and reached with her paw between the stakes. Slowly landed her paw on top of the giant infant bird’s head and patted it. The sand-colored plumage gave to her paw, a bit cold, but the little roc chirped softly in its sleep.

“He’s gonna need a name.” Gilda cocked an eyebrow, staring pensively at the creature’s feathers.

“Rocky?” Grunhilda shrugged.

“No. I mean a good name.” Gilda chuckled and her friend giggled, happily tapping her forefeet on the snow.

The wind pulled at Gilda’s feathers and even through her (new, sweet, and totally awesome) cape of white feathers she could feel the chill it brought. She turned to Grunhilda. “Come on. We better rest too… Tomorrow we should get back on the road. And we gotta eat something too.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda nodded with a smile and her usual submissive tone to follow Gilda as she stood and walked back to the main body of tents and griffons.

The others had begun retreating into their tents as the winds picked up even more speed and snow started to fall. Maybe she should ensure everyone was safe. Gertha would call her if something went awry and she could see sentries and patrols along the camp, like the first night. Maybe she could rest, and griffons would take care of themselves. Maybe it was the drama of the day, but she had to remember she was surrounded by adult griffons.

Immediately after, she remembered they had a tent filled with cubs and teenagers (although they had behaved more maturely than the adults…) and started on her way before she even realized. With hurried steps, no less. Better safe than sorry, after all, and Grunhilda dutifully followed her without so much as a peep.

A short gallop took her there in time to see the older ‘kids’ leaving with their parents, scrambling to their families’ tents. Creaking branches, howling wind and snow which insistently clung to surfaces and griffon clothes our plumages promised a blizzard. Some of the older griffons once guarding the kiddie tent worked to secure it with tenser ropes and heavier sheets. One of the teenagers, a faint pink and white colored cute thing, rushed their camping stuff inside the tent and tied the flaps tightly. Then she winced at the wind and hopped closer to Gilda.

Gilda didn’t know her, but certainly she was one of the older northerner ‘kids’ helping organize and teach the younger griffons. She rattled a little with the cold, having no accessories or anything other than her pearly fur and rose feathers, but stopped in front of Gilda.

“Everything is under control, Lady Gilda.” She said, hugging herself with her wings. The two Sky Sentries approached too, in their combined armor and furs, and straightened like Gilda was their commander. One nodded at the young queen’s words and the other got slapped in the face by a rogue branch in the wind, but other than spitting a leaf was unharmed. The shivering female continued. “We had planned for a sleepover, but we sent the little ones to their families. This one look like it’s going to be rough.”

Could it be the Windigos’ doing? Gilda let her beak hang as she looked up to the sky. The clouds convulsed violently in the dark, and fast snow crossed in front of her. A frown accompanied the tingling sensation of flowing magic at the tips of her primary feathers. The three griffons and Grunhilda didn’t bother her, but the latter kept her eyes on Gilda with a bit more of a curious intensity.

Gilda closed her eyes and assessed her own feelings. The wind crashed into her, cold. It made her feathers flay wildly. It smelled of snow and the snow itself felt as fresh as never back at Griffonstone. The clean air made for clean snow, and cold as it was, it was beautiful, even if dangerous. If there was any foul magic in the blizzard, it eluded her. The cold bit past her cloak, but it only stole the warmth away, no malicious intent seemed behind it. Only Her Mother’s magic clouding the sky and carried by the storm.

She inhaled and adjusted her wings under her cape. “It’ll be fine. Make sure our sentries are well protected from the cold and if anything is out of the ordinary, follow Gosalynn’s orders, but I want to be involved.”

Both Sky Sentries nodded their understanding and she turned to the young queen. “And you go to your family. I don’t want griffons getting themselves lost in this blizzard.”

Just as the queen nodded she had understood Gilda’s orders, Godwin came out of nowhere, panting and skipping on the snow to stop next to them. “Lady Gilda! Georgia hasn’t come back to our tent!”

His little blue sister, Giza, clung to his feathers behind his back and shivered, staring at Gilda with huge eyes. The tom winced at the fiery stare he got from Gilda though. “Godwin, what’s wrong with you? Giza is freezing! What are you doing with her outside?! In this weather!”

“I... I… Ah… I don’t know where Georgia is! But I didn’t want to leave Giza alone in our tent!” His feet tapped the snow nervously like a big nervous child and the griffoness his age took the little baby and put it against his chest, candidly placing his wing to hold and shield her.

“She’s probably with Madam Gelinda and the injured griffons.” Gilda told him over the wind as the other queen made sure he would hold Giza.

One of the Sky Sentries spoke too. “She’s probably going to keep her there until the blizzard passes. It’s not safe to be out in these winds and this cold. It’s even going to keep the caravan from moving if it goes on for too long.”

Well, not much Gilda could do about the weather there. She could take care of her charges, however.

“Do you want to sleep with me and Grunhilda tonight?” Gilda offered.

“Lady Gilda…” He glared at her like Gilda had just called him something. “I’m not five anymore.”

“Ironically, an adult would have said ‘yes’, tom.” One of the Sky Sentries smirked while the other very poorly contained his chuckling.

Gilda herself barely contained her snickering, staring at the tom’s expression of a lost kitten. But Giza was still freezing, holding on to her big brother and Gilda turned to the Sky Sentries, keeping a humorous tone. “Don’t you two have some dark patch of snow to patrol or something?”

They snorted, walking away after a respectful bow and the pearly-rose queen sat, putting a paw on her fluffy chest, but her cheeks tinted like tomatoes. “I could spend the night with Godwin if you want, Lady Gilda. To make sure he and little Giza are comfortable.”

“Sure.” Gilda grinned, excited and happy. “I’m sure there is absolutely no chance of either of you doing anything that would break tradition or have big consequences later. Like, after seven months or so.”

“Really?” The young and cute griffoness grinned, but after a second her crest of front-swept pearlescent white feathers flattened despite the wind. “Oh…”

“Go to your family.” Gilda pointed with a wing at the lit tents in the windy fog, not making fun of her, not angry, but serious. “Before they get worried you’re alone outside. Godwin is not going away, and you can meet with him tomorrow. I’m sure there’s plenty of fun stuff for you to do together before the Gathering Storm when we get to Frozenlake.”

Harpy above… She sounded like her mother whenever Godwin was around.

“Yes, ma’am.” The pearly queen sighed and waved him goodbye. “Bye, Godwin.”

Once she hopped away, Gilda turned to Godwin. “Know what? You two are going to sleep with me and Grunhilda tonight. Emphasis on sleeping.”

She pointed the way with a talon, and he walked with them. Grunhilda was more curious about little Giza who seemed to have relaxed with his chest’s warmth and Gilda walked next to him, on the other side. “What is it with you and these horny hens?”

“It’s not like I’m doing anything!” He promptly defended himself. “I don’t even know what the drama is…”

She bopped him on the head with a wing. “Didn’t you hear, you dummy? Your mom isn’t around and if I let you stick your wiener inside one of these airheads, we’re gonna get a cub neither of you numbskulls are ready to take care of. That is the point of the Gathering Storm. A controlled environment to make sure you horny kids know what you’re doing. You’re not a random griffon with pieces of different lines here and there. You have to protect your bloodline.”

Or something. Bloodlines were important to them. Thanks to that she could use magic. As long as the nobles didn’t harass the Saddani, like Gia did to the poor huntsgriffon in Wayfarer’s Rest, she was cool with it.

Actually, the most important thing was that Gilda could lord over them, but she left that out of the conversation too.

He didn’t like what he heard, but he didn’t have an argument against it either, so he shut his beak and followed Gilda and Grunhilda against the wind and the irritating snow. It grew thicker by the minute. Fortunately, the blizzard hadn’t become quite so strong yet to make navigation difficult. They could clearly see the light from oil lamps inside the tents and with the sentries by the groups of tents. It also didn’t seem strong enough to rip the tents from their mooring under the snow.

A short and uneventful walk took the three to the cluster of shelters Gilda had come to know as ‘The Leadership’. The remains of a campfire, replaced by a couple of oil lamps and a magical heater stood in the middle of the tents and there, under blankets and capes sat one of the Gunner dudes and one of Gosalynn’s Sky Sentries.

Oh. That’s right. She had told Gertha to recruit one of the ex-soldiers to help her keep watch over the ‘annoying tent’. For fuck’s sake… Gilda only hoped one pair of combatants wouldn’t make a difference if the storm happened to hide something more sinister than cold and snow.

The pair of griffons greeted her, Gunner being the warmest, but Gilda knew the Sky Sentry didn’t mean ill with his reservedness. He even raised a bowl for her to see, covered with something made of meshed fibers like a cover. It seemed to do a decent job of protecting the food in the metallic bowl.

“It’s probably gone cold, but we saved your portions and there should be enough for the kids too.” He gave her a warm smile from under all his protection against the cold and Gilda grinned heartly at the weight it exerted on her paw. “The cubs made it! The northerner kids have been teaching the southerners how to hunt and how to prepare food here in the north.”

The cold didn’t damper his enthusiasm in the least and even made Gilda excited to try the food.

“It’s a little cold, but the trick is to use the magical heater.” The Sky Sentry added with his more reserved tone. “It’s mostly waterfowl cuts roasted with seasoning oils and herbs. It’s very simple and very easy to make, but it is very popular and it’s often one of the first dishes cubs learn. Both noble and commoner.”

“Thanks a lot, guys.” Gilda gave Grunhilda the plate to carry it inside and nodded at her to take Godwin and his baby sister inside before she held her cape of white feathers closed. “Do you guys think there’s any chance anyone is gonna attack us in the middle of this?”

“I wouldn’t worry about brigands or anything of the sort, ma’am.” Gunner shouted, barely visible or audible under the blizzard and all his protection. “But it’s not griffons or ponies that worry me after the stories about the Astrani mine.”

Gilda didn’t have to see the Sky Sentry nod nor hear him agreeing to understand Gunner’s point. She just didn’t know what she should be afraid of. But he fixed that in a hurry. “There are all sorts of nasty creatures which come out in this weather, Lady Gilda. Frostmites will steal your warmth in your sleep, wicked undead spirits turned into vampires after your body heat. The magical heaters might attract those. Frostwings… Ah… Fortunately not draugar or frostmanes though, as they usually stay near ruins and battlefields. Probably no dragons or most beasts. Could be snowolves, however. They like to hunt in this environment. Frostmites are most dangerous, though.”

Great… Her mind promptly pictured a giant frozen mite stuck to her neck while she slept. Just great. She knew mites didn’t work like that, but she couldn’t help imagining a bloated giant insect that did bite, just because.

Fucking Windigos.

“Most monsters…” The northerner explained further because of the half-panicked, half-disheartened expression Gilda put forward. “Bring their masters’ twisted magic with the storm. It usually makes adults anxious, and cubs become restless. Doesn’t seem to be the case. But we need to keep watch, because you never know what could be lurking outside the campfire’s light.”

“So, yeah…” Gunner concluded. “Here we are, and you can rest, ma’am.”

She smiled at them. “Thanks, guys. Don’t hesitate to call if anything feels weird.”

Finally, Gilda turned to her tent and entered. Grunhilda quickly tied the flaps closed for her. They had a cramped night ahead of them, and nothing would happen between her and Grunhilda. But at least she could make sure Godwin wouldn’t be doing anything stupid. She didn’t know why she even cared, but Grunhilda had figured to put their food over the magical heater and the thing smelled marvelous. Worries washed away and her stomach grumbled.

The Harpy Made me Do it, pt I

If a single color could represent the cold, it had to be the white. Surely, fedora-wearing ponies, with their hooves covered in rainbow smudges, might disagree. Hailing from the art schools in Canterlot, they might huff and say such honor belongs to the blue. They could neigh the purple, or the green best represent the cold. Obviously, ponies and their harsh, obtuse colors would understand them better than griffons, who demonstrably could see more colors. Obviously…

In truth, most griffons didn’t care for art, much less theory of colors. Nonetheless, Gilda would grab those hypothetical ponies by the mane because theory didn’t matter. She would shove their collective, hypothetical face into the snow and politely ask them to reconsider. White best represented cold because she said so. Snow Mountains taught such lessons for free. No need for moving to Canterlot or suffering stuffy unicorns.

‘But white is the color of purity!’, they might neigh insistently.

Gilda would shove their face on The Harpy’s belly, and if they survived, she would ask them to amend. Because only a completely evil, morally bankrupt creature, devoid of sympathy or any semblance of kindness could conjure up so much snow in one stormy night.

Windigos, something, something; Old Unicorn Kings whatever… Gilda didn’t care. Digging through snow in the unholy chill of the dark before morning precluded any conversation about the morality (or lack thereof) of such cold. The abhorrent amount of snow just added insult to injury.

Maybe she had surrendered to bad mood, but she should not have told Grunhilda ‘it’s alright’. Nor told Godwin he didn’t have to help either. All because she wanted to be nice.

The conclusion? Being nice sucked.

Instead, she should show her strength and her mettle. These sounded as the way of The Harpy. Griffons respected strength much more than kindness and would flock under the wings of such a griffon willing to protect them. Although, ‘protect’ also carried the wrong connotation. More like ‘guard and assist under expectation of loyalty’. Much more griffon-y. Supposedly something like the liege and vassal system between The Lion, the Northerner Lords and Ladies, and the griffons who lived under them.

No matter how Gilda tried to reframe the situation, she still had to dig through the cold snow. Trying to pretend her paws didn’t threaten to freeze and fall off. Only because she wanted to look tough. If only snow wasn’t so wet…

Once she dug her way out of the tent, she paw-shoveled the snow out. Finally, she hopped out of the way to puff out her chest and declare her victory against the snow. With a huge smile and doing her best not to clatter her beak at the cold. Her nasal speech didn’t help, though. “There you go guys. You can come out now!”

“Thank you, Miss Gilda!” Godwin climbed his way out first, wearing his black wolfskin cape. He held his little sister wrapped in a small, fluffy blanket against his chest.

Grunhilda came out naked as the day she was born, hopping out of the trench, flaring her wings and shaking her ‘mane’ of fluffy feathers. She gave a little hop and smiled radiantly, drawing a lungful of air, and sighing contently. “Oh, it is so refreshing to be out in the open!”

Why did she just not feel cold? Stupid northerner blood. Even after Gilda had started to build some resistance, Grunhilda could dip into a frozen lake and enjoy.

After a second of Gilda staring daggers at her, Grunhilda innocently offered her the white cape and red scarf. Truth be told, she should have been wearing the things before she came out, but she didn’t want the snow to ruin her awesome cape. The pristine fluffy snow stayed at the top layer. Beneath, the mud had become frozen, muddy filth. Her new and awesome cape of white feathers didn’t deserve such a fate.

Their campfire sat above a platform of split logs and the guards for the final shift, a pair of northerner caravanners, greeted them from the fire. Each sat on a ‘general purpose’ leather sheet and wore heavy fur cloaks, mostly tolerating the cold. The female waved a gray-green paw and cawed a greeting while her male companion adjusted the pot with the spiced wine by the fire. The smell rising from it carried more spice than alcohol, which meant it was ready for consumption.

Gilda enjoyed her supposed subordinates not getting stuffy around her and approached with her companions to accept a mug with the hot and spicy beverage. The smell of wine, star anise and peppercorns burned through her clogged nares like it melted away the cold.

“How did things go during the night?” She smiled and breathed with sweet relief before a sip.

“No problems at all. Nothing more than the wind and the snow. It just cleared, which is why the Sky Sentries sounded the horn. We are actually a little late.” The greenish female chirped with a good mood explained by her mug of spiced wine. “We should get moving again soon.”

The male offered her a plate with hot roasted white meat and smiled at little Giza following the plate around with her eyes. “Leftover from dinner.”

“Best breakfasts ever.” Gilda chuckled and gave the plate to Grunhilda who passed it around to Godwin too. Giza gobbled up all she could grab when the plate came near her.

“Master Gillian, if he knows what he is doing, is going to push the caravan today.” The male sentry told them. “Getting food on your stomach will make it easier.”

Grunhilda made no hassle about plucking further pieces of food with her talons and Gilda followed. A bit dry, but better than most of the things she’d normally eat. It even made the seasoning stronger. That said, while Godwin fed Giza another piece, she grabbed one for herself and looked at it. Griffonstone no longer meant normal. Gilda didn’t know if she could consider herself an inhabitant griffon of the north, but she sure felt like one. She even came to enjoy the trip.

Maybe fighting off the Windigos and the draugar could be enough of a rite of passage. She chuckled, firmly holding the mug, and drinking from it. She still had to become ominous and edgy, but at least she had the ‘liking alcohol’ part down.

As her eyes moved to Grunhilda’s rump while she helped Godwin nest Giza next to the fire with her blanket, she figured she probably had the ‘horny’ part figured out too.

Other spots of uncertain light told her griffons started getting out of their tents and the commotion said some of them needed help. With the amount of snow blocking their tent, it didn’t surprise her. But other griffons would take care of helping them, even if the sounds of freaking out griffons could be funny. She turned her attention to the approaching green, lithe-bodied griffoness with big and expressive turquoise eyes. Gilda recognized her as Garnet’s ‘assistant’ from yesterday.

While too late to look away and pretend she hadn’t seen the small queen, Gilda did try to ‘hide’ behind her mug of hot spiced wine, but to no avail.

“Hi! Good…. Early morning… Lady Gilda!” She wore a deep blue cape with white fox skin around the edges. She kicked it with a hindleg, sitting next to Gilda.

“I meant it when I said I was going to nail a griffon to a cross if they bothered me about Garnet or Geldar again…” Gilda grumbled with an unfriendly glare, but the young queen didn’t let it discourage her.

“Well, good thing I’m not here to talk about them!” She giggled, producing a small book and a pencil from under her wing and cape.

Gilda’s surprised eyes blinked a couple of times after she put down the mug. “You’re not? I thought you supported her.”

“Yeah. I actually was her secretary.” Emphasis on ‘was’, she grinned at Gilda with her cute, short beak.

“Okay…” Fair enough, but Gilda’s eyebrow raised as much as her curiosity. “What do I care?”

“Look, I’m a very young, smart, resourceful, and cute griffon girl.” The other declared putting a paw on her chest under the cape and raising her beak like she was a work of art. “I am the ideal secretary!”

“I don’t need a secretary…” Gilda Grumbled.

“Of course you do!” She didn’t let Gilda’s bad disposition bother her and explained, despite the unfriendly glare of a griffoness trying to drink her morning beverage in peace. “Once this enterprise is over you will be ready to settle down somewhere. Anywhere you go, a griffon who knows how to deal with money, suppliers and service providers will be invaluable!”

“Not interested.” Gilda told her curtly. If her words didn’t convey her annoyance, her eyes should clearly spell ‘Piss off.’

“Look…” The younger griffoness grinned a little more and spoke a little faster. “Grunhilda is big and intimidates enemies. I’m cute and intimidate numbers… I can do all the maths and the organization stuff for you!”

She started counting on her fingers, which didn’t help the case of a griffon selling her math skills. “All I need is a place to live, some food and some adequate comforts due to my station. Maybe a salary could be arranged?”

“Did you fight with Garnet or something?” Obviously, she had a falling out, or something with Garnet. Truly a cute and most likely competent assistant, something Gilda likely would need eventually. She actually even had cuteness on her side. But cuteness being the concern, both Grunhilda and Gia covered it. Dealing with numbers… Gilda surely could make Gia take care of it. All of that aside, she probably would be useful. Gilda just didn’t know how yet.

The cute queen chuckled, more nervous by the second. “Let’s say Garnet is not the best boss ever.”

“I mean…” Gilda rolled her eyes and put down her mug. “You cited a lot of good qualities; you just didn’t mention you’re not very loyal.”

“Oh…” Man… Her enthusiasm died faster than northerners could eat a caribou. She finally stopped grinning like a used wagon salesgriffon and started fidgeting with her fingers like a damn griffon in trouble. “Hum… I don’t know what to say.”

Deep inside, way at the back of her head, a small Princess Celestia wagged her hoof and told Gilda to be nicer to a griffon in need, as she had once found herself. Gilda metaphorically squashed her and let the being-the-boss-ness wash over her. Like getting soaked in berry mead.

“Yeah…” Gilda finally spoke again, raising her eyes from the mug. “We’ll think about perks after you’ve shown what you can do for me.”

“Oh! Thank you, Lady Gilda!” The young queen hopped in place a few times while Gilda quickly thought of something for her to do so she would get out of her face.

“For now, go talk to Mister Gillian. Figure out how much money I actually have. We left Thunderpeak with some fifteen thousand Eagles.” Gilda took another sip from her very northerner hot morning beverage. She probably had the figure wrong because of Gilda’s armor and stuff, but whatever. She just wanted to give the annoying bird something to do.

“Right away, ma’am’! Will there be anything else?” The griffon girl practically vibrated with excitement.

“Yeah, you haven’t told me your name, you dork.” She deadpanned at the lithe queen and her sheepish, embarrassed grin.

“Oh! I’m Gisele! Gisele of Girdershade!” And then she just stayed there, grinning at Gilda like an idiot.

Huh. Girdershade. If Gilda remembered correctly, it happened to be a small city in the middle of nowhere. It owed its existence to private initiative wanting to get supplies to the newfangled factories in Fernland. They practically gathered a bunch of griffons from small settlements and stuffed them in a planned city. They would support most of the railway construction and infrastructure from Thunderpeak and Beachhome to Fernland Hold.

The idea was to take the northerner iron and imported coke to the hungry steel forges in Fernland. The coke would come from the giant port on Beachhome on the Strait of Dove, across from Hippogriffia. Such would be the south leg of the railway while the other would go north to Thunderpeak, both meeting in Girdershade. Iron and coke, and whatever else, would be stored there and hauled east to Fernland. The steel would come the opposite way and get distributed from either end. Some would even be sold to the Equestrian Heartland and Hippogriffia. It should significantly improve Griffonia’s gross domestic product, which Gilda knew basically as how much money a country had in the form of generated goods accessible to the market. The newspapers did teach griffons something occasionally, mostly due to an information campaign from the government. They wanted griffons to know they were helping, especially during elections.

Gisele did have a curious accent which sounded like the northerner one, as Gidershadians hailed from less developed regions of Griffonia which still spoke Griffonese. Before Princess Twilight Sparkle came up with her law for early language tutoring, that is. Unless Gilda was mistaken, as soon as the Griffonian government authorized the construction of the city, they started campaigns to get griffons out of their hovels and into the planned communities of their ‘city of the future’.

She had never been there but knew it to basically be a mini-Manehattan. The Royal House swooped in like a hawk. Celestia made it rain money and the new city gained schools, a high school, a ‘technical school’ which supposedly offered professionalization classes to get griffons employed in relevant jobs. It even got a hospital and a giant train station for both freight and passengers with capacity to move enormous amounts of cargo and workers where they needed to be. Even a university was planned at some point.

On paper, it sounded great. The railway would reach further north to Stormvalley from Thunderpeak. Gilda had no idea where it was, but during the time, she knew it as the place the northerners concentrated all the iron they extracted at industrial scale. The news became inundated with the drama for months, until it all collapsed when the northerner governor told the Chancellor and the private enterprises to take a hike. If they wanted iron, they would have to take what Snow Mountains would give them through the caravans.

Why? Because the northerner weaponsmiths needed the iron to make their weapons so they could fight the monsters. Monsters which nobody else even believed existed at the time. Gilda even remembered some noble northerner lady explaining to the newspapers the monsters roaming Snow Mountains would destroy the railway and they couldn’t guarantee the workers’ safety. Add to that nobody even knew stuff like ‘astrani steel’ existed. As far as the southerners were concerned, to present day, the Astrani were not even a legend. Just some made up bullshit the northerners invented.

The Tribunal of the Ignorant Masses concluded the northerner governor must have some ulterior motive. Which Gilda now knew he technically did, but that was beside the point since the northerners were right. The monsters would wreak havoc on the railway.

At the time the Griffonian Chancellor was a smarmy dude with a penchant for saying he knew nothing of the corruption in his government. Always investigating, never doing anything, much less admitting problems existed. At least he didn’t accuse his opponents like Gail did. Ironically, this project’s failure was one of the reasons Gail even got elected.

Without a direct connection to Stormvalley the iron shipments just didn’t arrive fast enough. Come to think of it, the northerners might even be hoarding their iron well before anyone noticed. It probably was what made authorities wake up to the fact something was up. It was also around the same time Princess Twilight Sparkle came up with her Early Language Tutoring Act, or whatever she called it. It ought to expedite access to schools and higher education to young creatures through free Common Equestrian tutoring. Since most of the educated world spoke Common Equestrian.

Gilda could even imagine Madam Gelinda vociferously accusing the Pony Princess of attacking their northerner culture and the Chancellor of trying to gobble up their iron. The stupid Griffonian government failed to understand the cultural relevance of the iron to the northerners and how important their language was to their cultural identity. They started pointing fingers and everything started to collapse. Which brought up something curious. Celestia should have seen this coming from miles away, if she had believed King Grover that The Harpy was real.

Gilda almost chuckled at the image of a distraught Twilight Sparkle opening the newspaper to a photo of herself and a vociferous speech from Lady Gwendolen accusing her of assaulting the northerners and their culture. If one well-intentioned creature existed, it happened to be Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Miss Secretary Bird here was a prime example of Girdershadians and the fallout from that project after it went up in flames. When it became obvious the thing was a pipe dream never to realize, griffons would leave Girdershade as soon as they could. They settled for better paying jobs in the major cities as soon as the private interest died. The Griffonian government shrugged and forgot about the railway, the promises made to factory owners in Fernland, and Girdershade. Fernland still suffered greatly because of all the invested money which disappeared. With the present crisis, it became worse, as the Northerners stopped ferrying the iron altogether and Queen Novo closed the gates of Hippogriffia. The only other way for ships to reach Beachhome was through the magical storm that was the Maelstrom. Fat chance of that happening and insurance companies probably laughed at anyone with that idea.

The public blamed the Griffonian government and its greed. They had found and facilitated another way Griffonia would get choked by another nation while the Chancellor shoved their money under his tail. They believed the northerners were a bunch of backwards barbarians, and that the Equestrian Federation showed signs of getting old and tired. Outside, creatures thought griffons themselves were the problem.

Maybe the problem really was the Equestrian Federation… Everyone assumed everyone would be nice and griffons just didn’t work like that. Gilda imagined Canterlot kept funding the hospital and schools though. Girdershade, at the least, maintained the finished stretch of the railway and got griffons an education. It would have worked if griffons were ponies and would just stick around for the sake of the community. Or if it was full of northerner griffons and their sense of duty. Ironically.

The result was griffons like Gisele. Educated birds with no place to work in their hometown. Although, Gilda imagined they would happily work for Gilad once he took over Griffonia and things started running again. Heck, Gilda could even imagine Lady Gwendolen with a huge smile opening the Great Transgriffonian Railway, or something.

Gilda smiled and rubbed her chin. Almost as though someone had planned it all along and the suckers had all played into her elegant black paw. It was nothing new, but she liked whenever she noticed The Harpy’s black paws pulling strings.

“Well, get to it…” Back to the present, Gilda told Gisele, still there looking at her. With a wince, the young griffoness turned on her tail and galloped on the still dark snow. Gilda smiled serenely and took another sip from her spiced wine. Being the boss felt awesome.

Anyway, once done with her drink and with the meat nicely seated in her stomach, she stood and rinsed the fat off her paws with the snow. Grunhilda sat next to her, pecking at the food, not doing anything particularly useful. “Hey, Big Girl, Godwin.”

Both immediately straightened with a good and clear ‘Yes ma’am!’. Godwin let out an annoyed sigh when he realized he had done it, but Gilda decided against picking on him. “I want both of you ready to go as soon as the caravan is prepared to move. Make sure everything is packed before that. I’ll go check on our roc. Get everything ready to go before I’m back.”

Gillian and Gosalynn had ordered griffons be up and ready before sunrise the night after they left Wayfarer’s Rest. The caravan had listened. Most had even eaten their breakfast rations, and some had done most of the job to get their stuff packed. They liked the idea of moving as soon as possible, getting the caravan back on its way again. Gilda sure did. The snow got in the way, though. The process didn’t go as fast as it could, but Gilda supposed a few minutes, or even an hour wouldn’t break their schedule.

She rolled her eyes with an annoyed groan. As if the roc attack hadn’t already messed up their schedule. And speaking of rocs, she found a lot of activity on the detached camp with the hunters and the roc.

Several torches on stakes and a campfire offered sufficient light and a reassuring warmth. Griffons, as expected, busied themselves with getting things ready for leaving, but the northerners worked fast. Just as she arrived, they finished pulling a tarp, heavy with snow, from over the cage and some of them took it aside. Others washed the food utensils or just preened themselves. They greeted Gilda as she passed them, in the typical restrained northerner way, but noticeably warmer than the first time.

The old, dark-gray and silver-speckled hunter leader and his similar daughter, plus the blue and white tom Gilda assumed to be her mate had gathered next to the roc. She had a large wooden plate with freshly cut meat cubes about the size of Gilda’s fist. The queen offered him one of the juicy and red pieces with a large tong when Gilda saw them.

Judging by her sad frown and the other two watching, the feeding didn’t go very well, so Gilda hurried her step. The young male greeted her with a fraction of their enthusiasm from the previous day. “Good morning, Lady Gilda.”

The roc barely moved. His back rose and fell with his quickened breathing, and he had surprisingly expressive eyes for a large bird. Gilda could read his apathetic frown as if it was on a griffon’s face. He had plenty of space to move, but remained laid on his belly, with his legs under him. His fluffy plumage remained flat against the floor and his head just rested on it too. Absolutely no light in his eyes, and nothing seemed to catch his attention. Except when the queen offered him the meat again and he turned his beak away.

“He doesn’t want to eat…” The queen turned to Gilda with her wings sagging sadly from her sides, under her blue cape.

“Is he sick?” Her mate looked at the older griffon who shrugged his paws up. “I mean… His parents probably didn’t take good care of him.”

“Likely has pneumonia.” The older griffon gestured to the roc. “Just look at him, breathing so fast. Nobody with their lungs full of nastiness wants to eat.”

“He has to eat.” The queen insisted with a frown and the bird, again turned away from the food. “He won’t get better if he won’t eat!”

“Did you call Lady Gia? Or Madam Gelinda?” Gilda asked as she sat, staring at the others and the roc.

“We called for either of them.” Her mate told Gilda. “But they’re likely too busy with the injured griffons.”

Gilda scratched her head and gave herself an unsure hum. Her mom would probably know what to do. She always took good care of Gilda’s pets. Maybe The Harpy would know what to do, given griffons were half-bird anyway. The hunters, the griffons who understood the wild animals were at a loss, so, what could Gilda do? Maybe summon up some old memory? But unfortunately, none came to her.

Well, Gilda knew those things were kinda intelligent. Intelligent enough they would mourn a dead partner and take care of their infants. Unless the feathering Windigos messed with them, of course.

It might sound silly, but after a moment of thought Gilda knew what was wrong with the little roc. His parents started ignoring him, changed into monsters, and then a bunch of griffon assholes killed them and put him in a cage. On top of not being able to breathe right.

She sighed, hopped onto the split log platform, and sat next to him. It was a little damp. The griffons probably had scrapped the snow off it, but it didn’t bother her anyway.

“Hey, little guy.” She managed to get his attention, at the least. His eye aimed at her, even if he remained slumped against his cage’s floor. The yellow and black eyes of a sight predator, very black in the dark certainly held intelligence behind the sadness it showed. “It sucks, huh?”

He let out a deep sigh and his eyes lost themselves in the infinite dark of the night again. Did he understand her? Maybe, maybe not. But she had talked to pets before.

“Listen, I’m sorry about your parents… But they attacked us. They took one of us away. I think they meant for you to eat, but I suppose you were too scared, weren’t you?” She came closer to the wooden structure, letting her weight on it. The big bird focused back on her.

“Yeah… They were suffering… It’s not ideal, but there was no way to help them. We had to kill them, and now the Windigos can’t fuck with them anymore.” She scratched her head and made a pensive frown, turning to the others. “Uh… Is it okay to say ‘fuck’ in front of the kids in the north?”

The queen shrugged, her father raised a silvery eyebrow, and her mate put up his paws while the infant roc looked at one and the other. “It’s a big bird…”

Truth be told, it probably was the same for griffons too. Some lost their mother when they were too young and too stupid to understand that she did her best to give them a decent education. Others were just so unlucky their parents died when they were too young to take care of themselves or even understand.

Did the adult rocs understand what they were doing? Judging by the way the undead Swordmaiden seemed to suffer, she was aware of the tragedy that had befallen her. Gilda could imagine the confused, maybe even innocent, although clever birds distraught they didn’t know how to take care of their infant anymore. All their instincts turned to an alien evil that wasn’t their own.

She closed her eyes and let out a huff of steam from her nares before she allowed her newfound hatred for the Windigos to show.

“Anyway.” Gilda resumed and petted the roc on his head. “My point is that you’re alive and you have to let us take care of you… I mean… I think it’s what your parents would have wanted. They certainly wouldn’t have wanted you to stay in the cold and die. They’d wanted you to make the best you can with what you got. It’s kinda like what griffons do too.”

The roc inhaled deeply and let out a sad chirp to which she petted his head again. “We’ll all be alright… Just take care of yourself, okay?”

She hopped off the structure as the northerner huntress queen offered one of the meaty chunks to the infant again. This time he plucked it out of the tong and swallowed it whole. The huntress chirped happily and offered him more. That was what a happy griffon sounded like. Sometimes they just went full bird so happy they were.

Turning and sitting to watch, Gilda noticed Gia and Madam Gelinda standing next to her.

“Did I just witness you having a heart-to-heart with a wild animal?” Gia asked with sarcastic disbelief.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Gilda shrugged and Madam Gelinda chuckled while the younger loremaster dispassionately dropped a heavy sack on the snow. Stuff like a hose and a manual meat grinder spilled out.

“His chances of surviving improved significantly.” Gelinda smiled. “Good job Gilda.”

“How did the night go?” The tan griffoness asked the loremaster without turning, watching while the huntress happily fed the roc another chunk of meat.

“Gobby, the griffon you rescued from the rocs, had some fever because of the blood transfusion.” Gilda turned to her, expecting some terrible news, but fortunately it wasn’t so bad. “He will be alright. He’s medicated and just needs a long rest and someone to take care of him. I hope you understand he would be dead if not for you giving him the healing potion.”

“Yeah. No regrets there.” Gilda turned to her. “But I’m not looking for another thrall.”

Her words made Gelinda chuckle and shake her head. “Don’t worry. He’s already been ‘adopted’ by one of our volunteers. She said she’ll be taking care of him until he recovers. It should only take a few days.”

Gilda closed her eyes as though in physical pain and groaned. “I created a monster saying that queen could take a male into her tent, didn’t I?”

“Congratulations, Gilda.” Gelinda chuckled again with mocking enthusiasm. “You are now officially influential.”

In response, Gilda pressed her fingers on her forehead and groaned again. “What do northerners take for headaches?”

Gia grinned and raised a finger. “I’ll get you some herbal tea!”

Gilda doubted a simple tea would be enough, but she supposed the thought counted. She simply sat on the snow, still in the dim light, watching the two loremasters leaving her.

From there things happened without her intervention. The roc, who still needed a name, ate the whole portion of meat the hunters had prepared for him, and griffons woke out of their inertia. They left before the pony princesses decided to move the heavens around.

Some discussion arose among the hunters and the Sky Sentries about how best to move the cage with the infant roc. Despite being invited into the conversation, Gilda concluded they knew more than she did and kept her beak shut. The hunters decided he was not ready to be let loose and would try to escape. Someone suggested lifting the cage off the ground and carrying it around, but Gosalynn shot down the idea. It should be alright as they had planned to replace the rails eventually anyway.

Sooner, rather than later, griffons decided to depart when the conversation ended. Smoothly on schedule. For the day, at least. The huge oxen traversed the snow with awkward steps and progress happened slowly. In stretches where the snow had become too deep, without the same cloudwalking magic of griffons, they mostly powered through like the strong beasts they were. The handlers and volunteers helped with shovels and picks, cycling around the tired oxen for the fresh ones that came after. Intelligent creatures they were, the oxen understood and put all their strength on the task. Progress slowed but remained constant.

Some southerner tom suggested snowplows, but the ‘leadership’ decided the idea, although good, would be stashed for the next time they needed it.

The injured griffons surprised Gilda, mostly walking on their own. Some of them even returned to their duties on the caravan. The ones who couldn’t, earned themselves a spot on a couple of empty carts made more comfortable with some furs and leathers used for tent flooring. It dawned on Gilda the supplies started running thin and they ought to hurry to Frozenlake.

Gertha and Gil sat by Guille on one of the carts. Bored out of his mind, but unable to sleep because the two talked non-stop, he stared lifelessly into the sky. Gilda worried a little at not seeing Godwin, Giza or Georgia again, but convinced herself they were fine.

Once satisfied the caravan wouldn’t spontaneously combust, Gilda hurried after the first cart and hopped aboard, followed by Grunhilda. It got cramped, but cramped could also be cozy, and nobody complained. In the meantime, Gia joined them, bringing Gilda a tea smelling of mint, chamomile, and lavender.

The cart next to theirs had a couple of convalescing griffons, including Gobby, carefully put on a wool bed and covered with an animal skin. Next to him sat a young and kind of frail northerner queen. Maybe she was simply young, with her pristine aquamarine pelt and white plumage. She had a cute smile while she adjusted the fur blanket over Gobby and tucked it under his wool bed. Asleep, he didn’t see any of it, but surely would appreciate it.

All still under the light from the torches attached to the carts or carried by the sentries, but things seemed to be proceeding smoothly. Even the cubs had already started running around and playing. It seemed as though morning was a bit late, but nobody seemed to notice except for Gilda.

Not really caring, she took another sip of her tea. Surprisingly, the thing worked so well Gilda’s already improving mood soared when she noticed the headache disappeared by the time morning did arrive. “Hey! This actually worked!”

Gia giggled, sitting next to her. “What if I told you the pony healing potion is basically grape juice, sugar, and a lot of magic?”

Gilda looked at her tea. Well, magical armor was basically steel and magic anyway. “Yeah… Makes sense. We put magic into the stuff we do, don’t we?”

“Anyone can make a tea with water, ginger, lavender, and chamomile. With some honey and a pinch of griffon natural magic. Loremasters are just better at it.” Gia proudly put a paw on her chest and smiled. “Sure, the pony potion may be more potent, but our medicines are enough for us. Especially when we are on lands under The Harpy’s protection.”

“I thought you didn’t believe that.” Gilda blinked and almost laughed when Gia’s expression turned around to her usual ‘don’t care’ deadpan.

“It’s what Lady Gwendolen says, anyway.” She shut down the conversation with a noncommittal grumble.

Gilda finished the tea in a long sip before putting away the mug. Some moments of relative silence under the noise of the caravan passed until Gilda spoke again. “Do you think there is a Loremaster that could make a healing tea so powerful?”

“Probably. Her name is Gehenna.” Gia made herself comfortable against the back of the cart and a leather sheet hanging from it. “She’s Lady Gwendolen’s sort of second in command. I hear she’s got the creepier and scarier Loremaster powers… Like… She can make you do things without even realizing she’s telling you to.”

Sounded useful. Morally reprehensible, but useful.

Since Gia seemed to have tired of talking, Gilda turned her attention to Grunhilda and her book. Big Girl just lost herself on it and Gilda decided to sit there and chill, watching the hills scroll by.

The Harpy Made Me Do It, pt II

Just as Gilda started getting used to the cart’s creaking and wobbling, one of the ponies did something stupid. The blue thestral came out of the woods, half-running, half-sneaking. Trying to make herself small, almost crawling on the snow. Ears pulled back and squinty eyes like she played spy, one hoof after the other. But she was a blue pony in the middle of the snow, for feather’s sake. It was way too early in the morning for such ‘ponyness’.

“Hey, hoofed moron, I can see you!” Gilda stood on her hindlegs, with a paw on the cart’s railing. The pony squeaked and stood still, one hoof raised off the snow, which Gilda found funny. But she was angry. The griffons in the caravan just walked around her with the most with annoyed frowns and angry glares. “The whole caravan can see you!”

“What are you up to?!” Gilda too glared at her, holding tightly on the railing. As if she needed more reasons to be wary of the damn ponies. As if she needed more trouble in her caravan. “What were you doing in the woods?”

“I had to go to the bathroom!” Moonbow hummed insecurely and whined with a little frown, standing back up. “It’s not like I can control it!”

“You should have taken care of it while we were still camped.” Gia reprimanded her too, next to Gilda, also grabbing the railing. “How old are you? Five?!”

“Geez! Sorry!” The pony changed. She growled and pulled her ears back, also rolling her eyes. “I’ll just go back to Lost Temple if it is alright!”

“I mean it, you dweeb! The sentries are not gonna think twice before shooting at something in the wild!” Gilda shot back and pointed at the other pony, walking further down the line, pretending he didn’t hear anything. “Now, please don’t do anything stupid. I need both of you alive!”

“Fine!” The thestral flapped her velvety wings and turned, whipping her tail with a parting shot. “I’m going!”

“You better!” Gilda yelled at the pony before sitting on the cart again, holding on to her righteous anger with a grimace. “Stupid grassbreath…”

She wasn’t sure what had Gia laughing, but Gilda decided to let it go. She rested her back against her place on the side railing. Gil and Gertha didn’t bother with the pony and kept talking about so many random subjects she lost track of what the conversation was about.

After a while, her green loremaster friend lost herself in her own thoughts while Godwin and his sister walked next to the cart. They took turns carrying Giza or letting her play with the younger cubs running around. Grunhilda laid on her belly and immersed herself in her blacksmithing book again.

As the morning matured, traveling the snow seemed to become easier. The oxen had an easier time negotiating the snow and they picked up some speed. The cold didn’t abate though, and the wind made it worse. Nothing happened across the morning and Gilda rolled her eyes… Funny how once everyone started walking and wouldn’t pay attention to your drama, nobody created any drama.

Closer to midday, the temperature dropped as snow started to fall. A passing thought crossed Gilda’s mind about how the weather behaved differently from the heavily pony-curated weather. It barely seemed to impact the oxen and their powerful strides. The large beasts maintained their pace, completely disregarding their long hair flailing with the wind. The only real change was that chiller air caused griffons to dress up with crocheted cotton shirts and bean-hats. Those amused the northerners and their hooded cloaks to no end, but they worked, so nobody complained.

Except for Madam Gelinda, who Gilda could hear somewhere down the line, yelling at some parents for ‘overdressing’ their cubs. Meanwhile the cubs themselves and older kids had organized their own caravan, complete with their own flag cut from someone’s blue dress and a drawing of a childishly distorted chicken’s head.

“I think it’s supposed to be you…” Gia watched them next to Gilda. “At least they didn’t pick a red piece of cloth…”

“You’re just angry it’s Gilda and not you.” Gil pouted at her, and Gilda didn’t care. She just liked seeing the kids having fun.

Their own flag flew above their cart. Gil had tied it to the supporting stake on a corner and its pole high. The flag made some noise in the wind, but not enough to bother. Gilda had started to like the dumb thing. It was her caravan’s flag, after all.

The cute rose pearlescent queen from last night walked among the older ‘kids’ with Godwin and his sisters. Two of them pampered Giza with all sorts of happy, chirping praise that made the small chick hop around and flap her little blue wings. The others talked to Georgia or Godwin. Gilda wasn’t sure they thought Giza adorable, which she was, or if they were trying to get Godwin to notice them. Maybe they were genuine because the toms liked talking to Giza too. If anything, it seemed the northerner kids held Godwin and Georgia in high regard.

Maybe Gilda could learn a little more about the three siblings. Obviously, asking them would be a terrible idea, but maybe Lady Geena of Frozenlake could tell her about their parents. Regardless, thoughts about the Gathering Storm insistently poked at her mind, but she concluded it would be better to just wait. Frozenlake wasn’t that far away.

Assuming no more random monsters would attack them.

From Frozenlake, their next destination would be Brokenhorn. Gerdie had told her to beware of the city’s lord, one Griskjal. She had said he didn’t like the southerners, but it shouldn’t be a problem for Gilda. Maybe she would run into issues getting him to accept the southerners trailing after her? She would deal with it when she needed to. Most importantly, after Brokenhorn was Griffindell. Through what should be the hardest stretch of their trip. She would probably miss Madam Gelinda’s help. Maybe she should start worrying about that. Finding replacements, especially because Gosalynn would be going back to Wayfarer’s Rest.

The caravan was supposed to get smaller with each stop. That should help.

Another thing she should be minding was her own training. She could use magic, like spells. She should be trying to tap deeper into that. Even Madam Gelinda said she should. Maybe in Frozenlake she could find some help with that. Maybe Lady Geena?

A bunny hopped from a bush and distracted her. It caused a commotion among the cubs. Even the older ones rushed after it while some of the more cautious ones kept telling them to not run off too far from the caravan. But the caravan’s guards seemed unconcerned. If they wouldn’t worry, then Gilda wouldn’t worry either.

Lost in her thoughts, Gilda watched the mountains crawl into the distance and the wooded hills passing by. The trees became more and more sparse until they too were replaced by rolling hills with the mighty mountains beyond the white haze.

The dark clouds kept the day’s brightness under control and the snow didn’t bother as much as it could. Before she knew it, the morning passed into lunchtime and Master Gillian called for a quick stop for lunch.

First thing after touching the snow, Gilda winced at the biting cold. Following that, she and Grunhilda shared a quick meal with Gia and Geary. The others busied themselves with their duties and lunch was a quick affair for everyone.

‘Quick’ being the perfect description, the tents remained packed inside the carts, and they barely even stopped. Small groups of friends passed around the food while griffons chatted with little worries. Only the caravan workers even touched the packages on the carts. They opened the packages with salt-preserved meats and dried fruit to supplement their ongoing stock of fresh meat and foraged foods. Gilda supposed they didn’t want to waste time hunting and foraging. Someone offered a decent salad to the ponies too. Gilda saw several leaves, grains and even a couple of apples.

Sentries remained on duty and the whole caravan soon moved again. Apparently, the rocs’ attack and, maybe, Gilda’s display of not having patience to entertain bullshit got through to them. Nonetheless, everyone probably agreed that the sooner they reached the next stop, the better.

Frozenlake. It sounded obvious, like… It’s a city, and it sits next to a lake which is frozen. Did they fish? Was it possible to fish? Wasn’t the southerner army that got themselves ambushed taken there?

With the caravan moving again, she made sure all her close acquaintances and friends followed and hopped back onto the cart. Grunhilda dutifully followed, and things would have settled back to exactly as they were in the morning, except Guille looked much better.

“Hey, Guille.” Gilda smiled at him from her corner of the cart. “How are you feeling?”

Sitting against the other corner, next to Gertha and Gil like they were protecting him, he held a plate of roasted caribou liver strips. He gobbled one or two strips at a time, ravenous, despite conversing like a civilized griffon in between bouts of swallowing. “I’m not sure how I feel. But I sure feel better than last time I was awake.”

It was probably the lack of babbling griffons on top of him while he drifted in and out of consciousness, but Gilda withheld the thought. She merely let herself chuckle. “For sure.”

Grunhilda had laid on the cart to read her book again, with it between her forelegs. Gilda addressed him again, after letting him down some more strips. “Just tell us if you need anything, alright? I mean, you got hurt helping me.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me need anything, ma’am.” His eyes pointed at Gil and then at Gertha, but Gilda frowned at his words.

“Dude… I’ll skewer you myself next time you call me ‘ma’am’.” She concluded with a growl and the two queens giggled at the surprised expression he made. At least Gilda could say things went back to normal.

The afternoon progressed much as the morning, and they made quick progress again. Just as Gilda let a loud yawn into her paw, she noticed the day was drawing to its end. She had to admit to the beauty of the show the pony princesses put up, even behind the stormy skies. The sun waited, tinting the clouds, mountains, and hills in shades of orange, waiting for Celestia to stash it wherever it went when the day ended.

She giggled to herself with the obvious joke but wouldn’t stoop down to say it out loud.

Truth be told, she was just happy the day almost ended and the most drama she had to deal with was the thestral walking off. At least Lost Temple behaved himself. So much Gilda didn’t even see him for a while. Maybe she should check on him and make sure he wasn’t up to something ‘pony’. The thestral looked like she could put him up to something stupid.

Behind the mountains, after the sun finally hid and the moon replaced it, they kept going for a couple of hours more. Only then Mister Gillian finally called for a stop again.

Gilda hopped off the cart to stretch her wings and legs before she noticed her new secretary trotting towards her. She closed her eyes and groaned, stretching her neck too.

Gisele stopped next to her as Gilda sat. The upset frown and the notepad she held with her wing seemed troublesome. She started with a worried frown. “I have the report, Lady Gilda.”

“Yeah? Tell me.” She frowned when Gisele didn’t just say it outright, though.

“Well… You owe Lady Gwendolen about thirty thousand Eagles…” Gisele said it quickly, like it would hurt less.

Gilda stared at Gisele for a tense second. She had gone from a normal life to having nothing and fleeing from the law and the bandits. Then she had fifteen thousand Eagles, and somehow invested forty-five thousand Eagles in one single venture. It had to be a record, or something.

And then she had to pay Gertha, Guille, the two Gunner guys, Mister Gillian and all his employees if she wanted them to keep working for her. And she didn’t even consider Gisele’s salary.

Gilda let a chuckle escape. Maybe because of the absurdity of her situation. Out of danger, she could appreciate it fully. She had just walked into The Harpy’s black paw. The same which held all the Griffonian government suckers. And she danced on it like a doofus too. Except in her case, it was even worse. She could find a crass joke about fisting around there somewhere, but instead of saying it out loud, Gilda just laughed when she thought of repaying her debt.

“So, do you still want to work for me?” She managed between the breathless laughter. If she hadn’t stopped hearing The Harpy in the last days, She would be laughing too.

Gisele chuckled nervously, looking to the side, and flapping her wings before they kept moving anxiously on her sides. “Well… Most of the money has been invested on her behalf. Since it is in Lady Gwendolen’s interest the caravan makes it to Griffindell, right?”

“Yeah. Probably. Either that, or I’m going crazy.” Finally, Gilda sighed. “I knew it was a one-way trip to Griffindell… I’m not even sure I’m mad about my goddess owning my ass anyway… Seems more like a formality by now.”

“Uh… Excuse me?” Gisele winced.

“Never mind that.” Gilda gave her a dismissing wave of her paw. “Ah… I need you to keep track of this stuff. Once I start getting my money from Lady Gwendolen, we’ll see what opportunities show up. And, do tell the others about this.”

An eyebrow rose on Gilda’s pensive face. Maybe she could make bacon scones, or something. If she got Lady Gwendolen to taste and like one, she could sell it as The Harpy’s Scones… But that was far off into the future.

“Yeah…” She concluded. “Just keep tabs on that for now.”

Gisele didn’t seem particularly sure what to think, or even if she was happy about her recent life choices, but Gilda was satisfied and waved her off before she turned to look at Grunhilda. “I’ll be checking the camp. Get our tent up and fix us something for dinner. I’ll be back soon.”

Grunhilda, on the cart, sitting behind the railing and with her paws on it, made a frown with a concerned hum. “Can I help if I forge items and sell them?”

“Grunhilda… This…” Yes, it hit her chest like a hammer. But no. Gilda was not going to cry like a sappy pony. It was just something in her eye. “You don’t have to. The Harpy wanted me to take these griffons to her lands. She entrusted them to me, and Lady Gwendolen is going to pay for this stuff. All that’s going to happen is that I’ll owe her some money and I'll pay her back with my work… My being a Swordmaiden. It’s not that much.”

On another paw, Grunhilda probably could use the practice. Nobody got good at anything without practice, and even Gilda with her memories and such would need proper training. But not because she wanted to help pay a debt. Grunhilda should have her own money from her work.

Grunhilda frowned at her. “Thirty thousand sounds like a lot of anything…”

“You know what else is going to be a lot?” Gilda pointed a talon at her friend and then at the snowed ground. “All the smacks coming your way if you don’t get busy with what I told you to do!”

The white griffoness, with all her size and her big muscles, squeaked like a small, scared cub. She hopped off the cart and stumbled a few steps, hurrying to the cart with their tent. Gia climbed down the cart followed by Gil and Gertha, stopping to stare at Gilda. “You know, you’re not convincing anyone…”

“Shut it, princess.” Gilda told her with exactly zero worries. “Go see Madam Gelinda and see if she needs anything.”

Gia stopped for a second and Gilda could see the intention to nag at her. Like a spark in her eye. Similar to Godwin when Gelinda reminded him he was still a kid. But Gia rolled her eyes just as quickly and walked off, grumbling like an old griffon. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Gilda tossed her head and trotted on the snow towards the nearest group of tents. Either she had learned not to care about stuff, or her sanity really took a hit from Gisele’s report. Well, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it during the trip, anyway. She would figure it out.

Tired griffons had started settling in for the night again. They wore heavier capes and clothes than during the day, and some set up the tents while others prepared food. Mostly warmed-up leftovers of game and salted meat from lunch. They waved and smiled at her when she passed their groups of tents. Everything seemed under control.

The night sky was too dark to see, but she didn’t feel like they would get any snow for the night. Or any evil, corrupting magic, for that matter. Once again, all Gilda could feel was The Harpy’s mighty magic drifting in the wind. They should have a warmer and calmer night. Gilda appreciated it.

The bachelor males got their tent back. Fortunately, they managed to weather that storm without Gilda having to do more than yell at a few griffons. Both groups returned to normal and disappeared into the routine of the caravan. As far as she was concerned, things worked out alright. Most importantly, no more League of Lions or Lionesses. Just Gilda’s Caravan.

They made up their own groups, but the ‘bachelor’ and the ‘bachelorette’ tents both had small groups of griffons in front of them. They shared food and beverages as well as the light and warmth from their respective campfires. As far as Gilda was concerned, the separation was stupid, and she preferred to see it gone. But it was their choice. Something curious seemed to be happening though. The northerner griffons spent time socializing with the males, but not the females.

“What the?” Gilda whispered but stopped herself from getting involved. Shaking her head, she walked away. Whatever went on there, she didn’t want to get involved until it started disrupting the normal functioning of the caravan.

Moving forward, she reached the hunters’ camp and the roc infant chirped happily as she approached his cage and allowed her to pet him.

“He’s eating much better now.” The hunter queen who seemed to have taken the responsibility of caring for the infant grinned at Gilda. “Madam Gelinda said it’s still not ideal for his size, but he’s not really using a lot of energy.”

“We should find a way for him to exercise.” Her mate took over as the huntress went back to feeding chunks of meat to the roc. “I just have no idea how. We don’t know what is going on inside his head and he might try to escape if we set him free.”

Gilda nodded and rubbed her beak, watching the big bird swallowing the chunks of meat. “We’ll think of something. Great job you guys are doing.”

“It’s an honor, Lady Gilda.” He gave her a respectful bow and watched as Gilda left to ‘inspect’ another section of their camp.

Much of the same happened around it; just different groups of griffons settling in for the night. The ‘cub camp’ returned and it was as it was the previous night, sans the storm. Godwin and Georgia stayed there, with Giza playing near the fire with the other small cubs. Little mock fights, wrestling little fledglings on the snow, but close enough to the warmth of the fire.

Normally, she’d worry about Godwin and his older sister, but Madam Gelinda was there watching over the younger ones. They would be fine, and with things under control, Gilda resumed her patrol. She kept walking along their elongated camp, happy nobody fought or created problems they didn’t need.

Satisfied, Gilda leisurely made her way back to the front and the smell of aromatic seasonings greeted her. The two Gunner guys sat by the fire, each wearing a heavy wolfskin cape for the first night shift. The fire had been lit over a platform, and Grunhilda sat next to them. All three were drinking from wooden bowls like it was their last meal. Gil was there too, standing on her hindlegs under an emerald green cape, and stirring away at a pot over the fire.

Trotting closer, Gilda drew in the damp snow air with the hot spicy aroma from the pot. She had told Grunhilda to deal with dinner, but she didn’t care. “This smells wonderful!”

“Thanks! Try some!” Gil piped before she served Gilda some broth on a wooden bowl.

Thick and fatty, but also hot, with chunks of dissolving meat and finely cut seasoning greens like parsley, thyme, and basil. There seemed to be mashed potatoes too, for added thickness. Before it got cold, Gilda took it to her beak and swallowed a generous gulp. Irrespective of the thickness, it filled Gilda’s tongue with a harmonious explosion of spicy and fatty tastes. Definitively potato too, and it brought all the flavors together. A comforting warmth and meat that melted in her mouth. Gilda hummed and took a deep lungful of the steam rising from the broth before downing another generous sip. She took it so greedily it almost burned her mouth, but it was worth it.

“You are doing the cooking from now on!” Gilda grinned, licking her beak. “I don’t know who was cooking before, but you’re it now!”

Gil chuckled. “Sure! I don’t mind. I like cooking anyway. There’s a lot more in here. Eat all you want!”

Gilda planned on doing just that and in the meantime, Gia joined them with Geary, taking some of the broth for them. The young, green Loremaster wouldn’t say it, but she clearly enjoyed the broth too, closing her eyes and inhaling its vapors. Geary, gentlemanly as he was, complimented Gil on it. Later, Gertha and Gil settled to eat on the cart where Guille still rested. Gil fed him while Gertha talked to them about nothing in particular. The way they settled into their own little family gave Gilda some nice fuzzy feelings.

Soon the murmur of chatting griffons died away and that of the wind riding the hills filled the night. It whistled against the tents and brought the chill of the night with it. As Gertha and Gil set an impromptu tent around the cart to settle down with Guille, Gia and Geary retreated into their tent. Gilda waved at their sentries while Grunhilda hurried inside their own tent. “G’night, guys. Call us if something goes wrong.”

“Will do, ma’am.” One of the two nodded and smiled, but she couldn’t be bothered to differentiate between them and followed her friend into the tent.

Inside, Gilda tied the flaps tightly so the wind wouldn’t open them. She had made that mistake before. She didn’t want to get out of bed in the middle of the night to close the damn things and keep all the winds from entering.

Satisfied the thing wouldn’t open on its own, she turned on her haunches, sitting by the entrance. The tent was organized and neat as Grunhilda always prepared their tent each night. All their stuff sat out of the way and organized for easy grabbing in the night. Mythical was in the corner, near Grunhilda’s armor and weapons. Their bed, a pile of thick leathers, white wolfskin pelts, and a red bearskin for blanket, had a very noticeable Grunhilda-sized lump on it.

With a smile, Gilda turned the small switch on the magical heater in the center and it filled the tent with its soft pinkish light, slowly radiating some heat. It looked a bit weird. It had a small pink crystal in the center of a trapezoidal grid, just floating there like it didn’t care for gravity. An oval metallic base with small feet had the switch. Once on, the crystal started spinning, gaining speed with a dull buzz. Somehow, it produced the heat and the light.

It looked like ‘pony shit’.

Gilda frowned at it. Funny, it had never bothered her before, but the pink light irritated her eyes and gave her a small headache. The pink light made her itchy. Maybe its flickering nature irritated her. It dried the air, and she could swear it, somehow, hurt her. Eh… Nonsense. Her increasing magical senses were at odds with the magic the thing radiated. Surely it would pass once she distracted herself. Like traveling on an airship.

Gunhilda’s giggling did exactly that. But instead of turning immediately, Gilda flicked the switch on the magical heater. The only light remaining filtered in from the campfire outside. She could feel the cold, sure. But the tent protected from the wind and the cold gave her a nice tingling. She smiled and pulled the red bear skin blanket from over the Big Girl.

Grunhilda laid on her back, with her limbs pulled against her body, covering all the juicy parts while her beak showed a debaucherously teasing smile. The spark of mischievousness in her blue eyes and the anxious flickering in the fluffy tip of her tail gave Gilda’s beak a haughty smirk. She opened the strap holding her white cape and threw it aside, soon doing the same to her red scarf.

“When did you get this sleazy?” Gilda approached and stared down at Grunhilda, slowly moving her paw to touch Grunhilda’s fluffy chest, letting her soft feathers in between her fingers.

“You love it and we both know it!” Grunhilda cawed softly, her grin growing bigger in the dark.

“You know…” Gilda finally let her grin show more, hovering closer to Grunhilda and pecking at her neck. Her paw trailed down towards Grunhilda’s belly, but painstakingly slow. “I think you’re starting to forget there is a certain power dynamic between us.”

“Oh no!” Grunhilda let out a soft purr and her forelegs reached for Gilda’s neck, her fingers also caressing the fluffy feathers, creeping into them. “Am I a bad kitty?”

Gilda let out a curt chuckle while her fingers danced around her friend’s nipples. “Yeah, yeah… Just don’t let the guys outside hear you…”

***

The wake-up call sounded again. Gilda supposed the pony military would wake up everyone like normal, with a horn, or bells. Griffons cried, because of course they did. Like a confused rooster thinking they were a hawk. It worked, though. Gilda woke up to sore muscles and a sluggish mind. Turned out, when she was younger, she never learned an important lesson. It didn’t matter if you didn’t exercise yourself the previous day, if you spent the night doing naughty and exerting things with your friend. Lover… Girlfriend.

Even with her cape of white feathers, the cold air from the night greeted her once she opened the flap. It shocked her awake better than any coffee ever had. She stretched her limbs and shook her own feathers loose before smiling at the two northerner Sky Sentries next to the fire. The similar smell of spiced wine became routine already as she approached them.

“Good morning, Lady Gilda.” The gray-green griffon under the black wolfskin pawed her a mug with the strong-smelling wine. Gilda recognized him. He picked at Godwin the previous night over not wanting to sleep with her and Grunhilda.

“Hey. Thanks.” She took a long sip from the strong and hot beverage. It burned a little, but it also warmed her from the inside. “How did the night go?”

“Mister Gunner of Griffonstone said there was a commotion at the griffoness’ tent soon after their shift started.” The same one who offered her the wine pointed casually. “Miss Gertha and two Sky Sentries went there and fixed the problem. Miss Garnet is on a cart turned into a prison cell because of that, and since Mister Geldar started complaining, Captain Gosalynn put him in there too.”

Gilda sipped the hot wine. It never tasted as sweet. She didn’t even have to stress herself. The marvels of good subordinates.

“We had to spare a couple of guards to watch them, but they didn’t complain.” The other Sky Sentry, white and blue, offered her a plate with warmed cubes of salted meat. “The guards, I mean. I hear the prisoners complained until the cold made them hide under the bearskin on their cell.”

“I’ll see if I talk to them before they’re let free.” Maybe, if Gilda wasn’t too busy with griffons she actually liked.

“Leave it to the southerners to turn their mating into a problem for everyone else.” Green one poked the fire with a twig. “You either make it work, or you split.”

“Aren’t they like nobles in the south?” The other asked Gilda. “They should concern themselves with their bloodline and their demesne. A noble family shouldn’t even entertain the idea of infighting.”

“I think any concept you guys might have of ‘noble’ couldn’t be farther away from what passes for leadership in the south.” Gilda finished her mug before she put it by the fire with a smile. She sighed. “The problem is that their power comes from popular support and griffons don’t want to admit they voted for the wrong politician. Not even when they get involved in bullshit scandals. It’s just easier to pretend it's misinformation from their enemies and move on with your life.”

“Southerners are insane…” The gray-green one shook his head.

“Anyway, I better go see them.” She shrugged and excused herself with a nod.

A quick walk and a few questions asked along the way took her to the improvised cell-on-a-cart. Segregated from the rest of the caravan, enough their complaining wouldn’t bother anyone, it was a cart with tree branches for bars. It seemed barely more than a formality. The armed guards served as a warning to ‘cease your bullshit’ more than the cell.

A pair of fully armored Sky Sentries, with their blues and gold under the wolfskin capes sat next to the improvised prison and respectfully nodded at Gilda when she approached. Each armed with an axe, a shield and one of the fancy new rifled guns.

Stopping by the ‘bars’, Gilda sat and coughed in the most obnoxious way she could. Garnet’s white head popped from under the blanket, but she kept her yellow paws under her, shaking. She gasped and the drowsiness drained from her upon laying eyes on Gilda.

“Get me out of this… This…” She started and Gilda wished she still had her mug of wine to sip at it.

“Bad start.” She deadpanned while Geldar too appeared from under the blanket, but both seemed to agree it was too cold to let go of it. “You are so damn lucky they didn’t wake me up because of you.”

Come to think of it, Gosalynn probably avoided waking her up.

“I have never been so cold in my life!” Garnet tried to scream, but the trembling stopped her.

“Yeah, we call that ‘consequences’.” Gilda kept her deadpan stare. Maybe she had a prejudiced view on politicians, but she found it difficult to spare any sympathy for those two. She looked at Geldar. “What did you do? I thought you hated each other.”

“I told the Captain that leaving a griffon outside, under incarceration and exposed to the elements, was barbaric.” Gelder glared at her. “She ordered the guards to imprison me too.”

Shame Gilda didn’t believe him and wanted to rub some salt in that wound. “The Sky Sentry are not guards; you dummy. They’re both professional monster hunters and elite soldiers. They don’t tolerate bullshit.”

She then turned to Garnet. “What about you?”

“I…” She started but turned her suddenly saddened eyes to the side. “I had an argument with my secretary… The northerners thought I was causing too much ruckus and the Sky Sentry put me here. I had to spend the night here. It was cold! I could barely sleep. I thought that the northerner griffons were better than that. This is no way to treat a prisoner! Much less one with degrees and…”

“Yeah, yeah… You thought you could stomp your way around their customs and laws like you were used to in Griffonstone. You got angry Gisele didn’t put up with your bullshit anymore. You didn’t like not being treated like a normal griffon and lost it. But unlike in the south, where you had power and the judges barely slapped your paw if you abused someone, you ended up here.” Gilda kept her chest forward and her head high. “Congratulations, you are now a commoner.”

“You know, this isn’t fair!” Garnet stood from the blanket and held the tree-branch-bars. “I did all you asked! I mean… Your northerner friends.”

“You know what?” Gilda growled. A few old grudges suddenly found a way out. “Gelinda was fucking right! You scum made deals with the northerners thinking of how you would have it easy once they took over the nation. You only think of yourselves, and you couldn’t live a day here without help. You didn’t do anything because you thought it was the best for the nation. You did because you thought you could reap benefits. That is not how it works here. The Children of The Harpy give luxuries to those they believe deserve them. Now you don’t have anything because the northerners will sooner look at your honor than your money. The best thing is that The Harpy knew this. She laid out a trap with a red carpet and golden tableware for you, and you fell for it like the greedy, predatory, opportunistic, gluttons you are!”

Garnet gasped, but Gilda went on before she could say anything. “But you know what? I am glad you’re here. Because The Harpy doesn’t forget like your electors did. And if Gisele complains to me about you, I’ll stop the whole caravan and have you flogged, because I doubt the Sky Sentry would have put you in here if it was just an argument.”

“Witnesses spoke of insults and raised fists.” One of the two sentries spoke seriously. “Some of the queens who called us feared imminent violence.”

So much for the safety of the little kittens…

Gilda nodded and turned to Garnet again. “Let me give you some advice. She treated me the same way. I had to change. It was different, but I had to change. I would never have thought of actually killing a griffon, much less believed there is some griffon goddess. The thing is that I adapted, and you must too. You’re lucky enough you were born with a strong blood, but the northerners are not going to entertain your bullshit just because of that. You’re moving to a new place, and they will give you a shot. Don’t waste it. Especially because as far as I am concerned, I’m dropping you at Frozenlake. I don’t want you trying to boss your way around when we’re crossing the worst part of the Snow Mountains wilderness with the Windigos chewing our tails.”

Garnet didn’t answer, but she did let her eyes aim low. Geldar just stood there. Maybe he just got caught in the middle of her mess and regretted getting involved. Still, finding space for some sympathy proved difficult. Those two represented a good parcel of what went wrong in Gilda's life. Although, maybe, she should be thankful, as ultimately, it freed her.

No sympathy, though. It was Gilda’s turn for some privileges and entitlement, dammit. She simply left with no more words and things progressed much as the previous day. Would Garnet change? She didn’t care. She focused on her caravan.

They left before the sun rose and nobody complained. Except Gilda didn’t feel like riding a cart and let Grunhilda read her book. Gisele sat next to her, and so did Gia and Geary. Not Gilda. She wanted to put her muscles to use.

They progressed better than the previous morning and Gilda could swear the oxen looked more determined because of it. The handlers seemed pretty pleased too, but most importantly, her roc had eaten healthily and every now and then she could hear happy chirps as the night shifted for the day.

Under Madam Gelinda’s ‘doctor’s orders’, Guille walked too. Next to Gilda and his mate, Gil accompanied them. Not Gertha, though, as the Sky Sentry Quartermaster wanted her somewhere else on their escort. They told Gilda nothing, but she supposed that since Gertha managed to keep the peace in the bachelorette tent, she should keep doing it. Griffons tended to travel in groups and the old Sky Sentry probably wanted to avoid problems involving Garnet.

A tiny smile crept into Gilda’s beak. Nothing more binding than competence, for better or for worse. Although she couldn’t imagine Garnet being well received by the queens after what happened. Maybe she could spare an eye to keep on Geldar too. He was no better than Garnet, just better at hiding his venom.

From inside her soul, the little voice of a Loremaster told her to beware scorned griffons. Garnet was dangerous, and not the kind to take defeat gently. Maybe she should just get rid of both. Even going as far as fabricating a reason to rescind their breathing privileges.

Gilda resisted the idea. They were still her brethren under The Harpy. But she also didn’t want to be that kind of boss. The same voices at the back of her head told her to be aware she didn’t become like Garnet, after all.

“Hi, Gilda.” Gosalynn’s greeting in her acute voice drew the other from her thoughts. “Good morning.”

A sense of pride lit in her chest at the Sky Sentry captain treating her more friendly, rather than formally, and she looked at the shiny griffoness with a smile. “Hi.”

“There is nothing wrong,” Gosalynn started with a bit of a worried frown. Her seriousness would never cease to be funny with her acute voice and quick speech. “But I wanted to tell you one of our watches reported seeing a pony skulking around during the night.”

“One of our guests?” Gilda immediately frowned too, but Gosalynn shook her head negatively.

“A tall unicorn wearing traveling gear and armed, but with no supplies. No more details in the dark, and the other sentries reported nothing. I wanted to tell you of it, and I sent our scouts ahead today with orders to be aware of ambushes or scouts. Ponies just don’t come here without good reason.”

And if the pony had no supplies, they weren’t alone. Not to mention Gilda had a prize on her head. She supposed River had more friends than the big pony Grunhilda ripped apart on their way to Ponyville. Good. It reminded Gilda she still had things to settle back at Griffonstone with the fat cunt and her piss-ugly kid.

“Tell the escorts to keep the ponies within the caravan at all times and to not let their eyes off them. Even if they must go to the bathroom, or anything.” She told Gosalynn and it sounded obvious, but the Captain didn’t complain before leaving.

Suddenly she grinned at just having ordered a Sky Sentry captain around like a real noble. She even pranced a little, but eventually the walk burned off her nervous energy. Gilda resigned to resting on the cart with Grunhilda, finding a relaxing spot to watch her read her book. It had several diagrams of standard shapes and tables with numbers. Nothing too complicated, it seemed, but Gilda supposed she would need the basics before she understood any of those.

Next to them, Gil talked to Guille, who could manage to sit again and just listened while she told him about all the stuff that happened while he was prostrated. Gilda supposed he already knew most of it, but she supposed he just wanted to let Gil talk and listen to her voice. Gisele kept a bored stare over the endless hills and Gia was busy somewhere with Geary.

Eventually they stopped again, and much as the previous day, lunch condensed into a quick stop and salted meat added to the fresh game meat. A quick bite, a little something to wet the tongue, and they went off again.

It was all so drama-free Gilda even allowed herself to dream she would have no more problems with Garnet. The truth was that traveling was boring.

“Hey, what’s up?” Gil pulled her attention, looking over the ox pulling their cart. Gilda turned too and both stood with their paws on the taller frontal railing.

A group of griffons in leather armor stood at the top of a round hill the caravan plodded its way to. Some of them looked beyond it and others looked back at the caravan. Some of them talked, others fidgeted and flapped their wings excitedly.

Mister Gillian and Gosalynn were up ahead too, and seeing them convinced Gilda she should get herself involved in whatever happened. She hopped off the cart with Gil and Grunhilda following. A quick trot took them to the group of griffons. Only when they arrived, Gilda recognized their scouts.

Gosalynn pointed forward, beyond the hill. “Frozenlake.”

Past the hill the ground became a soft open field covered in snow. A wooded area broke the plain to their right and a vast frozen lake gave an open view beyond the field on the other side. Gilda could see some small homes over the flat surface covered in white snow as well as rivulets of snow in the wind. But the city itself dominated the view. Made of gray stone and thatched roofs white with snow, countless griffon homes of different shapes and sizes surrounded a walled fortification. An imposing tower-like keep with gray walls and square towers.

Another half-constructed wall started to envelop the homes and wood cranes and piles of stones blocks ready for hoisting evidenced active construction. Maybe Lady Geena would take several griffons if they could be convinced to work on the construction… It was silly, but the idea crossed Gilda’s mind.

A large camp had been raised next to the city, mostly hiding behind the trees which ventured closer. Small tents, which all looked similar, and Gilda thought she saw guards and several griffons milling about between the tents.

Several fenced areas surrounded a gigantic barn and held many oxen wandering mindlessly on the muddy snow. Other than that, a faux stone gate, as though its walls had been ripped away, held an open entrance and a pair of white flags with a colorful trout hanging from it. Like a welcome to the city which, honestly, could only be Frozenlake. Large pyres atop the gate were empty, but Gilda imagined they would be lit with nightfall.

Several griffons had gathered near the landmark, staring at the griffons atop the hill where Gilda was. They flapped wings, talked amongst themselves and some of them even hopped with excitement. One or two ran towards the city and others joined the curious griffons, coming from the snowed livestock pens.

“Heh. Beautiful view. It’s usually foggy and you can barely see the pyres.” One of their scouts chirped.

“Well, it’s not Griffindell yet, but it is a nice stop.” Gia walked up next to Gilda while Grunhilda gave a few excited hops too.

“Yeah. Looks great.” Gilda agreed, adjusting her scarf so it wasn’t too loose, but still allowed her choker to show. “Big girl, get Godwin, Georgia and Giza ready.”

Gillian took the lead with Gosalynn and started on his way down the hill. Gilda followed but the scouts remained. Soon the caravan would crest the hill and Gilda supposed it would be best for them to introduce themselves. Especially with their ‘distinct’ flag.

Sacramental Sister

It should have been easy. Having no idea what needed doing when a caravan arrived at a stop, Gilda decided to just let the others do their thing. They knew what to do and what she wanted. Gilda was paying. She was their boss. It was expected of her to reap the rewards of their expertise. Especially when hers was fighting and played such an important role in the caravan. Nothing fairer or more reasonable.

But The Harpy would not be as kind to Gilda. Ironically, her own thoughts chastised her. As the Allmother didn’t put griffons in hard situations just ‘because’. Griffons did so to themselves, and Gilda had done it to herself. Even going as far as claiming her leadership over the caravan when convenient.

As the leader of their ragtag caravan of monster hunters, escaped criminals and refugees, they expected her to lead. Gosalynn and Gillian, upon realizing she had come after them, stopped and allowed her to walk in front of them. All the others then followed in her wake too. Suddenly, Gilda found herself walking down the hill first. She even tried to slow down and allow them to take the lead again. But no such luck graced her.

Reality came crashing down like her burning home had done. For the first time she noticed they expected something from her. Not in the ‘teacher wants the math homework done’ way. Or the ‘get to work to pay for punching a kid in the face’ way. Not even in the awesome ‘recall memories from a past life‘ way.

A crowd had formed by Frozenlake’s faux gates and Gilda could see several well-dressed griffons among them. Mostly at the front and expecting to talk to whoever happened to be in charge. Of course, Gilda was in charge. And being in charge was cool when it meant ordering others around and having griffons asking her for directions. Those griffons didn’t want her orders, nor to report something to her. They expected her to do something. And she had no idea of what she was supposed to do. Or say. Or if she should sit or stand on her four legs. Should she let the welcoming griffons speak first? Should she make a friendly gesture? Maybe say something. Would they say something? What should she respond?

Was She still in touch with Gilda, The Harpy would be saying something along the lines of how a griffon’s mind regressed to a safer place when put under stress. The problem was that whenever Gilda had to do anything in school, she’d get laid with a nerdy dweeb and say how awesome they were. There were no nerdy dweebs she could seduce into meeting the Frozenlake griffons for her.

“Are you alright?” Gia cocked an eyebrow next to her. “You look like you ate something rotten.”

“Nah, I’m cool.” Gilda, whose legs shivered, feathers ruffled like a duster, eyes were about to burst out of their sockets, and breathed too fast, said trembly. Of course, Gia caught up on her distress.

“Don’t worry.” The other returned a knowing smile and made Gilda even more nervous. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, your enemies won’t know either.”

“It’s okay.” Grunhilda whispered from her right, smiling candidly, before Gilda could draw Mythical and murder her loremaster friend. “I’m here with you.”

While there really wasn’t anything Grunhilda could do to help, Gilda appreciated her being there. She smiled and whispered back. “Thanks, Big Girl.”

Meanwhile, Gil proudly stomping around with their stupid red flag didn’t help. But there wasn’t a lot Gilda could do about it and nobody seemed to mind it.

They met just by the lone stone gate, still under the sunlight filtering through the clouds, but the pyres were a nice touch. At the front of the welcoming committee stood a line of Sky Sentries in blue and golden armor, posing with their pikes and sitting on the snow. Complete armor, with helmets and white capes, and all of them wore the red scarf, as did many of the well-dressed griffons. Sure, they were larger and more rugged, but in the end, they reminded Gilda of the ‘upper strata’ from Thunderpeak. Just well-dressed in the savage northerner fashion, with animal skins, metals, and a couple of weapons here and there. And, of course, red scarves.

Among the large and imposing griffons, at the front of the group of Sky Sentries stood a more normal-sized griffon. He dressed well, though, and in the northerner style, with a white wolf skin complementing his dark-gray fur and white head. Yellow, ferocious eyes locked on Gilda. Next to him a cute griffon tom in similar colors, sat on the snow. He carried something under a velvety red cloth fluttering in the wind, with a big smile.

Capes and feathers too danced in the wind, but the air was quite pleasant, if damp. Under the perpetually cloudy and revolving clouds, that was good enough. Especially since Gilda had already gotten used to the cold of the snow under her feet.

Gia and Grunhilda walked with Gilda, but also Mister Gillian and his daughter walked next to him and carried their flag. The griffons that ended commonly known as ‘the leadership’ walked next to Gilda. The rest of the caravan followed, with hopping griffons running around, excited to finally make it to the first stop of their journey. The oxen followed behind with all the rest, and even they seemed excited.

Finally, they arrived at the gate, just as Gilda thought she was going to explode with anxiety. Fortunately, the griffon in the white wolfskin took to breaking the ice, opening his forelegs in a grand gesture. “Frozenlake welcomes you with a warm hug, Lady Gilda, Swordmaiden of the Shaddani!”

He grabbed her in a hug. Although ‘hug’ might be too weak a word, unlike him. He was much stronger than his size implied. More like a bear wanted to eat her, without the eating part. Her spine popped back into place at least once and fixed a small discomfort from sitting on the uncomfortable cart. Meanwhile, griffons cheered despite her pained wince.

Finally free, Gilda needed a moment to recover her breath. Coughing twice, she shook her head, barely in time for the griffon to pose next to her and his assistant. A griffon took a photo of them while he held something.

When Gilda had the chance to see what it was, he presented it to her. A fish. A framed fish! About half the size of her foreleg, all silvery and spotted with black dots on a white backdrop, complete with a gray painting of the city’s gates above and a flag with said fish jumping out from the water below.

Gilda held the rectangular white wood frame with the shiny dead fish for a couple of strange expressionless seconds. Its mouth hung open and its eyes looked like they were going to swallow her soul. But the griffon spoke to her, and she looked up from it. “It is with the utmost pleasure and delight that I, Mayor Gotiere of Frozenlake, gift you with a genuine Frozenlake Trout! On behalf of our faithful population and by the graces of Lord Graham and Lady Geena under Lord Gilad!”

Staring at his grin for a second, and before it got too awkward, Gilda gave her best smile too. Although it probably came off awkward anyway. “Thanks? I appreciate it.”

The crowd cheered again. High-pitched screeches, ululating whoops, flapping wings letting feathers everywhere and some pirouettes between the applause. Another flash almost distracted her, but she was too busy trying to figure out what she was supposed to do with the fish while the others celebrated around her.

Which was worse? Her anxiety from before, or the awkwardness of the ceremony? Gilda considered herself lucky she couldn’t figure out in time to feel anything before another griffon approached to greet her.

Just in time, Grunhilda took the framed fish from Gilda. A large, fluffy white queen with spiky green feathers greeted her, bowing before she sat on the snow with a wide smile. Vibrant pink eyes sparkled with excitement as the griffoness shook Gilda’s paw. “What a wonderful day! I’m meeting the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani!”

“Ah… Hi.” Gilda did her best not to look overwhelmed, but her still awkward smile might have given that away. Not that the griffoness let it slow her down, anyway.

“I am Gorsta! I am the Representative for the city’s Commerce Guild! Welcome to Frozenlake! We have great shopping opportunities for one such as you!” She kept shaking Gilda’s paws up and down. “We have local jewelry, great woodwork, ice sculptures, and even excellent restaurants! All filled with owners and employees dying to assist you!”

“Thank you! Ah…” Gilda smiled but also frowned at her excessive greetings, trying to free her paws. “I’ll be sure to make time to visit the town’s shops!”

After a big, happy grin, the griffoness gave space for another griffon who wanted to meet Gilda. Like they didn’t want her to think and end the whole thing. But instead of one, two griffons assaulted her next. Both covered in glossy black fur while the plumage on their chests and heads were both a stormy gray. Such shiny feathers and fur, almost mystical, like they were sprinkled with stars. And their eyes, while the queen had a more mellow stare, both held the souls of true Children of The Harpy. It was their happiness which made them seem less fierce. Those were content griffons, happy with their lot in life, and on top of that, they grinned at Gilda like meeting her was the highlight of their year.

Barely visible, but Gilda could see smudges of soot in them, and those seemed to enhance their visage, like unintentional cosmetics. It was a curious thing, but it worked. Somehow. Gilda simply couldn’t not be smitten with the sibling-looking griffons.

“Hello!” The queen greeted her with the happiest of voices. “Welcome to Frozenlake!”

“I am Grotti,” said the tom with a paw on his chest. “She’s Groffi! At your service!”

Their combined excitement and rustic beauty made Gilda retreat a step, grinning as naturally as she could, still so overwhelmed. Especially as they bowed before her. “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

Done speaking, the tan griffoness’ insecurity let escape a mindless mumble, but the black female only giggled. The male spoke more relaxedly. “We would really appreciate it if you could grace our smithy with your patronage!”

A giant grin followed his words. And before Gilda could graciously decline (at least she thought she would graciously decline), Gertha intruded in between them and rescued her boss. With the usual cheeriness to match theirs. “Awesome! My brother and I need some gear looked after! We also got some neat ancient weapons that could use some love from a blacksmith!”

Like they spoke the same language, the black griffoness gave an excited hop. “Of course! Our shop is by the inner south wall! We’ll be waiting! Don’t forget us!”

“Yeah…” Gilda kept trying to smile as best as she could. “We’ll meet you guys there before we leave.”

“Well then.” The black tom chuckled and pushed the female with his body. “Come on, Groffi. We’re in the way.”

“Thanks.” She yelled as her brother moved her away and Gilda turned to Gertha, who only nodded at her with a happy ‘you’re welcome’ grin.

But before Gilda knew, more griffons wanted to meet her. A hubbub formed as others talked to the mayor and to the Sky Sentries, trying to be the next one to greet the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani. They just didn’t make it past the Sky Sentries. The curious thing was that one griffon barely squirreled himself through the middle of the crowd, practically sneaking his way to Gilda. But what really drew her attention was his amber fur covered in leopard rosettes and caramel feathers. He had a short, straight beak, and despite his powerful physique, his eyes had smoother lines than most griffons in the north.

Saddani. She thought, but she never let the word leave her bill.

“Please!” The word came out a plea, but in a low voice as he bowed before her, mostly trying to remain unseen, looking up to her. “I must speak to you! Meet me under the north wall. The inner one, by the time the sun sets. There are several lives at stake!”

Gilda and Gertha gave him concerned stares but had no time for words. He scampered away at Madam Gelinda’s approach. Both knew better than to try and disguise their worry at the quick meeting, but the Loremaster didn’t mind it. Instead, the old griffoness smiled at Gilda.

“Having fun yet?” Gelinda chuckled at Gilda along with the words, in the middle of anxious talking griffons.

“How do I go back to being a nobody?!” The answer came with an anxious frown and an awkward smile.

Gelinda only chuckled again, and was going to say something, but the suddenly silencing crowd drew their attention. Griffons distanced themselves and opened a path in the middle of the hundreds as well as a clearing around Gilda and her friends. At the end of the strip of stepped-on snow, a griffoness walked towards Gilda.

Gilda had already noticed she stood taller than most griffons, even if by a little. Supposedly, it had something to do with magic, even though Grunhilda still held a height advantage. But the griffoness walking toward her had a grace, power and presence that came just short of rivaling that of the Allmother Herself.

The world stopped for her to take the stage. White fur like the virgin snow of the wild made her much like Grunhilda. Her expressive blue eyes too reminded Gilda of big, shiny sapphires. If Gilda must ever choose the perfect embodiment of the Nartani, she would point at that griffoness. The wind ruffled her soft blue cape and the feathers on the hem looked like the snow following in her wake.

Grunhilda’s words, recounting a northerner tale on Grahan’s airship, rushed back to Gilda’s mind, behind her bugged eyes and hanging jaw.

A silent gasp escaped, Gilda’s chest warmed, and she fought the urge to take a step back. Or to bow at her presence, as the others did. A living legend of the Northerner Children of The Harpy walked toward her.

How could such a powerful creature walk with such grace? Gilda expected it of The Harpy, but she had only seen her in dreams. Her steps barely disturbed the snow. The fluffy feathers like small ears on her head fluttered on the wind and her eyes remained on Gilda like they bored a hole through her soul.

Then she saw it. Not as though her majesty was false, but Gilda saw her for what she was. A Loremaster of The Harpy. Perfect in every sense, a symbol of Aya Harpyia’s perfection. Like seeing the technique an artist painted with, her subtle movements bared themselves before Gilda’s eyes. Every carefully elaborated, flowing gesture, a display of griffon grace. A testament to Mother Harpy’s creation for griffons to look at. Her very existence screamed at Gilda’s mind. ‘Look at me! I am what Our Mother made you to be!’

Stopping before Gilda and her scrutinizing glare, the griffoness smiled. Gilda smiled too, like they understood each other.

“You should not allow them to trample over you.” Gilda almost laughed at the ridiculousness of just how well she articulated each syllable. How well her voice carried the loving admonishing at Gilda’s lack of dominance and her smile shifted smoothly into a frown. Like The Harpy pulled her strings. Perhaps even better was her light-hearted disapproving glare to the mayor and his reflexive sheepish grin. “Gotiere has been trying to push the fish souvenir for longer than he has been mayor.”

Politicians… Gilda rolled her eyes. As long as he didn’t do the shit they did back in the south…

“However, we have been waiting for your arrival. You are very much welcome and Frozenlake will host your caravan.” Lady Geena spoke softly and griffons, once again, cheered, whooped and just plain danced with happiness.

Other than celebrate, griffons also moved to help. Gillian and his caravanners approached to talk to the local griffons and many hurried to assist. Bringing in the oxen, freeing the animals of their burden and guiding them into the city’s pens. Others brought water and hay to the feeders. The local Sky Sentries promptly prepared a line to search the carts and the newcomers. Much like their arrival on Wayfarer’s Rest, but much less strict. Gilda’s refugees reacted with none of the previous apprehension and things seemed to proceed smoothly. A few blue-caped loremasters asked questions and winged dogs sniffed around the cargo.

“I am supposed to tell you about Gerdie and Master Gabriel.” Gilda looked back at the majestic Lady Geena.

“So, you are.” Geena smiled and shook her head softly at Gilda. “This formality is barely necessary. You have made quite the name for yourself already. While griffons must walk, messenger birds and communication spells are quite faster. Why, I imagine even Lord Griskjal already expects your arrival with excitement, you being such a delightful young queen.”

That probably sounded creepier than she wanted. Nonetheless, Gilda had more she ought to discuss with Lady Geena. “Also, to give you the medallion. Grunhilda?”

Gilda put out her paw for her friend to paw it to her from her backpack, but Grunhilda never responded. What happened was that Grunhilda zoomed past Gilda like the wind from the Stormy Eyrie and squealed at the top of her lungs. “Auntie!”

Gilda blinked at Lady Geena’s astounded and ecstatic expression while the young griffoness galloped at her with open wings and not a sign of stopping. Gilda expected some sort of explosion on impact, with all her momentum. Grunhilda clung to Lady Geena like she was a lost puppy, hopping like an overexcited bunny.

Alabaster fur and soft feathers, the same symmetrical crests of delicate feathers which looked like a pair of cute little ears. The expressive blue eyes, deep as the ocean. The same powerful frame. Grunhilda only lacked the age, evident on Geena’s sharper facial lines, stature, and her imperial grace.

“Gracious Harpy above, cub...” Geena held Gilda’s thrall and friend in a hug and warmly let the words through the effort of a much-delayed hug. “I cannot believe my eyes! What a wonderful young queen you have become! What happened? How did you make it here? I thought you were lost to me!”

Only one word escaped Gilda’s bewildered expression when she turned to Gia. “Auntie?”

“Oh my!” Gia’s orange beak pulled into an amused grin, just as Lady Geena held up Grunhilda’s paw and gasped at the delicate iron chain bracelet.

Grunhilda hummed and her ‘feather ears’ lowered like she’d done something wrong. “I can explain.”

It should have been easy. Grunhilda was in trouble, Gilda saved her, Madam Gladys strapped her with the bracelet, boom. Grunhilda was Gilda’s thrall. Especially because they lived more like lovers than anything. Just… The big, majestic, and powerful griffon lady didn’t know. All Gilda had to do was explain and blame Madam Gladys.

No! Gilda was happy! That would sound as though she didn’t like having Grunhilda! She should just tell her how fortuitous their meeting was and how happy she was Madam Gladys essentially got them stuck together.

What the heck? No! That sounded like they had married or some shit! On the other paw, saying that Grunhilda had become her servant because Gilda had saved her life wasn’t much better!

Lady Geena kept looking at her. Waiting for her to say something. How in the feathering world did Gilda manage to pant and sweat so much in the middle of all this snow?! Just speak to her already, you stupid featherbrain!

“It’s not what it looks like.” Gilda finally managed to half-speak, half-garble. Twitching eyes and fluttering wings didn't silence the thunderous sound of a thousand ancient Loremasters, all facepalming in consonance at the back of her mind.

Much to Gilda’s surprise, Lady Geena just laughed. Thank the Allmother Grunhilda decided to say something already before Gilda made it worse.

“They were going to send me to Shatteredrock. I owe her more than my life.” Grunhilda held Lady Geena’s paw like a fledgling begging for attention. “Miss Gilda saved me. She even wanted to free me from my bond, many times because she didn’t understand its importance.”

The ‘smaller’ griffoness finally let go and remained seated on the snow, with her eyes cast downward and a worried voice. “Thanks to Miss Gilda I was able to learn what happened to my parents and I have returned to Snow Mountains. I found a profession I can follow, and I have been given my parents’ heirloom. Thanks to her I have a future other than spending the rest of my life cleaning offices and corridors for a pittance. Or inside a padded cell.”

She seemed to want to say something further, but her voice came out only a soft whine. Lady Geena sighed and, perhaps uncharacteristically, rubbed the feathers behind her head, looking at Grunhilda.

Only then Gilda noticed, but the working griffons had stopped. The Sky Sentries interviewing the newcomers stopped to look and the griffons in the caravan stopped too. Even a couple of oxen being led to the stopped to watch when their leading griffon too stopped. Gosalynn and Gillian, talking to a local Sky Sentry looked at them, while Gilda could feel her friend’s stares boring holes at her back.

Even the damn wind must have stopped to look at Gilda’s furiously blushing cheeks. She flared her wings and let her voice carry away the embarrassment. “Don’t… Don’t all of you dweebs have stuff to do?!”

Seemingly, Gilda had learned her commanding voice, because griffons distracted themselves with whatever was available immediately. Lady Geena, however, giggled, and the blue grassbreath thestral approached with a cute pony glare. “Why don’t you edgy northerner freaks just marry already?”

First of all, Gilda was still becoming a northerner. Second… Despite lifting a finger to deliver a righteous command for the fruit-eating pony to shut her muzzle, the simargl hounds interrupted her. Barking all around them, one of the dogs got free and rushed like a cannonball in their direction. Quite fast, despite its large frame and fluffy pelt. The fire-drooling mouth did make it more terrifying, though.

Moonbow screeched and awkwardly climbed on top of the nearest cart with help from her wings. A small mountain of cargo in the process of being unloaded protected her from the hound, who kept jumping and barking, despite its wings. Soon, others joined in a cacophony of mad barks and panicked thestral screeches, déjà vu from their meeting at Wayfarer’s Rest. Griffons around them started showing angry frowns at the racket while the handlers tried to control the dogs.

Gelinda approached Gilda with an annoyed glare. “The simargl truly hate this pony.”

Before Gilda could respond that she too didn’t really like the pony, Lady Geena walked to the mess and hissed the dogs into silence. Showing her impressive wings and taking the leash from one of the handlers to pull at the beast. Once they submitted, she returned the leash to the handler and ordered the pony hop back to the ground.

Once the griffons had all their winged dogs under control, the pony jumped down from the leather-protected pile of goods and drew in the air to speak. Whatever she was going to say never left her mouth. Lady Geena’s paw closed her muzzle like a vice. Moonbow tried distancing and freeing herself, pulling and tossing her head without any success. The griffoness held her and frowned as the pony stared back at her, bug-eyed and murmuring in distress.

“We discovered the hounds are quite fond of changeling meat.” Her sapphire eyes squinted and the griffoness leaned closer to sniff at the pony. Moonbow closed her eyes and tried shaking her muzzle free. “Are you a changeling, little pony?”

Gilda kept a respectful distance, but she stretched her neck to look at the pony. Between curiosity and anger, trying to see her smug pony face behind Lady Geena. The accusation rang reasonable. Moonbow had shown up in the middle of the refugees, during the hurried and improvised reception in Wayfarer’s Rest. Madam Gelinda, Gilda supposed, would have noticed, but then again… Changelings were known for subterfuge.

“Filthy changelings should die already.” Someone cried in the crowd. Everyone had stopped their work, again, distracted by the commotion.

The local Sky Sentries, as well as the ones from Wayfarer’s Rest, didn’t stop. They surrounded them, with a couple hovering in the air, pikes, and guns at the ready. Gilda approached and so did Madam Gelinda. While Grunhilda kept her distance, with Godwin and his sisters, all three stretching their necks to watch, Gertha came right next to Gilda with a dangerous stare in her pink eyes.

“The last changelings who tried infiltrating Snow Mountains quickly found out their masking magic is not as mystifying as it once was.” The griffoness spoke in a hushed and threatening tone, pulling at Moonbow’s ear with her talons. Was the situation not so serious, Gilda would have laughed at how big the pony’s eyes became. “They lay in pieces in Lady Gwendolen’s laboratory, and I would very much like to have a specimen of my own.”

The thestral squealed and finally managed to free herself, speaking with the most offended of tones, despite slamming her butt on the snow. “I am no changeling! T’is not fault of mine own thy cursed hounds art murderous beasts!”

Lady Geena stared down the thestral without a reaction, despite the angry ‘fang lisp’, offended glaring, or flared wings. One of her blue and gold clad Sky Sentries intervened and pushed Moonbow’s chest. “Watch your tone, pony. You are not in Griffonstone. Rejoin your travel companion and do as the guards tell you, or we can’t guarantee your safety. You are Lady Gilda’s guest, but you are not as welcome as she is.”

With an indignant huff, the pony stood on her four hooves and walked away, closely followed by the guard, who ignored the tail whip. Gilda and Gelinda approached Lady Geena who kept her eyes on the retreating thestral, despite smiling when she looked back at Gilda, rejoined by Grunhilda. She pet Grunhilda and caused her to smile too.

Meanwhile, a cute, salmon and white, young queen approached, also wearing the blue cape of the Loremasters. She said nothing, however, as Gelinda talked to Lady Geena. “Lady Geena, we must talk. I have important news in urgent need of reaching Griffindell. I lack your resources at Wayfarer’s Rest.”

Geena nodded silently, while she still petted Grunhilda’s head. “We shall see to that immediately.”

Turning to the normal-sized (for a northerner) salmon griffoness, Geena spoke with a commanding tone of one used to being obeyed. “Have Lady Gilda and her entourage be accommodated at The Manor and expedite any exceptional concerns relating to the caravan.”

After the salmon-coated lady acknowledged her orders, Geena turned to Gilda again. “I will see you soon, Lady Gilda. We have much to converse about. I am most curious about your adventure, and I have interesting propositions for you. Until then.”

As Madam Gelinda and Lady Geena walked away, the loremaster who remained offered Gilda a paw in greeting and spoke with a clear, happy chirp. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Gilda. I’m Gjarma. You could say I’m Lady Geena’s second in command.”

Gilda greeted her with a smile and shook her paw letting her speak again. “When you are ready, I will take you to our guesthouse. We will provide you with everything and any servants you or your companions might require. But first, I must see the concerns surrounding the caravan, if it is not too much of an inconvenience.”

Gilda smiled. On one side, she felt like a dweeb, feeling so awkward at griffons offering her luxuries and comfort for the simple fact she was herself. On the other side, screw that. New and improved Gilda, also known as the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani, was perfectly fine with being pampered. Thus, she simply thanked Gjarma with a smiling nod and let the loremaster do her job.

Gjarma went to Gosalynn, and the short griffoness talked about transferring the Astrani weapons and armor they recovered. A griffon in the blue and golden Sky Sentry armor, supposedly the local Captain, joined them.

It seemed things would take care of themselves, and griffons minded the transfer of the caravan to Frozenlake. Gillian and Gilda’s new secretary, Gisele, busied over caravan matters with the frozenlakian merchants. Gilda saw herself busy with more griffons to greet. Mostly the city’s nobility, the well-dressed griffons. Swearing fealty, as silly as it might have sounded, Gilda supposed they were honest. Most of them added their greeting her into their city and offered any assistance she might need. The main feeling was a genuine welcome and all most wanted was to shake her paw. She obliged. Time wasn’t an issue since they had completed the first leg of their journey and reached safety. Not just relative safety. Actual safety.

The Saddani griffon who had sneaked close to talk to Gilda occupied her thoughts, though. With a small break at the meet and greet action, Gilda gave Gertha a beckoning gesture with her finger. The mercenary immediately understood. Inclusively keeping her beak shut as per Gilda’s serious stare.

“Can you meet that griffon guy who was skulking around to see me?” Keeping discreteness consistent with Gilda’s hushed voice, Gertha simply nodded. “I don’t know if I can go anywhere without drawing a lot of attention. See if you can’t smuggle him inside our lodging once we’re done here.”

“Will do, boss.” Gertha nodded and distanced herself without her usual cheeriness after a happy grin.

A quick glance around told Gilda griffons were still too busy worrying themselves with work and nobody seemed to notice her exchange with Gertha. Grunhilda, Godwin, Georgia and Giza all hovered close to her, like she was their responsible adult, but they wouldn’t say anything, and they too greeted some griffons.

Griffons who had no actual business greeting Gilda or concerning the caravan’s arrival and its subsequent departure also milled about. Conversations between working caravanners from Wayfarer’s Rest and the local crew sparked interest amongst the refugees, but language quickly became a barrier. Frozenlake was ‘actually the North’, apparently. Fortunately, the local griffons did understand Common Equestrian, they just didn’t like it.

A small army of pretty griffon ladies wearing the telling blue satin cape efficiently assisted the refugees in communicating with the locals. Understandably, the situation upset some griffons, but calm tempers prevailed. Apparently, Gilda wasn’t the only one to whom their actual situation dawned. Learning another people’s language should be expected when one moves into their lands. Better than staying in Griffonstone to be branded traitors. They would be alright. It might take some time, but they will be alright. Most of Frozenlake’s griffons even showed remarkable patience talking to them and their mangled pronunciations of High Griffonese.

Considering her getting involved would only make things worse and Gjarma was still busy, Gilda kept her distance even. She still had a few more griffons to meet and shake paws with. It became easier, as getting used to nice things was easy. Once she was done, she excused herself from the Mayor’s offer of touring the city, saying she should supervise the transfer of the caravan. Fortunately, he accepted her excuse. Gilda could walk around exchanging some pleasantries with the griffons she worked with.

The large queen Gilda saw working at the hospital tent drew her attention. The one angry at the confusion between the males and females already prepared a wagon with help from one of the southerner toms. Apparently, she really had ‘adopted’ one of them for her and things worked out. Maybe they planned on returning alone to Wayfarer’s Rest. They looked happy, working together to prepare their ox-pulled wagon, sturdier and better suited than the carts her caravan had used. Better suited for a smaller caravan, Gilda supposed. The large queen thanked Gilda and so did her mate, but they were busy.

Moving over, Gilda wanted to look for the others. Specifically, the small guy the rocs had subtracted from the caravan. He and his similarly small queen also had prepared a wagon for a return trip. But done with their work, she pinned him to the wheel and held him, preening the feathers on his neck. Both out of the way and out in the open. They probably wanted to live with their families, closer to the border. A small connection had formed, and Gilda silently wished them good luck. Supposedly Gosalynn would return with her Sky Sentries too and they could all travel together. If the tom survived the embarrassment, even if nobody seemed to mind their intimacies.

Garnet and Geldar seemed to be back together. What a night in a northerner jail could do to a griffon… But Gilda would rather not think about them. Hopefully, they’d stay at Frozenlake.

According to the conversations floating around, the caravan workers and griffons still without a home would stay at the city’s inn, supposedly a famous place. That included the pearlescent rosy queen who had ingratiated herself with Godwin and her family. But even if she kept staring at Godwin, her parents had her busy with the carts and transferring stuff. Although, by the banter reaching Gilda, many of the griffons from Wayfarer’s Rest would stay for a few days, precisely because of the celebration of the Gathering Storm.

That was when Gilda saw Her. She thought she was seeing things because it made no sense. But she saw Her, The Harpy, walking behind a group of griffons. The black tuft on her tail, clear as a fast stream on the rocks.

“Did you guys…” She looked at the griffons next to her and no one paid attention. Godwin and his sister talked to one of their friends and paid Grunhilda just shrugged.

The tan griffoness blinked and quickly made her way to where she had seen the Allmother. Was that some sort of game? She looked one way and the other, only to see Her sitting on the snow and giving her a cheeky grin before walking behind another group of griffons.

“Wait. I wanna talk to you!” Gilda trotted as fast as she could with an excited grin while trying not to raise much of a commotion. Reaching the same place She had sat, Gilda never saw her again. Her feathers flattened, but perked again in curiosity when she found the northerners had grouped the refugees in a separated area and she hadn’t seen it.

If she understood the conversations floating around, the frozenlake loremasters had divided griffons into three groups. Each according to accounts from the griffons working with the caravan. They had watched and worked with the traveling griffons, especially the ones who had volunteered to help. Most importantly, for the sake of clarity, the loremasters spoke in Common Equestrian to the newcomers.

Did Allmother lead Gilda there? Did she want Gilda to do something? Grunhilda just shrugged again at Gilda’s curious stare. She was too curious to be annoyed at the game.

Some griffons would permanently stay at Frozenlake. Usually the older griffons, or those who the loremasters decided wouldn’t do well in the wilderness. After all, rustic and wild as the North was, Frozenlake still had resources and facilities griffons ‘on the frontier’ might not have as easily. Sounded reasonable.

Others would travel to Brokenhorn and live there. The third group though would move to smaller towns either under Lord Graham and Lady Geena, or under Lord Griskjal, departing from their respective cities. And they would move ‘the frontier’ towards the lands claimed by the Windigos.

As the loremasters said, Lady Gwendolen transmitted to them Allmother’s Will. With a capital ‘W’. And things started making a lot of sense in Gilda’s head. Mother Harpy commanded griffons to reclaim the lands they lost to the Windigos. The way to do that was to move in, settle down, make your home, defend it, take over the ruins, and give the Windigos the finger. The middle one. Take back the Astrani territory the frozen turds stole.

Listening to the Loremasters, Gilda’s chest filled with the same excitement from when she held Mythical for the first time. When she talked to the griffons back at Thunderpeak. It was History, happening around her. The turning point.

Only one problem, though. Gilda’s caravan was full of griffons used to living in the amenable climate of the south and the biggest thing most of them ever fought was the packaging of their candy.

“Uh… So… Uh…” One of the Common Equestrian-speaking southerners raised his paw in the front row of griffons. A very griffonstonian sandy and gray tom with a puzzled frown on his cyan eyes. “Are we supposed to just find a flat area and build a town in the middle of the monsters and snow?”

No, towns could be built on the hillside too. Gilda rolled her eyes but said nothing, just kept watching. A small frustration sprouted that those dweebs might not be up to the task.

“Many of us have small cubs!” A distressed queen, caramel and yellow, with long feathers on her head flapped her wings. “Most of us don’t even know how to cook without a kitchen!”

The loremaster in charge of their group, a very pretty and even frail-looking queen, made calming gestures. Even younger than Gia, the blue and white lady sat on the snow to talk. “Calm down, please. It’s not like that.”

She spoke with the whistly northerner accent Gilda had come to enjoy, and the metallic sheen on her shades of blue spoke of a Nartani, if Gilda could trust her judgment. Most importantly, she raised her voice and spoke clearly. “Every caravan has been carefully planned with hunters, builders, at least one Loremaster and sufficient warriors to protect you. All they need are griffons willing to work hard and make it happen.”

And that was the young loremaster’s mistake. Assuming the southerner griffons would share on the northerners’ disposition and work ethic. As more complaining and agitated winning started, Gilda stomped in front of the loremaster, growling. “What in the feather did you idiots expect? That the northerners would come out of their houses and let you keep them? What are you even doing here?”

“Yeah!” Many griffons agreed with Gilda and yelled their support, but among them one walked to the front. Another very young queen, cyan and white, with a cute aquamarine cub clinging to her back, looking at everything with huge curious eyes. “What is wrong with you dummies? I thought all of you were tired of the Griffonian leaders messing things up! Don’t you want to fix the problem? Just run from it and have others fix it for you?”

The young queen spoke with Gilda’s frustration, glaring at the crowd. “Idiots like you put Gail in charge. Didn’t you pay attention to Madam Gelinda? Back at Wayfarer’s Rest? The northerners are looking for allies, not freeloaders!”

Gilda nodded at her and addressed the crowd again. She didn’t even think. It might have been better to let the loremaster handle it, but impulsivity always was a part of her. Words flowed out of her beak, and this time her inclinations served a good purpose. “Didn’t you go to school? Remember reading about how the ponies moved south after the Windigos arrived? Didn’t the northerners tell you how the griffons fled the Storm Eyrie into Griffonland and beyond? Haven’t you heard about how the Nartani stood their ground and held the Windigos from moving further south? The Nartani shed blood, from commoners to the Lords of the Black Gates, so that our fertile lands in the south would be safe.”

“Didn’t you believe when Madam Gelinda told us of the griffons waiting in the Stormy Eyrie?” A step forward, Gilda came closer, and the group opened for her to walk among them. “Those griffons who fought to keep our lands safe are now looking at us. The northerner skalds, both among us and in Our Mother’s palace, are waiting to sing of how we took back what the Windigos stole from us!”

Gilda’s paw sunk into her fluffy chest. “Griffonstone tried destroying my life. They wanted me to submit, and the ponies wanted me to forget all that My Mother made me to be. I had to fight for my life in a dark alley.”

Her talons shone under the faint sunlight filtering through the clouds. “I killed two thugs they sent after me with these. I fled. I survived, and I thrived! And so did my friend.”

Gilda kept her eyes on any eyes on the crowd which would meet hers while she pointed at Grunhilda. “They murdered her parents. Heroes of the Children of The Harpy. She adapted. She survived. And she thrived!”

She took a quick glance back and pointed at the siblings she had taken to care for. “They killed their father because he wanted Griffonia to change! And he put down the mercenary who killed their mother before their eyes!”

“What about her?” Gilda emphatically pointed at the cyan queen with her cub, and she reacted with a confident, stoic stare at the crowd. Which her cub mimicked, and was adorable, but Gilda kept her mind on the conversation. “She came from Griffonstone with you! To change Griffonia, to make a new lair for him so that her cub would grow out of that cesspit of corruption. So they would grow free, as there will come a day when the northerners will be free to fly across the sky because there will be no more monsters to be shot. The rocs will no longer steal our brethren away! The land will be warm and green instead of cold and lifeless. And the Astrani skalds will look down to us from the Stormy Eyrie and will sing to Our Mother of how we rid the land of the Windigos and took back what is ours!”

The cheering griffons surprised her. The jumping and whoops, same as before, surprised her. She stopped for an instant. She would never have said such things about a week ago. Once the realization sunk in, griffons still cheered her words. Worried frowns became excited glares and grins.

She had more to say. “One day the Pony Princesses will shudder. Because when their little ponies fled, our ancestors stood their ground. They will shudder because they will see that we have reclaimed the Frozen North. The Sun will shudder, because she will see why this world belongs to us, and not to them!”

As more cheers and excited cries erupted, Gilda noticed her speech had been heard further. She saw the locals cheering and throwing the snow into the air festively. She didn’t expect it, but Gertha and her brother cheered too, and so did Godwin and Georgia with Grunhilda. Even Gia clapped at her words, next to the excited Geary, albeit fuming with jealousy. Their Sky sentry escort and their local comrades, and even the dog handlers had stopped to listen to her. Not the dogs, though. They just waited with curious or distracted stares.

Harpy above knew how many others had heard her inflamed, spontaneous speech when she should just sit there and wait for Gjarma to take her to her lodging. She sat on the snow and let her thumping heart calm itself. Catching her breath. The cheering went on and on, slowly dying as griffons satisfied their impetus. Her eyes found the snow and her cheeks had tinted with pink as much as they burned in awkwardness. What had gone over her?

Finally, the cyan queen smiled at Gilda and left her to rejoin her group as the loremasters began calming griffons down to resume the process. Gilda almost felt like a nuisance getting in the way of their work.

“I see you are everything they told us, Lady Gilda.” The young loremaster next to her spoke with courteous softness. Eyes avoiding Gilda’s and with slightly tinted cheeks. “Thank you.”

Gilda chuckled nervously and her paw messed with her crest for a while. “You’re welcome, I guess. I just… Said something that I had bottled up, you know…”

“The best speeches come from the heart, Lady Gilda.” Gjarma approached them with a smile. “I have arranged for your pet roc to be stabled in the keep’s old aviary.”

The younger loremaster let escape a comical gasp. Her feathers raised like lightning had hit her. “Wait! Is it true? She actually has a pet roc? Like Lord Giranor?!”

Taken aback, Gilda winced. The stare from the loremaster looked like she wanted to date her. Enough to get a jealous glare on Grunhilda’s face. “It’s not really a pet roc. I just… Uh… Kinda rescued him.”

Gilda literally retreated, following Gjarma, with the others in tow. A few steps later she caught herself wondering if she should have gone along with it. That queen was very cute. But Gjarma speaking next to her halted those thoughts. “Right this way, Lady Gilda. The Aviary is close to the keep, inside the walls at the center of town. Much like the Manor too.”

An awkward cough escaped Gilda and Gertha caught up with them, carrying a giant grin on her beak. “Who is this Lord Giranor and did he actually have a pet roc? I mean… So is it possible to domesticate them?”

Gjarma smiled. “Lord Giranor founded Frozenlake. He was an astrani Lord of the Skies and it is said he liked the trout in the lake because they looked like him. Silvery with black spots. The lore says he hunted bison and fought wars against the pegasi with his pet roc and that it stayed in the keep’s aviary.”

Could be a sweet reference for a name for Gilda’s own roc. She would ask Gjarma or Lady Geena about that story eventually. There were too many things to see following the loremaster around the city.

The distance between the walled keep at the heart of the city and the stone gate marking the arrival to Frozenlake proved to be a bit of a walk. Fortunately, Gjarma was the talkative kind and seemed quite proud of her city and her lieges. For starters, the large camp next to town housed the soldiers Gilda had heard about. The numbskulls who got their asses captured while marching northward. With the things Gilda had been hearing about, the northerners likely just saved a lot of them from becoming Windigo chow.

The snow started to thin as they approached the city proper soon to become the same freezing mud from Griffonstone. Except the northerners, perhaps because they actually cared about one another and their city, made log walkways. Carts had to brave the mud, but then again, the northerners used oxen to pull sleds and they didn’t care. The walkways used by the griffons were mostly logs, cut in half, and lined along the way. House owners and shopkeepers shoveled the snow away in front of their buildings. So convenient, so simple.

Little griffon homes, made mostly of wood, clay and thatch, lined the streets and some cubs ran around, playing in the mud and making a mess. Adults walked up and down the street, minding their own business. Some griffons talked, standing out of the way or on little social areas set up with umbrellas and tables.

The city seemed to grow in an orderly manner, one home after the other, instead of one home here and there. It gave Frozenlake a very organized feeling, compared to the mess that Griffonstone became outside the regulated neighborhoods. Like urban planning was a non-renewable resource not to waste on the poor.

As they walked, griffons greeted them. Gjarma seemed to be well-known in the city and they would stop to greet her and then get excited about meeting Gilda too. She didn’t even mind stopping and exchanging pleasantries with them, especially since most of them had stuff to do or assumed she didn’t have the whole day to talk with them.

Moving along the corners and streets towards the center, the little homes became bulkier and fancier, yet never losing the northerner charm Gilda had come to enjoy. They became sturdier, built with stone and wooden shingles for the roof. The city did have an architectural proclivity Gilda found curious, though. Despite the wide ground floors, they had a tendency of becoming thinner the taller they became. Decorated with colorful banners like long strips in the wind, the city seemed livelier than Wayfarer’s Rest. Plazas became fancier and larger with a few stands selling jewelry or easy to eat morsels of northerner food.

The richer area had paving stones instead of the cold mud, and gutters in the middle, as well as smooth stone for the walkways. Colored stones made patterns and drawings. Trees, griffon homes, mountains. It marked the entrance of the main market area. Shorter houses took over, most of them stores or some sort of business for façade. Other stores occupied the entire ground floor while the owner’s living area was above. Signs hung from the walls by the doors stating names and business to be found in the buildings.

Young griffons and cubs stayed at the storefronts, calling customers inside along ‘A’-shaped stands and similar advertisements. Some stores, the richer ones, even displayed the products of their owners’ trade through glass storefronts. Nothing too fancy, however, as the rich stores in Griffonstone or the pony cities; glass seemed to be expensive. Most memorable of all were the smells of burning fats and roasting meats coming from the restaurants and the inn close to the keep’s walls.

Across the crowded market area Gilda saw the keep’s gates. The walls stood high enough any creature trying to fly up them would be easily spotted by the armored guards at the top. Four towers had strange weapons, like large guns pointing at the sky. Gilda had no idea what they were but decided against asking Gjarma while she talked about the statues flanking the gate.

The gate hung open, showing black metal with spots of rust, but definitely solid. Two pairs of Sky Sentries stood guard with their long modern firearms, sitting by the sides. A pair of statues flanked the gate. The same kind of statues Gilda had seen in the teleporter facility, adorned with gold and spotless white silk. A red banner hung above the gate, showing the black and white griffon wings. The heavy fabric fluttered noisily, as did the adornments over the statues of Mother Harpy.

Beyond the gate the floor had been lined with heavy stone slabs. In between them, each about two fingers apart, the space had been filled with straw. It kept the nasty mud underneath and the floor clean. The imponent and stony keep sat in the middle of the walled area, surrounded by other buildings, such as barracks, support buildings Gilda didn’t know and an execution square. Complete with a set of four hanging cages, a couple of stakes, and a stony block stained black. Charming, but Gilda supposed it was necessary. At least it wasn’t at the entrance to the city.

More curiously, a griffon sat inside one of the cages. So dirty she couldn’t identify his colors and bored, with a plaque hanging from his neck. ‘Liar’, it said. But at least, his head was still attached. A pair of guards, just griffons wearing leather and armed with wooden batons, stood guard, just as bored.

The square tower in the center probably was Lady Geena and her mate’s residence. Piled stones held together by mortar and some patches of green. The large doors were left open, and the city’s banner hung above the entrance. Inside Gilda could see a northerner hall with a central hearth fire and chairs beyond the busy griffons going one way or another.

Gjarma directed them to a sturdy wooden structure leaning against the gray stony wall of the keep tower. Dark brown, solid wood with iron-fitted windows beside the glass, it had a second elevated ceiling that seemed to provide ventilation. A lot of curious griffons gathered there while locals and the hunters from Gilda’s caravan secured the cage against the heavy open door. A few tarps had been placed over the structure of the cage, so Gilda couldn’t see her roc. Griffons had high moods, and nobody was freaking out, so she supposed everything was under control.

“This way.” Gjarma took them to a side entrance into a small room. Some farming tools stood by the side and gas lamps provided light. Pushing a door, she led them into the wide aviary. One of the largest inner spaces Gilda had ever seen, it looked like an upside-down boat because of the reinforced arched ceiling that stretched from thick wood beams. The elevated ceiling at the top indeed let the cool air enter and provided additional light. Most of it came from torches though, tightly fitted into stone pillars lining the walls. Straw covered the floor and the prevailing smells reminded Gilda of a cow shed.

By the wide main door, a pair of grayish griffons, the huntress’ mate and father pulled ropes with their beaks and using their feet for maximum leverage. They tried to coax the angry, screeching roc infant from inside its cage without much success. A small team of nervous griffons with blunt pikes stood behind them. Meanwhile the huntress stood behind them, with her wings flared, yelling angry warnings to be careful.

Lady Geena and Madam Gelinda sat on the straw a little off from the griffons, watching with mild amusement. When she saw Gilda arrive, Lady Geena smiled and beckoned them closer. “Ah. Here you are. Welcome. I believe you’ll see that the Aviary is adequate.”

“I don’t think Rocky agrees!” Grunhilda hawked anxiously.

“What the? His name is not Rocky!” Gilda snapped to her, but she was more worried about the roc than Grunhilda giving him a dumb name. “He really doesn’t look happy, though.”

“Come.” Geena, still smiling, beckoned Gilda again with a gesture of her head before she walked past the griffons with the pikes.

One of the pike-armed griffons squawked anxiously at seeing her, and reached with a paw, but never touched her. “Be careful, Lady Geena!”

Gilda immediately followed and pressed her step, pushing in between the griffons, until she caught up with Geena by the open cage.

The roc, definitively not named Rocky, cocked his head, and gave them a distrustful, side-eyed glare, despite the two griffons letting go of the ropes. Gilda smiled and sat, putting up her paws and showing them to the roc. “Hey, come on. It’s me.”

Geena never stopped, though. She walked with the confidence of a Canterlotian supermodel as the giant bird scratched wood scraps out of the logs and screamed at her. Gilda winced when it opened its wings as much as it could in the confined space and struck the floor before the white griffoness with a fierce thud. Like an oversized chicken… Funny as it was, he was huge compared to the griffons. The hole it opened on the wood, broken fibers, and a missing chunk, reminded Gilda it was still a dangerous mythical beast. Even if it was an infant, and with his warning ignored, he stood as tall as he could and struck again. Gilda almost jumped at Geena to shove her out of the way.

The roc never struck her. The griffoness touched the side of the bird’s head. Like she had held it with sheer physical power, but rather, it immediately calmed. Not-Rocky stowed his wings and let a soft cooing sound, laying on the floor. He just rested there, letting the tall queen softly stroke his feathers. Astonished griffons murmured behind Gilda, and she let her beak hang open, just as astonished.

“Come Gilda.” Geena spoke without looking back. She nodded to the roc and removed the ropes from his neck. “Touch him. He is quite calm now.”

She held Gilda’s paw firmly, but softly made her touch the side of the roc’s head, along the blue-gray shadow around his eye on the off-white plumage. Gilda didn’t resist, but other than the soft plumage, she felt nothing, and nothing happened.

“What do I do?” She turned to Geena with a frown only to be shushed by the taller griffoness, closing her eyes, also touching the roc.

Gilda did the same, closing her eyes and almost on instinct clearing her mind of thoughts. Her frown slowly dissolved and the griffons behind them made not a peep. Fear crept into her. Slowly, but sudden in how so fast it grew. Yet it remained detached. In a similar way to how she felt the emotions of the griffons she had shared her soul with during her past lives. She wasn’t sure if she was awake or dreaming anymore.

The fear abated. Her own presence dampened it. Gilda needed a few seconds, confused, before she understood she had connected with the creature’s mind. The realization dropped a bucket of glacial ice on her stomach.

“Wow…” She whispered as softly as she dared, fearing it would somehow break it.

Through the creature’s mind, she could feel Lady Geena’s paw gliding over the silky plumage. She could smell the damp wood and the straw. Hear the wind blowing against the tarp over the cage and the noise made by the thick fabric. The cold in the surrounding air and the discomfort of an empty stomach. An annoying soreness bothered him in his wing, he had slammed it against the cage trying to scare away the big catbird. She felt anger and panic, the distress over the scary catbirds lassoing him and trying to pull him into an unfamiliar place.

His airways burned at the frantic breathing and screeching; his heart thumped violently, slowly calming itself.

Cold sadness made a background against it all, with the memory of the monstrous rocs and the unholy cold that came with the horse-spirit. It contrasted with old memories of the beautiful avian creatures that cared for him before.

What could one say? Gilda lacked the language to describe the feeling of intertwining with the mind of another creature. It was so much more real than her dreams of past lives. She just let her breath escape softly. “Wow…”

“Now tell him to come out. That he will be safe, and that these griffons will feed him, and care for him on your behalf.” Geena’s voice changed with her smile. “Never order another’s mind, instead ask gently. Even if you hate them… Softly, like singing. The secret is in how Our Mother’s magic touches his mind through you, and becomes you, because you are Her magic, and your soul is Her soul.”

“How do I do that?” Gilda immediately felt stupid at her question when it simply happened. She saw the creature’s mind change and decide to walk out of the cage. It only waited, slightly confused at the two catbirds in his way.

Both walked back out of the cage and the roc infant followed them with wobbling bird steps, stopping to give them an inquisitive stare down his beak. He scratched the straw and chirped at them.

Gilda’s face had locked into a goofy grin she couldn’t undo. “Harpy above… I… Oh, Harpy above! I have no idea of what I just did, but it was awesome!”

Geena chuckled at Gilda, shushing away griffons so the little roc could explore its new environment. Wobbling around and pecking at the straw-covered floor with a soft chirp every now and then. “His is a simple mind. This is the first step after learning all the secrets of Our Mother’s magic relating to the mind. It is not quite so simple with more complex creatures such as a pony, or a griffon. But it still requires something of a special connection to Her. One you already possess.”

How much of a connection Gilda could claim to have after the whole creepy ‘mom-thing’ and screwing her mind blown with a vibrating dildo was anyone’s guess. But melding her mind with a giant bird sounded more special and likely to get griffons to agree with her. Gilda could barely contain her inane grin of mischievousness and awe.

“Can I… Learn? More?” Returning to the moment, Gilda smiled at the taller griffon queen, smiling like she asked her mom for some candy.

“Why, teaching you is precisely what Lady Gwendolen has asked me to do.” Geena giggled. “But I meant to invite you to stay a few days during dinner. You are an important guest, Lady Gilda, and there is a lot we need to talk about. You should get yourself and your entourage settled at the Manor, now that your adorable roc feels more comfortable.”

The Game of Griffons, pt. I

Author's Note

First part. The next comes later today, or tomorrow.

The Game of Griffons, pt. I

The roc -definitely not called Rocky- had comfortably settled in the Aviary. Gleefully chirping and scratching away at the straw on the floor, eventually chattering and flapping his wings in the wide space. Running around with majestic AF bird steps and coming back to make happy cooing sounds to Gilda before starting all over again. Again, and again, until Not-Rocky was satisfied he had comprehensively explored his new space.

Frozenlake’s griffons brought a small cart with a bathtub filled with meat. Made with wood and iron straps, it contained cuts of large raw game meat. Probably one or two deer worth of it. Smelling heavily of blood, its arrival immediately drew the big bird’s attention. To be honest, it attracted every griffon’s attention. But instead of just letting him peck away at the food, they borrowed the smithy’s longest tongs to feed him piece by piece. The eager little guy could peck a griffon's paw away if they weren’t careful. The hunters which had taken care of him along the way said it was best to feed him until they had solidified their bond. In the end, Gilda had found a new relaxing activity in feeding her pet. Grunhilda, Godwin and his sister Georgia helped. Fun all around.

Eventually, Gilda let the huntress and her family to care for the roc. She left with Lady Geena and the others via the side door they had entered the Aviary. The cold air of the griffon city greeted them with a crowd outside. Griffons spied into the building through the thick glass windows, murmuring myths about rocs and Gilda’s outstanding abilities. When they saw her, they cheered, making way for her to walk past the throng.

Gilda would be lying if she said the feeling of being recognized like that didn’t fill her with pride.

Unfortunately, someone waited outside to snatch Lady Geena away. It seemed her mate, Lord Graham, had left for Griffindell and she had her paws full. Lady Geena’s cute, salmon-coated assistant led them around the main keep in her stead. Just a run-off-the-mill medieval tower surrounded with support structures and a yard within the walls. They walked in between the buildings and saw several guards distinct from the Sky Sentry. Some citizens minding their business, and a lot of banners.

All the Harpy’s iconography became almost overbearing. But Gilda had come to a point where she liked it. She expected it. It brought her a sense of security. Anyone who disagreed in that city would probably be smart enough to keep their opinions private too. There probably was a good reason for Lady Geena and her mate to lean so heavily on the Cult of The Harpy. Frozenlake was the first really northerner city. Wayfarer’s Rest was a waypoint and Thunderpeak only recently truly changed sides.

On the other side of the keep the walls had another gate, also open. Past it was a plaza with the makings of a huge festival. Many griffons passed through the gate, excitedly carrying colorful streamers and carts full of festive items, or returning for more.

Gjarma smiled at Gilda and her attentive staring. “They are making the final preparations for the Gathering Storm. There will be games, feasting… Griffons from the smaller cities are sure to come, and many have already arrived.”

“Where are they going to stay?” Gilda turned to her. “With the caravan here, and my griffons taking up rooms…”

“Not to worry! The city has been preparing for their arrival too!”

“Hospitality is big with the northerners, isn’t it?” Gertha trotted up closer to them.

“That is actually a good question!” Gjarma stopped and turned to them with a grin. “Wealth is concentrated in the larger cities. In situations such as the crisis at Griffonstone, or festivities as the Gathering Storm, griffons will come to us. Most villages and hamlets are within a day’s travel, and griffons often know each other. When we go to them, during trips, we stay at their homes, thus it is only reasonable we welcome them when they come to us. This is as Mother Harpy taught us.”

Gjarma made a sweeping gesture at the gate. “It’s often a cub’s first contact with the Allmother. Other than what their parents have taught them. So, we must keep parents and cubs entertained. That is why we have copious amounts of food and drinks, games… Carnival. It’s meant to be fun for all involved, while they wait to hear the Lady of the City and her words about the Mother of Storms.”

After explaining, instead of resuming the walk, Gjarma directed their attention to a building built against the wall. Stone, as much as everything that wasn’t supposed to be cheap. Finely cut and expertly fitted together blocks and mortar. Glass windows with iron fittings and grand double doors made of thick, rustic planks, tarnished by time and weather. It was a thin structure at the top, although wide along the lower floors, and it raised taller than the wall. Several windows spoke of several rooms, the perfect place to stash your guests. If you had a military installation for home, that is.

The Manor had the northerner charm Gilda had come to like. Old stone with vines creeping along the lower floors and flowing banners along the upper floors. Wooden shingles made ceilings as the building climbed the wall and became thinner. Landing balconies dotted the floors. The main entrance protruded from the structure on the ground level and gave the whole thing a stately air of northerner nobility.

“Nice.” Gilda grinned while Gjarma put effort into pulling the heavy doors open for them.

The hall made Gilda grin even wider. Not as spacious as the Aviary, but definitely fancier. Wood planks for floor and an arched ceiling made of the same. A regal red carpet stretched between stone columns. Windows on the arched ceiling provided light, along with a giant candelabra and fancy iron torches on the pillars. A deep hall, for no other reason than that it made it more awesome, with ample space right at the entrance. Further down, a pair of long tables flanked a lengthy hearth with a low fire. Gilda expected something roasting above it, but such was not the case.

A wall of wide planks served as a back wall with the city’s coat of arms above a wooden throne with its own table. Passages by the side walls allowed access deeper into the Manor and a small band played the rustic northerner musical instruments. Just four griffons, discreetly by the side of the main hall.

Gilda took a deep breath and reminded herself the place wasn’t really hers. She was just staying there for a couple of days. Her grin kept growing, regardless. “Can I get something like this in Griffindell?”

Gjarma giggled, hiding her beak behind her paw. “Lady Gilda, this is nothing compared to some of the mansions you can acquire in the capital.”

A young tom hovered around the candelabra, lighting the candles, while a team of griffons quickly gathered in front of Gilda and Gjarma. All heads held proudly while an older griffon took the front, presenting himself with a paw to his chest. “Greetings, Lady Gilda. I am Grayden.”

Smaller than Gilda, with a metallic sheen on his cyan coat and pristine white feathers, he wore a blue jacket reminiscent of a tuxedo. The iron chain bracelet worn by the thralls was easy to see on his yellow wrist. But he spoke with a clear voice and stuffy sophistication. “The housekeeper, I should add. May I welcome you and your cohort to the Manor?”

“Cohort?” Gertha gave a confused frown, but Gilda mostly ignored her.

“Thanks, uh… Grayden.” Gilda coughed and Gjarma smiled at her, putting herself next to the male.

“I will leave you with Grayden. You should be in good paws. I’ll direct your friends here to the Manor as they are available.”

After spending a second watching her walk out the doors, Gilda turned to Grayden when he cleared his throat in a particularly intrusive way. “As a guest of Lord Graham and Lady Geena, you are temporarily granted the title of Ladyship of this property. Thus, you are also a vassal to the Lord and Lady of this town. Therefore, you are the direct liege of the Manor’s servants.”

Gilda blinked a couple of times and stared at the lined griffons in front of her. Their expressions ranged from concerned frowns to excited grins, and even a few excited hops among queens and toms of varying ages. Hopefully, her grin wasn’t too goofy. Surely it would be alright… All she had to do was remain cool and remember the Manor isn’t really hers.

She filled her lungs. “Let’s throw a party!”

Grayden coughed. “In reality, you are expected to host a dinner for Lady Geena. I believe this ought to suffice as a ‘party’.”

“Uh… I guess so.” Gilda scratched the feathers behind her head and sat on the soft red carpet while Grayden shushed the Manor’s servants into getting busy. “I suppose we should go see our rooms?”

Then her eyes fell on the chair at the end of the main hall. Made of wood, shining with a varnish that gave the clear wood a caramel appearance. Within seconds she sat her hind on the comfortable, velvety, white pillow.

“This is really nice.” Gertha chuckled, coming closer, but not so much as climbing the steps on top of which the chair and table were. Grunhilda giggled, standing close to the pink griffoness. “Just don’t let it get to your head?”

“I don’t know.” Gilda polished her talons with the fluffy feathers on her chest. “You all look like ants from here.”

Grayden cleared his throat again and got an angry glare from Gilda. He ignored it. “I will make sure your personal belongings are transferred to your rooms.”

“Yeah. Sure. Can you get involved, Big Girl?” Gilda turned to Grunhilda, who immediately lit up with a grin and an excited little dance before she left with Grayden.

Godwin and his sisters followed them, leaving Gertha with Gilda, and the pink griffoness gave her a goofy, half-serious grin. “I suppose I’m in charge of your personal security?”

“I guess so.” Gilda chuckled back at her. “Seriously, though. Make sure you and Guille get some good rooms. And make sure he’s alright. He seemed much better, but you never know.”

“Will do!” Gertha agreed with a nod and her usual enthusiasm before walking past the wall behind the chair.

The mansion’s servants busied themselves before Gilda on her throne. Setting the tables, both next to the fire and before her with porcelain dishes and crystal cups. No cheap glass or wooden bowls. The smell of food came from a side door, and so did the noises of a kitchen working full steam. A lot of banter too, as though they loved their jobs. Or maybe they were just excited for the change in rhythm. Most of the time, the Manor must remain closed.

Stretching her neck to see the city’s coat of arms above and behind her, a thought about how her own one should look made her smile. Maybe something like Gil’s banner for the caravan would work? It should definitely have Gilda’s profile on it. Maybe not red, though. Tan and white, with some golden details. Maybe frills around the banner? Nah… Frills looked like pony nonsense. More like… Huh… Turns out Gilda didn’t know a whole lot about banners. Gia could probably help. She clicked a talon on her beak a few times. Gia would probably make fun of her for asking, though.

A pair of guards outside opened the heavy doors to let Garnet in and interrupted Gilda’s thoughts. The light tan queen fumed and stared daggers at Gilda all the way from the doors, around the tables, until she stood at the base of the stairs. “You!”

Gilda walked around the table and sat at the top of the steps. “If we’re going to start like that, let me get my sword first.”

“This is not funny!” At least, the annoying hen didn’t climb the steps closer to Gilda. “These barbarians mean to abandon us at the mercy of the wilderness!”

“You are being dramatic.” Gilda wagged her finger. “They will help you settle the wilderness. Or what? Did you just expect them to build you a nice home while you sat by the fire with a glass of warmed wine? Besides, they’re sending experienced northerner rangers with the settlers. You are not being abandoned. All they need is some griffons that aren’t lazy and entitled.”

Gilda let a petulant grin pull the corners of her beak. “I suppose those are things you are not. Are you?”

Garnet would’ve burst in flames if she could. She pointed a talon at Gilda again and growled as furiously as a city bureaucrat could growl. “I want a job that is befitting my skills and my experience! I need an office with servants and paperwork! Not dirty, muddy snow and murderous monsters!”

“Go ask Lady Geena!” Gilda’s talon shot towards the still open door. The guards figured Garnet wouldn’t be staying long. “You are not my problem anymore. In fact, you were nothing but problems during the trip. Or… Maybe, you could suck it up, work a little, show some actual leadership and get to be mayor on your new settlement? Instead of trying to dupe a bunch of griffonesses into giving you a leadership position they didn’t need.”

“How dare you?! I was a leader to those young hens! Even if they were so ungrateful.” Garnet shook her fist in the air. “It’s your own fault you didn’t notice how much I could have helped. You‘re such a privileged-”

“Shut up, Garnet.” Gilda interrupted her with a conversation-ending gesture. “You don’t get to call other griffons privileged when you spent your whole life living off them. Stealing from them! The northerners need real griffons with real grit. If you meant to pretend you were working and make dumb griffons do everything for you, you should have stayed in the south! In fact, there is a caravan leaving for Wayfarer’s Rest. I’m not going to stop you! You can go back all the way to Griffonstone and complain to the Chancellor.”

Gilda pulled at her own crest and yelled, letting her wings flare and flap once. “I thought our conversation had served something! You learned nothing from that mess that landed you and Geldar in jail. I’m not even sure why I’m talking to you!”

Garnet stormed up the stairs with such impetus Gilda backpedaled a step, and her eyes grew wide when Garnet poked a talon between her fluffy feathers. “Listen to me, girl. And listen well. You are not the hot cake you think you are. You are a useful idiot that cunt up there in Griffindell is sponsoring. Nobody puts so much money into another griffon unless they mean to cash in on it. Sooner or later. So put down these feathers.”

Gilda frowned and let a silent gasp escape. Garnet wasn’t done yet, and poked her chest again, channeling all her inner bitch. Or molly, Gilda supposed. Either way, she kept tittering on a fine line between amusing and infuriating. It made Gilda tense her whole body. “I know who you are. You are the loser that sold scones at Grover’s Plaza. Judge Gracey was not the only one whose paws your file passed through. You see, I have actual power. I have friends. I have contacts. Unlike you…”

Garnet came closer. So close her beak almost touched Gilda’s and her hot breath wafted on her. Her fingers closed on Gilda’s chest feathers and pulled them painfully. “A griffon like me doesn’t vanish into thin air. My friends will ask questions, and they will learn I came to the North. And since I know all the skeletons they have in their closets, they’ll be eager to help me. And if I open my beak about you helping all these dissident traitors, I will get a reduced sentence, if at all. My friends won’t let me rot in prison. You will be hunted. The Mare Herself would love to hear what I have been hearing. She is going to sic the Royal Guard on you.”

The light tan griffoness took a step back with a smug grin, petting Gilda’s disheveled feathers. “Open your eyes, sweetie. You are not some northerner hero… You are a novelty. You are nobody. A scone-baking loser from Griffonstone that happened to be useful, for some reason. Do you think the mercenary siblings are loyal? The two deserters from the army? They are not going to stick their necks out for you, they only want money. Money you don’t have. Even further, if you become a liability to Lady Gwendolen and The Lion, you’ll end up fending for yourself. Alone. In this frozen hell.”

“So, I suggest you use your…” Garnet shook her head, widening her mocking grin, full of mirth in her eyes staring at Gilda. “Gravitas. And get me a nice place to stay. Before I decide to join the caravan south. And an apology would be nice too.”

“Did that hen just try to blackmail me?” Gilda sat her haunches on the wood floor and closed her beak once she realized it was hanging open. The two guards by the open door looked at her, waiting for what she would do or say while Garnet sauntered her punk ass away.

Maybe a draft found its way into the hall through the open doors. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was Gilda’s metaphorically boiling blood. The room grew colder. A couple of maids hid behind the stone pillars. The guards grew uneasy, shuffling their feet beneath them. They saw the ferocious scowl Gilda’s perplexed stare shifted into.

Through a flurry of thoughts and fiery emotions, Ghadah’s shared memories told Gilda she would have split Garnet open on the spot. Ancient remembrance from loremasters of the past filled her head with images and speeches about proper punishment. They ranged between different kinds of lashing and physical punishment because some griffons only understood strength.

A funny thought, because Garnet’s idea of strength was different from the idea The Harpy preached through her loremasters. For Garnet, money was strength. For Gilda’s quickly learning self, it was a combination of clout from honor and the fact that might makes right. The Children of The Harpy expected their leaders to not abuse their power and thus lent them their own strength. At the same time, their leaders dealt swiftly with upstart assholes that thought they could stomp all over their turf. It was the base of the Emperor’s power.

I could smash you like a bug, but I won’t, because we respect each other. I’m not a jerk, you’re not a jerk, we both win.

But what if someone was a jerk? ‘What would The Harpy do?’ Because the catch in such a balance of power was that it came from a very primal and ancestral understanding between griffons. One of those things Her Mother had ingrained in them from the first breath the first griffons drew.

You don’t fuck with a griffon larger than you who could present your intestines to your face!

Gilda’s screech filled the hall as she pounced across half its length. A powerful jump powered by her mighty wings. Garnet barely had time to react, to turn her head and look over her shoulder. Surprised, the light tan griffoness screamed, but it turned into a broken squawk, like a terrified rubber duckie, buckling under Gilda’s weight.

“Reality check, Miss Very. Important. Griffon!” Gilda held her crest and slowly said word after word close to her ear before she screamed. “You are not in Griffonstone anymore!”

Garnet tried to flee, but her talons slipped with no purchase on the velvety red carpet. Talons piercing the skin under fur and feathers filled Gilda’s nares with the smell of blood. She stood to throw the other griffoness against the wall beyond the stone pillars and hurled her. Garnet lost her balance and tumbled across the floor, rolling in a mess of griffon limbs to stop by the wall. She let a croaking whine escape and screamed with Gilda already on top of her. One paw to her chest, Gilda held Garnet pinned, unable to move more than her panicked, flailing limbs.

Larger and stronger, forcing the air out of Garnet, Gilda pressed her against the floor and the wall with a cruel scowl. The smaller griffoness whined breathlessly and scratched Gilda’s shoulders to little effect other than irritating her.

“Stop it!” Gilda yelled at Garnet’s face. It caused the light tan griffoness to sob and stare at her with huge, teary eyes, trying to protect her face with her paws.

“Murder and assault are crimes even in Snow Mountains, you brute!” Garnet screeched again, but her voice broke with a sob. For once showing some fear rather than arrogant indignation.

“I suggest you go running to your friends in the south.” Gilda hissed at her before throwing her again. Garnet’s limbs flayed beneath her, and she ended with her face on the floor. A pair of young maids ran from her immediate area and Gilda pointed at the door. “If I ever have to see you again…”

Finally, Gilda sat on the floor into a more comfortable position than standing on her hindlegs and watched Garnet retreat out the doors. Wings sagging, back bloodied and sobbing. Compared to what Gilda had suffered, she didn’t have much more than a bruised ego. Gilda could have been much more ‘emphatic’. The annoying hen should be happy she got to learn that lesson from her. Some griffons Gilda had to deal with would not be so nice.

“You know she learned nothing.” The familiar voice reached Gilda’s ears instead of intruding on her thoughts. Her steps sounded muffled on the carpet and her warmth drew close. The smell of lightning invaded Gilda’s nares and made her feathers and fur stand. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

The great, white and black griffoness sat at her side, but Gilda didn’t look at her. Instead, she kept watching Garnet running away past the door. “What, instead of dreams and mindfucking griffons, you go full hallucination on them now?”

Her blood still hot, Gilda could have chosen more respectful words. The Harpy smiled and made a grand gesture. “Our connection grows stronger.”

“So, what am I supposed to do about Garnet?” Gilda turned to her.

“If I told griffons how to solve their problems, they would never learn anything.” Mother stared down at Gilda with a mildly interested stare which shifted into an amused smile when the tan griffoness rolled her eyes. “I am very good at pointing talons and accusing griffons of the ways they have disappointed me, though.”

Gilda’s paw held her feathers on her chest. “I have not!”

Harpyia’s talon poked at Gilda’s beak and made her cross her eyes. “You still do not fully trust me.”

Gilda opened her beak to answer, but no words came out. Her beak clacked shut, and speech failed her again. Where did that come from? Gilda couldn’t think of a single instance where she had doubted. After the fight with the rocs, the accusation seemed to come from nowhere. At the same time, Mother Harpy was not angry. Instead, she held an amused smile.

But before Gilda could say anything, griffon steps patted on the wooden floor again. Grunhilda came out a door behind the lord’s chair. Quickly trotting towards Gilda with Grayden in tow. The Harpy had vanished with all her hail of noises and smells. The guards mindlessly closed the heavy doors outside, and the maids resumed whatever activity Gilda’s heart-to-heart with Garnet interrupted. As though Gilda never talked to Mother Harpy.

“We got everyone their rooms, but I’m not sure what to do with the fish the mayor gave you.” Grunhilda plopped her ass on the floor, showing her usual confused frown of indecision.

Gilda listened but turned to the majordomo. “I suggest roasting it with chervil, chives, dill, and parsley. While it is still fresh.”

“I thought it was some sort of souvenir.” Gilda tilted her head slightly. “You know… A gift for visiting griffons.”

“That is the intention. Yes. However, nobody really likes it, and it is a fish. They rot, given time. And the Frozenlake trout are quite tasty.”

“Great.” Gilda chuckled. “Get the thing to the kitchen then. I wasn’t looking forward to keeping a framed fish anyway.”

After Grayden excused himself, Gilda spent a couple of seconds smiling at Grunhilda. It was a good thing Big Girl didn’t catch her conversation with Garnet. Gilda didn’t want to stress her over that idiot. She meant to go with Grunhilda to the kitchen and see how things were working there, but the massive doors opened again. A cart had stopped outside. Their two pony guests hopped off next to Gia and Geary, and also Gilda’s secretary, Gisele. The green loremaster seemed so tired Gilda would’ve imagined she had to work in a mine if she didn’t know better.

“Don’t get yourselves in trouble!” One of the guards hitched to the cart growled at the ponies and caused the blue thestral to turn around.

“Have a good evening to you too!” She yelled back at the griffon with a sarcastic wave of her hoof. The male unicorn dragged her by the fluffy scarf to enter before she angered anyone.

Fortunately, the two guards by the doors spared Gilda further drama simply by closing them. Gilda approached the ponies in the meanwhile. “Please, try not to create any problems. Things are going nicely enough, and I would hate it if my pony guests messed things up.”

“Don’t worry! Those griffons were just angry I wanted to see the lake.” Moonbow smiled at Gilda. “Say, this is a nice place.”

“Then don’t try to go see the lake again.” Gilda deadpanned at the pony, ignoring her comment about the Manor.

While Lost Temple simply nodded, agreeing with her, Gilda pointed to the back with a thumb. “Get to your rooms and make yourselves comfortable. I have dinner to attend soon.”

Almost on cue, griffons started arriving with their personal belongings, entering the hall by another door other than the main entrance. Griffons hauling boxes, chests, bundles, wasting little time with pleasantries and going straight to the back of the hall.

“If your ladyship has no objections,” Gia started with an annoying bitchy tone that almost made Gilda deny her just because of it. To be honest, Gilda didn’t truly know what made her put up with Gia. Maybe she had learned to tolerate Gia’s personality or recognized the green loremaster would be useful in the near future. Ultimately, Gilda liked to think Gia tolerated her short fuse, and she tolerated Gia’s bitchiness for a balanced friendship. A proper one, The Harpy might add. “I will be checking my quarters with my thrall.”

“Just be back by the time the dinner starts.” Gilda shrugged. “I want you nearby when I have to deal with Lady Geena again.”

“Ah, don’t worry.” The green loremaster waved a dismissive gesture at Gilda. “You have no idea of the hassle this whole thing is going to be for me.”

“Really?” Gilda sat on the floor again with a contained smile. Gia thought herself so unpleasant, but Gilda knew a trick. “What is the deal with this dinner anyway? I mean… They give me the place and I’m supposed to host a dinner with their stuff? Their employees?”

“First of all, they’re not employees. They’re servants. Griffons are bound to the land and are expected to serve under their lord until they must leave. Then, they’re supposed to serve their new lords.” Gia stopped walking and turned around with an annoyed, tired frown. Speaking as though Gilda was stupid and in urgent need of tutoring, despite how so-very tired Gia was. “They’re very loyal to Lord Graham and Lady Geena, helping you because that helps Lady Geena. And being transferred to you so you can do the dinner and enjoy Lady Geena’s hospitality is how they do it.”

“Think of it like this… You know how the males make dick measuring contests?”

“Excuse me?” Geary cocked an eyebrow, but both ignored them.

“I… Wasn’t aware they did that.” Gilda raised her own eyebrow and gave the other a perplexed frown. “But okay. Go on.”

“You’re the new thing in town, and Lady Geena has to remind everyone that she’s still the top cat. So, she gives you everything, according to The Harpy’s law of hospitality, and you’re supposed to honor her with a nice celebration. If you put in some extra effort, then you make more points. And since griffons know she’s the top cat, she gets prestige too, because her guest is so ‘honorable’. Does it make sense?”

Gilda scratched her head, faking a curious expression turned around into a confused frown. “If someone ends up staying in another griffon’s home, are they supposed to make dinner?”

“No. That is the thing.” Gia explained while gesturing. She had reached the point she forgot she was supposed to be a ‘molly’ and started enjoying explaining. Always fun to see. “Normal griffons don’t do this. If you’re someone’s guest under the Law of Hospitality, you just thank them and do everything not to be a bother. It’s the Court of The Harpy nobility that does this.”

“And because I’m a loremaster, specifically one beneath Lady Geena, I’m supposed to do everything she says. Thus, I have to be at the dinner and at the Court of The Harpy meeting during the Gathering Storm.”

After a small pause, Gia let out a small laugh. “At least Gelinda is too.”

Gilda hummed, holding a talon to her beak. “Huh. I suppose this stuff really is important.”

“Quite, Ma’am’.” Gilda’s majordomo, or rather, the Manor’s majordomo returned when she wasn’t looking and added with a tired, yet still stuffy tone. “I would appreciate it if you considered a particular minutia of the situation your Loremaster friend has neglected.”

The smug bastard stopped talking for a second and made sure Gilda was paying attention. “Whatever competition there is within the Court of The Harpy is for the betterment of the Children of The Harpy. Not for questionable taste in analogies.”

While Gia did her best to ignore the snark, Gilda allowed herself a small chuckle. “Therefore, I would encourage her ladyship to prepare herself for dinner. She can expect not only Lady Geena and her immediate entourage, but several of the city’s members of the Court of The Harpy to attend.”

“Right… Right.” Gilda gave a pensive nod. “I suppose I should.”

“I’ll take you to our… I mean, your room, Miss Gilda!” Grunhilda hopped, wings flaring, and again doing an excited tap dance.

The tan griffoness, watching Big Girl’s antics, allowed herself a small smile. Anyone else, she would have thought that irritating at best. But not Grunhilda. Big Girl had permission to be silly around her.

“Come on then. Let’s get ourselves ready for the fancy dinner with your aunt.”

The pair made their way to the back of the main hall. Nothing more than a thin wall of slender planks separated the hall from a cozy and rustic amalgam of meeting room, living room and office. It had the typical northerner decoration of shields, and weapons.

Stony stairs took them to the floor above and into a more personal living space with a balcony. The view from the open doors was the inside of the keep’s yard. Not a great view. A Sky Sentry greeted the pair from the doors. A pair of corridors opened both ways, each with a stairwell before the rows of rooms. At the top, both led into a spacious living room and office. A double glass door opened into a balcony and the room had its own fireplace, bookstands, weapon, and armor stands and a couple of works of art.

Chief among them was a painting of Lady Geena sitting on a red pillow with another griffon next to her. A large, black griffon with a light shade of gray in his feathers. As tall as Geena was and actually bulkier. She wore the fabled cyan cape with swan feathers, and he wore armor. A set of armor that looked like he meant business. Dark steel with scratch marks which reminded Gilda of the rocs. The sort of damage only magical monsters could do. Above them a wall held the city’s coat of arms.

The painting hanging from the wall invoked the same kinds of images the legend Grunhilda had mentioned in Grahan’s airship. Funny coincidence, by the way. Big, mean griffons fighting even meaner monsters under the mean weather of Snow Mountains… All so the mean griffons in the South could live in peace.

“That Lord Graham?”

“Yes!” Grunhilda chirped. “I remember thinking he was scary when I was a really small fledgling.”

“Well, he looks scary.” Gilda chuckled before turning to the rest of the living room.

Nothing outstanding other than the rustic luxury of the North she came to appreciate, so she turned to the doors which led into the actual bedroom. The thoughts of what sort of bed she would sleep, and do other things on, gave her a bubbly excitement she wasn’t too used to.

Grunhilda anticipated her and jumped at the doors, pushing them open with ease. A lithe and cute griffon lady wearing a maid headdress murmured a song while she adjusted Mythical into a wooden support. Her tail waved a duster at a set of crystal cups and colorful bottles on a small table.

Grunhilda’s forefeet landed on the wood floor, and she stared dumbly at the maid with a loud, bordering on the comical, gasp.

Gilda thought the maid was cute. Delicate frame and white body, the tips of her also white feathers seemed tinted with a different, glossy white. They looked like they were made of ice. The maid even blinked her faint blue eyes at them with a smile as the doors opened. Cute, very cute.

Grunhilda wanted to murder her. Feathers raising so much she almost doubled in size, Big Girl stormed into the room like a train about to run over the poor maid. Yelling about as loudly as a train too. “Stay away from Miss Gilda’s sword!”

Gilda lost any chance of reacting fast enough as Grunhilda barreled towards the maid. The poor young queen screamed and covered her face with her wings and got hurled toward the doors. She slammed against the floor, on her back and curled into a ball of panicked griffon.

“Grunhilda! What the heck?!” Gilda hurried to the maid’s side and thankfully, she wasn’t injured.

The small griffon lady jumped to her feet and screeched at Grunhilda, also flaring her wings, and ruffling her feathers like an angry bird about to murder someone. “Do you want a piece of me, you… You…”

The maid screeched and flapped her wings, cocking her head, so angry she was. “You thrall! What do you think you are?! Do you have any idea who I am?!”

Grunhilda flapped her wings too, just as angrily, but kept her head low in a fighting stance. “Nobody cleans Miss Gilda’s sword but me!”

Gilda stared at one and the other, letting her irritation get to her voice. “Grunhilda…”

“Are you crazy?! It’s my job to clean the manor and its occupant’s belongings!”

Gilda raised her voice. “Hey!”

Both ignored Gilda, stomping closer to each other with bloody murder in their eyes. Glaring into each other, they started circling around. The plumage on their backs stood and their tails fluffed up, the tips wiggling back and forth. Wings at the ready to provide impulse.

“Not Miss Gilda’s magical sword!”

“Grunhilda!” Gilda yelled. “You never polished Mythical before…”

“Yes, I did!” Big Girl turned to her, with very offended lidded eyes. “You just never saw it.”

“I don’t know if this is creepy, funny, or just weird. Stop fighting over something so dumb. She’s just doing her job!”

“No!” Grunhilda glared at Gilda and slammed a paw on the floor. “It’s my job!”

Finally, the maid scoffed obnoxiously loud. “Can you, please, educate your thrall, ma’am? She’s not behaving very well next to a member of the Court of The Harpy.”

“And you don’t talk about her like that. Grunhilda is my friend.” Gilda turned to the snotty maid.

“Actually…” The maid retorted. “That is the problem. Thralls get too full of themselves if you don’t treat them with some distance.”

Before Gilda could remind her, she is actually just a maid in someone else’s house, Grunhilda screeched and jumped at the maid. Grunhilda had size and bulk, but the maid knew what she was doing and pushed Grunhilda’s weight to the side following with a pounce. They rolled on the floor, ignoring Gilda’s orders to stop and sending white feathers everywhere. Finally, after a lot of swearing, screeching, and yelling, Gilda was done rubbing away her headache.

“Will you stop before someone gets hurt?! I said stop!”

Gilda went ignored. Reaching and holding one of them would only make it easier for the angry scratching to actually hurt someone. Instead, she went with her instincts. Out of nowhere, her paw discharged magical lightning on both. Did she know how exactly she did it, other than she was pissed off? No. But it worked. The angry hens squealed and jumped from each other with some scorching and a few broken feathers.

“I’m supposed to be a noble lady, not the responsible adult in the room!” Gilda yelled at both before she turned to Grunhilda and then to the maid. “You go sit in that corner. And you go tell the… Whoever is your boss that you got in a fight with my thrall and that I am pissed!”

“Well, technically, you are my boss…” The white maid grumbled while Grunhilda dragged her wings to a corner by the bed. “I’m the daughter of Lady Gissa and Lord Govin. Not some lowlife servant, though. I will not have a thrall treat me like that!”

“I’m already angry at her too. Go tell your mom I said you can’t fight with my thrall, or I will...” Gilda raised her paws, inches from strangling the maid.

The young northerner raised her beak with a most undignified huff and grabbed the duster with her beak. Getting her panting breath under control, Gilda watched the maid strutting her way out like a light shined on her. Staring at her fingers, then at the maid’s cute, but annoying butt, Gilda snapped her fingers. It resulted in a bang, sparks, and the maid running off with a squeak.

After a fleeting grin at her fingers, Gilda turned to Grunhilda. Big Girl literally sat in the corner, staring at it. Her wings jumped off her backs every now and then, and her feathers still flickered with barely contained anger. A very childish anger Gilda meant to scold her for, but she supposed it was just Grunhilda being her immature and loyal self. The tan griffoness ended just sighing and shaking her head in silence.

The moment allowed Gilda to survey her room. A large, luxurious one. The bed, for starters, was as tall as a griffon’s height, made of heavy wood and covered in glossy silk sheets. Heavy wool blankets waited, rolled up by the feet. A pair of partitioning walls, made of iron rods in a flower pattern divided the room in two environments. The bed dominated the furthest part, even with the fancy curtains before the window. Gilda supposed the door opposite to the bed would lead to a toilet. The window showed the city past the keep’s walls, under the failing daylight. She could see all the way over the frozen lake to the thick white mist beyond. The thick glass would protect the room from the cold, though not much. The cold was pervasive in the North. An iron candelabra held many candles above the partitioning walls and provided good light.

The living area had some sitting furniture, a vanity, and a fancy wooden tub for bathing, already filled with hot water. Small tables provided bathing aids such as soaps and shampoos. Across an empty walking space, the area had a small table with some beverages and fruits. An armor stand had been set up with Grunhilda’s armor next to another stand with her bow, arrows, and new spear. Mythical stood nearby and Gilda’s white cape too, both on their own stands.

Lots of wardrobe space, a large fireplace already burning ash wood, and a bear skin rug, white and fluffy, made the room complete.

A really nice place overall, even with Mother Harpy on her belly on one of the laying pillows and staring at Gilda, waving her tail one way and the other.

“What?” Gilda glared. “Are you going to tell me about how I should have punished the maid?”

“You have a tendency of perpetuating bad behavior if it goes unpunished.” Harpyia calmly watched Gilda approach her from the pillow. “It is part of the systems which generate motivation for you.”

“Do you know how edgy you sound when you say things like that?”

“You liked hearing about why the griffon penis has small protuberances.” The white and black griffoness chuckled. “You did a disservice to that queen by allowing her to walk away unpunished.”

Gilda sat on her haunches and crossed her forelegs with a frown. “If you came here expecting to see something spicy…”

The Harpy let a throaty chuckle rattle her shoulders. “You are simultaneously exciting and pedestrian in your endearing lack of polish, Gilda. Whenever I had some new servant sworn to me, I would make sure to let them anticipate my summons until the end of the day. Or I would wait for them to take the sacrifice into my sanctum.”

The memory shot a lightning bolt through Gilda, and she squirmed before her cheeks warmed with a red tint. “I would offer good wine and food, before thoroughly exploring every inch of their body. Then I would decide if they were better at receiving my ministrations or providing them to me.”

Gilda groaned at her teasing words, annoyed at the warm feelings the memories and words brought to her nethers and into her chest. “That actually sounds like harassment…”

“Only if they do not consent.” The larger griffoness tilted her head with an entertained smile. “Remember what I told you on the matters of love in your race. It is a game of dominance. In the North, it is also of social standing. You will find that griffons are much more honest, which is something the hooflickers confuse with barbarity.”

Gilda blinked at her. “Am I the giving or the receiving kind?”

The black and white griffoness laughed with more spunk she had any right for a hallucination. She stood and walked to the little table with the beverages. “You must dazzle them and lean on your power, for no other reason than that you can. Put them in their place, beneath you.”

Gilda frowned when The Harpy served herself a glass of amber, strong-smelling drink. Uncorking the glass bottle and pouring it into a short glass. Like she was actually there. “Unless you must, do not hold your cards to your chest. Make them feel threatened, amazed. Submissive.”

“The meeting of the Court, for example. Griffons go to explore such feelings in a safe environment. You will see what I mean. It is one of the reasons it is so ritualized for the youth. It actually is important.” She sat to stare at Gilda, like a teacher describing something. “Play the game of dominance, or they will play it with you. Control them, or they will control you. Only commoners have the option to not play it. And pay attention to your servants who are open to your advances. And make them your little lovebirds. Or they may conclude you are not so impressive after all. The meek has never ruled anything.”

“Eh?”

“Gia, for example. And your mercenary friend, Gertha.” The Harpy waved her paw at Gilda and made the liquid in the cup dance inside while grinning deviously.

“Eh?!” Gilda cocked her head. “Gertha?! For real?”

Gilda’s reaction made the other laugh. “Sometimes the tough, big griffons too prefer to feel safe and protected… Serving their lieges. Not all griffons are fit to lead, Gilda. It is a dynamic game, a delightfully rewarding one if you can read other griffons. Especially the ones who need you to be something. If you fail, they will find another.”

“Wait…” Gilda winced and waved her paws with a slight blush. “What in the world are you telling me to do?!”

“I believe I already told you griffons would not learn anything if I kept telling them what to do.” She gave Gilda a tired stare. “You are perfectly capable of figuring it out.”

Gilda watched with a frustrated frown while The Harpy downed the drink she had served herself before waving the empty glass at her. “I believe I have told you to enjoy yourself multiple times. Add to that your social standing among the members of the Court. Why would a griffon looking for success follow another who fails to reap the rewards of their work? You were right not to allow Garnet to talk to you as she did, and your wrath was noted. Griffons will remember that. Moreover, you should take every opportunity to strengthen your body and your mind. In the few days you are to spend in Frozenlake, you should seek Geena’s assistance to become better at your job. Griskjal is not likely to take you seriously if you fail to impress him. In such a case, you are unlikely to make it to Griffindell and I will be most disappointed.”

“I’m starting to think I want to make it just so I can make you eat the fish they gave me here…” Gilda let out a sigh and glared at the larger griffoness, who laughed at her bite.

“Now, that is more like it. I cannot wait to see you in the flesh, my beloved champion.”

With a flourish, Mother Harpy held the short, wide glass pinching it with her talons and deposited it on Gilda’s paw. It had warmth. It had weight. It held a residue of the strong alcoholic beverage saturating Gilda’s nares with its burning aroma.

Gasping, Gilda looked at the larger griffoness, but she wasn’t there anymore. Then she looked at her paw, and the cup was not there either. Gilda’s tan fur and feathers stood on her back, and her eyes snapped to the bar where the bottle and little cups stood undisturbed. A shiver climbed her spine.

Finally, another sigh escaped Gilda and she turned to Grunhilda. Big Girl still faced the corner, but her wings sagged to the floor and her head disappeared behind her shoulders. Gilda rolled her eyes. “Come on, Big Girl. Let’s get ourselves ready for dinner. Thrall or not, you’re my lover as far as I’m concerned, and I want you as presentable as I.”

The Game of Griffons, pt. II

Bathing in the corner of their room turned out to be less of a weird experience than Gilda had anticipated. It helped that the warmth reminded her of just how cold Snow Mountains was. The fireplace made bathing a more comfortable experience too. The earthy aromas of wild northerner flowers and the smoky smell of burning ash wood complemented each other. The tub felt a bit cramped, but Grunhilda’s rising experience in massaging and bathing made up for it. The whole thing was supposed to be quick, but Grunhilda’s touchy-feely paws had other ideas. Gilda almost forgot her unpleasant experience with Garnet.

Once the bath was over, a quick preening session followed. Then Gilda turned her attention to the small vanity next to the tub. It had been stocked with all the ‘cosmetic crap’ a griffon lady might need. Gilda just wasn’t one for much more than her natural beauty and some preening, but she had picked up a few tricks along the way. Since one simply didn’t date Dash and not end up before a mirror with her seamstress friend. Like it or not.

Given that, Gilda took the responsibility of making Grunhilda look pretty. Or, prettier. Nothing too fancy, just the usual ‘beauty enhancing’ tricks for improving one’s eyes and smiles. Like shadows and mascara. Grunhilda didn’t have an expressive natural shadow on her eyes, so Gilda took the soft brush with some of the cosmetics. An alluring shade of cyan should go well with Grunhilda’s white feathers and blue eyes. Thus, Gilda sat before her friend, carefully drawing over her soft natural coloring. Slowly letting the contour feather-friendly pigments sink in.

How were those things made? No idea. Harpy above knew why a pony would know of such things too. But having learned it from Rarity finally served Gilda a purpose.

“I’m not good at this stuff. Quit squirming.” Gilda’s eyes squinted, but her paws barely trembled, dragging the soft brush under Grunhilda’s eye. The other remained still as a statue, despite some eventual anxious twitching. “And done.”

Gilda drew the brush away in fear she might smudge her work, or otherwise ruin it. Parallel lines were hard. Nonetheless, she let Grunhilda see herself in the mirror. The white griffoness squealed like a cub getting the gift of their lives when she saw her reflection with cyan eye shadows. Her excited hops and flailing wings almost swept everything from the vanity, but Gilda was beyond the point of getting angry with her.

“Thank you, Miss Gilda! I love it.” Big Girl finally calmed down and settled, staring at herself in the mirror again. A twinkle in her eyes, so happy over something so simple. All Gilda had done was follow her subtle natural markings. Then she held Gilda in a bear hug so strong Gilda lost her breath. After a couple of seconds Grunhilda let her go.

“Great. Careful you don’t mess your feathers up now.” Gilda coughed and chuckled at her, patting down the feathers at the top of her friend’s head to level after all her excitement. “I guess we’ve done all we can.”

To be fair, producing Grunhilda took little effort. And honestly, Gilda wasn’t that much behind, grinning and winking at the mirror. Maybe she should hire a professional stylist, or something. Once she actually had money, that is. Nonetheless, Gilda grinned at Grunhilda. “Let’s see what they have in the closets for us.”

Gilda knew what she was going to use. Her white cape had been properly washed and prepared for her. No-brainer. The jewelry Lady Gwendolen had sent her was also a no-brainer. Along with the dancing swordmaiden choker, she declared herself good to go. She even entertained taking Mythical, but that might send the wrong message.

Grunhilda opened one of the closets and kept staring from one side to the other, eventually with an anxious hum. “I don’t know what to wear, Miss Gilda!”

The room’s wardrobes had been stocked with different styles of dresses, capes, and assorted garments of many colors. Reasonable, since they meant the Manor to house Lady Geena’s guests. They could be of any gender, with any colors or body types. There had to be something for Grunhilda to wear in there. She looked like Lady Geena, for Harpy’s sake!

Joining her friend, Gilda held her beak pensively with a throaty hum, looking at the anxious queen next to her, then back at the wardrobe. Finally, a wince. “I’m not very good at this stuff either…”

She definitely needed a professional stylist.

“I guess you could use a cape too.” Gilda reached into the collection of hanging garments and shuffled them around until she found something acceptable. But then changed for another. And another. Grunhilda was her friend and lover. Gilda wouldn’t let her go to the dinner without a proper fancying up. She settled for a turquoise cape with sequins, satisfied in the way they reflected the flickering light from the interior lighting. Good enough? Eh… She’d like to see anyone complain.

They had invested a long time getting ready and Gilda stared at the darkness outside the window while Grunhilda donned the cape. It even had a silver collar to keep it in place. The white griffoness seemed pleased, judging by the wide grin she showed, posing in front of a mirror to show her side. Thus, Gilda like it.

“This one is borrowed, but one day we’re gonna get one for you.” Gilda grinned too, caressing Grunhilda’s back and smoothing out the light cloth over the feathers on her back.

Big Girl hummed sadly while she still stared at herself in the mirror though. “I shouldn’t really own anything, Miss Gilda…”

“Yeah… We don’t do that crap.” Gilda rolled her eyes. “I don’t care what the others do. Thrall or not, you get to have your own things. The armor, the weapons we picked up, and your parent’s stuff. If you have a problem with that, I’m going to take that stupid bracelet off.”

Again, Grunhilda let out an anxious hum, but said nothing. Gilda smiled and nodded at the door. “Come on. Let’s see if the others are ready for the dinner because I’m actually starving. There is no northerner nonsense that says I can’t feed my thrall, is there?”

That got a giggle out of Grunhilda. “No!”

Walking out the door, they came face to face with one of the Manor’s Sky Sentry guards. Next to him was the blue thestral with a small collection of snow on her mane. Gilda’s mood immediately plummeted. “What did you do now?”

“I am sorry to bother you, Lady Gilda.” The blue and gray guard under the armor began. “Your guest was caught sneaking around in the forested area. The prisoners’ camp is there, and we would prefer she didn’t.”

“I wasn’t sneaking around!” Moonbow cried, perking her ears, and dropping snow on the floor. “I just wanted to look for berries in the forest! You weirdos eat bushberries too! It’s not that strange! It was just a coincidence it was at sunset!”

He shook his head. “It is the end of the construction work shift. Lots of griffons walking around and it would be easy for her to contact someone among the prisoners or a spy among the workers.”

“You freaks are paranoid.” Moonbow rolled her eyes. “I just wanted some berries!”

“You should have asked!” Gilda poked her chest with a talon and gave her a proper angry frown. “You know very well how delicate the situation is. And with the way the simargls want to rip you apart, should lay low and not do stupid shit. Like sneaking out at the worst possible time!”

“You know what?” Gilda growled while Grunhilda also had a properly angry stare down at the pony. “From now on, both you and Lost Temple can’t leave the Manor. And I’m keeping you under watch. Get your flank ready for dinner. I’m not letting you ruin my style with the members of the Court of The Harpy either.”

Before the thestral could ‘sheesh, fine’ Gilda, she turned to the guard, patiently waiting. “Get her to her room with the other pony, and then haul both of them to the hall for me. Please?”

The griffon agreed politely and glared at the pony, which made her turn around with a petulant huff and start on her way. Just as she was ready to resume her way to the hall, Gilda turned to Grunhilda. “I think I’m gonna keep Godwin and Georgia next to me too… I have the feeling I better make sure they both get to the dinner and stay there while I’m distracted.”

Grunhilda didn’t say anything, but just as Gilda was about to resume her way, before the guard and the pony had even left the room, Gisele was there. Gilda’s new secretary approached donning a concerned frown and holding a clipboard with her wing. It seemed as though being the boss made griffons act like that a lot next to Gilda. “I need to talk to you before dinner… I would rather not mention this in front of the others.”

“Let me guess… I owe a second ass now.” Gilda didn’t even flinch. “This time to the Frozenlake caravan crews and merchants…”

“Hum, no… Mister Gillian said you told him to spare no expense and to make the caravan as best as he can. Which is fine. The problem is that… Well… It’s expensive.”

Gilda shrugged. “There’s no way around it. We’re employing griffons and buying supplies. We can’t expect they’ll just give us stuff for free.”

“Yes, but… Mister Gillian keeps using Lady Gwendolen’s name. And your debt to her is up to seventy-thousand Eagles. Most griffons won’t ever know that kind of money. I… Well…”

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna get paid.” Gilda rolled her eyes.

“That’s not it!” The younger queen almost cried and flapped her wings. “You’re trying to help these griffons, it's just… Well… What is the limit? Depending on how things turn out, you can end up working for Lady Gwendolen for the rest of your life…”

Gisele’s eyes shot to Grunhilda and then shifted back to Gilda and her beak moved, but she only stammered her words. “That’s thralldom if I ever saw it. And I don’t even mean to offend Grunhilda or anything… I mean… If I work for you… Then… Well…”

Gisele kept trying to find the right words and failing. It turned her whole discourse into a sequence of half uttered words and worried humming. It let Gilda think and Gisele’s worry made her look back at Mother Harpy’s accusation. She didn’t fully trust Her. And thinking about it made Gilda’s brow crinkle.

Things happened too fast. Gisele’s apprehensions seemed reasonable, and so did Grunhilda’s. Ghadah’s conversation with Empress Geneviere rushed to Gilda’s mind, the one about the Emperor’s gilded cage. It helped Gilda finally reach a conclusion she had been avoiding since she met Gladys at Griffonstone and then at the bath in Wayfarer’s Rest. When Madam Gelinda implied Gilda would become a luxury concubine of the future Emperor. That Grigory dude she didn’t even know.

The boat had already sailed. Lady Gwendolen now owned her ass multiple times over. A very fit and attractive ass, one might say (lucky Grigory). And so, what? Her goddess owned her. It was a tautology. Or whatever the purple pony smartyhooves would call it.

There was a point where Gilda might have stopped and turned back, but such a point was so far behind she couldn’t even remember where it stood. Worrying was pointless. Not because it didn’t feel sketchy and worrisome. Because it was akin to trying to escape that boat. It had sailed so long ago all she could do was drown herself trying to reach the shore.

She had no choice. Gisele didn’t even know of the irony that Gilda was so horrified of ever becoming like Griselda and Gertrude. She ended up as a Swordmaiden. A luxury, extra-special courtesan bodyguard for the Chad-Emperor of Griffonkind.

The point, remained however. It was better than being raped and ending up dead in an alley back at Griffonstone. Or forgotten in a cell, or pretending she was the big badass scone baker of Griffonstone. The city that can’t figure stuff out without the ponies getting involved. Screw all that. Gilda took control of her life and did the best she could with her cards. For fuck’s sake, she’d even make bacon scones and offer them at the parties and whatnot in her own damn manor. Once she reached Griffindell and owned one. Just to spite the whole thing, she’d make Bolognese scones so good Aya Harpyia would demand they be served during temple services.

Bless her poor mother, but Gilda wasn’t a hooflicker anymore. She was a legit Child of The Harpy. Left without real choices, Gilda did the only thing she could have. She embraced the madness which started with the dreams and with murdering those griffons in the alley. Her issues with money were just part of it. Just another plank on her boat.

Gilda’s frown relaxed as she turned her eyes back to Gisele and sighed. “A griffon’s wealth is found within the soul. The Children of The Harpy shall lead a creed devoid of avarice and greed, where wealth is meant to serve a need. Aya Harpyia sees all, and the hearts of griffons are the currency with which she deals. They should be excellent and deliver gallant service for She rewards with the most exquisite of graces those that serve Her designs, both in life and in death.”

When Gisele stared blankly at her, Gilda simply shrugged. “Lady Gwendolen’s words. You do whatever you want with them. For now, get ready for dinner. I’d like everyone to be there. If anything, it’s going to have good food. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yes.” Gisele deflated with a sigh and Gilda left her to deal with her thoughts by herself.

Grunhilda followed Gilda around the Manor, not a word after the conversation with Gisele. They walked through the stony corridors and stairwells smelling of burning ash under the light from the torches. Soon enough they found Georgia’s and Godwin’s rooms after a few doors. The dark-tan tom, staring at the mirror, adjusted a small neck piece with a red tie. The room felt like a hotel room. Luxurious, spacious, with its own toilet and with a bathtub, but ultimately just a place to spend the nights. Nothing of the extra luxury in Gilda’s room.

Noticing Gilda, he approached her, reporting like a good little trooper. Raised head and puffed out chest with a little red tie on display. “I’m ready for dinner, Miss Gilda.”

“This dumb thing makes you look like a pony.” Gilda pointed at his neckpiece. “Lose it.”

Surprisingly, he breathed with relief and snapped the thing free with a single fluid movement. “Thank goodness… I hated it.”

Chuckling, Gilda sat before him and held his shoulder for him to sit too. Then she took a good look at him with a smile. “You look good enough. I mean, I suppose you could wear something, but armors and stuff are more like something you’d have to earn. Right?”

For some reason Gilda couldn’t truly make heads nor tails, she was slightly miffed that all the cute little kittens would be all over him in the dinner. She coughed. “Where’s Giza?”

“Ah… She’s playing with some fledglings and a couple of the maids. I’ll just make sure I don’t have any feathers out of place. Then I’ll get down. To the hall.”

Gilda nodded at him and moved on. Supposing the next door was Georgia’s room, she trotted there and pulled down the handle. Much like Godwin’s room, Georgia’s barely had more than a small vanity, a sizable bed, and a wardrobe. The blue queen sat by the window, which was open.

A squawk escaped Gilda at the sight of a very northerner tom climbing into the room. Black fur and steel-gray feathers, while holding a white flower with his beak. He even had the red scarf of the Court of The Harpy.

Hearing the door open, the pair screeched. Georgia took a step back from the window while the tom’s paws skipped a few times on the stone before they found purchase again. Who had the most embarrassing squeal, undefinable.

Righteous anger in her glare, Gilda made her way to the window around the bed.

“Uh… It’s not what… Uh…” Georgia started with a furious blush but stopped while Gilda perched herself on the sill, ignoring her.

Rather than angry, Gilda suddenly became curious. How did he get there when flying was forbidden in the northerner cities? Turned out he didn’t fly. He climbed the five floors of stone wall. Behind him and below, Gilda could see his friends looking up.

“Dude, I gotta say I really admire your commitment.” She crossed her forelegs on the sill. “You just gotta think with your head, not with your wiener.”

“I just wanted to give Georgia a flower!” As soon as he opened his beak to talk, the wind swept the flower away. “Aw…”

“Just come to dinner, you dweeb. You can give her the flower in the hall. I don’t know, maybe you even get to dance.” Finally, Gilda closed the wood shutter and the window to sit before the annoyed young queen. “Do I really have to worry about you too? Other than every horny hen in the city perving over your brother?”

“No, you actually don’t!” Georgia stood and glared at Gilda, coming too close to her and raising her wings. “I don’t even know why you care!”

“Hey, hey! Sit down!” Gilda shoved her back to sit on her haunches, which she did with a pained whine. A passing thought told the tan griffoness to be more conscious of her growing strength. Nonetheless, Georgia seemed to be having a moment, between crying and seething. “Chill, girl. I’m on your side!”

Georgia’s face kept the angry, fuming expression. Fluttering feathers, glistening tears wetting her plumage. But she turned her face away from Gilda. “You’re not even a real northerner! Nor am I or Godwin. This whole thing is just stupid.”

“Why don’t you talk to me instead of throwing a tantrum? You’re supposed to be almost an adult.”

“I had friends!” She turned to Gilda and shouted like it was her fault. It scared Grunhilda into taking a step back, but Gilda never flinched. “I had a life back home. Sure, the other hens thought I was weird, but they were my friends. And whenever I try to make friends in this Freakland, there is a creepy old hen or you, telling me to keep distance! Like some tom is gonna get me pregnant if we stare too hard at each other!”

“Well, go back. But you don’t have anything back there anymore.” Gilda shook her head softly. “They took it from you. Your parents were important griffons with powerful enemies, and they ruined that life. It’s not there, waiting for you. Like my old home, it burned to the ground.”

Georgia had struck Gilda as a smart kid, and she showed it when she didn’t try to argue back. Instead, she seethed. Georgia wasn’t angry with her, that much Gilda understood. The young queen mourned the life that died with her parents as much as she mourned them. And Gilda had to admit… If she lived in the north, at Georgia’s age, she’d try to get laid just to spite the Loremasters and her parents. But she supposed that was the point of the whole thing. It’s meant as their graduation into adulthood. She won’t be a kid anymore; she’s supposed to have those feelings under control.

Although, did Gilda have the moral high ground to tell her to behave like an adult? Especially when many adults didn’t anyway.

As the drop that filled the dam, the girl let it out. It had been less than a week, for feather’s sake. Maybe Gilda should have done the same. She should have stopped at some point and cried that her friendship with Dash was gone rather than be jealous of Rainbow’s easy life. She should have mourned her friendship with Greta. Her scones and her friends were so far gone she didn’t even feel for them anymore. It was probably a bad thing. Both that she didn’t let it out, and that she accepted it without much rebellion.

Maybe it helped that Mother Harpy, even if she wouldn’t say it, understood.

At the same time, Gilda trusted Grunhilda as a friend. Gilda saw a loyalty in Greta she had never experienced before. Ironic as it may sound. Gilda even found in Gia an irritating presence she would miss were she gone. The Harpy gave her a sense of security, and the northerners' acceptance of her joining them was like a blanket on a cold night. Did she really need all the things she lost?

“Listen, Georgia.” Gilda spoke softly, reached, and hugged her. Held Georgia tightly to her chest, inhaling the lemony fragrance she wore. “You gotta live your life. Move on. I know it’s not been more than a few days, but you have no choice. You have to deal with the cards you’re given.”

“And that means going to a party and pretending I’m part of these griffons just because my mother was?” Georgia tried controlling her nerves, Gilda could see it. But she trembled and let her voice raise when she spoke. Sobs rattled her body and her paws kept grasping at Gilda’s feathers like she again tried to shield herself behind Gilda’s feathers. “My mother taught me this nonsense that the southerners didn’t raise their cubs right and that I was not to follow their customs.”

“For feather’s sake! I can almost hear Madam Gladys telling me to stop staring at the ‘toms’. I’m not even that much into that guy! He just said he liked me! He approached me like I’m normal!”

She sobbed and wept for a while with Gilda caressing her adorable crest of blue feathers. But Gilda let her go when Georgia pushed herself loose. “I’m just angry at this tradition nonsense. What is the point? Mamma is dead. Pappa is dead too. And I’m here pretending I’m a northerner. I have nothing to do with this stupid war, I just wanted to be an artist. But because Mamma and Pappa had important ancestors, they expect me to be one of them and just go to their freaky horny party!”

“Don’t go.” Gilda shrugged.

“What?” Georgia looked at Gilda, sniffling at her tears.

“Don’t go to the Court of The Harpy meeting. Don’t go to the Gathering Storm feast. You don’t even have to come to dinner with Lady Geena.” Gilda’s beak twisted into an annoyed grimace. “You can even open the window and call Romeo back to your window.”

“Heck, you can fuck him and yourself into jelly if you want. I don’t care.” Gilda opened her forelegs. “As far as I can see, nobody is even going to bother you about it. The meeting and the Gathering Storm are the kind of thing that you care about, and that you make it important for you. The reason the Loremasters are so annoying about it is because they know you’re gonna regret ruining it. But if you don’t care, whatever.”

“Gee, it’s supposed to be a symbol that you're an adult and can take care of your life however you like. Mostly because you understand that there are things you’ll regret doing and things you can’t change. I mean, that is the point of letting the cubs explore and do whatever they want, and then teach the older kids all their rules and such. I mean, if Romeo there wants to give you a flower and that makes him climb a stone wall, nobody is going to stop him. But if shit goes wrong, then the blame is on him.”

“So, go do whatever you want.” Gilda pointed at the door. “I didn’t have my mom to tell me any of that. But I can tell you that if you go back to the south, you can live just as I lived and that is fine. Go live in the Equestrian Heartland if Griffonia is getting too messed up for you. The ponies will literally give you everything you need for a happy and fulfilling life. They’ll even pay you to follow your passions. I did that. The only reason I’m here is that I punched the wrong griffon. I would even recommend going to Ponyville. I hear there are three fillies that help griffons find their destinies or some pony crap. They’d welcome a friendly griffon and the purple smartyhooves might even give you an award.”

“Nah!” Gilda shook her head and started making fanciful gestures. “I ain’t gonna give you a speech about how griffons are supposed to live, about how you gotta be strong to cross the Frozen North to the Stormy Eyrie. Or about how your parents are gonna be disappointed in you.”

Georgia blinked at her, stricken with confusion.

“Yeah. Go live your own damn life.” Gilda even made some shooing gestures. “When I killed Mother knows how many griffons in Thunderpeak and was feeling anxious about it, She chastised me. She told me I don’t have the right to judge them on their choices. That griffons live their lives free, and that if they didn’t suffer consequences, then their freedom would be pointless. Do you know what the message is? The point of all those rules? The Harpy wants us to live to the fullest. She wants us to have the drive to be free.”

“Your mom was a northerner spy and a Loremaster. Your dad was a double agent. Madam Gladys was a community leader, a big-time agent of The Lion, and a Loremaster too. I think all of them counted as spies. The way their lives ended was the consequences of their choices. I know it’s not nice, but ‘nice’ is for the ponies. The same goes for the mercenary jerk your brother shot dead. And all the griffons that died in the mess that followed. The ones that made it out are the lucky ones. Often because of the actions of others. In a way, their choices are also what landed you here. Alive, to make your own choices.”

“I was a scone baker.” Gilda held the feathers on her chest. “Now I’m the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani. The Harpy talks to me, I have dreams of past lives and I’m pretty sure I’m half-insane. What about you? My cards were to stay in Griffonstone and get killed or embrace the madness and come north. Yours are to embrace the northerner culture and accept being one of them or go back south and live however you wish. That’s a lot better.”

“Well… Mamma…” Georgia started, but Gilda stopped her, waving her paws.

“Forget your mom. It’s your life, not hers. You get to choose. Maybe Lady Guela would tell you to stay and become a northerner monster hunter or something. There is nothing saying you can’t be an artist here either. Maybe she’d think it’d be better for you. But I’m not her. Honestly, though, with how much the northerners love painting their heroes, an artist is gotta live a good life here.”

“What do you care? I don’t even know why you’re here telling me all this.” Georgia hissed, but her cheeks tinted red again, and her eyes shifted away. Now that was some bonafide childish behavior. Gilda did one of the things she does best, but instead of punching Georgia, she gave her a half-hearted slap.

A growl crept into Gilda’s words and a frown slipped into her brow. “I care because I found three lost cubs on my way out of Wayfarer’s Rest, and because I’m an idiot, I took it upon myself to worry about them. But I’m not your ‘Mamma’. If you want to go, then go. But if you stay, you’re going to do as I say.”

“Wow.” Georgia gasped, touching her cheek. “You sounded exactly like Mamma!”

“Shut up!” Gilda snarled. “You’re making me blush.”

Finally, Georgia giggled. She showed a smile in between her tear-darkened white and blue plumage. “Thank you, Miss Gilda. I think I’ll get myself ready for dinner then.”

“Thank you, my hind. If you make me emotional like that again, I’m gonna whip your ass. Grunhilda, Keep an eye on her. If any male gets within pouncing distance knock them over the head.”

“Okay.” The big white griffoness chirped.

“Wait… What?” Georgia started, but Gilda walked out of her room and closed the door, pulling it with her tail before she could say anything.

“You make a better liege than you give yourself credit for, Gilda.” Waiting outside, like a freaking ghost haunting her, Gilda found the great black and white griffoness again. A small lobby occupied the space of a room. It even had a fireplace and a window. She had claimed for herself one of the large sitting pillows, giving Gilda a lewd smile. “Although, I have to admit… Watching you whip young Georgia would be enticing.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Gilda deadpanned. “Is this going to be a thing? Are you going to be skulking around all the time?”

“No. This is more tiring than it should be. You are not yet ready.” The Harpy lost much of her playful enthusiasm. “You ought to improve your magical skills and fortify your mind. Especially because I cannot be with you all the time. You will notice that in the wilderness my presence should be scarcer. The details are not important, and that is not what I meant to talk about.”

She silenced for a few seconds as a griffoness wearing a maid headdress walked past Gilda with a respectful nod. Gilda supposed only she could see the ancient goddess poking around her head like she had rented the space. “I want you to know I appreciate your assistance with griffons such as Gia and Guela’s progeny. They are quite important. As are the griffons you have safely brought to Frozenlake. I will not forget this, and the boon of your service will come sooner than you imagined. But you must trust me.”

“Did I earn asking you a question?” As The Harpy nodded patiently, Gilda looked both ways, just to be sure. She had several things she could ask, including about her obligations to the big bad Emperor. One thing constantly nagged at her head, though. “Did my mom make it? Past the Windigos? You know… Assuming the story Madam Gelinda told us is real. I mean… Uh… This is a weird thing to ask… But…”

“Your mortal mother’s soul… Gracelyn’s soul is resting in the Stormy Eyrie. Waiting until she is ready to be born again.” The Harpy looked down at Gilda and spoke softly. “Know that she was properly buried and that she made it past the Whitescape to the Stormy Eyrie. Understand that I live with The Lion in Griffindell, but my mind constantly visits the Stormy Eyrie and that of my faithful. The details are complicated, and you are still not ready to understand them.”

Okay. But how? Gilda’s mom was a southerner griffon who had nothing to do with the northerners and lived completely oblivious to everything relating to The Harpy. How? Gilda stole a small stare up at the large griffoness but doubted she would say more. Still, what she had said was enough.

“Thank you.” Gilda coughed and disguised her croaking voice, but she supposed it was pointless when The Harpy was literally inside her head. “I should make sure everything is going as planned for the dinner.”

“You should.” The harpy tilted her head softly, and she let her crown of black feathers rest behind her head. Her voice lessened, as did her usual ‘I’m disappointed’ stare. “Gilda, you are beloved to me. And I shall not allow you or yours to lack in anything. Even if I must always demand of My Children, my existence is dedicated to you.”

Holy cow. Was there something in the air? Griffons were all so damn sappy. Gilda included, but that was beside the point. She just looked the other way and said nothing.

The Harpy vanished into nothingness and Gilda squared her shoulders before starting on her way to the hall. A few griffons stopped her with questions about the dinner. Nitpicky details that might not even make a difference. But Gilda supposed since it was her dinner, she should get herself involved with those details. Even if it was a roundabout way for Lady Geena to host the dinner. It was just easier to go along when telling them to figure it out might be disrespectful.

Eventually Gilda made it to the hall. The sight almost shocked her, coming out from behind the back wall. It had transformed. In a couple of hours, it filled with more illumination, and she didn’t even understand how. Rich tableware had been placed on the tables and the fire between them roared, brighter and taller. Probably some fancy northerner trick of putting some stuff into the fire and nothing the Lady of the Hall needed to worry about. She had guests.

The experience recalled memories from meeting the northerners at Thunderpeak. Although her position now granted her a lot more smiles and less distrustful, challenging stares. They sure didn’t fawn over her, but they treated her as an equal. Gilda appreciated it. They shook paws and exchanged pleasantries. Not something Gilda was used to beyond her precious experience of selling scones, dealing with customers, and generally being nice.

Nobody was angry at her yet, so she was doing something right. Ultimately, Gilda enjoyed meeting those important griffons. The northerner nobility didn’t have the same stuffiness of unicorns or southerner politicians. Although Lady Geena seemed to be ‘fashionably late’. It forced Gilda into throwing casual conversation around. Mostly about her impressions on the north and on the griffons who lived there. Some of the smarter looking ones wanted to know about her connection with the Allmother. Gilda gave it to them straight. The Harpy’s words earlier echoed inside her head, but her tale was impressive in its own right.

The idea she was the new thing really stuck out during those conversations and sapped slightly at her confidence. But curiosity filled those griffons and she felt safe enough. Even in their home turf. On the other side, some seemed intimidated to approach the mighty Swordmaiden of the Shaddani. The title certainly added a lot of weight to her presence, and after the event with the rocs, and after Thunderpeak, she had little problem accepting that. But still…

Eventually Grunhilda arrived with her pretty makeup and the two siblings came in her wake. The trio distracted most of the griffons from Gilda and gave her a few moments to breathe. Godwin didn’t wear anything, but Georgia had found a beautiful, deep blue night gown with shiny dots. It was designed for winged creatures and left most of her back exposed. Honestly, it looked like a pony thing. Gilda was above complaining since none of the northerners seemed bothered. Wings are wings and get in the way of clothes. She had time to properly preen and wash her face too. Now Gilda just had to be sure she didn’t slip away with some cute featherbrained tom.

Finding another griffon she knew immediately distracted Gilda. The gray northerner huntress who had helped so much with her still unnamed, not-Rocky, roc. She looked prettier than Gilda would expect. Preening was something all griffons could do to look good, but she wore something fancy. A ceremonial version of her animal skin and leather ranging garment. No fancy colors or anything, the definition of rustic, spartan beauty.

“Hi!” Gilda greeted her happily with a chirp, but the northerner didn’t share in her enthusiasm. Barely responding and letting her eyes drift to the floor. Her father and her mate stayed close to the tables where the Manor’s servants started serving the food and drinks. But they approached upon noticing she and Gilda had met. Gilda focused on the female, with a frown of her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I suppose it is time to say goodbye.” She still didn’t make eye contact with Gilda. “I ah… Passed along to Frozenlake’s hunters all we learned about the roc. Well… To the ones that are meant to accompany you in the next leg of the trip, that is.”

“Oh… I see…” The smile vanished from Gilda’s face too. When the father and her mate joined them, theirs had no smiles either. “Yeah… Thanks… I ah… Shouldn’t I pay you guys something?”

Behind the trio, Gisele’s green paw held her clipboard with ‘the maths’ for Gilda to see. Right next to her frowning, ‘don’t-you-dare’ glare. Hearing the old hunter-father say she didn’t have to, Gilda focused back on the huntress.

Gilda blinked, finding the huntress shedding tears and counting on her fingers. “He likes his meat cut into cubes, preferably a paw’s width, and at body temperature. It is a terribly bad idea to clean his beak before he’s done eating because he’ll try to bite at anything. He likes to be scratched behind his right ear, and he really likes the sound of the tagelharpa. A slow song is the best way of getting him to relax so you can preen his feathers. At least until he is old enough.”

Oh, Harpy above… Her breath smelled slightly of alcohol, and it only made it worse that she needed some liquid courage for that conversation. Gilda grimaced and fought the urge to take a step back as the huntress went on, barely holding her composure. “And… And… If it is too cold, it is better to give him a cotton blanket because the wool and leather make him excited, and he wants to play.”

Wait… She got to play with Gilda’s roc?!

“But… But… Also…” The huntress’ expression finally broke to ugly crying. “Please make sure to cover his eyes when he’s outside in his cage. Because… Because… He’s really excitable with any movement!”

Her mate walked next to her and put a wing over her back which caused her to hug him and wail like a weaned cub into his darker chest. Watching the fierce, big northerner huntress undo herself in tears, Gilda sat on the floor. She needed a couple of seconds of ‘aah…” before she managed to speak normally. She still scratched the back of her head, eyes dancing all over except to focus on the crying queen. “So, I suppose I’m going to need someone with experience to help me take care of him… If you know what I mean…”

Behind the trio, Gisele poignantly pointed at the clipboard filled with numbers, tapping the parchment with her paw.

“I am going to need help keeping him safe. Yes…” Gilda shrugged. “If you want to travel with us, you can be my… Uh… Animal handler? I’m gonna need help figuring it out once we reach Griffindell, after all.”

Gisele glared Celestia’s Sunfire at Gilda, poking a hole into the parchment on her clipboard with her talon. Fortunately, Gilda’s prerogative said she could ignore Gisele for a while. “So, yeah. I guess I'm in the market, hiring a beastmaster. Is that a thing?”

The bulky griffon lady gasped, holding her cheeks in her paws. Shining eyes and excited raised feathers. “Do you really mean it?”

Her father petted her head, telling her to calm down with a chuckle. Gisele threw her clipboard and bee-lined to the table with the alcoholic beverages. Turning back her attention to the hunter trio, Gilda found the huntress and her mate smiling all too happily while the father laughed. “I suppose that if the job of beastmaster didn’t exist before, it does now, Lady Gilda.”

“Is it going to be alright for you, though?” Gilda smiled serenely.

“Yes.” The father smiled too. “I will write a letter back home. It is going to be an honorable position, and there is plenty of game to hunt in the area.”

“Great.” Gilda smiled again and put a paw on the huntress’ shoulder.

But before Gilda could react, the huntress grabbed her paw and held it with manic, glazed eyes. Then she held the hem of Gilda’s cape and literally kept the tan griffoness from distancing herself. “Thank you so much, Lady Gilda! I will be forever loyal to you! I will name my unborn cubs after you!”

“It’s okay, dear.” Her mate came to Gilda’s rescue. “Let’s go. We’re hogging Lady Gilda and the other guests want to see her too.”

He guided her away with soothing words and the father laughed again, sitting next to Gilda. “I am sorry for that. But thank you, anyway.”

He even concluded with a polite bow. Gilda, back with her mental faculties, smiled. “Get yourselves something to eat. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Or after the festival. Either way, I’m glad you guys are staying.”

He smiled and made another polite bow before following his daughter and son-in-law. At that moment the doors, which had been closed to keep the warmth inside, opened laboriously and one of the guards stood on his hindlegs.

“Lady Gilda and esteemed guests, Lady Geena of Frozenlake.” He declared with a clear voice while she strutted inside like a supermodel on a Canterlot fashion strip under her cape of swan feathers. She even wore a similar makeup to what Gilda gave Grunhilda. Maybe Gilda could simply see the ‘magic’ behind her elegant and grand gestures and some of their effect was lost on her. Was that how loremasters saw each other? What of swordmaidens? Their entire thing was that they fought and danced. That their dancing looked like fighting, and their fighting looked like dancing. Cat-like grace and lightning reflexes, a strong mind, and a strong body for both, even if they did different things. Maybe Gilda should be more like Lady Geena? Nah. The Harpy liked it that Gilda was spontaneous.

An eyebrow raised at the thought. More importantly, though, Gilda was Gilda, not Geena or Ghadah. Sometimes that seemed easy to forget.

Meanwhile Geena approached Gilda, greeting others while they made way for her and bowed like she was a queen. Gilda just stood there, again, not sure what to do. She finally relaxed and kept her best regal pose when she concluded that Geena was her equal.

“Greetings, Lady Gilda. I hope the accommodations are acceptable.”

“They’re awesome!” Gilda blurted out, then she coughed and cleared her throat. “They are excellent, I mean.”

“Dinner should be served momentarily.” Grayden approached them from nowhere, speaking with all his pomposity. “Milady and her esteemed guests should take their places at the tables, if you please.”

“Thanks, Grayden.” Gilda had the presence of nodding a thanks to him before walking next to Geena to the table set next to the throne at the top of the steps. They were farther from the fire, but two carcasses roasting above it could be seen. Deer? They looked like deer. The whole hall had warmed and held the distinct smells of the North: burning wood and roasting meat.

Geena, of course, sat next to Gilda and so did Grunhilda with Godwin and Georgia. Gjarma, Lady Geena’s assistant Loremaster, sat with her and most of Gilda’s closest companions sat with them. Gia and Gelinda earned spots on the ‘important griffons’ table’ and so did Captain Gosalynn and whoever sat next to her. Probably the local Sky Sentry captain. Gertha and her brother earned spots there too, but not Mister Gillian and his daughter Gil. Nor did the two ex-soldier dudes with the same name.

The exact seating of specific griffons seemed like it could be a source of issues. Fortunately, everyone seemed happy. Especially as the opening dishes started arriving. The pair of ponies got their places. The feeling which remained was that the griffons just didn’t want them ‘ponying-up’ their party, but they were Gilda’s guests. The veiled contempt amused even the ponies, sitting across the table from Gilda, with their backs to the rest of the party.

The washing of paws with water from the pitchers and rinsing with the towels followed. A wholly different affair from the inn at Wayfarer’s rest though. The gesture and the food had a refined air about them. The water was cold and the towels pristine and fluffy. The food, sophisticated. Sausages, for example, were not served whole. They were sliced and dipped into sauces, seasoned with more complexity. The same was true for all the food, except for the slices of roasted game. They were salted before they were even put to roast. A pair of griffons dutifully spun the cranks and made them spin like part of a spectacle and it was all the seasoning they needed.

The ambience? Like royalty, but rustic. Music with northerner instruments, like wind; singing from powerful, deep, and throaty male voices resonating inside the hall. The fire sizzled, popped and crackled like an instrument playing itself into the song. Teeming with the northerner griffon charm. The beverages, intoxicating like a siren’s call. The meat, sweet and juicy, to obscene, sensual levels as the dancing that followed. Twirling and spinning, seasoned with alcohol, and filled stomachs.

Gilda remained seated on the table next to the loremasters. Godwin found that cute rose-pearly young queen from the caravan and danced with her, while Georgia found Romeo-at-the-Window. They joined the adults, dancing to the tune of strong drums and griffon feet kicking at the wood. Not quite as powerful as hooves, but it had its own flair. Gertha remained at the table, while her brother danced with Grunhilda. Neither of them seemed to know what they were doing, but they were having fun, and nobody judged. At worst, it made Gilda chuckle and grin at her friend, clapping her paws in tempo with the music, watching them.

“I am going to hunt you to the freezing expanses of the Whitescape if something bad happens to that chick.” Geena’s voice didn’t distract Gilda, she expected she would say something.

“Trust me…” Gilda didn’t stop clapping her paws nor watching her friend dance, talking calmly to the other. “If something bad happens to her, I will be right next to you, hunting whoever was responsible. If they even get a chance to escape.”

Geena initially responded with a satisfied nod and a deep gulp of her fruity mead. A moment of merry music and talking, cheering, and dancing griffons passed. “I must ask you a favor.”

Gilda, still clapping to the song, grinned and gasped with faux surprise. “Shocker!”

It made the honored loremaster laugh. “I would like you to take some of the southerner soldiers to Brokenhorn. Among them, many decided to stay in the North, but we cannot welcome all of them here.”

“The caravan was supposed to shrink in size.” Gilda retorted. Grunhilda, even not knowing what she was doing, did a wonderful job of looking gracious while having fun with Guille. It would make Gilda jealous if her friend’s happiness wasn’t so important. “It was meant to get easier, since the journey should be harder the further north we go.”

“True. That is how it goes.” Geena agreed. “But would you agree with me that if the journey was too hard, none of the pilgrims would make it? Yes, the journey has a tendency of weeding out the weaker elements, but we need numbers just as well. And that is why we will protect the less favored. Surely you see that, and also that I am a powerful friend to have.”

Sounded a lot like The Harpy, and Gilda could only agree. She said nothing, but let it hang in the air she had accepted the request and promise. As much as she understood the veiled threat. Griffoning in session…

“There is also something else…” Geena let the word hang for a few beats of the song. “Your non-attendance at the meeting of the Court of The Harpy would be massively disappointing.”

“What?” Gilda chuckled. “Is there some powerful griffon wanting to bang me?”

Geena giggled. It reminded Gilda of Grunhilda’s own happy giggling. “You may find this funny, but it is important. It is a way we confirm our bonds of friendship and loyalty. A celebration of Our Mother’s gift of exhilarating carnal ecstasy. It is also something that makes us different from the others. As you do, with any exclusive group.”

“Would it disappoint you if I told you the ponies do the exact same thing?” Gilda let a small, conceited smile on her beak, but she understood the idea. Griffons were not supposed to indulge in excesses, while the ponies had no such limitation. But griffons did anyway because they are free.

“Well, you will agree with me that griffon's elegant delicateness looks more enticing than the exaggerated pony plushness.” Geena added nonchalantly and as plainly as possible. Gilda choked on her mead and almost spit it all over the table with the noble lady comparing griffon and pony genitalia.

“I am thoroughly offended.” Moonbow glared from across the table while Lost Temple pretended, he was not there, intensely focusing on his leafy salad.

“Be not.” Geena raised her beak and took another sip of her drink. “You were never meant to be sultry anyway.”

“Someone’s gotta make sure the younglings aren’t embarrassing themselves too much, right?” Gilda cleared her throat and tapped fingers at the table. That sounded like a good excuse to be in on the fun. Although The Harpy would’ve told her to go because she wanted to fuck. Gilda wasn’t quite there yet to admit to it openly.

Not to mention she had to take care of Georgia, Godwin and Grunhilda. Excuses. Excuses and justifications never failed a griffon.

“I’d like to be there too…” Gertha leaned on the table to look at them with a grin. She didn’t even blush.

Geena let her head hang for a second and with a throaty, unsure hum. “It is meant for the members of the Court of The Harpy… I am sorry, but you do not really make the cut.”

Gilda spoke before Gertha could feel called out. “Either my friends can go, or I am not going.”

Maybe it was the finality in Gilda’s tone, which came out angrier than she intended, but Geena nodded. Almost like the responsibility had been lifted off her shoulders because Gilda took it on hers. Fine. Gilda didn’t mind. It lasted no less than a heartbeat though, and Geena resumed her cheery mood. “The ponies cannot.”

“As if…” Moonbow scoffed before taking a bite into an apple.

With a laugh, Geena tossed her head back. “The more the merrier. Fine. The point is to introduce the younglings to the ‘proceedings’ anyway. Not to generate cubs.”

“Well, that is nice.” Gertha chuckled with, perhaps, a better mood than Gilda would have in her position. Maybe Gilda’s defense of her was enough. “I need to walk for a bit. Be back soon.”

The pink warrior griffoness left the table and Gilda nodded her goodbye. The guards at the door let her out with respectful bows before Geena’s voice distracted Gilda again. “Well, you should know that, since you are relatively new, several males, and a few females, have shown interest in tutoring you during the meeting.”

Gia burst out laughing and Geena barely held her giggling at Gilda’s amused and perplexed expression. Suddenly the whole thing became a point of honor. Gia’s waving, reassuring gesture washed the confounded frown from her brow. “It is their way of saying they have the hots for you. Most griffons here in the north have never even considered traveling south to even know how the ‘hooflickers’ live their lives.”

Geena nodded and spoke again. “Although, Godwin and Mister Guille received several breeding requests. Both from the city’s nobility and from queens in your caravan.”

“Even though Guille is also not in the Court?”

“Well…” Geena shrugged. “I get these requests from the whole town. I’m just supposed to let him know. It’s not only queens from the Court that make such requests, you know.”

Gilda’s eyes snapped to Godwin dancing with the pearly griffoness and then at the pony when Lost Temple caved into his curiosity and finally said something. “Don’t the females get such requests?”

“It’s a griffon thing, actually.” Gilda shrugged and made gestures to explain. “Even in Griffonstone they do this. Most griffons want to make a family. Among those, female couples may choose a male to sire a cub. Others don’t want to relinquish their independence or mate a dick because they think he’s got good traits for their cub. The thing is that a male doesn’t get stuck with a swollen belly for nine months. So, males don’t usually get to raise a cub by themselves. Most females wouldn’t get themselves impregnated, birth and then give away their cub. Although, I have heard of ‘bellies for hire’. So, it can happen, but males usually get mated to a female and they make a family together. There are usually no hurt feelings when a female requests they sire a cub and piss off.”

“The difference is that in the south griffons don’t feel the need to get the Mayor involved.” Gilda rolled her eyes at the silliness of the whole thing.

“That sounds irresponsible.” Moonbow grumbled. “I prefer large pony herds.”

A short relative silence lasted a couple of seconds until Geena turned to Gilda again. “Ultimately, there is something else I must request your assistance with.”

“It’s the third one already, I think.” Gilda took a sip of her mead and put her best effort into making her words humorous.

“I am sorry I must sour the mood with a more serious request.” Geena let gloom seep into her words. “I need your assistance with a group of brigands. An unsavory bunch that may have attracted some of the more ‘loyal’ southerner soldiers once they escaped…”

Yeah, right. ‘Souring’ the mood was exactly what she had planned, with that lighthearted conversation about horny griffons. Suddenly, bandits. The best Gilda managed was an annoyed squint. If anything, the framed fish should be Geena’s: fed raw to her. The best to come out of the moment was that Gilda understood Gia’s soreness with Madam Gelinda.

“Fighting is not my profession.” Geena went on ominously. “My mate, Graham would take care of that, but he is away. Given the proximity of the Gathering Storm, someone should lead the new adults into carrying out Our Mother’s justice to the brigands as their crimes are most foul.”

Gilda listened silently.

“An experienced lady willing to teach the younglings could be rewarded with the pleasures of the flesh. A cub if she wanted. A noble visitor could be gifted with good food and drink…” Geena’s beak made a devious smile. “A loyal, holy avenger might be gifted with gold and prestige. And the curious thing about such ventures and passions is that they often bring more of each other with them. Such is the way the Allmother has taught griffons.”

What was a griffon lady to say? Gilda had become good at enjoying those things. And Geena read it in her smile, concluding with an insidious grin. “Welcome to Snow Mountains.”

The Gathering Storm, pt. I

Not having real metrics or experience to judge properly, Gilda chose to call the dinner a success. After all, nobody complained. Lady Geena didn’t complain either, and had a dance with Grunhilda, Godwin and Georgia too. Gilda didn’t dance out of fear of imploding under the weight of her insecurity. Fortunately, nobody asked her to dance. None of them felt like they had the right standing, Gia explained. Had anyone asked, Gilda would have said she didn’t want to show any favoritism. Yes, she went as far as having a Plan B.

Instead, Gilda spent the dinner talking to the important griffons of Frozenlake and of Wayfarer’s Rest. All of them politely avoided any sensitive topics, though. The highlight of such conversations was Captain Gosalynn. The short griffoness, while high as a pegasus cloud mansion, told Gilda the local captain wanted to meet her, but ‘he was up to his dumb hind in work because of all these catbirds in town’. But Gosalynn promised she’d take him to meet her the next day.

As things winded down, griffons took their time to excuse themselves with Gilda. Mostly quick affairs with some wishes of success in Gilda’s journey in the coming days. Most griffons also included her coming career as a Swordmaiden. A couple of the noblegriffons noted their desire of watching her dance during the Court of The Harpy meeting.

Right… She was a Swordmaiden. Swordmaidens were supposed to split things open and dance sensuously with their swords. Well, she’d see how that goes. Gilda had the looks, but that probably would probably not happen too soon. Even if she felt confident in her ability to feel and remember her way through it. Still, she avoided saying anything too on the nose.

Other than that, Gilda allowed the majordomo to welcome some griffons to the many guest rooms of the Manor. The town had run out of accommodations as more griffons than expected had come to meet the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani. Thus, several griffons graciously ceded their accommodations at the city’s luxurious inn to more prestigious noblegriffons. Gilda had come to understand it as a gesture of respect. Since the Manor’s guest rooms weren’t that fancy, it seemed reasonable for them to stay. Even if she could deny them a comfortable place to stay, she supposed the hospitality laws, as esoteric as they were, should be minded. Letting such griffons stay at the Manor would be her pleasure. If for no other reason, because Gilda didn’t want to turn into Garnet.

Although some of the prominent noblegriffons who asked to stay at the Manor wanted to shake the sheets with Gilda. How did she know? The stares. The smells. Griffons aren’t as sneaky as they liked to think. Especially males when they wanted to get unter some cute tail. They would get another chance at ‘The Meeting’. Gilda’s unofficial mate came first and foremost. Also, drunk Grunhilda, all flustered up and horny at her experience dancing with a dude proved too much to pass up.

However, more griffons staying at the Manor made alarms blare inside Gilda’s head. Godwin and Georgia ended up sleeping in the same room with little Giza. Behind a locked door as well as a locked window and sharing the same bed. If there was any way a griffon could climb his way up the toilet’s chute, Gilda would have found a way of closing that too. Even if it actually went to a septic tank instead of a moat. Anyway, Gilda posted a pair of guards at their door. Just to be sure.

Curiously the guards, one dude and a lady, chuckled. Turned out it was kind of a joke. Parents posting guards to their older kids’ doors during the days surrounding the festival. Gilda nodded and smiled. All was right.

The night lasted for a while after she closed her door, but Gilda woke up rested and happy in the morning. Hiding under the wolfskins they had for blankets, Gilda woke to herself snuggled up against Grunhilda’s back. Some soreness, aching muscles and sluggish thoughts vanished with a languish cat-stretch. A teasing peck at Grunhilda’s chin, pulling her feathers ever so slightly caused Big Girl to mumble a sleepy complaint.

The bright light entering through the window spoke of how late she had awakened. Gilda didn’t mind it and decided to leave Grunhilda asleep if that's what she wanted. It was a holiday, after all. Maybe the northerners didn’t do the ‘no working during holidays’ thing, but Gilda was cool with Grunhilda resting for a while longer.

Only some embers remained in the fireplace and after relieving herself, Gilda took a quick bath. The cold water didn’t bother her as much as it would have in the past. Afterwards, she wore her cape and her jewels. She also took Mythical with her, the sword being her ‘badge of office’. Her weight felt comforting against Gilda’s back. It also seemed like a ‘northerner lady’ thing to be roaming around with her weapon.

Finally, Gilda walked outside. Crossing paths with some of the maids who minded the Manor’s day-to-day maintenance and exchanging greetings. Gilda also walked by some of the guards and politely acknowledged their nods and no-nonsense bows. Making her way to the main hall, she found Gertha and the three siblings sitting at one of the tables. All four of them gobbling down fish filets and light, spicy mead for breakfast. Gilda could tell because of the smells and light colors.

Before Gilda could even say anything one of the maids arrived from the kitchen. She carried a plate with her wing. It contained the same spiced fish filets, and a bottle of the clear mead. One of the cute maids. Delicate frame and white body, with a glossy white at the tip of her feathers.

The maid rushed to the table atop of the steps. The one by the high seat of the Manor’s lady. But Gilda didn’t sit at that table, walking past. She wanted to sit with Gertha and the kids. The maid glared and rushed past her to set her food on the other table, across the fire from the other griffons. But Gilda walked past her instead of sitting there either. It caused the maid to hum indignantly and angrily set the tray with the stuff on the table across, not next to Gilda’s friends.

“What is wrong with you?” Gilda turned around and stared at the maid. “Wait! I know you.”

The maid cocked her head. “Your thrall attacked me!”

Then she pointed at the table at the top of the stairs, with a bratty snarl. “And you are supposed to sit there!”

Gilda made a confused frown. “But I want to eat with my friends!”

“You are eating together if you are in the same room!” The maid pouted. Indeed really, really cute. Also annoying.

“I want to talk to them!” Gilda frowned and let her voice raise and the others stopped eating to watch their shouting match. “I don’t want to yell across the table, you dweeb!”

“You are in the North, you have to do things like the northerners!” The maid insisted with an angry glare.

“Put the food here or I am going to get emphatically involved with your education!” Gilda yelled at the maid and poked the table with a talon.

The maid answered with an ardent huff before she stormed her way next to Gertha and dropped the tray on the table. With all the malevolent compliance a griffon could summon. Thankfully the mead was corked and didn’t spill all over the food when the bottle turned on its side. Gilda called her following that, but the young maid simply ignored her, whipping her tail on her way.

Gilda spent a couple of seconds watching the maid walk out the hall with furious, heavy stomping steps. Flared wings and raised feathers, mumbling something Gilda didn’t understand. Suddenly the tan griffoness found herself resisting the urge to pounce at the youngling. Maybe giving her some of the same treatment she had given Garnet.

In the end, Gilda just shrugged. “I suppose she’s angry I didn’t punish Grunhilda over fighting with her yesterday.”

“Grunhilda got into a fight?” Somehow, Gilda’s explanation seemed to confuse the pink Gertha even further than she already was.

“Yeah.” Gilda sat next to Georgia and washed her paws. “When we arrived, we saw the maid cleaning my sword and Grunhilda got angry. She was kind of jealous.”

Georgia put her cup on the table and glared with a sarcastic tone. “That is not weird at all!”

Gertha chuckled. “Grunhilda is a bit dependent on Gilda. Kinda like a puppy.”

“I’m not sure I like that analogy…” Gilda picked one of the filets but stopped to talk.

Gertha chuckled again. “Sorry boss. Say. Ah… I talked to that griffon you wanted me to see during dinner… And… Ah… It’s pretty bad.”

“What is it?” Gilda gave the pink griffoness her full attention, but Gertha didn’t talk further. Instead, the mercenary indicated the three siblings with her eyes.

“You know we can hear you, don’t you?” Georgia deadpanned behind Gertha leaning into the table to stare at Gilda from behind the pink griffoness. Godwin tried to pretend he never noticed anything, and Giza just wanted more fish.

“Yeah.” Gilda told her. “But we’re gonna use our ‘adult prerogative’ and not have to tell you anything. Come on, Gertha. Let’s talk in my room.”

Gilda stood from the sitting pillow and took her plate with her while Gertha did the same. Fortunately, the three siblings didn’t follow, and the Manor’s maids didn’t bother them on the way up. Reaching the living room before the actual room, where Grunhilda slept, Gilda told the two guards to take a hike and they did obediently. Alone, the two queens sat at a meeting table near the corner, far from the windows and balcony.

“So, they have an army here, right? Prisoners from the Griffonian Standing Army, sent to spearhead an invasion.” Gertha started and Gilda nodded, while both enjoyed the chicken filets. “So, there were not only griffons with that army, but also hippogriffs.”

Oh, shit. There was only one thing that could be going on and Gilda hated it.

“When they arrived,” Gertha went on. “They got separated and examined by the Loremasters. There is talk of one guy Lady Geena took to Griffindell, but what really worried me were the hippogriffs. The northerners have them in an isolated bunch of hovels and are not feeding them properly, nor treating diseases or injuries. They’re not even properly protected from the cold. Some twenty hippogriffs, and there is a guy that has asthma and he’s going to die without help.”

“The… You know…” Gertha made quotes with her fingers. “The ‘half-bloods’ are getting help from the city’s resident Saddani and a few others. But they can’t stay here… The problem… Well…”

“They are prisoners.” Gilda sighed. “They can’t just go. And if they happened to disappear, the Saddani taking care of them would be in trouble.”

The griffoness massaged her brow while Gertha waited expectantly for Gilda to say something. It would be so much easier. Immensely easier to just ignore the problem. Getting involved was going to do nothing more for Gilda than mudding her relationship with the Allmother. She stood to gain nothing from getting involved after things had finally started going her way. No.

No. Screw those hippogriffs. When Gilda needed help, she had to fend for herself. Only the northerners helped her. Only Mother Harpy helped her. It almost felt like betrayal, helping the hippogriffs. It was just easier to fall in line and accept the hippogriffs for the filthy half-pony abominations they were.

Then she rested her elbows on the table and covered her eyes with her paws. An audible groan escaped her.

She couldn’t do it.

It was beyond Gilda to just accept that those hippogriffs deserved to suffer. That they were inferior just because their parents mated with ponies in the past. Ghadah screamed at her from the depths of her soul to just let it go. One thousand loremasters Gilda lived as insisted on how bad an idea that was. But Gilda couldn’t convince herself to let go. Something inside prevented her from simply accommodating into her comfortable position. Part of it was how much she actually feared that course of action would lead them into another death spiral, like the empire in the past. Even if The Harpy disagreed, coexistence made itself necessary.

Gilda finally sighed and looked at Gertha again. “What would you do in my place?”

“Thank whoever that I am not in your place?” Gertha shrugged. Gilda was sure she could strangle her if she tried hard enough, but Gertha was actually trying to help. Despite her smartass answer. “Ah, Boss… I…”

Gertha grimaced and scratched the ruffled feathers behind her neck. “I mean... I made a living by fighting griffons and low-tier monsters. I once got called for a job about some dude that wanted another kidnapped and stashed in a house away from town. Yeah… I just told the local militia about it and never talked to that fixer again.”

“But, uh… If you feel like you can’t get involved, I’m not going to judge you. I’m not naïve enough to think that you could afford to help them and not get yourself screwed.” Gertha spoke plainly, staring Gilda in the eyes, and with as blank an expression as she could. “I’m not judging. I really am not, boss. Do you think The Harpy can take away your powers? Take away your dreams? That sort of thing?”

“I think she can.” Gilda drummed her fingers. “She’s probably listening to us right now…”

Gilda even looked around the room, expecting to see the big black and white griffoness lounging about on some comfortable couch or pillow. Judging her. The Harpy was nowhere to be seen, though. Still, Gilda just couldn’t rid herself of the anxious feeling The Harpy hid right behind her eyes.

Gertha just shrugged. It took almost a whole minute of mental anguish before Gilda finally accepted she couldn’t just abandon the hippogriffs. She threw her yellow paws and cawed. “I have to do something. I’m not sure what yet, but I gotta do something!”

“I just…” Gilda started with a helpless frown. “I want to help the hippogriffs. I do. Because they don’t deserve to suffer, and I feel like we can’t push it too far like this. Hating the hippogriffs will bring everyone against us. I have memories of the fall of the Empire. It was all because griffons pushed too hard. She, Mother Harpy pushed too hard. And she didn’t take it very well when things fell apart. She wants to kill Celestia and we, griffons, are going to help her. But I can’t help feeling like we’re marching straight to doom. And I… I don’t want Her to die. I want all of us to have a nice life. Maybe we can even fight the ponies, but… Not like this. Not to this extreme where we can't win.”

“You’re not making a lot of sense, boss.” Gertha did her best not to smirk, Gilda could see. But Gilda’s rambling was too much even for herself. “You like The Harpy… I guess I like her too, and I understand enough, I guess. I’ve had friends that wanted to do stupid things too.”

“How did you deal with it?” Gilda stared at her expectantly, nervously tapping her talons at the table.

Gertha grimaced. “I didn’t. They wouldn't listen, so I kinda ditched them before they got me arrested.”

Well, it was not like their problem was so easily fixed anyway. Gilda didn’t know what to say, but the doors to the balcony opened. Georgia walked in, followed by her brother and their little sister. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“We? Ah, nevermind… I am open to suggestions!” Gilda threw up her paws with frustration. Was there even a point in getting angry they had snooped? “Or did you just come here to listen in on our conversation?”

“Well, if you managed to get them to leave with the caravan, I could take care of them. I’m not good with guns, but I’m a good healer.” Georgia smiled widely. She was probably telling the truth. Gelinda had recruited her to help after the rocs attacked, after all.

“I’ll think about it.” Gilda finally shook her head. “I’m not going to leave them behind. I’m gonna find a way to get Lady Geena to let me help them. I just don’t know what I’m going to do yet! All I know is that we gotta go to the Gathering Storm festival or she’s gonna be cross with me.”

“It’s supposed to start at lunch.” Georgia frowned. “How am I supposed to enjoy a feast knowing they are basically torturing hippogriffs? Just because they’re not ‘full griffon’!”

“‘Torturing’ is a strong word, Georgia.” Godwin added calmly, making air quotes. “Maybe the secret is making them our problem, to get them off Lady Geena's paws.”

“Talking like this makes you really sound like… I don’t even know. King Godwin, The Terrible.” Georgia groaned.

“I’m being pragmatic.” He defended himself by raising his beak and putting a paw on his chest.

Gilda waved a paw at them. “Chill. We’re doing this together. I’ll think of something. Just don’t make any noise about it. I’ll… I’ll think of something. I promise.”

And so, the morning passed. Gilda sat behind the desk in her living room and thought about the situation. Gertha went on to take care of her own business. Eventually Grunhilda woke up and joined Gilda, doing nothing. Once she became bored, Big Girl got her smithing book and settled down to read. Georgia and Godwin too picked up books to read. Giza spent the morning destroying a plushie rabbit Gilda had no idea where had come from. What mattered was that the little griffon cub was entertained. It was a cute plushie, but Gilda supposed that Giza had gotten into the spirit of the northerner griffons.

Lunchtime came too soon, and Gilda still had no idea how to deal with the hippogriff situation. She shelved those thoughts for a while, or she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the celebration. Georgia had a point, but Gilda’s chances of helping those hippogriffs would improve if she participated in the thing. So, nothing wrong with her enjoying it a bit, right? Right.

Gilda made sure Big Girl and the three siblings were ready and walked out the Manor with them. The day was relatively hot, and she decided against wearing anything. Supposedly, she was early, and the rest of her companions would soon join them, but that was fine. Gilda needed some urgent down time after racking her brain (unsuccessfully) to find a viable solution. She was also starving after her light breakfast. The others decided against wearing anything too, but Grunhilda donned her fox pelt backpack before leaving. Gilda supposed it was good forethought as they were bound to need some money. Georgia was still miffed about the situation, but she didn’t say anything.

Supposedly, Frozenlake’s griffons had spent the whole morning getting ready for the festival. Gilda wanted to see what they had prepared, and Harpy above, did they deliver. The festival spread over an entire section of the city. Fireworks banged occasionally and music came from outside the keep’s gates. Secluded inside ‘her’ mansion, Gilda never noticed it, but the calm and collected griffon city transformed into a noisy, festive city to rival the pony cities.

The heart of the festivities stood right outside the gates of Lady Geena’s keep. Like the walkways around the city, the plaza had been covered with planks, making a raised platform spanning the entire open area. Covered with more noisy griffons than Gilda had ever seen in one place. Even considering the angry mob before the Chancellor’s Palace, back in Griffonstone. A lot happier, though. Spontaneous demonstrations of happiness like singing chirps and caws, excited little dances, and flapping wings happened all the time amid conversations. Every now and then a cub ran past them with a toy or another.

Groups of griffons congregated around colorful tents and stands, each owned by a griffon or two. They sold everything. Local produce, such as strawberries, carrots, seasonings, and stuff Gilda had no idea how was made to grow in that place. Other stands offered more understandable things like cheeses, cured leather, eggs, and rolls of wool and spun fabrics.

Unholy amounts of food sat on the stands, with tables ready for comfortable consumption. Things Gilda had not seen yet, such as several kinds of pies and fritters filled with different fruit jams. And meat. So much meat! Cooked, smoked, roasted. Broths, filets, or strips, soaked with sauces or dipped in seasonings. Beverages too. Ranging from colorful juices to different flavors of mead and wines with varied spices. Special note to the spiced wines meant to be drank hot and the wooden boxes filled with ice and the northerner version of fruity ice yogurt. Along with the fritters, probably as close as the northerners would get to sweets. More than enough for Gilda.

Something curious was that Gilda had internalized the idea that the northerners were rustic. She was right, but wrong, at the same time. Their products lacked none of the sophistication of the rich products to be found in a big city like Griffonstone. The stands and tents at the festival left nothing to be desired when compared to the rich Griffonstone’s commercial district. Farther from the gates, the stands offered more and better. Toys, for example. From adorable griffon dolls and cutesy animal plushies to beautifully crafted play sets, complete with little monster and hunter figurines. Little castles and little soldiers, with more monsters and even what looked like an artist’s depiction of an undead Battlehorn. Skiing boots, sleds, and snowboards. Doll houses, complete with little griffon doll sets. Beautiful seafaring ship and airship toys. A couple of trains, and plenty of wooden figurines of griffon and oxen pulled carts.

Even wooden weapons could be found among the toys. Childish replicas of the real things for the very young cubs like Giza or older cubs. Those who could still get away with whacking the others with a stick. But not only toy weapons. Infantile, exaggerated tools made of wood for the tiny griffons to pretend they helped their parents with their tasks.

Almost with a perfect transition, the stands started displaying better quality practice weapons. Wooden swords with dulled edges, shields, and spears with round tips. Bows and arrows with blunt tips and one of the vendors even had a junior armor set, with steel plates, chainmail, and animal skins. Of course, toy guns too, which fired blanks or spring action ones.

“Hey, Godwin.” Grunhilda showed a snide grin and elbowed his shoulder. “Do you want one?”

Instead of telling her where to shove it, he gracefully gave her a tired glare. Like the ones Gilda was used to seeing in Gia.

“Hey… We could buy something nice. We could eat something nice too.” Gilda chuckled at their jest and smiled. After all, most of the money she had invested was in the form of credit. “Did you bring our money, Grunhilda?”

“I did!” Big Girl gasped and flared her wings open, smacking a pair of nearby griffons in the face. She even did a few excited hops. Grinning like a happy kid that got the right answer. “I knew I should!”

Gilda chuckled again. “Good job, Big Girl.”

Godwin complained though. “If you buy me a toy, I’m leaving as soon as they decide that I am finally an adult.”

“Chill, dude. She’s just teasing you.” Gilda chuckled.

While many stands offered stuff meant for cubs, the majority minded adult interests. Starting with clothing and jewelry. Exquisite gold, silver and even steel jewels. Some of them advertised magical effects. Almost all had beautiful gemstones and intricate patterns with thin lines. Others showed noble animals from the region, such as a flying roc and a skipping gazelle. They filled Gilda’s eyes as much as the toys filled little Giza’s.

But that was only the beginning. There were also tools for all uses. From knife sets to workshop tools and day-to-day working or householding tools. All professions covered. Instruments which were mostly made with combinations of wood or bone and metal. Different levels of craftsmanship and styles for everyone, but all of them meticulously made. Animal horns too, and most were veritable works of art.

Other stands showed uncommon objects like powders, scales or feathers from magical beasts, different leaves and roots, and small flasks with liquids. Things Gilda could swear meant to supply a witch’s pantry. Or however would they call their supply of magical items. It was weird stuff to see but given how magic seemed to be everywhere and in everything, it didn’t surprise her on a second thought. Vague memories spoke of different potions, teas and infusions which could be made with those.

And of course, weapons. Certainly, weapons and armors wouldn’t be missing from their markets. The northerners seemed to need weapons to either fight off monsters or go out on hunts. Swords, shields, spears, maces, pikes, halberds, more shields, short swords, long swords. Steel tools for monster hunting or creature killing. Crossbows seemed to be popular amongst the monster hunters while bows seemed preferred by the game hunters. One or two muskets or fancy rifles could be seen too. Curiously, those didn’t seem popular against monsters, but some made it to the stands and Gilda saw at least one of the hunters from Wayfarer’s Rest buy one.

“Mamma once said that firearms can’t hold magic quite like melee weapons.” Georgia offered, looking over the revolving muskets.

“Which is why the local militias in the south use crystal balls with their muzzleloaders.” The griffon sitting on the other side of the stand spoke, drawing Gilda’s attention from the weapons. She supposed the vendor had pegged her for a southerner, or something.

Which she was, actually. But it offended her, nonetheless.

“Some metals are just bad for holding magic. Like iron or lead.” One of those particularly savage-looking northerner griffons, with an off-white head and chest, not as fluffy as most griffons. His musculature spoke of a griffon used to physical labor and some pedigree if Gilda had understood the whole purity thing. No clothes over his deep gray body, only a couple of adornments in the form of bone and teeth collars. His rustic self fit well with the deep voice and no-nonsense tone. “On the other paw, there is gold, silver, bronze, and some crystals which conduct magic. And this is why airship engines have components of all those materials and they are often used for spell components. Then there are different steel alloys which hold magic. Like your dancing sword, made of Astrani steel.”

Oh well, at least he recognized Gilda.

“Ah…” Georgia frowned at him. “Is that why the Royal Guards use gold?”

“Ponies will be ponies.” The griffon shrugged. “They associate gold with the sun. Princess Luna’s guards use silver, for example. They are easy-to-work metals and will serve as vessels for any spell they might need. In the past, Battlehorns used good, strong steel. Solar Steel they called it, because of the arcane forging. But even then, their armor had golden components to facilitate their armor’s magical functions. And Solar Steel included gold in its alloy.”

“The exception is the iron from the Stormy Eyrie and the Roost. It works perfectly with griffon magic. You can see it in many Astrani artifacts and in some things the remaining Astrani will forge. Lord Gilad’s armor, for example. It is also a major component in Astrani steel.” The vendor concluded and shrugged. “I don’t know if it works as well with pony magic. I hope not… That would be silly.”

Speaking of silly, Gilda wanted to buy something off him just because he was so welcoming and forward with information. But with a surprising bout of free-will, Grunhilda chirped excitedly at him. “Master Goovar also says that modern firearms are bad for magical retention!”

Gilda and the three siblings looked at Grunhilda when she spoke. Nobody expected her to speak openly like that, given her insistence on respecting her thrall status. Then at the older griffon behind the stand when he responded. “And why would that be?”

“Because they use lead for ammunition and iron, or normal steel, for parts! Even further, all magical weapons and armor will feed from the user’s inherent magic.” Grunhilda puffed her chest and raised her beak as the four griffons looked back at her. Gilda was just glad the old griffon didn’t mind talking to a thrall or something. “Fighting with a melee weapon is seen as more personal and skill-focused. It reinforces the magic and makes it stronger. According to Master Goovar, that is.”

“I’m pretty sure firearms require skills too.” Godwin complained.

“That is correct young master. But those are different skills that will not necessarily connect that well with the way our magic works.” The griffon nodded at him before turning to Grunhilda. He showed a small, contained, but very pleased smile. “Are you reading his book? If I may ask.”

“I am!” Grunhilda piped. “Miss Gilda bought it for me!”

“Well, if you are following the steps of Master Goovar, I think you should have something.” The griffon smiled and presented a sizable bundle wrapped inside leather. “Some smithing tools. Different hammers, tongs, vices, and clamps. Knife sharpening tools, wood, and leather working tools. Rune carving tools and even some stone carving tools and bone working tools. Things you will need along your whole career. After you get yourself a forge, anvil and worktables, of course. I’d also suggest a grindstone and tempering oil tubes. Unfortunately, I can’t sell you those, since you’ll be moving out to Griffindell. If you would stay, I would teach you to build a forge and sell you everything. Well, I can tell you to see Master Gilbert in the capital. Just tell him Gonviard sent you and he will help you.”

“Thanks, mister! I will!” Grunhilda beamed with an enviable happiness at the griffon and his serene smile.

“So, how much for the whole kit?” Gilda finally asked.

“One thousand Eagles!” He declared proudly. “I can guarantee, it has quality on par with my own tools. I made them myself.”

“But…” Georgia gave him a smartass, side-eyed stare of a kid who thought too highly of her bargaining skills. “Did you know that Grunhilda is the daughter of Lady Gaharjet and Master Gembert?”

“Well, that sounds like Miss Grunhilda’s master, the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani, sponsor of epic caravans can afford fifteen hundred Eagles then.” He returned her a smartass grin of his own.

Gilda didn’t even get angry. “Pay him up, Grunhilda. I’m gonna buy it for you before Georgia gets the price higher.”

After she was done with her happy tap dance and squealing, Grunhilda picked up the purse with the coins and gave the old griffon the appropriate coins. After a quick check, while Grunhilda grabbed the bundle, the old griffon smiled at Georgia and her grumbling pout. “Don’t be angry at me, kitten. I taught you a lesson for free. I know who Grunhilda and her parents are. I know who her aunt is. If I could afford it, I would have given her the tools. If for no other reason, to be part of whatever great deeds the future has in store for her. But I must pay for my own subsistence.”

Gilda chuckled as she herded the group from the tent so that other griffons could have their turn with him. A line had formed already. “Thanks a lot, mister.”

Grunhilda balanced the bundle on her back and the two siblings followed Gilda with Giza on Georgia’s back. Gilda stopped after a few steps, though. Thoughtfully took a talon to her beak. “I suppose I should buy you guys something.”

Godwin stuttered an answer. “You don’t really have to, Lady Gilda.”

“Don’t worry, you doofus. I’m not going to buy you a toy.” Gilda chuckled at him.

“I want a pretty collar!” Georgia started jumping up and down as they walked and Giza did the same, although Gilda couldn’t understand her baby-like chirps and hisses. “Giza wants a war scythe!”

Gilda looked at the excited little cub and then at Georgia. “You understand what she’s saying? What in the feather is a war scythe?! You know what? I’m not even gonna question that. Here’s what we’re doing: Big Girl, give me the money. Then you four go around the market and find what you want. I’ll get us something to eat and then we’ll do some shopping. One item for each. Alright?”

“Wait, wait!” Georgia waved her paw at Grunhilda and glared at Gilda. “How come she can get two things, but we can only get one each?”

“For starters, it’s because I can do things to her that I can’t to any of you three.” After Georgia was done getting red as a beet, Gilda pointed at a tall pole griffons tried to climb for a prize. “Move your butts. I’ll find us some nice food. And we’ll meet near that thing.”

Grunhilda gave Gilda the pouch with their coins, which Gilda wore around her neck. A dangerous thing to do, was she in Griffonstone. The knee jerk reaction gave her an instant of pause. She was not in Griffonstone though and she would like to see anyone try and steal from her.

Her friends immediately turned and scattered, leaving Gilda to figure out their food. A short tour around the food stalls was enough to make her salivate. Her stomach aggressively reminded her she was hungry, and she accepted a few samples griffons offered the passersby.

Not long after, she found something everyone was bound to like. Strips of fried caribou meat with cheese and spicy seasonings. It looked much fattier than the usual northerner meal, but that day they should be allowed to indulge. A small family cared for the tent. Tending the fire, the meat, and the cheesy sauce the meat was dipped after deep-fried. They served the meaty strips skewered with wooden spits and sprinkled with grated cheese.

They gave Gilda a thick paper tray to hold the meal and helped her find a table near their meeting point. A high turnover, thanks to griffons not wanting to be in only one place too long, gifted her a suitable place. But she also decided she wanted some fritters for dessert, and she procured some too. With help from a nice young lady, she also acquired juices and mead they both transported to the table. Gilda even paid her helper an extra.

Done, all Gilda had to do was wait for the others to return. She found it easy to just stop for a while and watch griffons having a good time. She watched nothing in particular, resting her head on her paw and her elbow on the table. Without paying attention, she had a hard time spotting the southerners from the northerners. In the middle of the general population, the size difference didn’t evidence itself so much. Even the Saddani could be seen, having fun along the others. It was ultimately a good thing but reminded her of the hippogriffs. She would have to find some time to talk to Lady Geena once she was not so busy because of the celebration.

The conversation at the neighboring table drew Gilda’s attention: a pair of cubs with messy light gray coats and white feathers who seemed like siblings sat there. They talked to a properly preened and brushed blue cub taking notes with a notepad and a pencil. All over a nice meal of banana fritters and grape juice.

“So, basically you can do whatever you want, but you need to be aware of certain things.” One of them, slightly darker than the other said raising his finger. Speaking with such certainty even Gilda was convinced.

“You can still get yourself hurt and then the adults will go ‘I told you so’.” Lighter gray took a sip of his grape juice with a serious frown. “Nobody likes that, and the older cubs will laugh at you.”

Blue jolted down notes on his notepad as the first spoke again. “Also, be careful with the Loremasters. They know black magic that can really ruin your day.”

“I swear they can read your mind! And most of the cubs and adults won’t believe you, but I saw that they really can shoot lightning from their paws!” The lighter cub frowned like a war veteran that had seen some shit. “Don’t mess with them. Instead accuse the older cubs of doing something wrong. They will usually side with you. Especially if the older cubs are bothering you.”

“Like what?” Blue stared up from his notes with a worried little gasp.

“Oh, just say they’ve been staring too long at another.” The darker gray cub shrugged, after taking a bite off his fritter. “I don’t know why it works, but it makes the Loremasters really lean on them. It’s feathering funny too.”

While the pair shared some more tips of cub survival with the newcomer, Gertha’s voice drew Gilda away from their meeting. Although not as much as her boisterous slapping her paw on the table, sitting across from Gilda. She had the bright blushes of quite a few flagons of alcoholic beverages on her too. Hey, Gilda wouldn’t judge. Gertha was an adult that could take care of herself. Instead, Gilda smiled at her mercenary friend as her brother and Gil approached. The latter looked particularly pleased with a large necklace hanging in front of her lime chest.

“Having fun, Gertha?” Gilda smiled as the others too sat at the table.

“I love this place!” Gertha laughed. “The guards only get angry at you if you actually do something wrong when you’re drunk!”

“Can you please not yell so loud, Gertha?” Her brother glared at her, but Gertha responded with a dismissive gesture.

“You’re just frustrated Gil vetoed you going to the meeting!” The pink griffoness clamored.

“I already told you I was not interested to begin with.” Guille glared at her while Gil herself was too enamored with her collar to bother with their conversation. “We are getting mated, and it is not the time to be doing that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, right. Local and caravan queens most disheartened. I’ll be having fun tonight!” Gertha returned him a lewd grin, but it immediately turned to an excited childish gasp. “Ohmygosh! Fire jugglers!”

Less than a second later she was off, and her brother rushed after her, crying for his sister to wait. After a couple of seconds, Gil said her goodbyes to Gilda, mindlessly following them, still too enamored with her necklace. They vanished among the mass of griffons going every which way or talking and eating some of the abundant food. After that, Gilda noticed Captain Gosalynn approaching her table.

The short and colorful griffoness had her usual lively way of moving and hopped to sit at the table across Gilda with a cheerful greeting. Gilda responded immediately. “Hi!”

Next to Gosalynn, came a big griffon. A bulky male, about as massive as Gilda herself, but in the ‘male way’, like Gertha’s brother. Brushed black fur and shiny gray feathers, smelling of oak and smiling confidently. The dude was like a walking stereotype of the noble savage, but Gilda had to admit sometimes the simplicity was welcome. Especially when she had become used to younger griffons trying too hard to be something they were not.

Gosalynn spoke as Gilda nodded a greeting to the tom. “So, I thought I should introduce you to Captain Gevorg! He’s going to be accompanying you with his own Sky Sentries during the next leg of your trip. You know, to Brokenhorn.”

“Oh! Geez! I saw you talking to Gosalynn when we arrived! I was kind of busy…” Gilda gasped. “I’m sorry! I didn’t even recognize you without your armor!”

“Well, that is the point of uniformization, isn’t it?” He smiled all confidence and good humor.

Gilda chuckled at him, and Gosalynn spoke again. “Since you’ll both be shaking metal sticks at monsters and brigands in the near future, I thought you should talk. Anyway… I also wanted to give you farewell. Gilda, it’s been fun. Especially with the rocs and jolly caravan business. I’ll be leaving back home tomorrow morning, but if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

“For example, hit me up when you’re ready to clear a certain Astrani ruin.” Goslynn winked, but then became serious. “And don’t forget, we were being followed.”

Aww… Gosalynn saying goodbye dampened Gilda’s mood, but she supposed Wayfarer’s Rest needed her. The short griffoness shook Gilda’s paw when she reached over the table. “Well, it was fun. Thanks a bunch for your help, Gosalynn. I don’t know if we could have dealt with the rocs and the draugar without you and your cats. And don’t worry… I’ll keep my eyes open.”

Gosalynn laughed a single exclamation of amusement. “Says she after telling a feathering Windigo to fuck off. I don’t know if you’re humble or just oblivious. Anyway, I gotta see some griffons in the caravan. You two get to know each other. Excuse me.”

Just as quickly as she had arrived, Gosalynn left. Gilda was left with the endearing male staring at her with a friendly chuckle. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever met a griffon that earned such praise from Gosalynn. She usually says that griffons aren’t doing more than they’re supposed to. But she told me you carried them to fight against an actual Windigo. I didn’t think that was possible. I always thought of them as gods… Or… I don’t know.”

Holy Mother’s Feathers… Gilda barely listened to a word he said. Did Gosalynn just wingman that dude into talking to her?!

“A lot of griffons talk about you, anyway.” Gevorg spoke on since Gilda was still stuck processing her thoughts, fidgeting with her fingers. Her brain returned a fuzzy feeling at the end of the panicked realization. The local captain did look handsome and confident. “But meeting you is much better than listening to a second paw account.”

Gilda chuckled like a doofus again and had to resist the urge to slap herself into talking like a civilized griffon. For fuck’s sake! What in the Harpy cursed world would a griffon ask another in that situation? Was she supposed to ask him his preferred sword grasping style? She chuckled internally. Maybe she should ask him about the size of his sword…

“What are you doing?” The Harpy startled Gilda as She walked from the corner of Gilda’s eyes, carrying with her thunder-seasoned air and distant rumbling. Her beak bent with an amused smile, and She leaned into Gevorg. His posture yielded slightly to her weight. What the feather. Every time She showed up Gilda wasn’t sure she was awake or dreaming anymore. What was She even doing there? Gilda was just having a conversation with a guy! The tom just stared at Gilda, though. Contradictorily oblivious to the griffoness resting her body against his, despite the way he gave to her weight.

“Beautiful catch you have here, Child.” Her black talons glided with their curves against his soft dark plumage as she caressed his cheek. He blinked, as though he expected Gilda to say something. He remained like so, no matter how long Gilda stared at him, or at The Harpy. “You know very well what he is asking for and what he can offer. Don’t make him wait too long, he’s bound to respect any distance you would create with your silence. Given the delightful experience to come from this, would that not be a shame?”

Gilda chuckled. “I thought the northerners were supposed to be braver. More assertive.”

“Once again your endearing lack of polish betrays your inexperience, despite your delightful confidence.” Her black paw twisted with a flourish, and she cupped his face, still stroking his soft feathers while he stared at Gilda. His thoughts, unreadable, if they were even there. “He wishes to draw carnal enjoyment out of you. He fancies you, and as per the rules of the Game of Griffons, he offers you the same. But the Sky Sentry Captain of Frozenlake approaches you from a position of subservience. Come now, Child. You are not so unsophisticated not to understand. You are powerful now.”

“I’m powerful…” Of course, she was. How dull would one have to be to not see it? Gilda herself had acknowledged it many times and even reaped the benefits. At the same time, the words rolled off her tongue like sweet, fruity mead.

Languishly closing Her eyes, smiling, The Harpy let Her facial plumage smoosh against his. “Are you not enthralled by his sincere, almost naïve, surrender? He sees you both as equal to approach you, and at the same time, as the gatekeeper. Of course, the point of being in your position is that you can afford to comply or deny at no cost of prestige or standing. Make demands, shift stakes at your pleasure. Will you demand his dedication during your coming trip? Maybe you will demand more of his subordinate warriors to accompany your caravan. Maybe you will deny him and shun his advances. Will you let him take you in his strong wings? Will you hold him and take your prize from him, caring little what he would feel in the process? All prices he is willing to pay for the privilege of sharing that moment of pleasure, of carnal passion, with you.”

“This is power that you hold over him. As mighty as a king’s rule over his vassals. As powerful as a Jarl’s decree over his lands.” The Harpy let go of Gevorg and grinned at Gilda, pouncing over the table with all the grace of the cat part of catbird. “But something bothers you. Conflicting thoughts joust inside your head, little Gildas pulling your feelings in opposite directions, like the cubs playing tug-of-war.”

Her warm body pressed against Gilda’s back and caused her to grimace at the memories it invoked. Her paw stroked Gilda’s feathers and the tips of Her talons dragged at her skin. Her voice was as soft as it was sumptuous, and still carried Her commanding tone. “It had been so long since you surrendered to those delightful sensations. Grunhilda was more than willing to reintroduce you to, but she is inexperienced.”

Gilda donned a deadpan glare, slightly pulling toward annoyance and let the great griffoness have her way. She still spoke with a mirth that showed she was acutely aware of Gilda’s annoyance. “Even now, her adoring expression and memories of wonderful abandon intrude upon the conjured images of a strong and worthy male humping you into bliss.”

Annoyance turned into distress. Unbelievably, it hadn’t occurred to her Swordmaiden-y self that Grunhilda, so clingy, might be sad if Gilda had intimacies with other griffons. At the same time, she was talking to Captain Gevorg. He was hitting on her. Gilda was also busy hosting an intrusive goddess inside her head. But the point was that she had welcomed Gevorg’s advances.

For feathers’ sake! She felt like she was going insane all over again.

“Do you mind?” Gilda growled and snarled at The Harpy, not caring if the griffon could hear her or not. Staring at The Harpy’s amused grin, right next to her at the table. “I mean… Kindly, stepping out of my freaking head for a while I’m having a crisis?”

“But Child… You let me in yourself. You welcomed me.” Her strong voice came out with a chuckle as she pulled at Gilda’s cheek. “You cannot command your heart to stop beating for you to catch your breath. It is in my nature to follow you, as it is in yours to surrender to the passions of the flesh.”

Gilda cawed and rubbed a paw on her cheek where the other’s talons stung. “Are you trying to get me to fuck the dude and feel bad about Grunhilda? Or are you going to be pissy because I’m supposed to like that Grigory guy? It would be easier if you just told me what you want!”

The Harpy laughed and grinned deviously, patting Gilda on her head. “I believe I have told you several times I do not tell griffons what to do. I am basking in the wonderful dissonance inside your head. It is what makes your kind so interesting. Not because it makes you complex; you are not. You have already decided, and you are already subduing the guilt you feel. I am doing what I do best. Pointing fingers and amusing myself with your unnecessary distress. Free will is a gift I gave you, after all.”

And then She was gone. Poof. Like She was never there.

Gevorg was talking about something Gilda had no idea what it was, but he seemed excited about it. Grunhilda, Godwin, Georgia and Giza had returned too. They stood next to the table like they didn’t want to interrupt and stared at one and the other.

“So, the pines actually have little branches, and those things that look like scales are the actual leaves.” The dark griffon made excited gestures, despite sitting with a certain noblesse at the table. His grin was quite satisfied with himself, though. “But the guy didn’t know that, and any herbalist would know they’re called fascicles. So, we knew he was the changeling!”

He had the most focused, adorable black eyes, though. Gesturing with his paws as a knife at the table. Explaining how he and his subordinates held the changelings in different rooms and interrogated them separately. “I wasn’t really surprised at how the changelings had previously agreed on their lies. But they missed a detail: Lady Gjarma gave them something that really messed up their noodles and they started getting confused. They ended up telling us where their center of operations was. And let me tell you. That was a fight!”

He had that build of a northerner that got the job done. For sure, he was talking on and on, but he sounded so sincere and so passionate about his job of keeping griffons safe. His words were well articulated and organized, but most of all, sincere. Gilda believed he wasn’t making up stuff to make her impressed with his deeds. Something Gilda had almost come to expect from the griffons who tried hitting on her. Honestly, that too had happened so long ago she didn’t even remember when the last time was. Yes, there was Grunhilda, but it was different with her. Gilda wanted to live with her, and their regular sex was more of consequence of that.

Speaking of Grunhilda, she could be extremely jealous of Gilda. But Gilda didn’t want to waste the opportunity with the Captain and wanted to be on his good side. She rubbed her jaw, staring at Grunhilda, who ruffled her wings upon noticing Gilda’s inquisitive stare over her. The ‘kids’ just waited politely while the adults talked. Gilda smiled at Grunhilda, and then she grinned, which caused Grunhilda to show her confused frown.

“I didn’t know Changelings could get that big!” Gevorg kept narrating his soldiers’ raid against the infiltrated pod of changelings. “But I’ll be damned if the bughorse knew how to fight. He was so slow; it was like fighting a cripple. Can you believe they had managed to steal some weapons from the Sky Sentry armory? Harpy above! I may have lunched with one of them in the days before!”

He shut his beak when Gilda spoke, though. “Will you be at the meeting? You know, at night?”

He blinked a couple of times. He even blushed slightly under his dark plumage. “Yes. Lady Geena invites me every year.”

“Nice.” She smiled as sultry as she could, softly scratching the table with her talon. “After you’re done instructing the little kittens, maybe you can help me teach Grunhilda a few things. And then you can tell me more about fighting changelings.”

Gilda had to contain herself not to laugh at his and Grunhilda’s simultaneous bewildered stares. “I don’t mean to cut our conversation short, but I gotta watch the kids. I promised I’d buy them something.”

He gasped and coughed curtly before he grinned widely. “Of course. I understand. Yeah. I have work to do too. I can’t leave my lieutenants hunting for changeling infiltrators by themselves, and the city guard needs help with so many griffons around.”

“So, I’ll see you at night?” He just had to confirm, didn’t he? It made Gilda lean on the table, holding her jaw and resting an elbow, smiling back at him. Letting the excited shivering in her back ruffle her crest.

“You gotta tell me more about beating the snot out of the changelings.” Harpy above… What a stupid thing to say. In her defense, Gilda’s flirting skills had rusted. But anyways, since they would be swinging sharp metal sticks at the monsters along the way, she might as well bond with the guy. And what a fine-looking guy he was too.

He ended it with a content smile. Standing and bowing respectfully at her before leaving. “Later then, milady.”

There was something sillily nice about being called ‘milady’. And not by some insecure dweeb trying to suck up to her. Gilda watched him leave while the ‘kids’ came closer. Giza hopped onto the table, immediately teared at the meat, and covered herself with cheese and sauces. Grunhilda just showed her a confused and lost frown while Godwin glared at the distancing griffon like he had stolen something.

Georgia glared at Gilda, fuming, and ruffling her feathers like she had done the young queen harm. “How come I can’t look at a male for more than half a second and you can flirt like that?”

Gilda chuckled, looking at Giza and petting the cute little griffoness. She had sat on her little haunches and held a strip of meat to tear at it. She even smiled at Gilda, halfway through swallowing a morsel, half-covered with cheese and beige sauce. “Count to ten, Georgia. Later today you get to do all the flirting that you want. How about we eat something, and then we can go buy whatever you guys wanted?”

Gifts. They always calmed an angry griffon.

The Gathering Storm, pt. II

Gilda and Georgia spent several minutes getting Giza clean. A nearby northerner mother helped them by providing towels. No one could convince Gilda that Giza wasn’t having too much fun with the adults fawning over her. All the while, Gilda told the mother and her daughters how she had fought the undead griffons and rescued her pet roc from dying of starvation and exposure. Doing so, she pitched Godwin’s bravery. She hoped it would make him stop moping over whatever had bothered him so much after Captain Gevorg left.

Giza’s hygiene issues resolved; Gilda set out with them to buy the things they wanted. Grunhilda’s first. For no other reason than she was an actual adult, as per northerner definitions. Georgia’s vendor had his tent closer, though.

The young blue griffoness had found an artist griffon in the north. It shouldn’t have surprised Gilda so much. Even she had said the northerners loved painting epic snippets of their history. A slim, but tall guy sitting behind the stand, and wearing the red scarf of the Court of The Harpy. His orange pelt had the peculiar shine of the modern Astrani griffons, along with his green eyes and elongated beak and sharp facial lines. He smiled his foxy face at the group, but Gilda caught the subtle tells of an introverted griffon. His friendly smile was exaggerated, and he shuffled his feet. “Greetings, Lady Gilda. Lady Georgia, I am glad you have returned. I have your things prepared. Do you mind if I talk to your guardian?”

“No… Not at all.” Her awkward words caused Gilda to turn and see the blush on Georgia. Apparently, she had already forgotten Romeo-at-the-window.

“I wasn’t aware I was a guardian.” Gilda chuckled and turned back to the vendor as he deposited a folded leather case on the stand’s counter. It opened like a book to reveal a wood structure under a caramel velvet. Ribbons held in place an organized collection of pencils, brushes, and other tools. Gilda had no idea why a griffon needed so many. Truth be told, she didn’t even consider there were so many kinds of pencils. Different erasers. The things were supposed to erase… Why did someone need different erasers?

The colored pencils she could understand, though. They weren’t the sort of thing you could find anywhere. One could find them, true, but rarely in most places. Griffonstone, for example. Gilda suspected Astrani magic-fuckery of the locals to be involved. It wasn't a problem, but the price was likely to be astronomical. She put forward a genuine smile. “This looks neat. Is this that you want, Georgia?”

“Yes.” Georgia’s smile put a warmness on Gilda’s chest. It was nice to help another. Especially one she liked so much as the siblings. “I think it has everything I need. It’s like the one I had back home. Other than paper, I mean.”

“Well, that sounds easy enough to get.” Gilda turned to the Astrani tom. “How much?”

“Seven hundred Eagles.” The griffon smiled, although softly. “I’m… Uh… Giving it a nice discount because it’s Georgia’s first Gathering Storm. And uh… Well… She’s so cute. I mean! She’s been through some really unfortunate things. You know. With the… Uh… You know. And… Uh…”

Gilda smiled. “Dude, just ask her to look for you at the meeting.”

“Yes!” Georgia blurted, before he asked and turned to another side. “I mean…”

“Ah, great.” He restrained his excitement, but let his wings skip from his flanks. “So… I’ll close the stand and meet you there? I uh… Still have to charge for the thing… Sorry.”

“Chill, dude. We understand.” Gilda chuckled at him with a wave and Grunhilda took the hint to fish out the proper coins from the purse. The vendor nodded as she gave them to him.

Georgia grabbed her drawing kit from the counter and smiled at it before holding it under a wing. Georgia’s happiness made Gilda happy too, so she led the group to the next vendor after they excused themselves. It was Giza’s turn, even if she smelled of cheese and spices. Being told that, she bolted ahead, forcing the others to scramble after her in the throng of griffons. Fortunately, the guards weren’t angry at Gilda, hopping and hovering above to locate Giza. It helped a little. Gilda could see surprised griffons reacting to her little blue bolt running in between their legs, but no cub.

Fortunately, the others knew where she was going. One of the toy vendors near the gate. Arriving, Gilda took a moment to catch their breath under curious stares from the other patrons. Once she caught up to the little griffon kitten, Gilda let her head hang and talked as best as she could while panting her lungs out. “Can you please not do this again? Do you understand the hassle it would have been if we had lost you in the middle of all these griffons?”

She sounded like her mother, more and more. The thought made Gilda groan, more frustrated with herself than the cub. But it didn’t matter. Giza didn’t even listen to her. She stood on her hindlegs, supporting her weight on a paw against the stand and pointing up with the other. Looking at Gilda's eyes and pointing.

The vendor looked down from the stand. A mid-aged yellow and white queen with a puzzled frown that turned to a warm smile. “Oh. Hi, cutie. I’m glad to see you again!”

Giza reacted with an excited hop, beating wings, and an eager, snappy chirp.

Gilda chuckled. “Well, she has opinions. The others came here with her earlier?”

“Oh, yes. They did.” The old griffoness waved a finger, talking with a raspy voice. The others weaved their way around the crowd to them and joined Gilda. The toy maker picked a small wooden toy weapon from behind the stand and gave it to Giza. “When my mate said I should make something like this, I imagined no cub would ever want it. Swords and axes are more popular. But what do I know, right, cutie?”

Gilda watched Giza holding the toy weapon in her little paws. Gilda learned what was a war scythe. A spear with a long, curved blade. That one, made of wood, polished, then varnished in a ‘woody’ shade of caramel. Obviously, a toy, but it didn’t bother Giza. After a few excited hops, the first thing the little cub did was whack Godwin’s foreleg with it. He pulled it back with a shocked ‘ow’. Giza followed with a precise swing to his jaw that brought him to the wood floor. Grunhilda and Georgia laughed while Gilda talked to the stall’s owner. “Well, she looks happy to me. How much?”

“Oh, that would be five Eagles, dear.” She told Gilda while Giza held her mighty weapon aloft, standing above her vanquished foe. Victory chirp included.

Grunhilda offered the griffoness the coins while Georgia helped Godwin stand, and Gilda just watched them. She pawed a few specks of dirt off the feathers on Godwin’s chest. “Well, at least we can be sure she liked it. I guess you deserve your turn now.”

“I don’t really have anything I want, Miss Gilda.” He rubbed the pain out of his jaw.

“Really?” She gave him a frown. Gilda didn’t understand why it disappointed her. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Godwin shrugged. “I mean, I’m very thankful. I just think buying something just for the sake of buying is… Well, I don’t want to.”

“Lame.” Grunhilda groused at him.

“Boring.” His sister Georgia glared.

And little Giza shook her little head, so hopeless her brother was.

“Hey! Do you guys mind?” He ruffed his wings and blushed, angry as a slighted cub.

Gilda stared at him for a couple of seconds. Was something wrong? Was he sad? Did he think he’s not worthy? Had Gisele filled his head with her worries regarding Gilda’s money? Well, Gilda supposed she shouldn’t force Godwin to buy something just for the sake of it. Maybe it was his take on self-control. It just kinda sucked, though, but it was still his decision. “If that is what you think. I guess it’s your turn, Grunhilda.”

“Yes! Yes!” She shifted from her teasing into hopping on her feet and taking the lead, just short of running off by herself. Fortunately, unlike Giza, Grunhilda was easier to follow.

Big Girl took the group to one stand selling books. First, Gilda grinned at Grunhilda. She was shifting from her older posture of not wanting to own any property. Then, getting there, she wanted a book on ranging. Gilda’s first thought had her disappointed. Grunhilda wanted to make herself more useful, but in the end, she supposed it was the ‘northerner thing’. To make oneself useful guarantees a comfortable life. One thing the Loremasters of The Harpy preached. One paw washes the other. She supposed she couldn’t blame Big Girl.

The price came as a surprise, though. One thousand, two-hundred and fifty Eagles. Gilda took the book to examine. That thing better have pages made of gold, written in the blood of virgins for that price! No gold on the pages, much less any blood. It had a neat blue velvet cover, pristine. The magic warmed her fingers, seeping out of the book as Gilda held it under her scrutiny.

“Ranging, Hunting and Scouting.” Gilda read the silver, scratchy High Griffonese letters, squinting. “A treatise on locating and exploring Astrani ruins, as well as scouting, hunting, and skinning game, monsters and enemies. By the Master Huntress of Griffindell, Gaharjet Stormborn… Oh.”

“What?!” Georgia gasped and cried, coming closer to gawk at the velvety blue cover. “Grunhilda’s mom wrote it?”

“Skinning game, monsters and… Enemies?” Godwin deadpanned, but they ignored him as Georgia turned to Grunhilda and held her paws in between excited hops.

“This is awesome!” Georgia got Grunhilda into her excited dancing and wings flapped with feathers flying everywhere. “You can actually learn from your Mamma!”

“I know, right?!” Grunhilda grinned and cawed.

“I’m thinking this book is worth a little more.” The griffon behind the stand chuckled, adjusting his small spectacles in front of his small, green eyes.

“Please don’t?” Gilda glared at him, laying the book on the counter, but putting a humorous tone in her voice. “I owe my ass enough times over.”

The griffon’s laughter shook his dark gray body and old silvery feathers, losing their shine in his old age. Patches of fallen feathers on his head had left exposed skin, and the little green beret he wore helped little. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Miss Grunhilda should have this book. While it is not the original, I vouch for its authenticity as a copy.”

Gilda smiled at his words, but Georgia came closer with a huge, smarty grin. “Well, Gaharjet was Grunhilda’s mom. She should have the book for free! Eh?”

“Shut up, Georgia…” Godwin growled at her. “You suck at this.”

“You suck, Mister I-don’t-want-any-presents!” Georgia retorted, showing her tongue.

Gilda just stared from one to the other, and at the stand’s owner. The old griffon laughed, though. “Ah, I agree, kitty. But I had to pay for it, and it is a pretty nice and preserved book. It is fair to sell it for this price. I don’t think you appreciate how expensive some books can get!”

“Don’t mind her. I’ll pay the money.” Gilda concluded, and Grunhilda scooped the coins to give to the vendor. Then the big griffon girl hugged the book like it was her mother herself. How, in the ever-loving world, could Gilda have denied it to her? She would bought it if the damn thing cost double.

Better leave a book fund of around two grand, just in case Grunhilda’s dad too wrote a book.

All four ‘kids’ had their things and kept smiling. It made Gilda happy. Concerned with Godwin, but he was old enough to decide himself what he wanted. Even if that was nothing. “Hey. What do you guys think we see what else is going on? I bet there’s a lot of fun we can have before the meeting!”

As if ‘fun’ wasn’t the point of the meeting.

Gilda had never been one for much ‘fun’. Or games. The other ‘kind’ of fun was out of her reach most of the time. Regardless, it had always been about winning competitions and showing others just how awesome she was. Since her life got turned upside down, she recognized she slowly started changing. She reached the conclusion that after what she had done in the fight at Thunderpeak, there was not much point in competing with others. The Harpy expected much of her. The fight with the poor tortured rocs… Those had shown Gilda just how exceptional she was, dwarfing the rest. A warming serenity came from it. She allowed herself to just have fun.

Noticing it made her even happier. ‘Fun’ meant spending money in Griffonstone. Now she had the money and the spunk.

Gilda decided to just enjoy the whole party aspect of the Gathering Storm. Beyond the market and the food area, the festival spilled out. An octopus taking over the city with every tentacle. Frozenlake’s griffons had raised even more stands, and a few homes turned into stores and small showrooms. More ‘stuff’ Frozenlake’s griffons crafted and put to sale. Earthenware was popular, such as pitchers for the before meal hygiene. Clothes too. Heavy ‘winter’ clothes attracted a crowd of newcomers. A giant toy store, with elaborate wooden toys, drew the cubs as though they were moths to a lamp. A whole toy factory had turned into a store for the celebration, and the workers hawked their stuff, waving and shouting in front of the windows.

Yeah… Try that in Griffonstone and the union would tear down the whole thing.

It was a malicious thought on Gilda’s part… It was not like the unions were necessarily damaging. But the northerner griffons were more than willing to do ‘off contract’ jobs. In the end, ‘honor and duty’ were words meant to make you work harder. Except the northerners cared for each other. Gilda doubted so many workers would be cheering, showing their stuff to the cubs otherwise. The north made griffons more willing to cooperate and take one for the team. Not always, to be sure, but often.

But Gilda didn’t let such thoughts distract her. There were jugglers to watch. Things flew and danced in the air as though they had unicorn telekinetic powers. The cubs adored them, but the adults too. A sign promised fire juggling and fire breathing once the sun was down. Gotta make use of the wow effect.

Magicians pulled Eagle coins from cubs’ ears and made playing cards vanish. Dancers twirled and pirouetted on stage in well-coordinated swings and jumps. Graceful, shapely queens and toms in a whole rainbow of moving colors, drawing cheers from cubs and adults. A sudden urge drew Gilda to the stage. Ghadah, from behind her head, came close to making the griffoness climb onstage and try her sword dancing skills. Almost. It would feel inauthentic without Mythical. Yeah. Gilda went with that excuse.

Gilda’s temporary loss of enthusiasm did not scrape her enjoyment of the festivities, though. There was so much more to see. For example, the produce competitions. The largest pig. The biggest wooly ox. Largest chicken, largest egg, most beautiful chicken. Largest fish out of the frozen lake. And, of course, vendors sold animals, their produce, and tools for fishing on the frozen lake. Not to mention stages for presenting the largest strawberries, bell peppers, carrots, tomatoes, aubergines. Those griffons would try anything one could grow in a greenhouse. Take it to the festival and show it off. One Saddani sat beak high by his giant pears for the others to take photos and got a plaque from the mayor. And one of those stupid fishes.

The festival escaped control, stretching all the way to the lake. Griffons taught ice fishing and made a game of it. The encroaching cold of the approaching night? An afterthought. Outside the city, things were even better.

A crowd formed along a lengthy mud pit and the rowdiest griffons of all joined there for a game. Organizers, laughing and cheering, threw buckets of cold water, and the audience encouraged the competitors on. Griffons carried their mates on their backs in a race, trudging through the mud for the grand prize of their weight on mead. Full measure for the winners, half for second place and one third for third place. All for the entry fee of five Eagles per pair.

“Oh, we are so doing this!” Gilda declared to Grunhilda’s unbridled giggling.

The kids cheered them on against four other couples just as Big Girl jumped onto the muddy water like she was born on it. Gilda hugged Grunhilda’s neck, and she too cheered Grunhilda onward. The slick mud at shoulder height made running difficult. One couple of colorful southerners slipped onto their sides to emerge again in a fit of giggles. Grunhilda and the others left them behind until they reached the thickest part of the pit. The largest griffons plowed through. Strong as bulls, while their partners, holding on around their necks, still cheered them. The swiftest pairs struggled, and the ones left behind caught up to them. It became a match for stamina.

“Come on, Big Girl!” Gilda yelled to the white griffoness. Grunhilda plowed through the mud with a determined frown. Gilda’s steed to the finish line. One of their adversaries even clawed her mate’s rump to make him go faster and drew laughter from the cheering crowd.

Grunhilda’s absolute commitment and drive sounded in her groans. She powered through the thick mud like their lives depended on it. The others never disappointed, competing with similar gusto. Partners, as did Gilda, shouted encouragement. What details decided the outcome? Nobody cared. All that mattered was that a couple from Frozenlake climbed out at the end of the pit first. Another Amazonian Nartani, a male version of Grunhilda, finished second with his partner. He collapsed in a fit of laughter after the end, and his mate revived him with a bath of half a flagon of mead before he drank the rest himself.

Third place sounded less than ideal, but Gilda and Grunhilda sat on the mud, leaning against each other and downing their flagons of mead. The fourth couple was an orange, older guy from the South and his tan and white mate. They didn’t care, neither did the fifth couple, that they won nothing. Too busy laughing, having a good time as the crowd showered them with cheers.

Meanwhile, the organizers and the watching griffons threw buckets of water to clean the competitors. Shame? Awkwardness? Everyone was having too much fun to worry. Some stared at the griffons bathing at the finish line, but nobody minded. That and the stratospheric count of mead flagons going around dispersed any discomfort. It didn’t matter where they came from, or who they were.

The cold made itself noticed, but the alcohol and giggling proximity with Grunhilda kept it at bay as they kept exploring the feast. Giza became restless, wanting to take part in the fun, too. Fortunately, the games had barely started and chasing a giant cheese wheel was fun enough for the little griffoness. There were two categories: little cubs and adults, but they worked the same way. Chase the obnoxiously large cheese wheel down the slope and grab it before the others.

Flying was not allowed, but who cares? As soon as they set the thing rolling, griffons flew at it with murderous intent. It brought Gilda hazy memories of griffons diving talons first on ponies and deer in the distant past. In fact, while the adults grabbed the cheese, hopped onto it, and cheered, the cubs went full predator.

Speaking of murdering cheese wheels, Giza won. She jumped on the wheel and latched onto it like her life depended on it. The thing kept rolling with the small cub stuck to it. Adult griffons, including Gilda, chased after her all the way down. At the bottom of the slope, Gilda had to pry her from the cheese amid her growls and screeches. After some effort, she succeeded and cleaned the caking mud and chunks of cheese from her little talons.

Giza had won though, and her prize was a platter full of cheese and guava fritters. Grunhilda carried Giza and the platter for them until the next game nearly made her drop both. Chasing pigs.

Griffons were supposed to grab the small, oil-soaked pigs running everywhere inside the fence. Since Gilda’s charges wanted in no matter what, she paid the entry fee for them. Except for Giza. She preferred covering herself with cheese and guava jam. Gilda didn’t even understand how so many fritters could fit inside her.

As far as the competition was concerned, chaos didn’t even begin to describe it. It sounded easy, but there was a catch. Gloves. No talons could be involved. The goal was to grab the lightning-fast piglets. The rules forbid hurting the piggies. It made the game challenging and much more fun. Giggles fused with the squealing of fleeing pigs. Mud flew everywhere, and eventually someone rose victorious with a shrieking pig in the air. Then it started all over again.

Several young griffons were having the time of their lives chasing the pigs. Frozenlake griffons had assembled another platform nearby, with tables where griffons could sit at and eat while talking. Gilda took a nearby table with Giza and her diminishing pile of fritters.

The little griffoness sat and ate one after the other. Giza held one fritter on both her little paws and tore chunks of it. One little chunk, swallow it. Another morsel, swallow it. Gobble down the rest, pick up another fritter. Repeat. “Don’t you think you’re downing those a tad too fast?”

Without an answer, Gilda stared at the tiny cub who made quick work of her prize. The fritters sure seemed delicious, so she reached for one, stopped when Giza halted mid bite into her fritter and growled. Alarmed, Gilda retracted her paw, but as the cub resumed wolfing bites of fritters, her expression turned to a reproaching frown. She waved her finger at the cub. “Now, this is not acceptable, Giza.”

Gilda reached once more, but stopped again, wide eyed at the little blue cub’s screech. She pulled back her paw again before she lost it. Fine. Those stupid fritters didn’t seem that good on second thought. Resigned to sitting there, just watching griffons going nuts trying to grab a pig was fun enough.

Madam Gelinda arrived from behind. Gilda noticed her approach with Gia in tow but didn’t react. The green griffoness’ expression amused her, reminiscent of a cub whose mother dragged her to school, despite angry complaints.

“Hi, Gia. Madam Gelinda.” Gilda waved as they walked around the table and smiled just because it would irritate Gia further and it gave Gilda giddy excitement.

“Good afternoon, Gilda.” Gelinda smiled, sitting with Gia across the table from Gilda. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure. Grunhilda and the others are having a good time trying to grab a pig there, and I’m just here, waiting.”

“I am preparing to return to Wayfarer’s Rest. But before I go, duty obligates me to set you and Gia together.” The old gray griffoness spoke with her usual solemn tone, but she waved a paw at Gia. “Hardly a tradition, but I believe you will both help each other. Loremasters and Swordmaidens working together during the time of the Empire were a near unstoppable force. Especially since you can learn from Gia’s training as a Loremaster and what she can impart on you.”

“She’s dumping me on you.” Gia translated with a tired groan.

It didn't amuse Gelinda. “Hardly. You have a job, and much to atone for. Pretending you don’t care and failing to take responsibility for your duty will not absolve you. There was a reason Gaetana kept her eyes on you at Thunderpeak. It is known that your games with the money were nowhere near your first foray into unsavory ideas.”

“Damn… What did you do, Gia?” That sounded so bad, Gilda almost regretted finding Gelinda’s words funny.

“I don’t really care, though.” Gia kept her blank expression and made the old Loremaster sigh. Gilda thought it best to just let them hash it out. Giza ate another fritter.

“Do you believe you are the only foolish hen to join the ranks of noble daughters of the Loremasters of The Harpy looking for the luxuries She gives Her chosen?” Gelinda remained unfazed. “Lady Gwendolen disclosed things to us that make returning to the life of a normal griffon impossible.”

Gilda agreed inside her head. She understood that idea well enough. No way back for her, either. She had accepted it. After a couple of breaths, getting no response from Gia, Gelinda pressed her point. “Not everything in life is fair. Maybe I would not have accepted it either if I understood the things I do now. But the point remained, there was no turning back. You are a Loremaster and if you fail at your job, your example will drag griffons along with you into your failure. Even if you despise your job so much, that thought ought to give you a dutiful obligation to it. Have you no love for your brethren under the Allmother?”

Gia never responded, instead keeping her constant unamused, bored expression. Gelinda refused to allow her to shut herself. “The Mother of Storms expects something of all griffons, and we have the freedom to choose our own path, but She will hold us to such choices. You do not wish to reach the end of your life and find you lack the strength to make your last journey. Not any more than you do not wish to meet The Harpy at the end of your journey and realize that the Allmother found your service disappointing.”

Gia rolled her eyes at the end of her patience with the older griffoness words, but that was when Gelinda delivered the final blow. “You chose to walk the path of a Loremaster of The Harpy. She does not give you failure as an option. If you do not fix yourself, She will. And that is why Lady Gwendolen has summoned you back to Griffindell.”

“Geez!” Gia put up her paws and sighed. “Fine. Enough with the cult bullshit. What is it you want? I’m already going with Gilda to Griffindell, aren’t I?”

“You are not to merely travel with her. You are to serve her as a Loremaster of The Harpy.” Gelinda put her talon right on Gia’s face before pointing at Gilda. “Gilda is lacking much of the education a northerner griffon would have received and that you can provide. You are also to provide medical care to her and her entourage in my absence. You will provide counsel and protect her from things you can see that most griffons cannot. Those are all duties of a Loremaster and you must fulfill them. No one fails the Allmother and finds respite.”

“Fine!” Gia pouted like a cub, ready to throw a tantrum. “I already said it was fine. I understand. Do you want me to Pinkie swear or something?”

Gilda came close to smacking Gia. Right across her dumb face. Not just because of her petulant tone, but because Gelinda deserved respect. She was trying to help! The unnecessary quip. Just because she wanted to irritate Gelinda. It made Gilda’s blood boil. Gia’s antics failed to get a raise out of the old Loremaster, though. In any other situation, she would have slapped the silly out of Gia, but Gelinda didn’t. Her angry frown was seasoned with worry, and that chilled Gilda’s spine. The Harpy had expectations.

Gelinda reached under her wing and produced a small, elongated vial from it. Around an open griffon paw in length, made of transparent crystal and filled with a red liquid reminiscent of blood. A lock, styled as a bronze griffon’s paw, kept it closed with a talon over the crystal cork. The cork made a coiled snake wrapped around the bronze talon that kept it in place.

“I appreciate you didn’t have a mother.” Before Gia could unleash her anger at Gelinda’s words, the older griffoness gave her the vial. “It was given to me by mine. I want this gift to encourage you.”

First Gia scowled, but it shifted into a curious stare. The green griffoness pulled the griffon’s talon to click it open and uncorked the vial. Gilda resisted jerking away as the liquid flowed out of the vial to shape a small snake and wrap around Gia’s foreleg. Velvety and smelling as blood, it stared at Gia with beady eyes and sharp, tiny triangular teeth. Its mouth resembled a shark’s, instead of a snake, much like the shape of its head. Gilda grimaced and resisted slapping the thing out of Gia’s foreleg. Gia was more amazed than scared.

“Her name is Blodughadda.” Gelinda explained. “She has served me exemplarily, and I know she will serve you as well.”

“Gia? Why aren’t you freaking out?!” Gilda blurted at Gia, still grimacing at the creature as it’s head swayed side to side, still eyeing the young loremaster.

“This is a blood snake,” the green one replied, keeping her eyes on the crimson creature. She even moved her foreleg around to see the creature from different angles. “It’s an elemental. They used to be trained for assassinations. Now they help the arcane-aware physicians diagnose internal injuries. I heard stories that we could even train them to perform surgeries.”

“That sounds cool.” Gilda raised an eyebrow. “Horrifying, but cool.”

She was going to stop Gelinda from reaching and picking up one of Giza’s fritters, but the cub allowed her access to her prize. The drama of the fritters otherwise unnoted, Madam Gelinda took a small bite of it and talked to Gilda. “Most uninitiated will squirm around the things relating to healing. ‘Blooda’ was trained to keep herself from harming her patient. She will assist Gia like few things could.”

The old loremaster didn’t understand why Gilda was angry, but the tan griffoness’ expression shifted to a grin while Gia petted the magical creature with a finger. “Wait. Did you just give Gia a pet? So she’ll learn responsibility?”

“It’s not a pet!” Gia responded much louder than she needed while the creature retreated inside her home. Gilda called the vial its home. “It’s a tool! A servant!”

“It is a creature. Capable of feelings and bonding.” Gelinda shoved a talon on Gia’s face. “Treat her with due respect and care.”

Gia blushed, turning to the side for a heartbeat before she addressed Gelinda again. “Thank you, Madam Gelinda. I promise I will take good care of Blodughadda. And that I will do my best from now on.”

“I will leave you both then. I must prepare for the meeting of the Court.” Gelinda gave Gilda a satisfied nod. Stood and adjusted her blue satin cape before she smiled at Gia. “Gilda may be your last chance. Do not waste it!”

She turned to Gilda. “And you don’t abuse her. She is still a Child of The Harpy and bound to be very useful to you. Even if she is irresponsible and lazy.”

As Giza still minded her fritters and no one else cared about what happened on their table, the two griffon ladies watched Madam Gelinda walking away. Gilda finally said something, still staring as Madam Gelinda vanished between the gathered griffons. “Promise me that if I am going to die, you’re not going to use this thing on me, and I promise I’ll treat you with dignity.”

Gia sighed and Gilda spoke again, with an excited smile which failed to placate Gia. “Hey, where’s Geary? You should be having fun, shouldn’t you?”

“I lost him to the wrestling game.” Gia shrugged. “He is good, and he claims it gets him in touch with his masculine side. For the meeting tonight. I’ll be at the Manor, putting this somewhere safe and pretending I don’t hate my life until I have to go to the meeting. I don’t think you’ll direly need a Loremaster anytime soon.”

“‘Kay. See you later, then.” Gilda said her goodbyes with a wave. Gia would be cross about that conversation for a while. It was better to just let her go than try to keep her in the festival.

While Gilda watched Gia stash the magical vial under her wing and start on her way Grunhilda returned to her table with the other two. None had success, as none carried any prize, but they had gigantic smiles. Fortunately, they weren’t as dirty as Gilda thought they would be after the muddy pig wrangling.

“You look like you had fun.” Gilda smiled back at them.

They spent little time waiting to explore the festival further. A strip of land had been set up for ax throwing. It looked as dangerous as it sounded with so many clueless griffons hurling sharp axes. In the right direction, mostly. The organizers kept eyes on them and tried their best to teach half-drunk griffons how to throw axes at wooden stumps. At least, it appeared nobody had died or lost any limbs.

Less dangerous was the cutting contest. Grab a sharp tool for killing and swing it at a line of targets. The goal was to perform a clean horizontal cut across a line of straw rolls. Cutting more rolls yielded a better prize, simply put. Was it fair that Gilda, with her memories of past lives, participated? Whatever. It was like working on a holiday, so she just watched and cheered among the other griffons.

Godwin tried the game and cut the straw targets with precision, a nice, straight cut. It earned him a few Eagles for a prize and a couple of excited fans. Guille showed up too, with his huge ass sword, and so did the two Gunner ex-soldiers. But they preferred using halberds. Fortunately, none of them treated Gilda as ‘the boss’ and everyone just moved on with the fun.

And speaking of fun, Grunhilda won a wrestling tournament. She even got a simple, but nice trophy of a pair of griffons wrestling. Whether it was her likeness to Lady Geena or her ridiculous strength, Gilda wasn’t sure. The northerners didn’t pull punches, though. Next, they found an archery contest, but Grunhilda didn’t do so well. A hunter from one of the nearby hamlets won. Fortunately, Grunhilda’s mood stood unabated.

Gilda learned that contests of griffons insulting each other with rhymes was a thing. So many griffons rhyming and talking shit so fast gave her a headache. Turning to another game, the shooting range convinced her to never, touch a gun again. The two Gunner ex-soldiers were there, but they wanted to talk about guns with the armorer running the game. Apparently, Godwin was a good shot though. He amassed the best score of the nigh finished day and earned himself one of the griffon’s fancy rifles. Complete with a fancy wood case. That, and a lot of enamored fans.

The day ended as the pony princesses switched the sun for the moon. The clouds grew dark, and the cold seeped into the festivity. Enormous bonfires were lit and fancy artistic presentations involving fire popped around the festival. Amid that, the Harpy’s Loremasters started showing up along the festive griffons. Apparently, Lady Geena wanted griffons to move somewhere.

Gilda tried approaching one of the blue-silk-wearing griffonesses and asked what was going on. Gjarma intercepted her with a broad smile. “Lady Gilda. Would you and your companions come with me? We are preparing griffons for the ceremony before dinner. Traditionally, all adults and older cubs who have never attended the Gathering Storm should be present. I believe that fits almost everyone among your companions.”

Turned out it did. They decided it better to stash their things away at the Manor rather than carrying them. Georgia decided Giza had enough and left her with one of the Manor’s maids, eager to watch over the little cub. It should be easy since the cub wanted to sleep after all those fritters. Gilda let Gjarma by the door, waiting for the others to get their things sorted while she went with Grunhilda for a quick bath. This time truly a quick bath, with no fooling around because Grunhilda was excited for whatever was going to happen. Gilda would be lying if she said she wasn’t.

The Gathering Storm, pt III

The whining of the wind disrupted the festive sounds from outside the gate. Rivulets of white mist rose from the fresh snow in the yard. Flags fluttered. The imposing banners flapped noisily, red with black and white wings, hanging from the keep’s stone wall. Little rats scurried from the frozen streets. The dancing clouds lit with lightning in the distance, so far thunder hadn’t reached Gilda’s ears. Gilda’s sense of direction was not the best, but it came from further north. A majestic white eagle roosted at the top of the keep, staring at Gilda with blue eyes. What kind of eagle was it? In the distance, the snowolves howled, and the prey remained silent. The maids started closing windows and curtains around the Manor. Groups of griffons chatted as the Loremasters guided them on their way. Gilda waited, sitting with Geena’s assistant, Gjarma who maintained a mysterious silence.

Gilda stopped for a moment. From the morning drama to the fun in the afternoon, her mind slowed. Her thoughts quieted and her attention turned to her growing magical senses. They screamed at her. The wind whispered to her, but it became loud as her old home crashed to the ground. The scurrying of the vermin, which usually remained unnoticed, quieted. They hid and their noises went missing. The prey grouped together and disappeared. Snowolves called to each other. A majestic beast basked in the unseen weather, as if it knew something. All of them knew something. Their irrational minds paid closer attention to the eddies of arcane energies than griffons busying themselves with a thousand distractions.

Magic was in the air. No. It always was. Magic had a distinct feeling to it that night. It was something difficult to put into words. It stirred. It was in movement, like a force of nature. A wind of its own, seeping into the world of normal senses. Usually a breeze, it had become a gale, seeping into the world of the mundane. Its magnitude lost itself in Gilda’s sense of scale. Like the wind was part of a major system which could encompass entire swaths of the world. Gilda understood that in rational terms, thanks to classes on weather systems and magic in school. Another part of her understood it in a simpler, guttural way. Same as the scared rodents and the wallowing eagle. It was a spell in the making. Mighty magic. Powerful magic given purpose. Magic like the Windigos’, whose claim encompassed an entire portion of the world. Magic not unlike the one which moved the heavens. The ‘deeper magic’, old as Creation itself.

But it didn’t smell of death and decay, nor of sugar and grass. Petrichor filled the air with a twang of caustic lightning. Thunder rolled, but Gilda didn’t hear it with her ears. Now and then, thunder clapped in the distance and with it came a distant ghostly voice. It sang a ghostly melody, full of shrill notes and distant ululating whoops. It spoke, and Gilda recognized the High Griffonese, but the words eluded the attentive griffoness.

The voice didn’t speak to Gilda, but to the world itself, and a part of Gilda responded. It filled Gilda’s chest with the fulgor of lightning. It burned through her eyes and her bones vibrated with it. Her feathers filled with magic, and she opened her wings to catch the magical wind hiding underneath the cool breeze. She looked at her paw and closed her fist like she could hold it. Her talons brimmed with magic, uncontainable, and itching to be released. It was a rallying cry, like untold eons ago, when her Mother first called her into being.

Gilda had experienced it before. It was the Allmother, not poking inside her head for amusement but doing something. A thing. Gilda frowned and groaned as the griffoness realized she lacked the proper language to describe. It wasn’t a ‘spell’. Yes, magic in motion, given purpose, yadda yadda. But not a ‘spell’. The pokeheads made spells. This was more. Something a single grassbreath couldn’t ever grasp.

Of course, speaking of grassbreaths… Their drama distracted Gilda from Her Mother’s mysterious singing. Histrionics followed them like the stink of manure. The blue thestral was throwing a fit. When Gilda looked, one of them gave her a reproaching stare and the other blocked her way with the shaft of his halberd.

“But I want to see the ceremony!” She neighed and stomped her hoof on the stone sill of the Manor’s heavy doors. “It’s important and I want to document it! So that griffons down south can respect your culture! They won’t if they don’t know it.”

“We don’t care what they think, grassbreath.” The Sky Sentry blocking her path shoved her inside to bump into Lost temple. Although thestrals had more of a fruity appetite, but whatever. The point was she was a damn pony doing pony things. “All you will do is sit your tail in your room and wait until you are let out again.”

Gilda approached from behind the guard as Moonbow sat on the wood floor. Bratty frown, pursed lips, and folded ears. The complete angry pony package. Lost Temple stood next to the thestral with a hoof of moral support on her back.

“Can you please not make a scene? Just wait and not make any trouble? I’ll tell you everything once we’re back.” Gilda put herself between the guards and the ponies. They were her responsibility, after all.

“But that is not the same!” The thestral responded with a long whine. Behaving like a foal.

“Tough.” Gilda made sure her deadpan stare communicated how little she cared for the pony’s opinion. She understood, given both ponies’ professions, but they were not on a pleasure trip. “You’re here to help us get dirt on Celestia because of Lost Temple’s expedition to the Hader that she shut down, remember? After we’re done with that, we’ll all get a reward. I’m sure Lady Gwendolen is going to share a lot with you two and answer every question you have. Until then, chill.”

Gilda doubted the Allmother, even under the guise of Lady Gwendolen, would have patience for a pony asking about things pertaining to griffons. It silenced the pony, though. Moonbow’s lips trembled with a willful hum, but Gilda chose not to dignify it. Instead, the griffoness walked away back to Gjarma and her serene smile.

Fortunately, the rest of Gilda’s group of friends soon joined. Gil came with her dad, Mister Gillian, and her mate, Guille. The toms were the most presentable. Nice, brushed coats and preened feathers always gave a griffon a good appearance.

Gertha joined too after some cold water washed the drunkenness off her face and Gia offered her some ‘magical loremaster’ tea. Geary had returned and kept pulling at a blue handkerchief he wore around his neck. Gilda supposed he didn’t need to be there, but since Gia needed, he would go with them. Gilda’s secretary, Gisele, joined too, with a nice red cape she must have bought at the fair. The two soldier guys also looked presentable, with some light cloaks for the cold. Fortunately, Garnet did not join them. Gilda didn’t even care if she would be at ‘the event’.

Gjarma took them to join the flow of chatty, excited griffons. The vast majority being southerners, they behaved like a group of kids going on a school trip. Nobody blamed them, though. They were at a fair. The whole thing was supposed to be fun, and the northerner younglings were excited, too. If Gilda was honest, she had trouble identifying either in their group.

They left the city, circling around to give the prisoners’ camp a wide berth, and walked up and down the soft white mounds for a long distance. Out of the city, the aroma of fresh snow became as pervasive as the cold. Their Sky Sentry escort provided light with torches for what seemed like at least a thousand griffons on a thick, long line. Most didn’t even mind the dusk, still so excited with the festivity, or just braver than the others. Gilda managed alright, barely inconvenienced, but some griffons seemed to take it much worse. They didn't give up, but they regretted not bringing better protection against the cold.

Worse than the dark, the windy haze prevented them from seeing much farther than their guides, but they soon reached a slope beyond a stone archway. The Harpy’s banners hung from either side, on the gray stone, which was the same as the rest of the city. Between the trees, rocks and torches marked a winding path sneaking beyond and into a forest. Their feet walked unimpeded on the snow, but griffons quieted their excitement. The guards needed not tell them not to stray from the path. Chatty voices silenced and eyes turned to the ruffling trees. The wind downed the snow from the trees, and they danced softly.

The barrier language, once again, became evident. That night, however, the northerners’ ill-will, grudgingly refusing to communicate in Common Equestrian was missing. They reassured insecure southerners, but whispered comments in uncertain tones told Gilda the others knew something different was happening. That something was in the air. The spooky atmosphere. The uneasiness of something they couldn’t identify. Something they didn’t understand, and that tickled their anxious curiosity.

Where they saw trees and rustling leaves, Gilda saw magical wisps in the mist between the cracking trees and rustling needle-like leaves. The breeze turned into untold magic to her senses. It gathered and rose to the skies like a whirlpool of magical mist circling around the entire area.

Gilda couldn’t pinpoint for how long they walked before they reached the archway, but they snaked up the incline amid the trees for quite a long time too. Clearing them, their procession came to the bare, snow-covered edge of a cliff. It overlooked the city and its lights in the distance, beyond the empty dark of the frozen lake. A sea of shade surrounded it all and above, the clouds danced in the dark, revealing themselves for the fleeting instants whenever lightning flashed inside.

Several stone pyres held bright flames which warmed the air enough to shield griffons from the constant chilly breeze in the altitude. Not enough to chase away the cold, but enough that nobody should suffer from it. A stone parapet kept griffons from coming too close to the edge but was low and close enough not to impede the sight. Iron torches lined the limit and illuminated fluttering red flags with the black and white wings of the Allmother.

The snow gave way to polished stone. Different textures and colors marked the area before stone steps rising into a dais under a stone pyre. Round, atop a cube of polished stone, it held gentle flames, burning logs of birch. A statue on the edge dwarfed it all. White marble reflected the light from the flames in the shapely form of a griffoness. Her wings, covered with clear silver and a black metal Gilda didn’t recognize, opened wide, bent forward to embrace the flames. The same black metal covered the marble, made into gray and then black images of feathers framing the white face with sharp lines. More silver for the eyes and a glorious crown of feathers made of the black metal. It was like a fan lesser creatures would adorn themselves with, never to reach a similar glory.

Lit by the flames, a black beak and a condescending frown watched over the assembly. Her forelegs were raised and Her paws open, turned to Her. She held something eyes couldn’t see but was there. She clung to it. It was Hers, whatever it was.

Gjarma left Gilda and her friends in a privileged position in the front before she joined Lady Geena. Pristine white, finally wearing the blue cape of the Loremasters instead of the cyan with a hem of swan feathers. She sat behind a pulpit. Not a simple thing, though. The lifelike shape of two stone griffon cubs made it, with their paws raised, holding a large tome finished in black leather.

Gjarma stood next to Lady Geena and a pair of her Loremasters came from the left. Another group stood out of the way, to the right, carrying musical instruments. Griffons in the crowd made a near absolute, expectant silence as Geena surveyed the assembled griffons from her raised position.

Gilda couldn’t see a lot. She wouldn’t sit there, contorting and twisting, stretching her neck to count like a cub, but a small family caught her eyes. Tom and queen with a half-adult cub like Godwin and Georgia. Although Gilda didn’t think they’d be joining the Court of The Harpy. The father was tan and white, with softer facial traits than the usual in the fierce north. His mother’s fur and feathers were pale yellow with black dots, and she had a cute, short, stubby tail. Despite inheriting the father’s ‘proper’ long tail with a dark tan tuft, the tom also had his mother’s black spots and the father’s softer facial lines.

They sat close to another family. Another mother and father, both very Nartani-like, of powerful physique and pristine white. Three kids accompanied them. A young queen, a younger male cub and a cute, Giza-sized baby holding a plushie of a fish, of all things. Both parents spoke in soft, respectful tones and the dark tan tom, with the black spots, held the older daughter under his wing.

Other than that, from Gilda’s point of view, it seemed more than a thousand griffons had gathered, yet even the clueless among the southerners remained silent. The moaning of the wind and rustling of the leaves reigned supreme. Thunder trilled across the clouds and lightning flashed above them with a pointed boom.

As if on cue, Lady Geena stood on her hindlegs. She opened her forelegs and her wings flared. Her feathers and cape danced in the wind. Her formidable muscles evidenced the same supernatural beauty Gilda first noted when meeting her. Little nipples showed and athletic muscles tensed in her stomach as she rose her paws to the thundering skies.

“Ditty Harpyi!” Her voice echoed, filled with magic. It rippled through the air, same as thunder. She called them Children of The Harpy, through words not commonly used for griffon cubs, nor the colloquial possessive for something The Harpy owns.

Drums pounded like a heart and a chord instrument wailed like the wind. A trio of younger, blue-cape-wearing queens sat side-by-side and sang, their eyes closed in reverent joy. A slim white one, a medium-sized gray and another large and silvery, like The Harpy had made her of quicksilver. Their capes and their feathers fluttered while they joined the instruments, the wind, and the thunder in song. The three voices in different timbres, like three different instruments vocalizing joyful reverence more than words.

Geena held the leather cover and took her time opening the large tome before her. “They say the hooved ones like the green meadows and bright blue skies. Under the warm embrace of the sun and away from the dark and the cold. Distant from the hard rocks of the mountains and their snowy peaks. They delight in wide prairies covered with the sweet emerald of grass and juicy fruits of every color. It is said ponies were made to live together in harmony and to enjoy life. To prance and play in the warm grass, not a care in the world other than their own happiness.”

Was it magic that gave her voice such power? Gilda wasn’t sure. Geena had the practiced diction of a public speaker and the gravitas of a monarch. She read from the book, but the words came without fail to her.

“They say the griffons like tall mountains. That it is because they remind them of an ancient time when they found safety at the top. Far from everything and supported by the mighty roots of stone and earth. They say that the cold air is relaxing, and the clouds hide their perch from the dangers of the world.”

“Who could blame them for believing such things? Thus is the world where they live. The smarty ponies go to their universities and their schools, and they learn these things. But all they know is what they want to believe.”

Her tone shifted. It became more deferential, slower.

“I tell you, brethren of the North and of the South, there are older creatures. Older than their universities and their tales. Older than when the Sun and the Moon came down to the realm of the mortals or when the Lord of Chaos changed the blue sky to colors of madness. Older than the Windigos and the Three Tribes, or even the mountains themselves.”

A large raven griffon landed heavily on the snowed stone, only on his hindlegs. He too wore the blue silk cape of the loremasters and carried a tray covered with a dome in his jet paws. Expressive purple eyes aimed at Lady Geena as he raised the tray, offering it to Gjarma.

Gilda recognized the silver-gold alloy, electrum, in a flash and let escape a silent gasp as a bolt of lightning rode her spine. Remembrance screeched a flurry of emotions at her all at once. Gjarma took the tray from his paws on her own and he bowed at her, sitting where he had landed. He and everyone else watched as the salmon queen carried the tray on her wings with an elegance few griffons could manage with such an awkward burden. After crossing the distance with the elegance of a model, she sat next to Lady Geena, who had too sat and waited.

With calm, deliberate movements under the wind and the music, Gjarma pulled the dome to reveal a crimson and pale-yellow heart. The scent which escaped, so powerful, invaded Gilda’s nostrils and for an instant she found herself again before the mighty griffoness at the top of Her pyramid. Breathing in the dry desert air and hearing the countless griffons cheering outside. Around her though, griffons gasped, and someone whimpered at the sight.

Shocked comments, whispered in distressed tones, made Gilda roll her eyes. Lucky for them, she would not interrupt the ceremony to give them a quick reality check. How wimpy could a griffon get? Fortunately, the griffons with Gilda behaved. Georgia had her beak gaping and so did Gil, but they said nothing.

Ignoring all that, Geena grabbed the firm and fleshy organ, digging her talons into the muscle. It oozed blood on her paws, and she lifted it from the tray as the younger Loremaster retreated with her lowered head. The Amazonian and white griffoness again turned to the assembled griffons. Her voice rang loud as the clap of thunder.

“Born far from Her glory, you are still worthy of the Allmother’s love, for even the children of traitors are still Ditty Harpyi. She recognizes you, spawn of the loyal guardians of the North and you who return to the embrace of Her mighty wings. Welcome Her gifts! Set free the raptor in your soul to fly as She made you to fly among the snowed mountains.”

With an instant of silence, filled only with the rustling leaves and crackling birch on the fire, Geena stood on her hindlegs and raised the heart further. It bled crimson where her talons pierced its heavy flesh, down her fingers as she held it above her head, looking up at it. Her beak moved with silent words meant for none in the crowd.

Some griffons around Gilda grimaced. It sounded like one or two in the congregated mass fainted when Geena brought the heart down. Her beak tore a chunk of the meaty apex, spilling the ichor all over herself. The oozing red tinted her alabastrine leather and feathers, over her chest and her exposed nipples, all the way down her stomach to her nethers. The sight left Gilda with an excited sense of familiarity. She could smell it. Almost taste the coppery flavor. Feel the slippery stickiness in her paws and the glowing in between her hindlegs at the sight.

Not everyone reacted the same, though. Some griffons shifted, eyes fixed on the powerful queen, some tongues licked their beaks, and others even blushed. The bright red drew their eyes, and the smells tugged at their thoughts the same as they did to Gilda.

A strange and electrifying stillness filled the air. The larger feathers on Gilda’s wings itched, and some griffons shuffled their wings. Ruffled feathers gave griffons a wild, rustic semblant even with the ones with none or less impressive crests. The rustling leaves silenced and the only sound remaining was the fire. The banners folded and flames rose straight. A chain of lightning traveled the sky, lighting the inside of the clouds above.

Geena’s eyes glinted, and her chest heaved. The mass of muscle and the blood still steamed in the cold as she eagerly tore another chunk of the heart with her beak. Her firm body turned around. She was like a ballerina from the Hoofway Theater, with her cape and wings following her graceful movement. Paws raising, she lifted the heart into the air before the grand statue and she cried, a long, shrill screech echoing like the clouds responded. Wings flared open, wider; her feathers lit with electric magic. It arched between her large primary feathers and spilled over the stone, like will-o’-the-wisps turning liquid lightning, filling the spaces between the stones, and evanescing the snow away. The whole cliff, holding thousands of griffons, radiated magical light, like lightning, trapped inside the stone beneath them. Its warmth washed over Gilda and burned at her chest like it had lit something in there.

Some griffons screamed, others around her retreated, but Gilda closed her eyes and breathed in. The magically charged air burned her nostrils but filled her with vigor. She let it flow through her like it was the only thing in existence. The wind was not the wind. It was a maelstrom of lightning and hail crashing at Gilda’s body with enough force to tear flesh from bone. Contradictorily, it passed through her. It filled every fiber of her being with the tense anticipation of magic about to rip reality apart and do… Something. Something impossible. Something for which Gilda had no words to describe.

Around her, griffons cried and laughed. Others wept and screeched babbling incoherent nonsense. Gilda never thought, much less could explain what she was doing, but she stood on her hindlegs and opened her wings and her forelegs. In her mind’s eye, thick rain pelted her deeper than her physical body would allow. The notion made no sense, but those were the words she found to describe it in her mildly insane mind. It caressed her body like the most thorough of lovers as it had done eons ago when Creation was still young. Her Mother’s magic filled her soul and made her as powerful as Herself as if they were one.

Outside Gilda’s mind, all the tension in the air snapped and thunder cracked in the sky. Lightning filled Gilda’s senses with its immense power, a presence none could ignore. The heart on Geena’s paws burst into flames and the blood which dripped from it rolled like liquid fire along her paws and down her body. Flames exploded from the pyre above in a magical blue, consuming the birch in a flash. A blazing pillar consumed the heart, radiating an impossible light over the statue and all the assembled griffons. On the stand, the book fluttered by its pages, surrounded by a halo of white magic.

The unreal storm engulfing the gathering of griffons subdued. Geena’s shoulders and her paws remained covered in blood, and it even stained her adorable ear-like double crest of small feathers like Grunhilda’s. But when she turned, with the same grace as before, her alabaster wings had changed to striped black and white. She had grown and her white paws were now sable, crowned with terrible talons like black steel. A glorious crown of black feathers fluttered behind her head and her blue eyes now held the terrible gray of the storms.

Griffons cried, and some even jumped with fear. Some came to a talon’s width of fleeing, wide-eyed and trembling as the green branches on the trees. Gertha gasped and retreated a step. Gia dropped to the ground and covered herself with her trembling wings. Someone somewhere pissed themselves, judging by the tang.

Privy to the secrets of The Harpy’s magic and Loremaster’s powers, Gilda knew the trick. There was no trick. The Harpy spoke to them through Lady Geena. Their eyes saw the white griffoness covered in blood and their ears heard her sharp voice. Their souls saw the Mother of Storms and heard the deafening thunder in her words. The sheer power of her ancient voice weakened their limbs and forced them low on the snow.

I saw all. I remember all, and I do not forget.

The Firstborn of Creation, I took the storms to make the souls of My Children. From me, they were born, and all that I Am, in my perfection, they have inherited. Anger. Cruelty. Vengeance. I have bestowed upon My Children. I have granted the Gift of Wrath so that My Children would herald My Commandment upon the world. I demanded that they love their own infinitely and that they hate their enemy infinitely. That they take everything and give nothing. That is the Raptorial Creed. That is my Commandment to My Children.

The world bowed and marveled at their glory! No animals dared face them. I saw My Children conquer everything under the sky. From the roaming beasts of the deserts to the barbaric zebras in the savannahs. From the foolish yaks to the dangerous dragons of the badlands. We hunted them for sport, and they knew their place.

When My Children met the Children of the Sun, their large eyes filled with terror. Horror struck the equines when My Children devoured meat while they grazed on the ground like animals. When scared, they cried and cowered amongst themselves. And when they ran from danger, My Children saw they were prey. For only prey fears danger. My Children offered me their meat in sacrifice, and I found it appetizing.

But they dared resist the natural order of the world. They filled our prey with hubris and dreams of ruling the land for themselves. They dared challenge My Children! The earth ponies brought forward their prodigal strength and shaped the earth and flora as weapons. They recruited even the unthinking beasts to fight. The cowardly unicorns hid behind their shields and hurled spells of lightning and fire while the pegasi stole the clouds from us. They turned them into weapons with which to harm My Children.

They fought for ten thousand days until they saw they could not take from us our hallowed land, so they unleashed their most powerful magic on us. The Unicorn Kings joined in a conclave of wickedness and summoned the powerful arcane energies of Creation. Their birthright as wardens of nature, they turned to a weapon. Most unholy of magic, they turned their powers, the heirloom of Creation, into a weapon with which to destroy all my proud Stormborn had made. Jealous and filled with hubris, they brought the Eternal Winter to the North when they summoned the Windigos.

The Harpy closed her eyes and shut her wings. Gjarma led the other Loremasters in a song Gilda recognized. They put a lot more pomp into it, though. The male with the black pelt put a powerful bass into it and the others backed it with their contraltos and sopranos, following the wailing, wind-like instrument. Not a funeral chant this time around, but a warning of something never to be forgotten.

Generosity was broken,

Kindness merely a token.

Forsworn they had Loyalty,

No Laughter in their halls of royalty.

For lies they have traded Honesty,

Their Gift of Magic but a travesty.

The Ancient Pact broken,

An Oath jestly spoken.

Cursed our land in hatred untold,

Did the great Unicorn Kings of Old.

Sun and Moon for themselves they wanted,

All the land under the heavens daunted.

A storm in the sky,

The heart never shy.

Our blood to the field,

This land never to yield.

The chord instrument carried its windy whine for a couple of heartbeats as the words sunk in. As The Harpy opened her forelegs, the night was gone, changed for the day. The black void and the shimmering lights from the city vanished. A grand valley stood below the cliff, nestling a vast, luxuriant forest of conifers, cradled within white peaks and gray stone. Stormy clouds covered the sky, and the rock faces of the mountains had been carved into vast mansions. A city like a mountain had the heart of the valley. A broad road of stone reached all the way from the entrance of the valley, flanked by stone statues of griffons. It was a collection of unimaginable palaces of stone, silver and marble topped by a gleaming black tower. Bolts of lightning crossed the air behind it and hammers thundered. Behind the mountain turned into mansions was a pool of molten lava and a wide balcony where griffons sang and danced before a throne.

Griffons flew to and from elegant balconies, all over the valley in games of aerial combat or lounged on the grass. Others ran, carrying long colorful banners or shared meals in giant banquets. A group ran out of the trees, bringing a large caribou they had hunted. Their voices sang hymns to the storm and ran Gilda’s heart through with a sword of sorrow. It was gone. Buried in snow. No griffons sang, no hammers clanged. The tower had broken, and the forest was dead.

All that remained were the husks of mighty trees and the scornful laughter of the frost monstrosities. The snickering of old unicorns and all their jealousy. Gilda’s fist closed before she even realized. Her blood screamed righteous wrath as sobs, growls and weeping reached her ears.

The Harpy opened her stormy eyes and her wings again, resuming her speech with a scorching note of wrath.

My Children scattered and fled from the place where they were born, and the North Wind took them to the south in the wake of the pony nation. The mighty Astrani sacrificed their lives and their blessed souls to protect their brethren in retreat. Only when they reached Holy Griffindell’s Black Gates did the abominations cease their advance. Their magic couldn’t break the Nartani’s battle lines, and My Children weathered the blizzard in the Valley of Griffons. My Children reached far, and only in the warm climate of the South the crafty Shaddani found solace. Even further went the resilient Haderani, deep into the sands, east past their brethren.

A million nights passed, and My Children didn’t remember me anymore. They forgot their glory. The mountains of their ancestors were forgotten, and so were their tales. They mingled with the hooved ones and treated prey as friends. Most abominable of sins, they joined their blood with that of the prey. They were like orphaned cubs, motherless infants, lost in the world and at the mercy of our sacrilegious enemy. Few of their hearts still burned with the hatred I instilled into them and remained to protect the land of their ancestors.

The Wheel of Time turned. History became legend, and legend became myth. Myth was forgotten along with oaths old as the world. The hooved ones built their proud empire, and My Children were as pigs shuffling in the dirt where the equines would eat. Then the Lord of Chaos descended unto the world, and he wreaked havoc upon Creation. The Mad God laid siege to reality and brought it to the brink of destruction. All races of the world were brought to their knees.

The hooved ones were broken. Their fat and sluggish nation fragmented; their magic failed them. Destitute and corrupt, the Heavens refused to listen. Inefficient and corrupt rulers prospered within the ruins of the Old World. The Wheel of Time had turned again.

My Children prospered in the adversity, but they had forgotten me and my Commandment. They sought long, dull, and uninteresting lives with soft beds and winds. The passions of the hunt and of lust were distractions in their search for comfort. They found the same false safety the prey fooled itself with, wearing titles of warlords and patriarchs without understanding of war or statesmanship. They lacked the fury I weaved into their flesh and blood in the times primeval. Warlords of the meek, patriarchs of a failing family. Destitute kings and queens of piles of dust. They disgusted me, and I relinquished them. And I waited.

When the Sun raged in the sky and burned the land, one of My Children rose among the ranks of the slaves. He slayed his master and took the city for himself. Then he conquered another city, and another, and all the cities which would not lay down their weapons at his feet. Slave to king, he was Gaven the Nameless, and he let my fury burn in his veins as did his ancestors!

The independent griffon cities herded together like scared prey and his enemies flocked against him. They smashed against his power, but none bested his warriors or himself in combat. The tall ponies of the desert and the blasphemous hippogriffs in the sea joined against him, but none stood to meet his might. He conquered them and took their cities, and their lives were his to do as he pleased. King to Emperor, he became Grigor, First of his Name, and earth, sea and sky trembled before the name of The Emperor!

Never indolent, he remembered what was of his ancestors and he remembered the ancient pride of his race. Intelligent and knowing that legends were better believed, he saw what his ancestors failed to see. He believed the myths and sought the Mother of all griffons. No monstrosity spawned from the Windigos or the Lord of Chaos, ages past, could stop him. Neither could the cold or the deadly blizzards. He sought in the snowed lands of the Nartani until he found me in the Stormy Eyrie. Deep within the realm of the Windigos, where no mapmaker would dare scout.

He spoke to me of the hatred he harbored within his heart against our old enemy. Not a fool, he knew their magic would be powerful once again. If the world was to be ours again, the Children of the Sun were to be tamed. The Emperor sought my counsel, most wise and humble.

I spoke to him of things older than the memories of all living things and of the mountains themselves. He understood, and he raged against the weakness that cursed even the mightiest of the living. He wanted the power to overcome death and mortality, and he demanded it of Me to vanquish our most hated enemy. And I gave it to the proudest of my sons. I taught him the ancient magic in his blood and in the voice of the mountains. I made him a crown of iron to wear so that the world would know he was the first of my sons.

Stone walls crumbled before his might and cities collapsed at his command. Ponies hiding beyond the seas dreaded him, and their failing magic gave them no sojourn. The kirin in the forest paid tribute, the zebras in the savanna scared misbehaving foals with his visage. Yaks trembled, and dragons dared not whisper his name. Emperor to god, he was The Conqueror.

He built me a city of iron and enshrined me to bathe in the fresh blood of our prey. He made me a mountain in the desert and called it Aen Hader, and there I lived with him. We feasted, and we celebrated our greatness once again. My chosen mothered him the greatest of our warriors, and dread shook the world before our might.

One day the Sun relented, and our old enemies were whole again. The time for preparation was done and armies larger than cities clashed. But my favorite son had failed Me already. He suffered the weak to live, and they rallied in the dark. Cowardly whispered betrayal in the corners of their mansions and followed the Traitor King. They cried for the Matriarch of the Great Herd to hide them from me under her wings.

When The Conqueror understood, he begged me for the power to destroy the Dawnbringer and to save his traitor brother. He refused my command to slay the Traitor King of Griffonstone and I struck him in anger for his failure and left my city. It had become tainted with his disobedience, and it disgusted Me.

He vowed to destroy the Matriarch of the Sun and regain my favor, but his spoiled devotion bore no fruits. Battle after battle, she bested him until they fought before the gates of Holy Griffindell. All fates met at the Valley of Griffons and the blood of all races stained the snow. He fought with all his might under the eternal mountains as witnesses, but she struck down the Conqueror, despite his skillful and furious fighting.

A false king raised. Wallowing at her hooves, he gave her my children. The Dawnbringer lied and hid me from them. She forged history and hid the betrayal of her own children. She has painted them as perfect and united the world under her wings as if it was hers to take. My children became sluggish and frail. They gorged on the sugar the ponies gave them, and they smoothed their talons. They forgot me, and again they laughed at the myths told by their grandmothers. Only the proud Nartani remained unblemished. The mighty desert lords laid their blood to waste during the war and the Shaddani tainted theirs with that of the enemy.

Once again, they lived long, dull, and uninteresting lives where the passions of the hunt and of lust were mere distractions. They sought comfort and the same false safety the prey finds in their ignorance. Disgusted with violence, and retching at the sight of warm blood, they squirmed at the luxurious surrender of bodily passions and relinquished My Gifts. Calling themselves Kings and Lords, they oversaw their brothers and sisters in the stead of the Dawnbringer. They lacked the fury that turned slave to king, to emperor, and they have forgotten My Commandment.

Unstopping, the Wheel of Time turned and still found the Children of the Harpy wallowing in filthy grass, fattened, and slowed of mind. They disgust me, calling themselves senators and chancellors. Ruling my children in the stead of the grass-eating Matriarch of the Sun. They enshrined the soft voice of the enemy and relinquished the pleasure of the hunt and of carnal release in their search for golden coins with equine faces!

But the Wheel of Time spins unending and lifetime after lifetime, my children still brought forth the ones who shunned their proud ancestors defiled and forgotten. My fury still burned in their veins and my wrath made them indocile to the legacy of the Traitor King. It brought them turmoil, but I made my children to thrive in adversity. At the borders of the world, where it is unforgiving, the threat of vile monsters spawned by the Eternal Winter kept the Nartani sharp.

The cold air of the mountains stirs within memories of existences past. Of when the long and wide road up the Roost filled with their ancestors to gaze upon the Conqueror on his way to his mansion; undefiled to this day she waited for another worthy of sitting on her throne.

Even in the poisoned lands, more and more of my children open their eyes and see the corrupted legacy of the Traitor King. Hearing tales of one who would unite them. They called him The Lion, for his strength is honorable and just. My cry in the storm, calls my foreign children back home, it reaches them deep within the domain of the Sun. They leave their houses and their friends to travel north. Never to return for those lost find themselves in this land where the most loyal of griffons held the corruption of the Windigos at bay. Where blood and honor hold ancient memories alive. Where my children seek glory with shield and spear, duty, and honor. But most of all… Remembrance and duty.

At the edge of a new age, heed, Ditty Harpyi! Heed ye of unfortunate pasts and perfidious ancestors. Hear my cry in the storm! Reckoning comes with the true warlord, pureblooded patriarch of your race. Let go of the fear and insecurities, cover yourselves in the ashes of birch and return, o prodigal sons and daughters. My Law is older than the mountains and sin is not forgotten. For all that I am. Anger. Cruelty. Vengeance. I have bestowed upon you. I have granted you the Gift of Wrath so that you would herald My Commandment upon the world. That the Children of The Harpy will wash the sin off their souls in the blood of their foes. That servitude is rewarded with gratitude, and indolence is hated without end!

It ended as abruptly as it had begun. The flames consumed the logs of birch and only the torches illuminated the cliff. The air brought a chill again, and a breeze waved around Gilda, bringing reprise to her hot and stuffy feathers and fur. It was Geena behind the pulpit again, as she collapsed over the book. It had closed and behaved now. Gjarma and the black male with the cape held her bloodied body. For an instant, Gilda worried about her, and Grunhilda gasped next to Gilda.

But Geena recovered herself, supporting her weight with her paws on the stand. She straightened her back and flared her very normal griffon wings again, throwing her voice with anger. Ire like a thunderstorm.

“Jagged summits to verdant plains! In the fjords, now hidden under the ice, and the white fields the North Wind burdened us with. She remembers them all! The gale and the rain will see you free! Hammers clank with the crash of thunder. Echoes of Eternity pluck at the strings of destiny! Blood, iron, and glory; shields shatter and spears rise.” Geena's voice raised higher and higher to the thundering clouds above and cheering griffons below. Somewhere after the Allmother returned Geena to them, Gilda had started cheering with the others and never noticed. A throng of fierce Children of The Harpy exalting praises.

“Pride of the eagle! Might of the lion!” Geena screamed. “A thousand-thousand voices cry in choir. The Stormy Eyrie calls to you! Our Mother sings your name; it is Her belonging and your birthright!”

“The Harpy demands it!” Gilda let her voice reach for the skies, not a forethought before. But she didn’t do it alone. Grunhilda and Gertha cried with her. Gil, Gia, and Georgia with Godwin. Even Giselle and Gil’s dad, as well as Gertha’s brother. Gia and Geary. Every single griffon which had given their ears the Allmother’s cry in the storm. All of them cried with Gilda as Lady Geena threw her forelegs up at the sky in one exultant cry of joy.

All over the northerner griffon cities. In their hidey-holes in the south, where community leaders like Madam Gladys, sacrificed for Celestia’s coins, would gather them. The griffons who helped Gilda back at Baltimare jumped to her thoughts. They would gather somewhere in that place where they lived by the warehouses and their Loremaster would take their young. To meet the Allmother, away from the light of the sun, united with all griffons who heard Her cry.

The tan griffoness stood restless on her feet, with her wings raised up high. A wide grin in her beak, she panted, and her chest pounded like she had thunder inside. Her blood held a bolt of lightning, and she couldn’t keep still for a second. All that excitement and… Gilda didn’t know what to call it. All the magical stuff did strange things to griffons. Some cried, sitting on the snow and others danced and laughed.

Georgia and Godwin hugged and Grunhilda just straight up threw herself at Gilda and kissed her. Had Gilda not become bigger and stronger, Grunhilda would have brought her to the ground. Instead, she held Grunhilda and they spun together. Gilda fitted her beak with Grunhilda’s before they toppled each other to the ground, anyway. Although Gilda didn’t know where they would have stopped were they not in the middle of all those griffons.

“Wow. Uh.” Gertha, chuckled and rubbed the raised feathers behind her neck, surrounded with all that excitement of crying, wailing, and laughing griffons around them. “I mean, uh-huh. Yeah…”

“I think we chose our side a long time ago, Miss Gertha.” One of the tan soldiers called Gunner kept his voice low. Why was he so sneaky? Why was she so insecure? Couldn’t Gertha feel it too?

“True that.” Gertha nodded, while Grunhilda and Gilda stood. The latter smiled and bumped her hind with Gertha’s, smiling.

“Ah, you guys are feeling overwhelmed. I had it worse in the beginning. It’s gonna be alright.” Gilda winked. “Hey! I can’t wait to see you in action at the meeting since you really wanted to go! Gotta enjoy those gifts, right?”

Geez! It was like she was drunk! What a thing to say! No regrets, though. Gilda was just too giddy for regrets.

“It is time, then, to confirm that choice, Miss Gertha. Mister Gunner.” Lady Geena had approached them. It almost made Gilda laugh, the way the others distanced themselves. Except for herself, Gertha, Grunhilda and Gunner. “You have heard Her, and She has offered you your birthright. Will you accept, mercenary? And you, ex-soldier. Will you return to the Allmother’s hearth?”

Geena stood there, tall as she was, her blue cape dancing in the breeze, staring at Gertha’s red eyes. Gjarma was right next, waiting and holding a marble bowl filled with a goop of ash and animal grease. Geena’s blood-stained feathers and fur gave her a wild, unrestrained look. The smell, and the images returning made Gilda stop and reign in her thoughts before she started thinking of things better thought about Grunhilda.

“Will you commend your soul to the Allmother?” Geena still stared at her, speaking with utmost reverence. Gertha’s feet shuffled and her wings fluttered. “Will you reject the gold and the soft voice of the Matriarch of the Sun for our Mother’s storms?”

“I will…” Gertha whispered. And she coughed, with an anxious grin. “I’m not sure what to do, though. I never did this sort of thing before.”

“Be sincere and dutiful.” Geena dipped a talon on the ash and grease, then raised her paw over Gertha’s forehead. The mercenary lowered her head and remained stoic while Geena drew two slashes of gray ash into the feathers on her forehead. Like a pair of wings. “Accept Her Gifts. Her Children, once back to Her domain, find it easy. And worry not. Griffindell was not built in a night. It’s the result that matters.”

Whatever was that conversation about? Gilda frowned for an instant of confusion. Then Geena turned to her. It was not something Gilda was used to, much less did without violating herself, but she lowered her head too and closed her eyes. The Loremaster drew the pair of wings on her forehead too, and Gilda felt nothing special. No fervent ember in her chest, nor burning where Geena’s talons marked her. Gilda had already chosen her side. Although… The ceremony was a symbol. The real deal. Then she felt it. She put her paw on her chest while Geena marked Grunhilda’s forehead and smiled at her. It was another step. Another landmark in her journey back home.

The Harpy didn’t appear to her. Didn’t speak to her. Gilda supposed she was busy doing whatever she must. It was not like Gilda understood magic, much less of the kind which happened there. It was something she had never seen the unicorns do. There must be some special name for that kind of magic, but Gilda didn’t know. All she knew was that something stirred in her chest again. That she had a lot of happy, excited energy and the Meeting would be perfect now. Anything else could wait at the back of her mind until she was done.

Author's Note

There. The third part of the chapter.
My notes on it said simply 'The Gathering Storm. Festival and ceremony'.
It grew much bigger than the original idea, but I like the way it turned out. The whole part about the feast was going to be a new mentions of Gilda's thoughts about it, but I didn't like and decided it was worth fleshing the whole thing. It would have been even bigger, with Gilda messing up at the shooting range and would include Captain Gevorg teaching her (all memey, with the holding her from behind thing and Godwin seething from afar) and also Georgia trying the flyting competition. But those things I decided to leave for the following chapters, as the caravan travels to Brokenhorn and then, finally, Griffindell.

My editor said the ceremony, with The Harpy's speech ended up being a lore-dump, and I don't disagree, much less blame anyone that thinks that. I apologize. The intention was to show the ceremony that gives griffons that final tug to join The Lion. I felt that having her do the full speech, especially with the parts griffons have turned into prayers and songs came out more legitimate. Even more given the final results under Gilda's point of view and in Gertha and Gunner's reactions, and in the final 'crossing the Ts and dotting the Is' with Geena ending the ceremony marking griffons with the ash and grease.

I just couldn't go 'And then The Harpy appeared and told them all those things Gilda already knew.'

In conclusion, I hope you liked it, and if nothing goes wrong, next chapter should be up in around 14 days because Piece of Parchment is next.

Sacrament of Sin

Author's Note

The actual cloppy parts come in a couple of days.
Apparently I cannot control myself and stick to a plan.

Sacrament of Sin

The ceremony at the top of the hill overlooking Frozenlake ended. Whatever magical spells fizzling in the region had done what they were supposed to do and sputtered out of Gilda’s mind. The excitement remained. The same Sky Sentries who guided the group to the top of the hill herded the rowdy and excited griffons back to the city lest some idiot might get lost in the cold dark. Stand owners and vendors were more than ready to welcome them back with open grins and a wide variety of stuff for sale.

Bonfires provided a flickering lighting and fire spectacles began. Used for full effect in the dark, trailing behind weapons in mock fights and juggled torches. Stand owners made even more food and drinks available for affordable prices. Gilda could swear the prices seemed higher during the day. Commoner griffons now had access to everything Frozenlake offered during the day and more. After the cubs went inside for the night, griffons offering more risque services showed up.

It was something difficult to quantify, but Gilda had become quite good at reading griffons and their behavior. Retrospectively, she understood it all, having lived in the poor area of Griffonstone, where griffons had a tendency to be less conniving. Or at least more honest about it. Be it at Griffonstone or Frozenlake, griffons would naturally go out buck naked. Given the choice, that is. Even the northerners wore capes and animal skins to shield themselves from the cold. But even then, nakedness was expected, and they often used an accessory or another for fashion statement. Greta, Gilda’s friend back at Griffonstone, for example, liked her scarf a lot. Other griffons liked bracelets, wristbands, and tail rings. All of those were fashion statements.

The Harpy’s Loremasters wore their blue satin capes, held in place by delicate iron chains across their necks. Gilda knew that the one or two griffon Royal Justiciar wore the same red capes the ponies would wear, back in the South. Griffonia’s Standing Army soldiers wore green shirts and black berets. But those were badges of office and uniforms. They told creatures they were important and part of an organization.

On the streets of Frozenlake, Gilda saw the northerner griffons hunting for private, paying customers. Others just happened to be in the mood to hook up and have uncompromised fun. And the curious thing was that in such a context they also used clothing and accessories to show their intentions. Headdresses made with exuberant and colorful feathers of birds were among the preferred. Others wore vibrant collars of anything shiny, usually in multiple layers. Heavy makeup, dyed patterns on feathers and fur. Even sprucing up their wings with more colors from animal feathers and ribbons was common.

It was also in the body language. The way they stood around and stared at others. The flashing eyes, rolling hips and swaying tails. Words and tone they used. Winks and smiles. Powerful were the smells, and out of their control, beyond lies. Like a secret language that needed no translation, spreading like a wildfire.

Hide your cubs, hide your mates. It’s griffons after dark, and The Harpy really wanted them to get the memo when there were opportunities around. The whole affair did things to Gilda she was not expecting. Besides the entire range of frisky giddiness and moist nethers, that is. She wrapped her wings around Godwin and Georgia and held them close to her sides.

“I better keep the two of you on a tight leash for now.” She chuckled and grinned at their eyes darting around the griffons on display. “What, didn’t your old folk tell you about the street working griffons? The ones not cleaning the gutters or hauling trash?”

Georgia stammered a couple of syllables before she spoke. “You know very well they didn’t, Miss Gilda!”

“She’s just messing with us, Georgia.” Godwin grumbled in the most adorable butthurt way.

“Hey, come on. It’s my civic duty to poke the kids about their first time, kinda like an older sister. Right?”

Georgia did an excited little tap dance while they walked. “I do feel kinda giddy, though…”

“Yes!” Gilda grinned along with her. “That artist dude you fished is kinda cute! Though the window climber wasn’t half bad, either. How does this thing work? Can you have two partners? Do they have to wait in line, or are you allowed to have two guys?”

No answer from the younger griffoness. Just the resounding shame of her blushing cheeks and Gilda laughing at her expense.

“Can you stop, please? You’re the responsible adult.” The male sibling too, blushed like a beet and hid behind his wing. “This whole thing is weird enough. It’s embarrassing!”

Gilda’s own experience told her it was all normal. Griffons got exposed to that stuff naturally. Then ‘it’ would happen naturally and family, friends, society would poke fun at the young ones. It was something Gilda never got to experience when she was in their place. All she got was A on a bunch of homework assignments that really disagreed with her grades on exams. But hey, the Equestrian Education Association said it was okay.

Before Gilda could further pester the two younger griffons, Gjarma rushed close to them. The salmon-colored, adorable, pretty, and grinning griffoness greeted them with a matching chirpiness. She hopped close to them and declared that, since Gilda had occupied the Manor, they would have the meeting in the Old Temple. That sounded like exactly the place The Harpy would gather griffons for a ‘meeting’.

For the time being, Lady Geena’s assistant accompanied them back to the Manor. She would walk them to the place and ensure the VIP treatment, but upon getting to the Manor, Georgia wanted to ‘get ready’. Gilda held her tail just as she took off to her room and caused the young griffoness to go face-first on the floor and made Godwin blush.

“The only place you’re going is next to me.” Gilda’s seriousness shut the conversation before it even began. “You tell a maid what is it you want, and she’ll take it to my room where all four of us will get ready for the meeting.”

No answer necessary. Georgia’s offended pout ignored. Gilda and Grunhilda herded the two siblings to the back of the hall and up the stairs to their room. Arriving, the three females started sharing the single mirror above the vanity while an uncomfortable Godwin sat by the door, not knowing what to do with himself. Quickly enough, one of the maids brought Georgia the dress she wanted. An adorable and tight green satin-thing that was cut short and ruffled over her rump, barely hiding it from the eyes. Gilda nodded. The girl understood the ‘secret language of clothes’ alright.

Minding herself, Gilda invested her time into taking care of her crest. All the wind at the top of the hill messed up her feathers, and she kept pulling and tugging them into the perfect shape of a griffon’s crest. It seemed like futile work as the more she tugged, the more the next feathers would look out of shape. Giving up was not an option, though. Not with Georgia looking so cute next to her, putting a soft green highlight on her feathers and her eyes.

Then Gilda noticed Grunhilda sitting behind her with her usual upset, silent frown. Georgia kept a serene smile, applying some shadow to her eyes, and Gilda rolled hers. She continued adjusting her feathers, pinching one after the other, while staring at Big Girl in the mirror. “You know it’s annoying when you just stare like that and won’t tell me what is bothering you. Can you stop? You’re souring my mood.”

“I’m sorry Miss Gilda.” Big Girl’s cute ear-like crests of delicate feathers deflated, and she mumbled something unintelligible. She also looked away from Gilda in the mirror and mumbled some more. The only word Gilda grasped was ‘Gevorg’.

“Wait. Are you jealous?” Gilda turned to her with a gasp and Grunhilda mumbled some more words. Her unease got Georgia’s attention too, but the younger griffoness let Gilda deal with it. The latter’s first thoughts were that she really ought to punish inappropriate behavior, but that made her feel like Grunhilda was her pet. And that Big Girl might enjoy it, negating the wanted effect. “You know, it would be a lot easier to fix the problem if you actually told me what is bothering you. Like, you know, we’re adults having a conversation.”

Considering Gilda knew her lover enough to know she would not open up, she sighed and stared up at the ceiling. Her chance of scoring it with the hot dude evaporating and undoing itself in the wind. “Listen, if you say you don’t want me to go, I’ll stay here with you and someone else can accompany these two.”

“No!” Grunhilda shrieked and flapped her wings so hard she almost lifted off the floor and sent stuff tumbling around the room. Also messed up Gilda’s feathers again, but she let that go. “I want to try a male too!”

“Oh, that is all?” Gilda glared at her, and Georgia giggled. Godwin just remained silent, pretending he was not there. “Did you think I meant for you to just sit in a corner and watch, you dummy? Of course, you can get laid with whoever you want.”

“But I’m scared!” Grunhilda tap-danced nervously.

“Oh…” Gilda blinked. “I’ll help you!”

“You will?”

“Sure. It’s gonna be a thing this entire night since I’m apparently experienced. Right? Now come help me.”

The minor crisis resolved; things progressed smoothly. Grunhilda hopped closer to Gilda with happy wing flaps and an excited grin. Sitting behind her, Big Girl immediately beaked at Gilda’s feathers, lovingly zipping her beak across them and setting them straight. She held Gilda’s shoulders and the tan griffoness relaxed, closing her eyes and simply enjoying it with a warm smile. Meanwhile, Grunhilda kept murmuring softly as she worked Gilda’s feathers. Her warm body stole away all the tenseness Gilda’s muscles had accumulated from the cold outside.

Georgia complained in angry murmurs about not having anyone to help her, but if Godwin even heard her, Gilda doubted he would touch her feathers that night. So, Gilda helped her, the same way Grunhilda had helped, and Grunhilda turned to Godwin to straighten up his feathers. Whether or not he liked it. Why was he complaining? Grunhilda was a gorgeous queen.

It didn’t last long, but it was such a warm moment Gilda wished it had. She didn’t want to leave Gevorg or Gjarma waiting, though. Almost ready to leave, she meant to grab her white cloak, but decided against wearing it. She didn’t want it to get ruined by any stray bodily fluids. She grabbed Mythical and left it to rest on her back, inside the scabbard. It was her symbol of status, after all.

Ready to leave and call the others to the door, Gilda halted close to unlatching the lock and stared at it for a couple of seconds before she turned to the others. “You know, maybe I should give you guys some pointers… I suppose I am more experienced, after all. Uh…. Let’s see…”

She started and got the three pairs of eyes staring at her, despite her silence which followed. Eventually, Godwin raised his paw, but as soon as her eyes crossed with his, he pulled it down. “Hey! I saw that! You have a question. Give it to me!”

He sighed and turned red, but he relented with only half a second of smoldering glaring. He didn’t speak, though, and Gilda felt that giddy warmth again, throwing a dirty grin at him. Both Grunhilda and Georgia started giggling, itching to tease Godwin as much as Gilda was. “What? Having second thoughts?”

He first gasped, and then he fidgeted in place with his tail swaying nervously to one side and the other. “No. That’s not it.”

Shooting him an inquisitive glare, Gilda kept her dirty grin. Walking next to Godwin, sitting, and laying a wing on his back. He went rigid as a stone. “If you’re trying to hide something in there, I don’t really care, but it might make your sister uncomfortable.”

“Oh! Can I see it?!” Grunhilda blurted, a little too excited.

“No!” Godwin yelled, and it actually caused his sister to giggle. “That’s not it. I don’t know how to explain!”

Grunhilda then gasped and flapped her wings. “You’re gay?!”

“No! It’s just that…” He yelled again while Georgia burst out laughing. He kept mumbling and stuttering. Forcing his gaze to the floor. “Well, it’s something the guys were talking about earlier.”

“Out with it, Godwin…” Gilda demanded as the fun became stale.

“Well, the guys said that I should… You know… Do it. Before… Doing it.”

“You’re not making a lot of sense, Godwin...” Grunhilda made her confused frown and Georgia yawned into her paw.

Gilda rolled her eyes. “Can you stop being a little bitch and just say what is wrong already?”

“Fine! The guys, the guards… They said that the toms should… Uh…” His face turned bright red again and he all but whispered at Gilda. “Beat their meat. Before… You know… Meeting their queen.”

A couple of seconds passed with Godwin quietly staring at the three of them, and Grunhilda started giggling. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Weren’t you the one with all the tomfriends back at Griffonstone?” Gilda glared at Grunhilda and the latter sat with an angry pout. Turning back to Godwin, Gilda made sure her expression was plain and neutral. “You know how I have those weird dreams and memories from my past lives as a Loremaster and a Swordmaiden?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her words, but nodded positively.

“So, the millenary wisdom of the Loremasters of The Harpy says it doesn’t really make a difference. Either way.” She followed with a shrug. “Since Mother Harpy has made these things to drive us, and that you are a handsome young adult, odds are on your side tonight.”

“I guess I’ll just sit here and wait until everyone is ready to go, then.”

“Eew…” Georgia shot him a disgusted scowl while Gilda walked from him.

“Shut up! I know you do it too!” He stood and flared his wings.

“Do not!” Georgia flared her wings too, staring defiantly, but winced when Gilda slapped her behind the head. “Ow!”

“Yeah, you do. And nobody cares.” Gilda glared at her. “Does anyone have any other question, or can we go?”

“Miss Gilda, is there anything we need to know?” Grunhilda hummed and smiled with a rosy tint on her cheeks. “You know… About the meeting. It’s going to be my first time with a male.”

Gilda nodded her acknowledgement of Big Girl’s question and spent a second thinking, again with a frown and holding her beak. “I guess… Just let it flow. Things happen naturally. I mean, it can’t really get much more straightforward than it already is.”

Although, there was so much to say, and the thought made Gilda raise an eyebrow. She sat before Grunhilda and the others, frowning deeper, browsing the ancient memories in the background of her mind. Her own experience, the mundane memories of her own first partner, proved more useful. Back in Gilda’s youth, it probably helped that she scared her boyfriend, and would put up with a lot because of his usefulness.

What a Harpy-damned mess Gilda’s life was. But the three presently most important griffons in her life stared at her and waited for her to tell them something useful, so she left the self-pity aside. She cleared her throat and quickly prepared a small speech inside her head.

“I guess I could tell you guys about those teas that keep you from getting pregnant, but I suppose they’ll get that covered in the meeting itself. Geez, I just don’t know how things are going to work out, but in the Bordello of Candy, the ponies give you some potion that protects you from ‘catching a baby or a nasty’. So, I suppose they do something like that here.”

“You went to the Bordello of Candy?” Godwin raised an eyebrow. “In the Crystal Empire, with Princess Cadance? Isn’t that a sin or something?”

Gilda chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, like I had the money to buy my way in or had the prestige to get invited, like Rainbow Dash. Anyway… Uh… Don’t be a jerk? Don’t be a doormat either. Just remember that you’ll be there to have fun, like the others. And talk to griffons, make sure it’s okay.”

“Geez, come on, Gilda.” She groaned at her own words and the fact that griffons have been fucking since the dawn of time. Supposedly, multiple dawns of time.

“Look, nobody is going to judge you in that place. If it’s anything like the parties we had at school, the others will be too busy being awkward or enjoying themselves to mind what you’re doing.” Gilda raised a finger as she spoke with a grin. “Keep it simple. If it hurts, or you don’t like it, tell them to stop. I don’t think we’ll get any assholes in there. Miss Gerdie said something that stuck with me and seems about right. That the northerners can be creepy and assertive, but they’re nice when it counts. And they are also very courteous.”

“Yeah. Gevorg had Gosalynn present him to me because he didn’t want to intrude.” Grunhilda listened with a fierce focus. The two siblings too, but they hid it a little better. “If all fails, if you tell them to stop, and if they don’t, you can defend yourself. Don’t be afraid to use all you got. And ask for help. I guarantee the Meeting will have griffons that won’t have any of that happening in their party. I can also say that you’re going to find weird things pleasurable. Like, a bit of pain… But then, not. It’s weird. Just do what you like, understand?”

“Got it! Hum, I think.” Grunhilda beamed, and again the siblings nodded at her words, making mental notes, but trying not to show it too much. Good enough for Gilda.

“Ah, also… Just because you want to try things, it doesn’t mean you can’t stop if you don’t like it. They’ll either understand, or I’m going to murder someone. Or Lady Geena will. Either way, you three will be safe. Alright?” Gilda’s smile twisted into a frown. “Uh… Just help me too if that Gevorg guy turns out to be a creep.”

Grunhilda giggled and did her usual happy tap-dance. “I will!”

“Use that sword of yours on him!” Georgia giggled, but Godwin didn’t show any reaction. He just seemed ready to leave already.

Satisfied she had done the best she could, Gilda chuckled at the other’s excitement and the three hurried their way down the stairs. Past maids speeding through their jobs and guards who had resigned to the fact they would be stuck working during the night of the festival. They had changed, though. It was another shift, so it was not so bad.

Gjarma sat by the Manor’s doors. She waited patiently and Gilda noted the hungry looks Godwin kept getting from the Manor’s servants. He completely ignored them, but Gilda supposed he would learn to notice it. Geena’s assistant Loremaster even complimented Georgia on her good taste with her dress and soft highlights on her feathers. Gilda just hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed if her cute dress ended up ruined at the end of the meeting. Then again, it probably belonged to the Manor, so whatever.

Outside, the celebration seemed to have invaded the keep’s walls. Several griffons shielded themselves from the cold near a couple of bonfires and mingled under the watch of the guards. Someone had assembled a stage before the guard’s barracks and there was a lot of happy dancing and singing in there. Hopefully, none of that would disturb her pet roc inside the Aviary, as it was well inside the range of all the festivity. The place seemed shielded enough. Another thing was the hippogriff situation, but she couldn’t do anything about it yet. Gilda shoved those thoughts out of her head so she could enjoy the night without turning into a nervous wreck.

A small band played a cheerful march, and a good crowd of around fifty griffons had joined. They danced on the wood and straw covered yard, along with the troupe of merry dancing and singing griffons on the stage. A bunch of happy chirps and wiggling feathers and butts. At the front was a ‘Griffonstone tan’ queen with yellow highlights on her white feathers. Her yellow, jubilant eyes… Wait a second.

“Gertrude?” Gilda gasped and walked from Gjarma and the others, weaving her way into the crowd. “Gertrude, is that you?!”

“Oh, hey! It’s the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani!” The griffoness stopped dancing, although all the tall feathers on her headwear and golden sequins in her dress still jingled. “Hi Gilda!”

The group stopped the performance, and the griffoness hopped from the stage to hug Gilda. Soon her older partner in crime, Grizelda, came down too, with her purple feathers. Gilda hugged them both, careful not to ruin their entire wardrobe of accessories. She shook their paws and beamed while the others caught up with her. The crowd gave them some space, and some griffons smiled or grinned with excited comments at the scene. “You guys made it here!”

“I guess the northerners weren’t so unfriendly to a pair of southerner hookers.” Grizelda chuckled while Gertrude hugged Gilda again. “Actually, we were in your caravan, but we didn’t want to bother you. We were in the single female tent. You know, the one that was already giving you so much grief.”

“You should have told me!” Gilda frowned. “I would have put you two in the Manor!”

“Nah, don’t worry about it!” The older Grizelda waved a paw at Gilda. “We’re fine. Lady Geena got us working for her, and it’s great. Plenty of work to do, though. And you are busy!”

The quick, happy meeting raised Gilda’s mood further. Quick, but nice, even after they said their goodbyes and she marched along with Gjarma. The loremaster led them to the previously mentioned Old Temple. That was a bad name. ‘Old’ barely scraped the surface of what that place looked like. It was ancient. Just the sight of it stirred memories inside Gilda’s head.

It was about as large as twice the main hall on the Manor, with short wings at the back and a square tower, also at the back. The battlements at the top of the tower had broken in a few places and a corner of the structure had slid off and crumbled apart. All made of old stone, exposed for so long, it seemed frozen. A part of scenery. A part of the plains and soft mounds of snow. They replaced the original glass on the windows for thicker ones. And the doors too, for solid wood capable of withstanding the cold. Parts of the roof seemed to have undergone maintenance, but it was difficult to see in the night's dark. Locals had placed torches and pyres to light the way again, as well as the building itself. Those had trouble beating the overcast, starless night, but made for a mysterious and wondrous atmosphere. Had Gilda any say, that place looked cool enough for a total renovation.

A pair of Sky Sentries stood watch before the door and another opened it for a couple of griffons to enter from a small agglomeration in front of the building. Locals and visitors chatted while they waited as one of the older loremasters sat at the door, examining griffons before letting them in. Gilda knew what she was doing: making sure only the ones who qualified would enter. It didn’t bother Gilda as much as she had thought it would. There was plenty of fun to be had outside.

Gjarma took Gilda, Grunhilda, Godwin and Georgia around the dense pack of chatty griffons and along the way, Gertha joined them. She gave Gilda a hearty grin the tan griffoness responded in kind and Gjarma nodded at them. Good. Gilda would’ve made a scene if one of her friends wanted in and couldn’t. Fortunately, Garnet was nowhere to be seen. It was a delightful bonus.

Soon after, from the middle of the waiting griffons emerged Gilda’s ‘date’. Capitan Gevorg, covered with his smoothly brushed charcoal coat and perfectly preened silver feathers. He had his vibrant purple eyes on Gilda and approached with a measured elegance. He carried himself with confidence on his steps and a raised head, still smelling of oak. The picture-perfect boyfriend she wanted while she was in school. If he was good at mathematics, she might as well mate him.

“Ah! Lady Gilda!” His enormous, eager grin was the most noticeable part, though. He coughed and got his enthusiasm under control with a sideway glance before he smiled confidently at her again. “I’m glad you came. And. Ah… Unaccompanied?”

“Actually, we are with her.” Godwin cut Gilda off before she barely smiled at the captain.

Gevorg laughed. “Sorry, kid. I meant that Gilda didn’t come with another adult.”

“Yeah…” The young tom sighed. “I suppose not.”

While Georgia and Grunhilda undid themselves with cackling laughter, the big male grimaced and sat on the ground, waving his paws frantically. “Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that… Uh…”

Gilda slapped Godwin behind his head and pointed at the door, walking right after him and coming closer to deliver some angry whispers. “The last thing I need is you getting jealous. What the heck was that? You’ll soon be up to your neck with some horny little queen to worry about big ladies out of your league.”

“Sorry Miss Gilda!” He whimpered and pressed his step with her trailing behind. The others followed, with Grunhilda and Georgia cheerily greeting Gevorg and spending meaningless banter with him. Gilda kept her angry glare behind Godwin’s head, but she would be lying if she said his jealous outburst hadn’t lit her ego on fire.

Giggling like a dumb pony on the inside, Gilda shared a smile with Gertha and Gjarma, escorting Godwin to the door where the old griffon lady waited. Raising her eyes from the clipboard, she cast a curious stare at the small group before her. As expected, she addressed Gilda first.

“Welcome, Lady Gilda. And you must be...” The older griffon lady by the door, blue and silver, scanned a clipboard. “Ah, Lady Gertha?”

“Just Gertha is fine!” The pink griffoness held her beaming grin at the Loremaster.

“Welcome!” The older griffoness also smiled warmly at Godwin and Georgia, but mostly at Grunhilda and then at Gevorg. “You are welcome, Captain. Welcome all of you! Please, step inside.”

One of the Sky Sentries opened the door, but it was hard to see details in the shade and under their armor and helmet. Gilda wasn’t there to look at the guards and led the group into the building. Behind the door, the ancient walls were gray with white mortar in between. A pair of red flags with the black and white wings of the Cult of The Harpy hung from either side and another set of doors, partially open, led to another room. Their feet walked on a nice and fluffy red carpet. Tables on each side, under the banners, had pitchers and towels and griffons used of the water to clean their paws. A candelabra hung from the ceiling. While doing the same, Gilda looked at the light source hanging from the ceiling. Little brass griffon cubs, each holding a candle, hung from the exquisite wooden ceiling. Nothing old other than the structure’s charm. And with such good taste.

They had erected a small room near the door with planks for walls. Little more than a counter with a nice griffon lady waiting to take clothes away to storage and with a collection of transparent crimson vials. The queen, all steely gray and wearing the blue cape of the Loremasters, beckoned them closer. Gilda coming to the counter, she picked one vial in her fingers and offered it with a smile. “So you get nothing nasty in here, milady. As clean and mindful of their health as griffons are, such things are a reality.”

Gilda held the little flask and contemplated it with a smile before showing it to the younger griffons at her party. “See? Like we talked about!”

Finally, Gilda pulled out the glass cork in the shape of a flower, downed the spit-worth of a potion, and returned the vial. Not wanting to get ‘anything nasty’, the others did the same.

“If you have nothing you wish to leave here, have fun!” The griffoness on the other side of the counter grinned and waved goodbye as another group approached.

Gilda would not part with Mythical, nor Georgia would part with her cute dress. The difference being that Gilda had taken a weapon with her, but she didn’t care. Mythical was her symbol of how outstanding she was, and once the others finished washing their paws, Gilda led them into the next room. And what Gilda saw made her happy the town’s Loremasters had the meeting in that place.

While Gilda herself had little idea of how a temple ought to be, the Loremasters inside her head and the distant memories of past lives agreed with that place. Black-and-white marble for floor, with a central red and golden carpet running through the hall. A vast table took over the center of the room, covered with food and beverages. They might as well feed an army. A pompous and horny army. The smells of strong spices and fresh fruits reached all the way to the entrance with the spicy aromas of aphrodisiacs.

The pillars before the stony walls flanked luxurious canopy beds. Enough space for some five griffons to do whatever their vivid imagination could conjure up in the privacy of colorful curtains adorned with decorative patterns. Thankfully, not a heart in sight, nor horseshoes or stars. Each had little rampant bronze griffons, holding out their talons and with open beaks, screaming in fury along with elegant and curvy patterns.

“Yeah…” Georgia grumbled, turning to Godwin with a deadpan stare for the ages. “This is gonna get awkward. I’ll stay in a corner of the room, and you stay in the opposite one.”

“As if I’d want to hear you making noises.” He rolled his eyes as Gilda chuckled at them. They weren’t usually like that; it was probably the event that got them so snappy.

“Come on, guys.” Gilda resumed walking to the table in the center, where most of the griffons had congregated and made noise, talking, and laughing. The others followed, despite the siblings’ sudden exchange. “Come on. Let’s mingle.”

The group exchanged greetings with several griffons of different ages. Gertha attracted some attention. If Gilda had become as good at reading griffons as she liked to think, both because she was a strong and attractive queen, and because she didn’t quite fit. However, the latter raised no complaints, and all agreed to just have fun.

Brief bursts of conversations happened as greetings from locals and quick exchanges about their past and expectations about the Meeting happened. An atmosphere of festivity and excitement filled the great hall. Older griffons escorting their young talked amongst themselves as the young griffons held their own congregations. Often some older griffon would comment at how handsome or adorable someone looked, or old griffon friends would hug and talk over the food and beverages. Newcomers presented themselves and listened to locals as they always seemed to have something to say.

All under the eyes of another imposing and domineering sculpture of Mother Harpy. It sat in the back, at the top of an altar, flanked by two doors leading further into the building. They would certainly lead to the ‘adults’ party’ for the older griffons, but Gilda was there for the younger griffons at the moment. Older griffons went through the doors while sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters stayed behind with their friends. And tutors, Gilda supposed.

Leave it to the northerners to turn their kids losing their virginity into a social event. It held the usual combination of northerner foods, but little meat and a vast selection of alcoholic beverages. Not surprising at all. Gertha, even less surprised than Gilda, immediately grabbed a flagon of fruity mead for herself as soon as conversations and greetings gave pause. When Gilda and the others stared at her for a few seconds, she stopped chugging down the drink and stared back at them. “It has just occurred to me I’m old enough to be one of these little queens’ mother. I need some of this before I can start thinking about lewds.”

The pink griffoness showed her neck, beak up, downing the entire flagon in one go. On the other side were Georgia’s cute blue eyes and youthful loveliness, staring at Gilda with innocent curiosity. Truth be told, Gilda was not so old as to be her mother, but she totally understood where Gertha was coming from. Thus, Gilda also grabbed one flagon for herself and started downing it.

Gevorg blinked at the two, filling themselves with alcohol, and shrugged. “I don’t think this is really necessary, Miss Gilda. You’re both definitively on the younger and attractive side. Ah… Most northerners will prefer a mature queen to a young one any day.”

“Dude, if you’re gonna call me ‘miss’ while we fuck, I better have seconds.” Gilda mumbled from her flagon, stopping for only a second so she could talk.

In the end, all four of Gilda’s companions too followed Gertha’s example. Before they knew it, they were again hanging out in the middle of the local and newcomer griffons, talking like they had known each other since they were born. Eventually Gilda found Gia, and like the Loremaster she was, she had attracted a bunch of young griffons seeking guidance.

Unfortunately, Gia showed her usual standoffish suffering at the fact that others existed. “Just don’t do anything stupid, like clawing each other’s eyes or testicles off, and you’ll be fine.”

“This is a special day for them, Gia.” Gilda sat next to her, noticing the annoyed young griffons glaring at their loremaster. “It’s your job to guide them. Can’t you be a little less ‘you’?”

“No, I can’t.” Gia sniffled and then gave off a tired sigh. “Why don’t you take it up, o Swordmaiden of the Shaddani? You’re supposed to be a fancy Loremaster-Swordmaiden hybrid griffon or something and another.”

“I know that inside you just act like an asshole because you’re insecure.” Gilda touched Gia’s chest. Maybe it was the alcohol talking. She had had her fill back at the race, but her words sure felt sincere. “Will it kill you to be nicer? I mean, I’m a jerk myself, but I can be nice.”

“Yes. It might actually kill me to be nicer.” After another deathly exhausted sigh, Gia flashed a forced smile at the young griffons. “So, does anyone have questions?”

While most of Gia’s audience just stared at her with ostensive annoyance, one of the young males showed really interested eyes. A cute, although strong, white, like Grunhilda, raised his paw with an enthusiastic grin. Gia cut him off with a tired tone. “No, you will not penetrate her womb. You can’t fill her with your cum. Just because you had an orgasm, it doesn’t mean you are in love, nor that she or he loves you. Yes, you can have oral sex after penetration, and clean yourselves after anal sex. There is a reason there are plenty of soap and napkins available. Yes, you can have sex with as many partners as you want, don’t feel jealous and don’t accept or make mating proposals. You’ll be laughed at and if you accept, you will later regret it. Finally, no beating. You can pretend whatever your little hearts want, but there will be no violence. Are there any proper questions?”

As she was done, a couple of heartbeats of awkwardness passed, and Gertha made a grimacing frown. “Who hurt you?”

“Never mind Gia.” Gilda shoved the green griffoness aside with an angry glare. Why was she angry? Maybe because educating them was the goal, and she had actually grown responsible. And half-drunk, but that was beside the point. Maybe it was because Gia got on her nerves. Perhaps it was because Gevorg was watching. Or it was a combination of all those things. Who cares? She was there to have fun and the young tom had a question. Showing off her understanding of stuff was fun too, and Gilda grinned at him. “What was your question?”

The white tom had blue eyes like Grunhilda’s, but clearer, and he took a couple of steps forward, out of his group of young toms and queens. His face held the same young naivety as the others, but he seemed… More. Maybe it was how he looked like Grunhilda, missing her cute crests of small feathers. To be honest, he looked like the kid that would get bullied in school.

“My big brother told me I should do the mating dance because it makes the females go crazy.” He smiled as he spoke, and the others in his group frowned at each other with confused murmurs.

“Uh, dance?” Gilda looked at Gia, who shrugged.

“Well, give it a try!” Gertha grinned. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

With that, the young male raised his head and filled his lungs while the others took a couple of steps back. After a small hop, he opened his wings with a noisy flap and his gaze turned into a dead-serious glare and frown. His feathers rattled with his vibrating wings.

“Prrcoo.” He purred and cooed like a deranged pigeon. He flapped his wings and turned on his feet, flapping his wings again. “Prrr-ooooo!”

Another hop before swaying his head left and right, down and up. “Coo-ooooo!”

Five steps forward, but not normal steps. Forceful, exaggerated steps, throwing his forelegs forward with which one. “Prrcoooo-ooo!”

A quick spin around and five more steps followed. He kept bobbing his head and staring with huge, soul-consuming, wide eyes until he stopped. Next, he plopped his ass on the floor and wiggled his body, rocking his head from side to side and making a guttural warbling noise.

And I spent millennia teaching griffons…

Gilda summoned all the willpower on every ounce of her being not to laugh at Mother Harpy’s words. Meanwhile, the white tom stood again and flared his wings before and over Grunhilda, dancing from one side to the other, covering her face with one wing and then the other. All while still sounding like a wacky pigeon.

Gertha giggled. “Is it working, Grunhilda?”

Big Girl hummed nervously and frowned, pulling back her head from his shaking feathers before she gave him an angry glare. “I am feeling something. But it’s not very nice.”

“Unfortunately,” Gilda put a paw on the dancing griffon’s shoulders, “it seems that the mating dance doesn’t work. The good news is that you don’t need it.”

Gia still held her deadpan, bored stare. “New rule. Don’t try the mating dance.”

“Shut up, Gia.” Gilda smiled at the white tom and elbowed Gevorg.

“Oh. Right.” He coughed. “Good moves, but it’s not really needed. Instead, offer a compliment. And find a pleasant subject to have a conversation about.”

“I have another question!” Another tom raised his paw with an impatient glare after the other’s performance. A scrawny little dude with a shiny, deep brown pelt and latte feathers peppered with little brown dots. Yellow, unamused eyes and a bit of a frown. “What if we don’t have a partner?”

“Yeah.” Gia rolled her eyes. “Nobody ‘has a partner’ here. You’re meant to experiment, so you’re free to go around and meet others. If you really want it, one of the older queens will put up with you for the night. Just don’t expect one of them to carry a cub for you.”

Gilda raised her paw and caused Gia to sigh. “What?”

“That’s a thing?” Gilda raised an eyebrow at her own words.

“Yes. That is, indeed, a thing. Some of the young queens come here with that expectation. Sometimes an older griffoness will take the opportunity and help teach them. Some toms want it too, not necessarily with the whole faffing of getting mated. They’ll be just happy making a cub.” She turned back to the brown tom. “All you have to do is sit in the corner and look abandoned. One of them will find you eventually. Or just ask Lady Geena. She should be around soon. Plenty of Loremasters with a kink like that. If they ask you if you want to go to the private room, say you do.”

“Just go around and do mingling things. It’s going to click and before you know, you’ll be humping someone’s daughter. I recommend some alcohol, though. It greases the social gears.” The green griffoness started shooing them away with both paws. “Shooo! Go copulate with each other into oblivion. I got more clueless neophytes to induct into adulthood!”

Just as she said it, Lady Geena walked over with a sad stare about her, looking at Gia. “You’re missing the point, Miss Gia. Teaching the young is supposed to be fun.”

“She does have fun.” Gilda glared at the green Gia. “She just pretends she doesn’t.”

The younglings chuckled at Gilda’s accusation, and so did Lady Geena, but Gertha spoke in a piercing tone. “My theory is that Gia knows she is utterly unlikable, so she acts like this. In her head, it sounds as though she is willingly driving others away.”

“Sounds legit.” Georgia chirped, and the others nodded amid more giggles.

“Whatever.” Gia huffed. “Lady Geena, if you don’t mind giving me my assignment... Then I’ll find Geary. The rest of you try to miss me the rest of the night, please.”

“What is the point, though?” One of the young adults sighed. “My pa and my ma are in the next room doing lewd stuff with their friends and… Uh… What is so special about today? Why today and not whenever? Does it have anything to do with The Cry of The Harpy? That was cool, but… Uh…”

Geena, with her luscious cape of cyan silk and swan feathers, sat before them with a motherly smile and raised a finger before Gia could ruin it all. Somehow, she even kept her stately aura about her. “See, this is a good question.”

“The short of it is about traditions calling back to the olden days.” Geena smiled a little more broadly, with all their attention at her. “The Cry of The Harpy is a way for all griffons to understand the Harpy’s Commandment. And since all griffons will meet, at least once in their lives, Lady Gwendolen has seen fit to have the Meetings on the same night. Griffons are happy. Their moods are soaring with the festivities of the Gathering Storm. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Spirits are high and everyone is having fun.”

High was right… But Gilda kept her smile hidden and her thoughts to herself.

“All over Snow Mountains, griffons do the Meeting. Even if they are not in the Court of The Harpy, nothing is keeping them from participating with the others. But in Griffindell, the highest members of nobility do the Wild Hunt. Lord Gilad and Lady Gwendolen will lead their closest subordinates on a savage and dangerous hunt for some mythic wild animal. They will kill it and eat of its flesh, much as I consumed the raw heart in the ceremony. The blood has a euphoric effect on our brains. They let go of their inhibitions and simply ‘exist.’” She explained with the mellowest of smiles and the most mysterious of tones. Gilda saw it for what it was: another fish for griffons to jump at, higher than even the most powerful griffon of Frozenlake could reach. Such was the Cult of The Harpy. After every conquest, another bait, another more exclusive club to join. Not that Gilda thought it was a bad thing, and Lady Geena continued. “It is reminiscent of how griffons used to live before we civilized. The way Our Mother made us in our purest form.”

“It is dangerous.” Geena added a mischievous tone to her voice and smiled like she was sharing a secret. “The prey is dangerous. Most of all, griffons are dangerous, wild things that thrive on violence and taking lives. And while deaths are not supposed to happen, they are not unheard of, and injuries are quite common during the Wild Hunt. Settling grievances and giving in to lust is incredibly easy. You all know how it is. The very powerful have their proclivities. Some like special meats, others would like to indulge in particular tastes in sex.”

Gilda felt cheated. She had no memories of such things. “Uh… I don’t remember any of that.”

Geena giggled. “Well, that is because Lady Gwendolen introduced the idea in recent years.”

“Sounds like a life achievement!” Gertha piped, holding a flagon of wine in her paw. And Gilda rolled her eyes. She and Gertha had just played into Geena’s baiting.

Geena giggled again. “Well, the usual meetings of the Court call back to the wild orgies Emperor Grigor had with his courtiers in honor of The Harpy. That the general population mimicked. Celebrations with music, wine, and semen to last the whole week, in the palace or in the town square. It is a way The Harpy found to promote diversity among castes.” Geena shrugged. “In the end, don’t worry about it. Just have fun and let others have their fun.”

“How in the feather does an orgy honor a goddess?” One of the young griffons deadpanned. Vibrant bronze fur and white feathers, and a frowny stare of someone who smelled bullshit.

Geena smiled again and gestured to Gevorg. “A fair question. But, how about now that I have shared the official version, you tell them the common folk’s perception, Captain?”

Gevorg gave a nervous smile at being put on the spot like that, but went along when Geena encouraged him with a smile. He cleared his throat and hesitated for a second before speaking. Only after Geena told him to speak freely, he actually did. “Well… Ancient traditions, loremasters teaching the young, rites of passage... Some griffons say it’s hogwash. It’s ‘casual sex night.’ Griffons that rarely do it may do it, significant others that would normally forbid their mates may allow them. Lady Geena gets to pretend she’s not mated, and Lord Graham gets out of her way. Uncompromised griffons can indulge, griffons in stable unions can use it to get out of the routine. You’ll see mated couples using it as an excuse to go wild, even if only among them. All flavors of horny included. The thing is that life is too short, and we’re supposed to live it… I just think The Harpy is about as horny as we are.”

“Perfect.” Lady Geena grinned with a gesture, offering his explanation to them as Gilda grinned at just how brutally honest he was. Better yet, Lady Geena agreed. The local lady still had more to say yet, though. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must talk to Lady Gilda and the young griffons under her charge privately.”

Oh boy, here it comes. Something in between the lines, business as usual. Gilda remained calm, even though the siblings immediately tensed and shared worried stares. Gertha elbowed Gevorg and giggled at him. “Come on, Captain. I’m in the way of the blue-blooded griffons, and I’m too scared to be left alone in this place.”

He chuckled and followed her, with Grunhilda trailing behind. The other griffons that had been listening cleared away. Couples smiled at each other and solitary griffons went their ways to hunt. The cute white ‘dancer’ found himself with a cute blue queen talking to him. Gilda stayed with the sneaky loremaster and the two siblings. The pair glared, two sets of beautiful eyes, not friendly at Lady Geena, but the loremaster smiled. “I must ask something that may not be entirely befitting of the culture you have grown up with, younglings.”

“No.” Georgia spat plainly.

“But I have not even said what it is!” Geena’s surprised outburst made Gilda chuckle as her dignified visage changed for pure surprise. Gilda let the siblings handle whatever it was.

“I will not mate with my brother, you psycho!” Georgia growled, much to Gilda’s and Geena’s surprise, but the latter pouted in the most innocent way possible under Georgia’s angry growls. “Or any weirdo I haven’t met since I was a cub!”

“That is not what I was going to ask! We rarely do that in the North either!” Geena glared at the younger queen, but rather than continuing, she smiled and shook her head. “I need something from you before you meet your dates.”

“Is this some jus primae noctis bullshit?” Geena’s words didn’t disarm Georgia and the younger one let her wings rise. Enough to be rude, but not outright aggressive. “Because the answer is still no! Geez! You wanted mom to pledge to mate me to some dude before I was even a teenager during the training camp! I remember that!”

“Why don’t we just let Lady Geena tell us what she needs, Georgia?” Godwin shot an irritated gaze at his sister. “She wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

But instead of pushing forward her request, Geena backed down. To Gilda’s surprise. The white griffoness put forward her paws and smiled most graciously. “It’s no matter. It can wait. I can’t tell you what it is, but I can assure you it is very important. Harmless and not dangerous at all. Therefore, I would like both of you to consider honoring my request. I know I haven’t told you yet, but give me a chance. Lady Gilda should escort you to see me before you engage with your dates. I will be in the side room. To the right after the altar, before the second great hall. You should take them with you… I do not wish for them to be disheartened and think you fled from them.”

Geena needed something. That much was clear. And she needed it so hard she was not willing to let them deny it on an impulse. She wanted to dodge the knee-jerk reaction and have them go to her, rather than try coming to them. Most important, she included Gilda, who Geena knew might have an interest in a favor. And the sneaky catbird was right. She probably didn’t know about the hippogriffs, but whatever it was Geena wanted, she would give Gilda a free wish for her help in getting whatever she wanted from the siblings.

Yeah… If the stupid fight in the caravan had been Griffonning one-oh-one, Geena was Gilda’s teacher for Advanced Griffoning.

With their exchange concluded, Miss Geena graciously excused herself. “Even tonight I must see to some important matters. Please enjoy the festivities. And please, kindly mind my request.”

As she walked away, Gilda decided another drink was in order. Maybe two with all the drama. She started with them on the way to the table with the liquid courage and the siblings followed Gilda like cubs might follow their mother.

“Holy Georgia…” Godwin frowned at his sister as they walked. “You could have been nicer to Lady Geena.”

“Nope!” The sister shook her head emphatically. “Once we cross the ‘please marry my friend’s son once you are of age’ line, we’re done.”

They argued back and forth while Gilda guided them to where Grunhilda, Gevorg, and Gertha waited at the table. Thoughts refused to leave Gilda’s mind, though. In the end, what Gevorg’s earnest appraisal failed to see was that it was, yet again, another way The Harpy controlled griffons. And some griffons liked to play the game within the game, like Lady Geena. Yet, even she did as The Harpy wanted. Gilda could bet her tail whatever she wanted involved some kink. Several lessons to be learned. It was probably intentional too that it picked Gilda’s curiosity.

“Heh. I’ll be damned if it isn’t working…” Gevorg asked Gilda what she had said, but the tan griffoness only winked at him and turned her attention to the table. There was a reason all that alcohol was present, and it seemed more convenient each minute. And there was the table itself, though. Sturdy and hefty as though they expected griffons to be doing things tables normally shouldn’t have to withstand. Or maybe the alcohol was already twisting her thoughts, and she saw sex everywhere.

There was also the centerpiece. A giant ice sculpture of a beautiful couple of young griffons dancing. Open wings, happy, singing beaks open and lots and lots of naughty details, from cute little nipples to the dude sporting a boner.

“Huh... I guess it fits?” Gertha chuckled.

“I hope so.” Grunhilda added. “It looks big.”

“No. It’s not that big.” The pink mercenary retorted mindlessly.

“Wait, what?” Godwin gasped.

“Don’t say these things, Gertha.” Gilda calmly reached for a flagon of mead. “You’ll sap the kid’s confidence.”

“I’m not… You know what? Never mind.”

“I kinda like it…” Georgia blushed, examining the images. “I mean, as an artist, of course.”

“Yes, there is a certain aesthetic quality to them that is greatly appealing in an emotional sense. A dynamic fluidity in their movement, in contrast to the guttural, base desire they represent.” Godwin raised a finger. “Still, it shows a dynamic levity represented in the dance that is both opposite and fitting to the act of carnal consummation.”

Godwin got some chuckles, speaking with a stuffy voice and a faux-arrogant expression of disinterest. Then Georgia’s new artist friend from the fair arrived showing precisely the same expression Godwin had. Except not ironically. “Yes!”

“Yes!” The artist griffon propped his orange self in front of the statue, flared wings and gesturing to it with his thin forelegs. As though he wanted to hog all the second-paw embarrassment to himself. But he changed to a faux-servile and submissive bow to Georgia. “That is it! The very essence of the Meeting of the Court of The Harpy! Why I used you as my inspiration, my muse!”

The griffon guy sat and lowered himself before Georgia and her furiously blushing cheeks, holding her paws in his own. “Georgia! Hear the new name of the Griffon Muse of Perfection! I should never have sold this to Lady Geena for a couple of dozens of Electrums! I should have gifted it to you! It is perfect!”

“Dude, I was speaking ironically…” Godwin went unheard.

Funny that the artist guy at his tent in the feast seemed much more collected. The smell of alcohol explained it, though. Not that Georgia minded smiling at him with a soft gasp. Too busy gawking at the orange griffon to realize he was talking about the statue, and not her.

Gertha came to Gilda in a whisper. “Oof. Douchebag alert.”

“Whatever.” Gilda whispered back and shrugged. “It’s just a dude to pop Georgia’s cherry. Just let them have fun.”

With that said, the pink griffoness and Gilda turned to the two lovebirds. He still talked about the ice sculpture, and Georgia kept staring lovingly at him. Yeah, Gilda’s bullshit detector kept beeping inside her head, but it was not her business, and the dude was quite attractive. Gertha seemed less convinced. With a frown she then forced into a smile, approaching the two.

“Hey, I suppose you two are ready to have some fun.” The pink griffoness said it as though it was not awkward and then she herded the couple towards one bed. The artist bird put a wing over Georgia’s back as they walked with Gertha behind them. A stray thought made Gilda wonder if the adults were supposed to make rounds looking for young griffons having issues. Truth be told, she felt like she was in excess in that place as the young barely needed help to get naughty. Was she doing the northerner thing right?

“Is it wrong that I don’t want that dude touching my sister?” Godwin sat next to Gilda.

“I guess not, but it’s not your choice. You heard Lady Geena. And just because he has a high opinion of his work, he’s not a bad griffon. Heck, these statues look amazing. Most importantly, he knows lewd stuff and can make Georgia happy tonight. It’s about getting experience, I guess. Or better yet, experiencing, learning.” Gilda turned around to talk to him, and her eyes widened. “What the feather?”

Behind Godwin stood five young queens of different colors and sizes. He, too, gasped when he turned around to see. An older version of each accompanied Godwin’s suitors, and Gilda supposed they were mothers and older sisters. The pearly-rose Gilda had seen a few times with Godwin was in the middle. An entire rainbow of cute griffon ladies had crept up on them while Georgia’s date had them distracted. The collection of young ladies shuffled with uncertainty, shifting from staring at Godwin, Gilda and themselves with worried eyes.

“Godwin, my man!” Gevorg laughed and punched Godwin on the shoulder. Gilda laughed. The older griffonesses Gilda supposed were mothers or older sisters laughed too. The young ones didn’t laugh, though, and stared at each other like they were about to jump at each other’s throats. Speaking of griffons learning how to griffon…

“So, you want to draw straws or something?” The others laughed with Gilda again.

“I brought a gift!” The rosy cutie beamed. Her pink eyes shone, and she raised a little white box in her paws like it was the Idol of Boreas.

“Do I get to say anything about this?” Godwin glared at them.

“Unfortunately, no, cub.” A big northerner, with a muscular build of a soldier or a hunter, all blue and with yellow eyes like an eagle, put a paw on Godwin’s shoulder. “Nobody is going to believe you if you say you don’t want all five. It’s also not a matter of who, but when. And it’s Lady Gilda who gets to decide, being your guardian.”

“Shocker…” He groused sarcastically.

“Well, the gift I brought,” Rosy-pearly started with a huge winning grin, “is for Lady Gilda.”

“Now we’re talking!” Gilda beamed and put out her paws to get her gift promptly delivered.

“This is unfair!” A lanky, black and tall griffon lady whined. The others complained, their mothers laughed. Griffons will be griffons.

Opening the little white box with a pink ribbon, Gilda found a cute golden feather nestled on a little white cushion inside. She grinned and stuck the accessory to her feathers on her crest and smiled at Godwin. “How do I look?”

“Like you stuck a golden feather to your head.” He rolled his eyes.

“You look pretty!” Grunhilda giggled.

“If I knew I was supposed to bring a gift, I would have brought a better one!” A watermelon-y green and pink griffoness complained.

“Why don’t we just make a big orgy?” The shorter, pudgier one of Godwin’s applicants spoke almost as though she meant not to be heard. A cute, and rather round, young thing. Covered with yellow like burnt sand and white that really regretted being heard, looking away and taking a step back.

“I like the way you think!” Gilda grinned. Inside, she sighed. The alcohol really started working its magic in her head.

Oh, well… Don’t go out in the rain if you don’t want to get wet. Or something. She supposed she ought to escort Godwin and his little pride to Lady Geena and see what it was she wanted.

Stoßgebet, pt. I (clop)

Author's Note

Just so I don't stay too long without posting anything, here is the first part of the new clop chapter. I'm working on the others and they should be up soon, but I know better than trying to make promises and deadlines with how crazy my schedule is.

Standard rules apply. There is a lot of worldbuilding, but if you're not into the horny part of things, you can skip this chapter (all of its parts) and anything too important will be alluded later anyway.

Trigger warnings: this chapter has brief, but explicit descriptions of sex, what you could consider drug use/mind control and inordinate amounts of megalomania.

Stoßgebet, pt. I (clop)

“Come on, Godwin.” Gilda pulled his paw, walking briskly and sending a teasing grin back at him. Surely, he could smell the horny griffoness aroma in her, but she didn’t care. Not in that place. “You’re not gonna chicken out now that you got five new friends, are you? You said you wanted to help Lady Geena and we’re all supposed to go see her.”

“No! I said I wanted to hear what she needed from me! I’m just worried about how excited you are about the whole thing!” He grimaced, hopping on three paws, doing his best to follow her and not lose his balance.

“I am a Loremaster of The Harpy too!” Gilda clamored, stopping for a second and letting go of his paw to touch her fluffy white chest. “And I am also an important champion of hers. After we talk to Lady Geena, I’ll make sure you guys enjoy everything as she planned. Come on, the sooner we deal with it, the sooner we can get to the juicy parts.”

Godwin stopped next to her and so did the five young griffon ladies with them. All of them showed excited smiles, peppy trots and hops, surrounding Godwin. Their mothers had entrusted their care to Gilda, since they had more important things to do in the other hall. Especially after Gilda told them she would take the ‘kids’ to see Lady Geena. They trusted the Loremaster implicitly, so that was probably fine. Gevorg and Grunhilda followed them too, and Grunhilda hopped around as excited as the others, next to the captain’s contained enthusiasm.

The noises of merry, rowdy griffons had lessened, mostly replaced by naughty giggles, laughs, and a few moans. Fair enough for Gilda, as she guided Godwin and the others past the canopy beds and towards the end of the hall. She started seeing some of the older griffonesses that stayed behind, quite a few wearing the capes of the loremasters, hounding the stragglers.

A crashing noise of breaking glass came from deeper into the building, followed by laughter. Curiosity tugging at Gilda’s hurriedness, she led them steps and an altar before the giant statue of the Harpy. It looked old. Not at all like the ones she had been seeing. It dominated the alcove with a stone altar under a black and white sheet. Gilda imagined they used to perform rituals in that place long ago. Perhaps when it was snowing too hard, or too cold.

Speaking of the Harpy, it wouldn’t surprise Gilda if she showed up just to poke fun at her. But She didn’t. She was probably busy banging Lord Gilad. Or doing that Wild Hunt thing Lady Geena had mentioned. Because if there was one thing Gilda had learned was that the Harpy not only endorsed privileges for her favorite griffons, but she expected to be given as many as they could afford. Hence the epic desert city with an artificial mountain for her to live in. Gilda couldn’t even judge; she’d probably demand the same.

Gilda ushered the other griffons through the door and into a small, snug anteroom. The dim lighting made it quite creepy, with alcoves dug into the walls and hiding several statues of griffons. Sitting there and looking grim. On each side of the room, the wall had a simple door and a set of double doors led into the next hall, where the rest of the meeting would be happening. Or, as Gevorg had called it, ‘casual sex night’. The place where the parents and older siblings would entertain themselves. Those not busy teaching the youth, at least.

Gilda raised an eyebrow at how that would have made her skin crawl with creepiness only a couple of weeks ago.

The laughing and giggling coming from the hall in the back and the slightly ajar doors piqued Gilda’s curiosity. She just couldn’t resist a small and harmless peek through the crack, and she saw something nice. It was another hall, but it had more luxury than the other, with more windows, but they held mosaics of different griffons. The pyres provided a light and colorful collection of glass lit up nicely, showing more important griffons Gilda didn’t know. A candelabra of iron rings and torches provided light, and the ceiling had gypsum finish painted over to show gray storm clouds. The restoration had painted the walls with white and filled the room with sofas, chaise-lounges, and round beds… A good deal of comfortable furniture for relaxing or doing naughty things.

A cross-shaped table had copious amounts of food and beverages, unsurprisingly. A small band of griffons played the wind-wailing songs the northerners liked, while others wore tall feathery headdresses and danced on a stage to the side of the room to the griffons around the hall. Lots of griffons. Both northerners and southerners talked and laughed. Plenty of lewd staring and flirting by the table, as well as a lot of swirly dancing too. A couple had sex on a chaise out of the way. Gilda was pretty sure the charcoal black female was the blacksmith she met with her brother when the caravan arrived at Frozenlake. She laid on her back in a giggling fit while her partner, a thin gray dude, leaned on top of her, and they kissed and hugged.

Another couple, on the other side of the room, shared one of the many beds. A sensuous and mature, strong, brick-red female was riding her blue partner and giggling as much as she was bouncing on his lap. By the wall, one lucky handsome and slightly older gray dude stood on his hindlegs against the wall while a white queen with yellow-tipped feathers leaned her weight against him and insistently kissed him while a younger version of herself sat before him and gave a similar treatment to his meat.

“The northerners sure like their meat…” Gilda chuckled at her own stupid joke and closed the door when the six younger griffons and one Grunhilda approached curiously. She held her cheerful grin, though. “Come on. Lady Geena asked that we meet in the room to the right.”

Its closed door let the light of torches reach beneath, and after a quick trot, Gilda tested the door. She found it unlatched and pulled it open effortlessly, although slowly. She didn’t know what was happening on the other side. But it turned out it was just Geena there, simply waiting for them. Disappointed, as she expected Lady Geena to be engaged in some lewdness, Gilda pulled the door open.

It was a small, square living room. Nothing special about it piqued Gilda’s curiosity. Plain wooden floor and ceiling with stone and plaster walls. Sconces shaped like griffon paws held smokeless torches which provided a relaxing dim light. Completely unremarkable, if not for the tight work on the precise arrangement on the wood and stonework. Jarringly, the room lacked any decoration, after all the prior luxury. Gilda did not know what its purpose if fulfilled, much less if such was its original purpose, but it ended with a white curtain hiding a passageway into another room. It was utterly silent, though.

Only Lady Geena clicked her talons on the wood frame of the sofa she laid on, and the crackling of the flames reached Gilda. Geena stopped though, startling when the door opened and flaring her little ear-like crests. She opened a radiant smile when she saw Gilda and the others.

Missing her cape and alone, Geena hopped off the sofa with a wide smile to greet them. Her face changed for a confused frown after a second. “Wait. Who are these beautiful queens?”

“Well, they are Godwin’s suitors.” Gilda hid her grin with a paw and tried to keep her voice formal. “All five of them.”

Geena stared at Godwin. At the five griffonesses. And then she frowned before she let out a soft ‘huh’. “Alright, I suppose that makes sense. I hear Godwin is rather famous among the griffonesses. Oh, did Georgia refuse to come?”

Gilda shook her head. “Yeah, sorry. She’s with her date now and was not happy about all the creepiness and mystery.”

“I see… Shame. I’m sure the mystery was part of the intended effect.” Geena sat on the floor and joined her forepaws, crossing her fingers and smiling awkwardly at Godwin. “I’m afraid that ‘creepy’ could be a good word in this context. I must ask a favor of you, Godwin. It is awkward and most young males would deny this request even before they fully understood what is at stake with such a request. It can be such a taboo among the southerner males.”

“Geez, just say it already!” Gilda rolled her eyes at all the beating around the bush. “Just tell him what you want! You’re making it worse. It’s obvious it’s some kinky, horny shit. Well, he’s here, willing to listen, so just say it!”

“We want to harvest your semen.” Geena coughed and her eyes turned away while her ear-like crests flattened. She kept making gestures with her paws that meant nothing other than she was nervous. “Ah. Well, not exactly… But it’s not as straightforward as it seems. And it kinda revolves around sex… Uh… Obviously, but then not really. It’s complicated.”

Considering Geena was one of those ‘legendary tier’ Loremasters, something was up. Such a far cry from the stately, composed Lady Geena she had met upon arriving. But Gilda supposed it was up to Godwin to decide whatever needed to be decided. Gilda made a note to not interfere unless she must.

“Is this for some creepy breeding project?” Godwin frowned at the loremaster, although he was not angry or upset. Merely curious, and probably frustrated for the same reason Gilda was. Funny enough, his harem of five young griffonesses collectively gave Geena an accusatory glare. Gilda remained neutral, only hoping inside that Godwin would accept. Just so she could lean into Geena and get hippogriff prisoners under her care! If Gilda put them on her caravan, she could guarantee excellent treatment and dignity for them. But she needed an ace to get Geena to agree without drawing attention. Attention from Mother Harpy, for example.

“Oh, no!” Geena frantically waved her paws at Godwin’s question. “No! Nothing like that. Mother Harpy forbids artificial insemination. This is for… Certain bodily fluids can be used in potion-making, particularly those relating to the ability to generate new life. You understand. Almost all the female parts of the process happen inside her body, but males provide something far easier to harvest. And you are such a special male, of outstanding pedigree and in a unique situation. You are a virgin, you see.”

Gilda watched with no reaction. What were the odds that was one reason the Loremasters did everything in their power to avoid the young noble-born toms and queens from having sex before the meeting?

“So?” Godwin shrugged. “Do you want me to, uh, produce it for you?”

“Yes. But extraction is not that simple. We need a bit more… And uh… The best way to get what we need is… Well… Massaging your prostate. And for that… Well… We use a special tool that someone can wear… And.”

“No.” He growled grimly, completely changing from curiosity to annoyance.

“Oh… I understand.” Geena’s eyes shifted again to the side. There was something wrong. Very wrong in that whole thing. Geena was not just after something rare and difficult to get. Assuming Godwin was special, and it had to be done in that moment. Maybe it had something to do with virginity, or some nonsense like that. Maybe there was some magical tomfoolery involved, after all. But Geena was trying to guide Godwin, and she didn’t use all her arsenal as a Loremaster. She should not be struggling like that. She was too nervous to think straight.

With those thoughts inside Gilda’s head, Geena raised a finger. “Godwin, please, just consider that we really need it and that. For the northerner toms, such a request is not offensive or disturbing at all.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Gilda glared at the larger, all-white griffoness before Godwin could turn and leave. Which he almost did. Only Gilda pressing Lady Geena stopped him.

“Hum… I mean us. The Loremasters. But uh… A really powerful and… Rich griffoness wants the honors of assisting Godwin in producing the materials for us.” Geena’s smile was not only desperate. She was on the brink of panic as Godwin was ready to leave.

“So, some rich griffon lady wants to buttfuck me…” Godwin summed it up. Gilda grimaced. It was probably some griffoness that paid for stuff in Frozenlake, and that was likely why Geena was so nervous. She probably couldn’t afford to disappoint. Godwin twisted his beak with a scowl. “I knew it. I always knew something weird was going to happen in this place. Geez. You northerners are a bunch of weird freaks!”

“Well, no! It’s not like that. We really want your seed. And your masculine fluids. Just that… It’s magic. It can’t be just… Normal ejaculate. It’s all part of a ritual… And… Well… She’s kinky… And the ritual needs to be a virgin tom and you are perfect because of your parentage and… Well… Your cuteness.”

“Please?” Geena smiled again and held her paws together. “Pretty please? We already lost Georgia…”

“No! Heck no! First, I’m not ‘cute’!” Godwin growled at her. “And I don’t care if some creepy old griffon lady thinks I’m cute, or whatever. This whole thing sounds like an excuse for some old cougar to get off. Bye!”

He turned and started towards the door, but Gilda put herself in front of him with a squawk. She covered themselves with a wing, after a quick glance at the others, and used hushed tones. He glared at her with a fierce scowl, though. “Don’t even start!”

“Godwin, listen!” Gilda urged in a desperate, hushed tone. “She’s asking for a favor. I can use this to save lives.”

“What? What do you mean? How?” This expression turned right around from angry scowl to wide eyes of understanding. Gilda knew he was a good, smart boy. “Oh, shit! The hippogriffs!”

“I know I shouldn’t ask, but it’s just a quick romp. You might even enjoy it.”

“Excuse me?” Godwin glared at her, but at least he kept the hushed tone. “You mean you’re going to enjoy watching? It’s probably one of those weirdos. Loremasters. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Madam Gelinda!”

“No! Sorry! I just mean… Come on… If I can talk you into it, then I can lever a favor with Geena and get those hippogriffs somewhere safe! Georgia can safely take care of them once they’re with the caravan and away from the city.” Gilda frowned a little. “It could be much worse! It could be some old dude!”

“Would you ask this of Georgia? Of Grunhilda?” He still glared at her.

“Actually, I would, you little jerk! Georgia might not like it, but she would do it to help the hippogriffs. And Grunhilda would just because I’d be asking. I might even do it myself…” Although considering Gilda’s door swung both ways, saying that may not have helped much. “But it’s not us the crone wants. It’s you.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. A frustrated groan, scowling and massaging his brow with his paw. He groaned again and stomped a forepaw at the wooden floor. Finally, he looked up at the ceiling and let out a sigh of resignation. “Fine! But I swear… You owe me for this!”

“Hey, I’ll help you with your cute ladies!” Gilda grinned weakly at him, but she immediately frowned. “Sorry. I mean, I do. I owe you for this one.”

Godwin sighed before Gilda put down her wing and he groaned with an unfriendly glare at Lady Geena, pushing Gilda’s wing away. “Fine. But only because Gilda is asking! Because it’s important.”

Thankfully, his frustration didn’t cause him to mention the hippogriffs, but he gave Gilda a final scorching glare. “Because I owe it to her for rescuing me and my sisters from Wayfarer’s Rest. It’s not because of you or whoever your freak friend is.”

“Ah, wait.” One of his suitors took a couple of steps from the others with a frown on her cute youthful face. A typical Nartani, the northerner griffons, all white and built like a mountain of muscles with blue, confused eyes, walking around and facing Godwin with a distressed frown. “Are you sure? I mean, this looks kinda… Uh… Being okay with this sort of thing feels kind of… Effeminate. I hadn’t thought you were like that.”

“Whoa!” Gilda pushed her chest and forced her to sit on the floor with a gasp. She wanted to tell her to just shut up, stupid git, but Gilda reigned in her anger. “Hey, that is not cool. Come on. It’s obviously not like that. And if it was…”

“Geez. Imagine if I was effeminate. Or if I was gay, which is what you’re thinking.” Godwin stood up for himself regardless of Gilda and sat on the floor, too. “I guess I’m cute, right? Well, I’m not, but you think whatever you want. I’m doing this because Lady Geena needs help, and because Lady Gilda is asking. If that is a problem for you, then all I can say is that I don’t care what you think. You don’t understand it, anyway.”

Eyes widened at his words, the white young queen huffed before she turned and stormed her way out of the room, whipping her tail in his direction. Unfortunately, another of Godwin’s would be suitors gave him a distressed stare and let her wings sag. The watermelon-y one took a step back before she spoke. “I thought you were… Hum… You reminded me of Lord Gilad, Godwin. I wanted to take this further. But… Uh… Bye.”

Gilda watched the second one leave in a hurry. Just because she didn’t know the queen, it didn’t mean Godwin didn’t. She looked from her disappearing butt past the door to his expressionless, unamused stare. The others stayed, fortunately. The pudgy, dark sand colored griffoness, the white pearly one with the rosy-tint, and the white and black lanky one with the green eyes. Their eyes were restless, and Pearly wanted to say something. She kept fidgeting with her fingers, but never actually let the words out.

Geena coughed and talked to Godwin with a sad frown. “I am sorry… Not only did they judge you unfairly, but I suppose that not all griffons under my care are open-minded. If not horribly bigoted.”

No shit. Gilda wondered if the two also hated hippogriffs, but kept her beak shut. Fortunately, neither Gevorg or Grunhilda said anything.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m sure Grunhilda doesn’t mind her aunt peddling whores for her friends. Let’s just get this done, please.” Godwin gave Geena an unfriendly stare before he extended it to Gilda. Grunhilda just looked away when Gilda looked at her.

“Please, follow me.” Geena smiled a hurt little smile but walked a heck of a lot more confidently than a couple of seconds ago. She started on her way to the white curtains in the deep wall of the room and the others followed.

Gilda walked next to Godwin, catching up to him when he started after Geena. The others followed in silence. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it for you.”

“It’s not ruined.” He glared, talking in a low voice. “Just weird. And I hope this works and that the others don’t bail too, because I’ll blame you!”

“Fine, fine! You’re crossing into the dramatic. Come on.” Gilda rolled her eyes, walking a step behind to his side, following Lady Geena through the curtains. Her eyes lowered, though, and she let out a sigh.

Hopefully that whole shindig would be worth it in the end. Although wouldn’t it be a better idea to leave his new friends out of it? Or maybe Gilda was just wrong. Their mothers left them with Gilda, and they were supposed to expose themselves and experiment through the night. That included Godwin, right?

Godwin’s wing smacked Gilda in her face. Yanked out of her thoughts, she cried a sharp ‘ow’. “Godwin, what are you…”

She pulled down his wing out of her way. Her beak hung open. The stone walls and the wooden ceiling remained the same, but a white bear rug dominated the floor. The same torches on the walls provided a cozy light. A double layered, milky, glass on the window kept the cold out and warmth in, shining with the light of the pyres outside.

A table against the left wall held food and beverages, but breathing in brought only the elusive smell that made bellies flutter and eyes widen. The intangible sweetness of horny griffons and sex in the making. Cute, handsome, attractive, charming, alluring and several other lewder adjectives described a small army of young toms and queens occupying the room. Every single one of them nearing physical perfection, like little, almost perfect reflections of Mother Harpy. Literally, even down to their colors and facial structure.

Gilda shook her head at the sight and took a step back. Looking again, hoping the unsettling sight would have vanished. But it didn’t. Different shades of white and black, ranging into the metallic silver and even some yellow, making them seem made of electrum. The ‘holy metal’. Every one of them was a variation of The Harpy’s color pattern. Striped wings, tiger-striped hindlegs, and copies of her crown of feathers behind their heads too. Like little harpies in an entire array of different shades littering the room and spilling sex goo everywhere.

Against a wall, a couple of slim and tall, black and white queens kissed. Paws went everywhere in the middle of their anxiously grinding bodies, touching open beaks with their tongues showing. A couple at the feet of the bed engaged in oral sex with the elegant griffoness laying on her back. Her colors were like a washed-out version of The Harpy herself. Her gray crown of feathers ruffled like she was so happy, and she cried a whooping wail, holding her partner’s head between her striped thighs.

Another couple next to them behaved similarly shamelessly. A cute, almost all-white queen presented herself, propped onto the white fluffy fur covering the bed. Her partner, a similarly white griffon showing subtle gold-silver feathers, humped her with complete disregard for anything else happening in the room, stiff wings aiming upward. Too many of them did naughty things in the dark, with wet slaps and glistening fur. Soft giggling and kisses surrounded Gilda.

One of them, alone, shambled closer to Gilda. A young thing, about Georgia’s age, but Gilda wasn’t sure if they were a male or female from their facial structure in the dark. Only that they were white with a shade of yellow imitating the electrum. They tried holding Gilda’s shoulder, and their beak came too close for comfort. Their gray eyes seemed fogged with a red mist swirling before them.

Taken by a blind panic, Gilda shoved them to the floor like a sack of potatoes. She immediately felt bad seeing it was a young male on his back, giving her a confused stare from the floor. Completely exposed, but it didn’t last long, as a female approached. Her black marks were more yellow than black, with the color of electrum, but deeper than his. She giggled at Gilda, straddling herself over the male’s chest and smothered him under her groin. One of her paws supported her weight on his belly before she started fondling the male’s testicles.

Her soft electrum feathers behind her head stood with excitement. Her eyes lingered on Gilda, the same stormy gray of the Allmother but also tinted with red. Then, the young queen unceremoniously leaned down over the tom and made his penis disappear into her beak.

Gilda distanced herself a couple of steps from them, pushing Gevorg and Grunhilda with her. Wincing, despite not being able to tear her eyes from the tom’s almost golden talons pricking her rump and his beak shoved under her tail. Something about them, other than looking too much like Mother Harpy, made Gilda’s skin crawl from her bang of feathers to the tip of her tail. What exactly eluded her, but her magical senses told her of something wrong with those griffons.

The couple completely ignored Gilda or her companions afterward, too busy with each other and filling Gilda’s ears with sounds of licking.

“What the fuck?” Godwin turned to Geena, despite Gilda protectively casting a wing over his back and his three friends hiding behind them. Gevorg and Grunhilda remained close to Gilda, gawking at the scene, speechless. All of them showing fluffed up backs, distressed winces, and darting eyes. The loremaster, Lady Geena, responded with only a nervous, grinning grimace as her eyes shot to the bed.

A standard northerner bed. Large so that it could support a huge fur blanket, which was luxurious white rabbit skin. Enough rabbits, their meat must be half the meals in the hall. A cracking whip drowned all the lewd sounds and a griffon lady shrieked. Black but shiny and delicate iron chains held her wings so tightly her feathers bent. A hood, like the ones used to cover the eyes of hunting birds, covered her eyes. It left out only her beak and her lores, nares flared open with frantic breathing. An exuberant, long, yellow feather decorated the thing with the same color as the griffoness. One of the most beautiful griffon bodies Gilda had ever seen, in such a compromising position. It forced her thighs tout and her butt tense, showing the firm muscles covered in a vibrant yellow. She had an exquisite henna painting of vines and flowers on her foreleg, all the way to her covered face, and it added to her uniqueness.

She cried with another smack of a whip. A bit fitted in place with a bridle kept her beak open and her tongue kept wiggling, unable to find a comfortable position. With spit dripping from her beak, she cried again when the many tips of a black flog smacked at her raised rump one more time. They had wrapped her forelegs to her chest and a metal rod kept her from bending her knees while it set her feet apart. She tried when the flog struck at her cheek another time, but simply couldn’t. Her tail remained tight against her rump and under her belly, but it helped little. Her tormentor whipped her again with a twisted, perverted grin on his black beak and his pink wang poking between his tiger-striped thighs, dripping like he can’t wait to stick it inside of her. One paw with black talons squeezed her cheek, and the other swung the flog on her thigh. Her body quaked with another yelp around the bit.

Right next, a snowy queen with a barely visible shade of gray rode a male, leaning on top of him and resting her white beak on his fluffy chest while another male mounted and pounded her under her tail like there was no tomorrow. That was one of those things Gilda never really got into. Not with her schooltime tomfriend, much less with Dash. Not judging was one thing, but actually doing the ‘butt stuff’ crossed a line for her. That griffoness sure seemed to like it, though.

Both males were black and white and like one another. All of those weird griffons looked too much like one another. On the other side of the bed, a full white male sat between the hindlegs of another full-white female, holding her waist and pumping her full of dick. Gilda could see her rosy belly with small lady-like nipples shaking every time he pounded at her. And back against the wall, like they were sticking out of a plethora of griffons having sex, a gray and white female cowpony-rode a deep black male. He held one of her wings and licked at her neck like fatty grease on a piece of meat. Another tom, in shades of gray and silver, laid on his belly, bobbing his head up and down a black tom’s lap. The latter rested his head against the wall, and an alluring female, hanging the level above kissed him.

Gilda had to admit it was hot as fuck when she saw dudes doing it to one another, though. If only she wasn’t about to freak out at the rest of the scenery.

Behind the bed, the wall moved. It wasn’t a wall. Or rather, it was, but a wall of griffons, all looking almost the same, with Mother Harpy’s color pattern of shades of whites and blacks, grays, silvers, and gold. Wriggling and moving like a living, convulsing wall of griffons holding on to each other. A second level bed behind had more of them, as did a third above, like a wall of similar griffons meshing in the dark, into a single writhing lifeform. Moans, giggles, anxious gasps, and the eventual squeals punctuated the near constant wet noises of sex making.

“Gervina is learning not to give the key to my private tower at Griffinsky Mansion to the guests…” The Harpy’s voice came to Gilda and for a second, she thought it was only amid her thoughts. Only when she spoke again, Gilda noticed the great griffoness next to the spectacle on the bed. “I brought her as a gift.”

The griffons with Gilda looked at the Harpy and she smiled when they gawked at her. Laying on her side, with her head held proud and her crown of black feathers pompously flared. The black tuft at the tip of her tail kept flicking, and a collection of many objects Gilda defined as ‘toys’ littered the bed, surrounding her. Not only made of rare metals, gems, and quality leather, but almost lifelike. On top of it, the great griffoness herself laid on a bed of silver-golden coins. The northerner Eagles, made of electrum.

Just being there was not enough for her. Oh, no. A mountain of electrum Eagle coins with her face on them where she laid was a side note. Being surrounded by a living diorama of griffon debauchery was still not enough for the Allmother, either. She covered herself with silver and gold. Metal meshes covered her paws and a see-through veil under her eyes let see only a shadow of her jet beak. Bracelets filled with vibrant stones jingled on her forepaws and a crown of black spikes complemented her natural crown of feathers. Rings shone on her tail and her black talons showed ridiculously intricate silver patterns painted on them.

And yet, nothing in that room unsettled more or shone brighter than the smile she let show when her eyes landed on Godwin.

The tom and his three remaining friends bowed, as did Geena, Gevorg and Grunhilda, but Gilda didn’t. Not out of defiance. She had completely missed the timing, so used she was to the great griffoness appearing only inside her head. The movement behind her kept distracting her, and Gilda couldn’t even tell if that was cruel or kinky! Should she address her as Mother Harpy? As Lady Gwendolen? She was supposed to be a secret, and Gilda knew most in that room wouldn’t know the truth of her identity. Part of her wanted to slink back out of that room, but the smells sequestered her thoughts and The Harpy’s stormy eyes held her pinned in place.

Okay. You know what? Gilda forgave Geena. She would be an anxious pile of nerves in her place, too.

“I see that unfortunately, the sister has chosen not to come.” Her commanding voice, so full of presence, showed more vexation than disappointment. Lady Geena, next to Gilda, almost doubled over like the Harpy had punched her in the gut. All while Mother Harpy’s large and talon-crowned paw stroked the back of the white ‘mini-her’ doing the squealing white lady laying on the bed.

“I’m sorry, Lady Gwendolen. Georgia is…” Geena started, but the other shushed her, barely moving a muscle.

“You had one job, Geena.” Perhaps the most chilling part of her response was how calm and collected she was, and in the middle of all that. “Georgia is rebellious. It is the southerner influence. She spent almost all her life away. You are lucky Godwin has given you a chance. No matter. I can deal with an unruly kitten. We have more important matters to mind now.”

Following that, all the glistening metal rustled when she moved with a warm smile behind her veil, putting forward her black paw. Silver rings gleamed on her fingers and sparkling meshes of metal rattled, hanging from her. The delicate silver paintings on her talons intensified the absolute black of her steel-like talons as she offered her paw to Godwin.

He winced, and the three griffon ladies that had come with them looked at him. Then they looked at Lady Gwendolen, and then at Gilda, and back at Godwin. Finally, back at Gilda, as if they expected her to do something.

One of the weird griffon ladies… Was she a bit too tall? Was that it that made her so uncanny? She sauntered close to Godwin and ignored the murderous glare she got from pearly and the other two. More like the hostility delighted her, and she kept teasing them. A very white, small version of the Harpy, young and sassy, crossing her feet as she walked. Her beak kept a raunchy smile and her tail wrapped around Godwin’s neck, showing herself to him in all the sordid details, turning around herself before him.

Before Gilda or Godwin could react, the Harpy screeched at her. It chilled Gilda’s blood, not because of all the power that griffoness had at the tip of her talons, but with how primal, animalistically wild it was. All the anger and jealousy she put into it; in the way she slammed her paw on the bed and sent coins flying, how she flared her giant wings and showed the striped, black-and-white pattern. The young thing, scared out of her mind, skipped from Godwin in a flurry of limbs and feathers everywhere. The others, at least the ones who weren’t too busy with naughty stuff, laughed. Gilda stepped closer to Godwin. Just in case.

“You are afeared, tom.” Gwendolen relaxed and accommodated her wings beside her body. “What is it you want which will help ease you into our meeting?”

No shit! Maybe not screeching next to him would help? Maybe he’d prefer less of an ominous, larger-than-life partner? How about losing the scenery of horny griffons? Perhaps not fucking his bum? Gilda let out a soft snicker. And she almost slapped herself over her thoughts. Fortunately, she kept from giggling. Poor Godwin attracted the attention of the best and worst griffoness possible.

“Perhaps, a change in scenery?” The Harpy grinned. A vicious grin showing from behind her tinkling veil. “I was going to gift you Gervina, but you already have a delightful companionship.”

The Harpy climbed down from the bed. Tinkling coins dropped from it and metal pendants shone on her. She walked full of weightless grace and majestic pomp, with her wings on display. Crossing the room, she walked past the table with all the food and beverages. Two of the creepy griffons scampered away at her approach near the window. Where Gilda hadn’t seen before was a small table taken by ceramic bowls. It was too far for Gilda to see what they contained, but The Harpy collected a pawful of something and sprinkled it into a silver bowl. Next, she opened a small vial with a white thick liquid and drizzled it as she talked.

“Such a fear is a construct of modern griffons. When I first made your kind, sex was meant for reproduction, and pleasure was their driving force. They were not mentally capable of anticipating that from such acts, cubs would be born. But even the wild minds of pre-sapient griffons understood seeking partners for sharing in that pleasure. It felt more rewarding than solitary stimulation and they did it for no other reason than it made them feel happy.”

She had a way of speaking that just shut griffons up and made them listen. It bordered on the comforting, despite how awkward it made Gilda feel. She had grown cozy with that feeling, and she wondered if it was some sort of spell, or weird magic or psychological effect the Harpy’s voice had over their minds. In the middle of all that festival of lewdness, Gilda barely had the spare capacity to process the fact she had just revealed herself as the Harpy to all of them. She’d probably have to talk to the girls and their mothers later.

What a mess. Just because she was horny… Gilda sighed, beginning to understand Gia’s near constant tiredness.

“Social species that they were, they grew fond of the proximity the act brewed, because of the intimacy it required. The Stormborn believed cubs were born spontaneously when griffons lived in proximity. In simple terms, the brain’s survival and reward loops taught them that sex rewarded them with pleasure and made them grow even closer. It molded their behavior as they sought more of it.”

She spoke as she methodically dropped another measure of what looked like powder into the silver bowl, and then a pawful of petals. “It was an unintentional side-effect of how I made them, but far from suppressing it, I allowed My Children to bask and indulge in it.”

She stirred and pressed the components with a silver pestle, filling the room with a rhythmic ringing of clear metal. “As their intellects developed, they processed finer social interactions. Games of dominance and servitude which became the social structure of present griffons flourished and permeated their primitive society. Sex, as all facets of their lives, intertwined with their new mental capabilities and it became a tool of dominance, subservience and bonding.”

“One should not assume that it is a bad thing, as both are as normal to the life of a griffon as breathing. It was around that time the Stormborn stopped pestering me with all their woes and started codifying laws. They quickly decided that rape was not acceptable, and that refined their understanding of this game of dominance. It became an intricate process. Most would involve themselves solely for the pleasure that borne out of it.”

Her talons hovered over the mixed powders and little bolts of lightning showered from them with a sharp spectacle of cracking and flashes in the dark. “Gender seldom became a factor. Nobody would mind what a female did to another, or to a male because outside of making little cubs, what they cared about was the pleasure it gave them.”

“It survived until the end of the empire and, ironically, Celestia unwillingly destroyed that when she gave Grover rule over My Children. He feared many ideals of the Empire would bring a resurgence of the Cult of The Harpy and sought to suppress them. Dominance and passionate surrender ought to be restrained, and some griffons were easy targets. Crushing some liberties was easy for the sake of the new kingdom. I do not blame him for that… He was fighting an enemy almost impossible to destroy with the remaining Nartani out of his reach and Celestia still oblivious to the fact Emperor Grigor’s goddess truly existed. It has, however, given rise to ideas that some sexual practices are dangerous. Unfitting for the civilized griffon who denounced the savagery of the Cult of The Harpy.”

“Perhaps even more ironically, the ponies are fond of playing games of dominance in between four walls. And that is the difference. They are ashamed of their selfish proclivities while griffons thrive on them.” She frowned, holding the silver bowl of sparkling, popping red powder in front of the group. “But because Princess Cadance says it is alright, ponies have no further woes about it. I find it unfair that griffons trouble themselves so, and I would appreciate it if they stopped.”

Her paw hovered over the bowl, swirling in the air above it. Stirring whatever was in there and causing it to foam in pink and pop inside the bowl. “In the wake of the destruction of Grigor’s Empire, griffons have discriminated against their kin who sought such sexual gratification from the same gender, or that engaged in activities they deemed inappropriate. It is one reason they hated the Swordmaidens so much. Which brings me to the question which hangs in the air. Why is a young tom feeling inappropriate over a sexual encounter with an attractive female if not because of the ingrained bigotry of his peers which failed to understand that if I did not want males to experience pleasure from anal intercourse, they would not.”

Gilda glared at her. “You had to deliver a self-important, presumptuous speech just because you wanted to peg a cute guy, didn’t you?”

“Again, with this ‘cute’ thing?” Godwin growled.

After Gilda earned a smile from Mother Harpy, the latter dipped her talons on the shifting, fuming red powder and blew it on Gilda’s face. It caused her to cough and shake her head, taking a step back before sitting on the floor. She squinted and blinked the thing out of her eyes, dropping to the floor and pawing at her eyes. She saw nothing through a red fog for a couple of seconds, but then colors returned brightly to her. Her ears picked even the most minute of sounds, like the padded feet walking on the white bear rug. The wet noises of griffons bumping uglies in the dark corners of the room or softly clicking beaks.

“Gilda, are you… Okay?” Gevorg winced at first, then he recoiled at the intense, wide-eyed gaze she aimed at him. Her mouth gaped at just at how handsome his feral northerner visage was. How built the muscles under his pelt were. But Gwendolen’s voice distracted Gilda.

“You should have been taught that magic permeates all in existence, Godwin. Guella’s education would not allow for such a failure. I am left with no choice but to assume you were remiss in your studies. You should be punished. Regardless, it follows that the secretions of organs involved with reproduction would be infused with the magic of Life. Such powerful magic is useful in potion-making and a vast catalog of rituals from necromancy to healing and the magical engineering of Life. In short, most of what you put out when you masturbate does not relate to biological information for a new life. It relates to keeping your seed alive and well and thus carries a heavy charge of the magic of Life. And that makes it valuable, you being of a prestigious heritage, mature, and untouched. Almost enough to put it for sale on par with a mountain mansion in the Stormy Eyrie. Back when it existed in the Realm of the Mortals.”

What the heck was this conversation? Gilda’s spinning head helped little, but the nonchalant, factual way Mother Harpy spoke made it all even weirder than that conversation had any right to be. She could only imagine what was going on inside Godwin’s head, but thoughts didn’t connect very well inside hers. Gilda’s chest thumped and her hindlegs felt weak. Gevorg’s oak smell set her nares on fire and set loose butterflies in her stomach. Her nether regions itched. Distracting and enticing, it made Gilda just listen and accept. It was easier than thinking about and trying to pick it all apart.

“There are different ways of harvesting the materials produced by the male reproductive organs, but your virginity is an opportunity that I would loathe to lose. However, sexual gratification is the province of that which I will harvest from you.” She stopped walking and smiled. “It is a happy mishap of biology that harvesting it in such a pleasurable way is possible, and I would consider it a disgraceful disrespect to do it in the absence of carnal release. However, I will respect your free-will, your right to self-determination I have given you myself. In fact, I will give you the choice to walk away from this room. Right now. No grievances, no regrets if you so choose.”

Godwin stared at Gilda, and she stared at him. Her expression turned out blank, as she missed the realization that she should have encouraged him to choose as he desired. If he wanted out, they could figure something else. But Gilda’s disconnected thoughts failed to provide her such an insight. Too late, her head cleared enough that she could think. Godwin had already turned to look at the Harpy and insecurity silenced any words Gilda might have uttered.

Holding the silver mortar, filled with a sparking and sizzling red substance with pink fumes, the Harpy smiled and made a wide, sweeping gesture. “I have ingratiated myself to you, and all of this is for you. My love has been called both a blessing and a curse. Which, it depends on you.”

“The final say, however, is still yours, tom.” She smiled; eyes full of glee. The eyes of a predator about to unleash the last leap on a cornered prey, and have it secured on her talons.

Godwin looked at Gilda again, and while she didn’t respond in any way, Gilda wondered if the Harpy knew he wouldn’t back down. Either way, Godwin turned back to the great griffoness, and he didn’t stare directly at Lady Gwendolen. He avoided staring at the remaining griffonesses from his initial group of five too. The few griffons and griffonesses of Lady Gwendolen’s court, not busy screwing each other’s brains out, watched him with amused smiles. When he finally looked at the great griffoness, Godwin blushed, and still avoided her eyes. “I’ll stay… And I’ll do whatever you wish, Lady Gwendolen. I just hope that I… Won’t disappoint.”

Her beaming grin could have lit the room like the sun while her eyes still bore into Godwin, and she offered him her paw again. He took it and let her guide him closer to her. Then Mother Harpy stood on her hindlegs. In all her prodigious size, exposing her nipples for all the horny males, and Gilda, to see. Wings wide open and with her best megalomaniacal laugher, she raised the silver mortar above her head. Her flight feathers lit with lightning bolts arrested in between them and, in an instant, released all the sequestered magical energy. Whatever was inside the silver mortar caught a bright red flame that filled the room with crimson. Bright shards flew everywhere within the explosion of red.

Wincing and shaking her head, Gilda reeled back and bumped into the other griffons around her. She heard Gevorg and Grunhilda yelp while Godwin’s friends cried. Several griffons screeched. The same magic that had filled the top of the hill earlier that night flashed like a lightning bolt burning through Gilda’s spine.

She felt dizzy. Gasped in surprise, but the air came into her nares thick with the red mist, overwhelming her sense of smell with a heavy and sweet spiciness. Her lungs filled with it, and she coughed. Several griffons around her coughed, screeching, and squealing in shocked cries.

The overwhelming power of every sensation at once subdued, and Gilda’s spine tingled all the way to her tail. She couldn’t feel her limbs for a moment. Gone limp, her legs abandoned her to the floor. Her shoulder hit a cold and hard smoothness more akin to stone than rugs or wood planks. When she opened her eyes, she regretted it. They burned and she could see nothing other than red. Not like a mist, but as though someone had changed her eyes for eyes which could only see a solid red.

“Gilda!” Gevorg’s voice reached her, and his paw patted her back. “Where are you? Can you hear me?”

She could. So loud it hurt her ears, but as his words throbbed inside her skull, their defining characteristic was the deep, male quality of his timbre. The red became a collection of undefined shapes. Other colors returned smoothly and then in a rush. The bedroom was gone. Gilda’s eyes presented her with a sight which defied her sanity and made her beak hang. The feathers on her crest flattened, and a chill ran up her spine.

The floor was a black-stricken and cold white marble. Her reflection showed Gilda her wide eyes and hanging beak. A wide hall stretched in all directions with a canopy roof held by mighty white pillars. Intricate designs covered them, but Gilda was too far to see. An open skylight let in heavy raindrops over a statue of The Harpy, so large it dwarfed the one Gilda had seen earlier. Made in a combination of black and white stone, she reared with her wings spread, showering under the rain which then pooled into a round pond in the center. It didn’t seem too deep as Gilda could see half a dozen of the weird griffons frolicking in the water, splashing and dancing in it. Happily, making a mess.

Rainfall and petrichor filled Gilda’s nares once the red daze cleared from her sense of smell, and a distant thunder ripped above. Gray, violent clouds closed the sky past the pillars holding the ceiling. The breeze, although fast, brought in the smells of a forest. In the distance, mighty gray and white mountains stood tall as though they held the clouds above. Extravagant mansions surrounded the valley, carved out of the mountain faces in every direction. The voices of singing griffons reached the open hall. They sang ancient hymns in ululating griffon voices, like the wind sang with them.

The room was not empty. Several confused griffons stood there. Some had thrown themselves to the floor and covered themselves with paws and wings. One nearby griffoness puffed the red mist from her nares, whining and hiding herself under her gray wings. Like Gilda, they recovered, though. Also, like her, they gawked in wonder at the great hall they suddenly found themselves in.

Extravagant furniture made of silvery yellow metal and black and white upholstery distinguished different spaces for groups of griffons to lounge at. Beds, sofas, laying pillows all spread around the hall, leaving plenty of space to reach the table with food and alcohol near the center occupied by the pond. A ground fire burned, and a couple of excited, tall and pale, gray and white griffons spun the spit roasting carcass of a caribou.

Gilda saw the charcoal blacksmith and her partner among the griffons in the room. Both awed, admiring the scenery. Gilda even recognized Frozenlake’s mayor amid the confused, but quickly recovering shocked griffons. Georgia was there, with Gertha and the artist tom. Gia too, who finally had good justification for her perpetually ‘tired of everything’ demeanor.

Before Gilda had entirely gathered her wits, griffons started cheering at the magic trick, and all the excitement started returning once they saw Lady Gwendolen. She stood on her hindlegs, with her wings open and forelimbs too, like she was a magician at the center of a show. If anything, Gilda knew the Harpy had done something. That much was obvious, but whenever Gilda tried to think about it, a red mist covered her eyes with lewd thoughts of all the things she could do to Gevorg right now. It was just easier to accept that she was where she was and have fun.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about the others. After Gilda patted down her own body and the sword inside the scabbard on her back, she looked for the others. She found Gevorg helping one of Godwin’s friends stand back on her four legs. Grunhilda sat next to the other two, looking confused. Nobody seemed in distress or missing any pieces. Godwin and Lady Geena were nowhere to be seen, though.

Gilda shook her head and flailed her feathers. It seemed to help clear her thoughts. At least enough to remember she was angry at the Harpy. At least she was easy to locate with all the shiny metal and the celebrating creepy griffons next to her. Gilda started on her way, storming towards a gigantic bed, ready to slap the smugness out of her goddess. The bed was even larger than the previous one and the great griffoness, again, laid on her side, with her head raised.

Godwin was in front of her. Spooned against her belly and wearing a daring headdress of gold and bronze, as well as a delicate and loose collar of electrum coins in a curtain before his chest. He even wore bracelets on his four legs and an exquisite makeup in black and gold that highlighted his eyes and his young, but fierce, facial structure.

The sight gave Gilda pause both with how handsome he looked, and in the memories the sight brought back from the old times of the Empire. Mating griffons would dress like that for the festivities. Males and females wore jewelry, especially if they meant to make an impression. There was also Godwin’s comical ‘please help’ stare, while the Harpy had her huge, talon-crowned paw on him.

Gilda shook her head again, stopping for a second when the red mist threatened to tint her eyes crimson again. It lasted only a heartbeat, and she resumed on her way. Scowling like she was about to reprimand a cub. She ignored the cheering slut-griffons with creepy auras and climbed the seven steps to the edge of the bed covered in electrum coins and sex toys.

“My, that is one angry, grumpy griffoness.” The Harpy chuckled at Gilda’s smoldering glare. She teased Godwin, brushing her beak at his cheek.. “I think she is jealous, Godwin. Do you want him for yourself, Gilda? I will share if you too will be a naughty lovebird for me in exchange.”

“What is wrong with you?” Gilda sat on her haunches and opened her forelegs, letting her voice raise. Some griffons behind the bed gave her concerned stares and a few chuckles reached her.

“Whatever do you mean, Lady Gilda?” The other griffoness flashed her eyelashes.

“Can’t you just let griffons have fun and fuck in peace?!” Gilda yelled. “Why do you need all this, just because you’re horny?! Why aren’t you doing that Wild Hunt thing back at Griffindell?”

“Are you done?” The Harpy smiled like she talked to a cub throwing a tantrum.

“No!” Gilda screamed. “What is this place? Why do I feel like I shouldn’t be here? And why does nobody seem to care? And… And… What is the deal with these creeps?!”

The Harpy let go a long sigh and broke her aloof visage for a while. “Fine. It seems you cannot let go without an answer. I will agree. I wanted to commemorate a significant victory. Gwineth put Celestia’s consort to the sword and the mare herself is gone after breaking down and panicking. But her consort, the absolute dunce of an alicorn, was Discord’s friend, and that disturbed Gilad. The Wild Hunt will not be happening, and Gilad has distanced himself from me. Grigory and his friends are in Manehattan and I would rather not rouse the Night Made Flesh lest she will discover their hiding place with the wayward princess ponies. Our plans progress by leaps and bounds, often better than expected, but I have no one to celebrate with until Gilad recovers from his foolish slump!”

She was lonely. Gilda’s angry expression softened.

“You did something to us.” Gilda stammered through the words like they were a rocky road full of holes where her thoughts seemed to fall into and vanish. “Ugh… For feather’s sake. What was I saying?”

“You were appreciating my gift of libidinous celebration.” The Harpy solicitously assisted Gilda recall.

“Ah. Yeah.” Gilda frowned, but shrugged. Gilda was pretty sure that was not the case, but it was just easier to go with it when her head hurt. “That’s really cool.”

“Well, now that Lady Gilda of Griffonstone has given us her leave, the celebrations may continue. Let no griffon leave this hall unsatisfied.” The Harpy proclaimed with a smug grin behind her glistening facial covering, and griffons cheered around the hall.

“Yeah… Fine.” Gilda chuckled, trying to join since she couldn’t beat her. Thinking was too hard. “I’ll allow it.”

“Good.” The Harpy’s grin turned dangerous again, and Gilda’s smug smile crumbled as she remembered who she was talking to. “Because now you will dance for me and Godwin.”

Stoßgebet, pt. II (clop)

Author's Note

Trigger warnings for this part:

F/M, Femdom, sex-toy, rimming, pegging, prostate massage, horny griffon matrons harassing a young tom. And some minor descriptions of sex. Also, Gilda uses her dancing sword for dancing, for once.

Stoßgebet, pt. II (clop)

“Dance?” A grimace accompanied the word out of her beak. Gilda’s mind reeled at the word. It kicked her brain back into working order and lifted the red mist from her thoughts, changing it for an anxious energy.

Before she could argue, or even succumb to the tightness the idea brought to her throat, a griffoness came to Gilda. She was orange and golden, with a bright smile. None of that really mattered. She carried a sword on her back. A magical sword, secured by magical means. A Swordmaiden’s Dancing Sword. The lightning trapped inside the blade drew Gilda’s magical senses as much as the shiny steel drew her eyes. Only then, Gilda noticed the infectious, radiant smile on the griffoness. She sat on her orange covered rump and held an outfit for Gilda to take. A moment spent appraising her showed a beautiful creature. Vivid colors and taut muscles beneath, with vibrant, joyful eyes.

Gilda held the object she had brought and stared at it with an expressionless gaze. Interleaved rings of gold and silver made a garter belt, which held a curtain of mixed gold and silver threads. It reminded her of one of those natural fiber dresses creatures loved to use at beach parties. More than that, the griffoness offered Gilda bangles and bracelets made of electrum and dotted with citrines and amethysts. A dancing garment, and it went well with Gilda’s tiara, with the visage of the Harpy.

The dress captivated her. It would just barely hide her naughty bits, and the light would bounce on the metallic threads and catch the eyes of all the griffons gawking at her. Ghadah never used those because she didn’t like the way the materials would look on her yellow fur and plumage. But they might just work for Gilda’s sweet tan covered shape, white feathers, and purple highlights.

But none of that mattered because Gilda had never actually danced. Not in her present life, at least.

“I… Never did it. You know that.” Gilda’s eyes remained on the garment she held in her paws before they raised to Mother Harpy. She loomed over Godwin and glared at Gilda, expecting to be obeyed. Mythical weighed like a tonnage of bricks on Gilda’s back. The weight of all the eyes on her from every side. Words came slowly, like they became lost in a maze of insecurity. “I can only fight because Ghadah’s memories come back to me… When I need them. When I am in danger, or when others are.”

“What makes you think you are not in danger? You lack the experience to fathom what I will do to you in this place if you disobey. Or even worse if you fail.” Mother Harpy’s chuckle rose into a clear laugher the other griffons in the room mimicked. There was, of course, no ill will behind their laughter. It was just fun for them, but Gilda knew better than to toy with the Harpy.

“Dance!”

“Dance!” Griffons chanted around her, and Gilda’s beak hung open. It happened fast. She needed a couple of seconds before she even understood what was happening. All the confidence that carried her through the school presentations and powered her through the days of selling scones didn’t help. Looking angry and undisturbed wouldn’t get her anywhere in the middle of all those horny griffons. Much less before Mother Harpy.

In fact, after seeing those weird griffons that looked like the Harpy made Gilda a shudder. Just the idea of what Mother Harpy could do to Gilda in that fever dream of horniness made her skin crawl. Even worse, that yellow griffoness, tied and flogged, returned to Gilda’s mind. When she noticed, the tan griffoness was already sitting on her haunches and donning the dancing garment, looking down her flank and fiddling with the fastening.

She smiled, quite liking it despite the whole situation. It ‘covered-for-lack-of-a-better-term’ her teats and in her sensitive state she needed to suppress a soft gasp at the coarse threads touching her softest fur and her nipples. For a second, she wondered how much that red thing the Harpy had dipped them into factored into that. But she had no time to waste.

Looking up from her belly, her eyes found the Harpy and Godwin laid on the giant bed. Her host of young… What were those weird griffons? They seemed so similar to the Harpy, like they were all her cubs, but Gilda knew she was infertile. That was not the moment to think about that! She was nervous and her mind drifted. All of them stared at Gilda, too, males and females. Unsetting barely described the feeling.

Frozenlake’s citizen griffons and southerners too, occupying other furniture or just gathering to watch from a better angle. Raunchy stares and titillated, half-hidden smiles or jealous frowns, barely disguised. Not the ‘little harpies’. All of them stared at Gilda like she was a piece of ham hanging above a pool of piranhas.

Mother Harpy’s own gray eyes could set Gilda on fire, but Godwin’s unbroken gazing made her feel like a hussy lovebird. She felt like slapping him, hoping to the Allmother the hotness in her cheeks didn’t show. Ironically, Mother Harpy was part of the problem. Then it dawned on Gilda that the oversized catbird with a god complex knew exactly what she was doing. Rather than anger, though, the feeling that came to Gilda was a fuzzy, warm acceptance. When was the last time she had felt beautiful?

All the time she had spent sprucing up to go to the meeting finally felt like it had worked. Like she could compete with Georgia’s youthful visage and Grunhilda’s adorableness. Gilda was a mature griffoness with something to show that griffons wanted to watch. She thought of Gevorg but didn’t dare look back in fear of how many eyes staring at her she would see.

She closed her eyes and silently drew in a lungful of air. If she ever intentionally willed Ghadah’s memories to flush to her mind and take over, that was it. Surprising her, Gilda’s mind filled with how-to’s and what-to’s. Trying not to think about it, lest she would break the magic, Gilda stood on her hindlegs. With little effort, balancing her quadrupedal body in the awkward posture.

Gilda reached with her left paw under her shoulder and grasped the leather scabbard. Someone watching might have been fooled by the apparent practiced ease. Lightning tingled at her fingers as she brought it before her. Magic flowed around her like a breeze, brushing at her dress of golden-silver threads. A sudden flash of lightning entered the hall and thunder roared outside. Just as Mythical responded to her magic, and growled at her like a ferocious beast, ready to do whatever Gilda commanded.

Golden light escaped through the sliver between the Mythical’s guard and the metal finish of the scabbard. Gilda grasped the string-wrapped grip, and Mythical grasped her paw back in a way Gilda still couldn’t understand, but they became one. Magic like lightning searing through her filled Gilda with anticipation. She pulled her Swordmaiden dancing sword from the scabbard and its glory filled the hall like she had pulled a piece of Celestia’s sun from inside.

In fact, her ancient memories reminded Gilda that lightning was five times hotter than the surface of the sun. She shook the thoughts out of her head. Gilda needed graceful and sexy, not smartass at the moment.

To untrained eyes, the magical sword shone slightly in the hall's dimness. The light glinting off it took on a golden shine, trailing behind the moving blade, and the Astrani runes declaring its name filled with liquid light. Mythical hummed in her grasp and hissed through the air when Gilda pointed it up before her. To her eyes, the blade took a likeness to pure lightning, droning and crackling in her paw, with barely contained exorbitant amounts of magic.

Hushed comments of awe reached Gilda. Judgements on her posturing and about the sword’s gleam bouncing off her eyes and her garment. About her beauty. It was the smile on the Harpy’s beak, even behind her veil, which filled Gilda’s chest with bubbly giddiness.

She aimed her magical sword downward, and the tip melted through an inch into the marble. With the start of her dancing routine, launching the blade into a diagonal arc, the sword sent a million shards of molten stone into the air. She stepped forward, and the blade sang a ringing note through the air, drawing a perfect sweeping arc at her command. Griffons cried and distanced themselves. They laughed and gawked in wonder at the show of flying embers. Completely unintentional, but Gilda was not about to tell them.

She spun around herself, and the magical blade swooped above her head. Forelimbs raised, guiding it through the air above her head. She spun and drove the blade downward. Mythical danced above and around her. Teasing, barely missing her pelt. Her garment spun and sent the golden threads in a flowing carousel like Gilda was a shard of the Allmother’s power dancing in the sky.

The lack of music made keeping her tempo difficult and there was no memory Ghadah could provide, which helped her. She always danced with drums, strings and flutes. Gilda made her own music, with rustling feathers, and steel whistling through the air. Mythical guided her as much as she guided her blade. Twirling her body as much as the sword, Gilda’s wings sent her in airborne twirls and pirouettes. She danced with the blade launched, spinning into the air, like a pair of synchronized dancers in a dangerous tango, only for her paws to grasp the hilt again. The precision astounded even Gilda, as Mythical sought her paws as much as the griffoness reached for the sword in the air.

Her whole body stretched and twisted, from her head to the tip of her tail, like a deadly belly-dancer snaking around the magical steel and sending it on arcs and twirls. Fighting an imagined enemy was the trick, as one of Ghadah’s teachers had told her lifetimes ago. Dodging and parrying blades only she could see, twisting and swirling out of the way. Unleashing the ferocious beast that was the magical weapon, controlling it with the ferocious beast inside of her. Sending imaginary heads and limbs in the air, bathing in warm blood, not really there. Such was how swordmaidens fought when they didn’t dance, and that was how they danced when they didn’t fight.

Gilda was one of them, after all.

Griffons around her whooped and cheered like the deciding goal of the season’s winning shot, but she paid it little mind. Her thoughts were on the deadly weapon swirling above her head and the radiant rays of golden silver she wore. Careful the blade wouldn’t cut her garment nor her limbs, tail, or wings. Spiraling in the air around the weapon like the partner it was, keeping it spinning like all the weight was on Mythical. The trick was in the wings, the twists and sudden flourishes and pirouettes that sent her out of harm’s way, fighting an imaginary pegasus with leg-mounted blades.

Finally, Gilda held Mythical in an embrace, letting her padded foot touch the floor first and opened herself, throwing her forelimbs and guiding the sword in a final sweeping arc, holding herself balanced at the tip of her foot. Her left hind leg stretched backwards, forelegs open, showing herself, she had become a tribute to the perfection of Allmother’s creation. Showing herself as the work of art Mother Harpy meant for her to be, holding Her Mother’s mighty magic and deadly steel in her paws as gold and silver cascaded from her.

Gilda’s limbs ached like Ghadah’s mother had switched her. Her lungs barely kept up with the racing heart in her chest. It moved frenetically to the point she couldn’t hide her panting from her audience. But she didn’t care, and neither would all those griffons. Part of it was from the excitement. She actually did it, and a wide smile showed in her beak among applauses and cheering whoops. The sweat on her lores bothered her none, and she gave herself some reprieve from the pose now she was done, sitting on her haunches. Her sweaty palms trembled, but they still held Mythical.

The applause of hundreds of griffons still thundered in her ears, with whoops and cheers without end for minutes while her noisy breathing still caught up. The Allmother raised to sit on her coin-showered bed and clapped her paws with a proud smile behind her veil of silver and gold. Godwin blushed fiercely, laying with his belly to the sheets, but his eyes still bore a hole into Gilda.

Captain Gevorg hurried himself and took Mythical’s scabbard to Gilda with a beaming smile on his beak. And Grunhilda, hopping like an overexcited cub, couldn’t keep from babbling on and on about how amazing Gilda was. The drained griffoness hugged both before she looked at The Harpy again.

Fiercely blushing, Godwin kept his eyes on Gilda while he was lying on the bed and the Harpy again leaned her body against his back and removed her veil. She told him something in hushed whispers that caused him to let his beak hang and then she proceeded to peck at the feathers at the top of his head. He didn’t know how to respond at first, but she held up his beak with her paw on his neck and kissed him. Their beaks opened and her tongue coaxed his to meet hers. She pulled him to lie on his side and caressed his chest over the small coins he wore and gave a good appraising look at his stiffy.

She withdrew from him. Teasing Godwin with her playful stare and open beak. Just out of his reach to coax him to come to her. Godwin, breathing coarsely, raised his head to meet her beak again. The Harpy rewarded the young male pressing down on him and squeezing the feathers on his fluffy chest as they kissed.

Gilda blinked at them. Ritual, harvesting, magic bullshit and such. Godwin really couldn’t have done much better for a first kiss. He was still getting laid. Gilda only hoped he had sufficient stamina for his kittyfriends.

Catching her breath and smiling, Gilda returned her attention to Gevorg and Grunhilda. She set the sword to rest inside its scabbard and her eyes went down. Gevorg, sitting down in front of her, had a similar blood allocation issue, but was much more mature about it than Godwin when she looked back up at him.

“Sorry. It has a will of its own.” He chuckled. Grunhilda blushed at the sight, tilting her head a little to get a better view, and Gilda smiled. Maybe it was the background horniness of the night permeating the room, that Gilda had already seen enough griffons having sex that she wanted some too, or that Gevorg had a really nice-looking pecker.

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” She stood on her four legs, still unstable after the excitement had worn off and her muscles kept complaining. She winked at him, but behind him, she saw the Harpy looming over Godwin like a portent of doom, dragging a talon over his stomach and making him shake with a long, silent moan. Godwin’s suitors sat by the bed, like a trio of lost puppies watching Lady Gwendolen playing and teasing their tomfriend.

“Do you want to do something about that?” Gevorg chuckled.

“I don’t know if I can.” Gilda shrugged. She also did her best to keep the humor from her words but failed miserably. “How normal is it for some possessive cougar to hijack a tom and have her way with him in the meeting?”

“It’s not normal for the High Lady to show up, reveal herself to be the goddess you worship and take over your Meeting of The Court of The Harpy.” Gevorg deadpanned. “Until you realize she is the Harpy to whom the Court belongs, and sanity flies out the window.”

He and Gilda looked around the place before he talked again. “You don’t even need to be teleported to some fancy ballroom… I don’t know what is going on. My head hurts if I think too hard. I guess it’s better to just enjoy it, given who’s involved.”

“You have a great capacity to synthesize messy situations.” Gilda grinned and poked at his fluffy chest. “Still DTF?”

His face twisted with confusion, and he cocked his head. “Did you just throw some southerner lingo at me? I’m not sure what it means, but if you want to bone me like your boss, I’m not against it in a medium to long-term relationship.”

She laughed, longer and better than she had laughed in a while before she showed him an immoral grin. “I’ll hold you to that, dude.”

“Hey, I’m the Captain of the Sky Sentry in Frozenlake, for a reason.” He chuckled. “I’m good at sucking up to powerful females.”

Gilda gave him a playful smirk and softly slapped his cheek and his handsome smile. “Congratulations, Grunhilda! We have acquired a tomfriend.”

“Yay?!” Big Girl cheered with a confused frown, but remained happy.

“It was a bit overdone.” The alluring orange griffoness, who also carried a sword on her back, playfully bumped her body against Gilda’s. “Griffons loved it, though. You need to work on your physical strength. Magic can only get you so far without relying on Mother’s magic. And you’re not supposed to rest relying on her power. If you are too reliant, she will withdraw it to force you to improve. A lot of cocky neophytes died because of that.”

Gilda nodded. That sounded like legitimate advice that Ghadah would have appreciated. She nodded at the orange griffoness again. “Yeah, I hear you.”

Though, after a second of staring, Gilda could swear she had seen her before. “Say, do I know you?”

Orange giggled and smiled, winking at Gilda, full of mirth. The latter frowned and spent some time looking at the grand hall again. It looked like part of a palace but had something off-putting on its architecture. Those pillars seemed sturdy, but could they hold the canopy ceiling without solid walls? They seemed too few, and the internal space was way too wide. Gilda knew the Harpy had done something to her with that red crap, but things didn’t seem too out of the ordinary that she was seeing things that weren’t there.

Gilda winced for a second. Dancing with a magical sword that could melt marble didn’t seem safe while under the influence of narcotics.

The party hall seemed to rest on an outgrowth of a mountain, or something tall like that, as the clouds seemed close to the roof. It had one solid wall, which was likely connected to the rest of some epic, ridiculously over-engineered palace. Maybe the Harpy had transported them to Griffindell? Did that make sense? Something about that didn’t sound right, but her thoughts lost themselves in the red fog as soon as it started creeping into her eyes again.

Gilda smiled at the orange griffoness and apologized, massaging the side of her head. What was she talking about? Oh, yeah. The wall had a giant set of white doors adorned with black arabesque designs. It was the only way into the hall, and before them was a hulking griffon covered in an ancient bronze armor. A giant greatsword on his back and a great bronze bow rested across his back. She could see the leading edges of his folded wings holding sharp wingblades, too.

Gilda frowned. Ancient memories stirred at the back of her mind but came short of connecting, getting themselves lost in that damnable red fog. Gilda’s bewildered expression amused the orange griffoness, and she hugged the tan one suddenly. It surprised Gilda, but after an instant of stiffness, she hugged the griffoness back. It felt so right, but Gilda did not know why.

“Goodbye, Gilda.” Orange let her go and smiled again. “I look forward to seeing all the great things you will do.”

With not a single word further, Orange turned on her tail and walked off. She vanished in the middle of the mingling griffons, leaving Gilda with a strange feeling of having missed something. She had no time to ponder deeply about that. Around her, griffons were kissing and playfully sharing drinks. Some dude straight pushed his queen to the floor and stuck it inside her right there, in the middle of flashing talons and growls and yowls. There was some laughing, some lewd comments and then the others worried about their own partners because every adult knew what an actual fight looked like.

Gilda squinted. A sudden lightheadedness threatened to steal her feet from under her. The world around her tinted red again and shapes became a blur. Sounds of clicking beaks and wet slaps, punctuating moans and giggles filled her ears. She shook her head, but the distinct smell of horny griffons remained in her nares.

“Are you feeling well?” Gevorg gave her a worried frown and his paw on her shoulder helped keep her balance.

She tried not to stare, but what seemed like a relatively tame party when she sneaked a peek through the door earlier had turned up the steam. Griffons Gilda didn’t know, going at it without a worry, surrounded her. Engrossed with their partners, sometimes multiple, they didn’t even care about others drinking wine and mead and watching. Lewd comments shared in low voices or even giggling and humorous praises were abundant. Gilda was sure she had found Godwin’s pearly friend’s mother. She shared a chaise-lounge with a couple of griffons.

The female, white with caramel rosettes, laid with her back resting against the raised arm of the furniture. One paw holding an obnoxiously large cup of wine while the fingers in her other paw intertwined with the white-pinkish feathers. Pinky-white greedily licked into and up Rosetta’s slit like she craved it.

Pearly’s mother was a similarly mid-aged lady. Wings excitedly open, rosy tips twitching, barely breathing, busy with all the licking. Holding the other’s thighs open like she feared she might want her to stop. The guy behind her, humping her again and again, had a justifiable huge smile, looking down at his two partners. It seemed an insignificant detail, but the only particularly beautiful griffoness in the trio was Godwin’s friend’s mother. The other two seemed much more like mundane griffons. Still fit and healthy northerners, but not ridiculously beautiful like the griffons the Harpy had with her earlier. The rosetted griffoness almost dropped her cup of wine with a long moan, even raising her hip a little, and that was what awakened Gilda from her passive staring.

Putting some distance between them, Gilda had a furious blush on her cheeks. More because she was staring than any other thing. Gevorg chuckled at her. “It’s okay, Gilda. Nobody is going to judge if you’re into watching others doing it. Windigos take me if I lie. I wonder if that is the reason for this whole thing to exist.”

“I know! But this is…” Gilda blurted, and again lost track of what she was going to say. His beautiful black and gray held her eyes, and she smiled at him. Her paws reached for his chest and her fingers held his fluffy plumage before one of her paws patted him down to his solid abdominal muscles under such a soft fur. And, oh, Harpy above, that oaken perfume gave her shudders. She grinned a little more at him. “I think I’m stressed out.”

Grunhilda just kept watching them with her big, curious eyes, and Gilda thought it was fine. Back in control of her faculties, she walked past Gevorg and flicked her tail at his beak, sauntering off. No destination in her head full of sticky, horny thoughts. She just wanted him to follow her and check her sweet hind, still under the dancing garment. He followed her with a winning smile, and Grunhilda followed them with a peppy trot.

Seeing Godwin distracted Gilda, though. It broke through her sluggish, horny thoughts. An initial startle subsided when she saw him with the Harpy. She had that creepy, motherly predatory smile over him as she broke their kiss and her black paw held Godwin’s out-of-his-sheath and standing penis.

Gwendolen’s glistening fingers, adorned with gold and silver rings, moved fluidly and without stopping. She stroked Godwin’s soft fur on his more sensitive areas. Landing her paw on the inner part of his thighs and delicately fondling his testicles and then caressing his leonine sheath. Though she never touched the pink-red, griffon dick, much less the little barbs at the tip, Godwin moaned while his belly tensed. While he didn’t have Gevorg’s toned muscles, he had a pleasant set of muscles of a properly fed griffon tom. She almost felt dirty, staring at him like that.

Gilda startled, with paws touching her back, but Gevorg’s smell of oak reached her with a relaxing effect. One of his paws drifted to her shoulder and soon the other joined, strong fingers squeezing the tension out of her muscles, talons ever so slightly scratching her skin. She shuddered softly, with a goofy grin. She had really scored big. All her tenseness evaporated from her muscles after all the drama and the taxing dance. She even let a soft hum under her breath.

On the bed, Lady Gwendolen raised, sitting next to Godwin, in between his hindlegs and stroking his belly with both paws, getting him to lie on his back. Godwin blushed anxiously and turned his head to the other side while she lifted his hips from the bed and his hindlegs went stiff, jingling with the jewelry she made him wear. He gasped and folded them over his hips, and he shuddered while the great griffoness closed her eyes, ruffling and vibrating her crown of black feathers like a flag of her own arousal.

She beaked softly between his furry balls before he gasped and shuddered again. Her beak opened and her tongue snaked out, licking from his delicate furry pieces to his sheath. When she got to his pink meat, it was stiff, showing his flared spines around the tip. She grinned, so happy about herself, and ran her tongue over his shaft. Godwin released a long moan as her tongue danced over and wet his fur.

Gevorg’s paws left Gilda’s shoulders. He slid them under, fingers streaking into the fluffy plumage on her chest. The griffoness let out a soft gasp and gingerly leaned her back against him when he pulled her to sit straight, holding her against his chest. His left paw held her while he pecked at the feathers on her neck and the other paw drifted downward.

Gilda almost froze, but the thought of stopping him never even crossed her mind. His paw drifted down and down, sending a rapid-fire sequence of sensuous shudders through her. Strong fingers softly flicked her little nipple and held her teat with no ceremony, further pecking her feathers down her neck. His fingers squeezed her titty tenderly, and she leaned her neck against his, letting out the softest of moans.

She probably shouldn’t be doing that, but thinking was hard and lewds were easy. Her innards melting into wet warmness, Gilda kept her eyes on the bed, where the Harpy rubbed her black beak along the side of Godwin’s shaft with a little chuckle. Maybe it was the whole situation, but even if she didn’t like the idea of putting someone’s dick in her mouth, the eroticism fanned the fire her ‘tomfriend’ had started in her nethers. Up and down his length, the black beak went before her tongue slipped from inside again and touched him under his testicles.

Godwin squealed, and Gilda felt bad, but she almost laughed at the noise he made. She didn’t have a good view, but then Harpyia’s tongue started making circles just at the base of his tail and he stiffened like a board. He let escape a long whine, closing his fists over his chest and his red rocket pointed down because of his position, but hardened stiffer than he was.

“I think you’re liking it, Godwin…” Grunhilda’s giggly, titillated tone was telling. Her blush even more so.

“Come on, Big Girl… That wasn’t nice.” Gilda whispered through a soft moan.

“There is nothing wrong with the tom enjoying that.” Gevorg kept playing with Gilda’s little mound, resting his head on her shoulder. “And there is nothing wrong with Grunhilda liking that either.”

He held Gilda a little tighter, reaching further around her neck with his beak, pecking at her feathers, but also talking to her. Just because he wanted her to relax, Gilda supposed. Gevorg really didn’t seem like the kind to make veiled malicious comments. “In Snow Mountains like the northerners, right?”

“It is kinda hot…” One of Godwin’s kittyfriends said.

Gevorg stopped fooling around with Gilda and, like her, turned to look at Godwin’s three little kittyfriends, also by the bed. Just as the sandy, overweight lady blushed and fidgeted with her fingers under the other griffon’s stares. “Sorry… I’m nervous.”

If Godwin heard their conversation, he showed no signs of it. Thank The Harpy. In more than one way, Gilda supposed, and she also had her own feelings on the situation to deal with. It was not wrong to watch in that situation, right? Everyone was enjoying some form or another of sex… That was the point of the meeting. And Gilda was so horny! If she wasn’t worried, she’d already left to get Gevorg boning her already. And Grunhilda too. That was bound to be fun.

Regardless of their conversation, satisfied she had sufficiently given Godwin an experience, the Harpy let her panting partner rest with his back on the bed. Her voice came out husky and her eyes full of lusty glee. She ground her groin against his and her paw held his hard male meat against her tits. “Did you enjoy it, Godwin?”

His voice came out broken and whiny while he accommodated his hindlegs around her waist. “I’m… Not sure.”

“It will not hurt you.” She caressed his dick with her paw and her teats, and then she reached behind her, looking for something she didn’t find. Then she twisted her head around. “Where is the…”

One of the creepy mini harpies hopped proudly onto the bed and sent some coins flying. She had a similar fan of feathers behind her head, but almost white, like all the markings that mimicked those of the original. She held a corked glass bottle on her paw and a… Gilda needed a second to process what it was until it became so obvious, she almost laughed.

For all practical effects, it was a double dildo, folded in an L shape, of the sort which one could find in the sex shops hidden around Griffonstone. It looked like a light purple, transparent, crystal cylinder, almost pink and about the right caliber for its obvious use. One tip was round and shaped with a slight curve, the other took a semblance to an actual griffon penis. Not a simple thing. It had a texture with a bluish silver, inlaid into the crystal, like flowing liquid on its surface. Because the Harpy wouldn’t use something a filthy southerner Saddani could find in a store! Godwin ought to feel honored.

Gilda kept the most serious of blank expressions and internally chastised herself for her thoughts. Although, at least, the thing was not The Harpy’s proper size. With that thought, she slapped herself and put a confused frown on Gevorg’s brow.

Meanwhile, The Harpy had an unfriendly frown as she took the object from the strange griffoness. Holding the crystal in her paw, she turned it around and scrutinized it before she stared at the helpful weirdo. Her eyes showed an irritation under her brow that made Gilda wonder what it was the griffoness did that was so bad.

“Why are you still standing here? I will throw you into the Scorch if you were using this with one another.” The Harpy never raised her voice, but her tone was aggressive and hostile. No response came from the other, but the strange griffoness looked up sheepishly and clicked her talons together, avoiding Mother Harpy’s gaze. “Fetch the chalice, then. Since Madam Galathil is busy. Do not break it and hurry. Godwin is more important than five score of you wretches.”

Gilda kept watching with a sorry frown, but all the pale girl did was nod repeatedly and bolt from the bed, scattering even more coins. While Gilda and the others shared a collectively confused and worried stare, Godwin still laid where The Harpy had left him. With an even more confused frown. “Uh… Thanks? Wait! What is this thing?!”

Turning back to Godwin, The Harpy’s beak made a warm smile. “Show some maturity, Godwin. You are not a cub anymore.”

Godwin all but jumped from sheets and sat a couple of feet from her. “Wait, wait, wait! Can… Can I ask you something?”

She stopped fiddling with the ‘massager’, examining it and leveled her eyes at him. “Anything. Do you wish to stop?”

“Nah-no.” He mumbled a few words and looked at Gilda for a heartbeat before his eyes went back to the Harpy. “I understand it’s for something important. But, but… Can we do this… In private? Please?”

“Goodness… I’m sorry, Godwin!” The pearly-rosy queen shuffled her forefeet nervously, sitting by the bed. And she spoke before Gilda organized her thoughts. Funny thing, though, Grunhilda just stared dumbly, like she didn’t know what they did wrong. “I, I wasn’t aware we were… Uh… Inconveniencing you. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright… I just… Hum…” He started, went beet red and back. “I’d like Miss Gilda to come too.”

Goodness… The tom wanted to murder her with regret, but Gilda nodded. Gevorg discreetly let her go, and Grunhilda looked like she wanted to say something, and so did at least two of Godwin’s original suitors. Meanwhile, the strange mini-Harpy griffoness had returned with ‘the chalice’ in her beak. She held it by the hour-glass thin center with a pleading stare.

“You cannot, you bespawling simpleton.” The Harpy growled at the unsettling griffoness and pointed at the white Loremaster with them. “Give it to Lady Geena. And make yourself scarce! You have business to mind. Go! And so do all of you. Do not worry, I shall return Gilda and your tomfriend back to you unspoiled.”

This time, her reaction didn’t upset Gilda so much, but it still made her curious. No time to ask questions, though, as Mother Harpy, still sitting on the bed, stood on her hindlegs and raised her paws, filling her talons with little bolts of lightning. As before, she stood taller on her hindlegs and opened her wings. Lightning flashed among her feathers and filled the air with the smell of the storm.

With a most thematic flash and distant, rumbling thunder, Gilda found herself lacking a floor to stand on. Both she and Godwin screamed, but the sensation lasted only a fraction of a second. She had a floor again and the worst that happened was that her rattled nerves took a couple of seconds before she regained her composure, trying to find balance while sitting on the floor.

She couldn’t decide if it was worse with, or without the red powder. She needed a couple of seconds before her stomach stopped complaining and the room stopped spinning around her. After another additional second, Gilda flared her wings and yelled at the large, stupid cartbird in front of her. “Warn us next time?!”

“Why, soon you will be teleporting yourself across Snow Mountains on a daily basis like it is nothing.”

Poor Godwin gave out a grunt, lying on his back and with his legs in the air. On a luxurious and fluffy bed. Large enough to be a rug, tall enough a griffon would have to hop onto it, and essentially a glorified white and fluffy pillow with messy white sheets. Firm borders, like a nest, snug against a corner in the room, all white and covered in silky white sheets. A couple of griffons sat on it, hiding behind said sheet.

“Well, this is awkward.” Said the male. Head covered in black feathers, without a crest, white jaw, black-dotted neck and chest Gilda could see when he let go of the sheets. His wings were also black, all over a strong masculine body, muscular and large as some of the hunters and Sky Sentries Gilda had seen. He looked at the newly arrived griffons while his partner too let go of the sheets. “I suppose we are caught.”

Curious with his calm and collected demeanor, Gilda kept staring. It was obvious what was happening there. While he appeared to be in the upper mid-age and peak physical form, the queen with him seemed as young as Georgia or Grunhilda. Red feathers that seemed to fight with the blue for dominance on her head and wings. She was one of the ridiculously beautiful young queens that made Gilda wonder why some griffonesses seeme to have all the luck. She let out a dry chuckle of someone caught red-pawed. “Lord Giranor was showing me the premises, since I am new.”

“Perhaps you should know that Lord Giranor is famed for his solicitousness in greeting all the young little queens to the palace.” The Harpy had an amused and light-hearted smile. “Although, he used to take them to the forest. Now, if you don’t mind, I would dearly like to use my room.”

He cocked an eyebrow, looking at Godwin, sitting on the bed and then at the Harpy, standing next to the bed. “What was that about young griffons?”

“I never said I was judging you, Lord Giranor.” She chuckled and pointed at the door with a wing. “Out. Or I will get Madam Galathil involved.”

“Absolutely.” The male coughed and both hopped off the bed, quickly making their way towards the door. He simply pressed his steps while the female covered her blushing face with a wing on their way out.

Once the white doors banged closed, the Harpy turned her attention back to Godwin, climbing onto the bed. “I apologize, Godwin. My original intention was to perform the ritual in the first room. I wished for a proper atmosphere of mystery, and maybe even something thrilling. The best I can do now is my private room. Shall we proceed? Are you prepared?”

“I think I am…” He sat at the center of the bed, before the great griffoness, sheepishly and blushing. “You don’t have to keep calling it a ritual… I’m fine just having sex with you because you enjoy doing that, and you wanted me. Even if it is not what I expected for the meeting.”

She smiled at Godwin and stroked the feathers on his head. Bringing him closer, she caught his beak in her exquisitely adorned talon and raised it, bringing him up to kiss her. Beaks fitting together and with a quick flicking of their tongues together, she also pulled his body against hers. Gilda and Geena blinked a few times, watching as the large griffoness held him and her paws traveled over his back with a heavy touch before she let go.

“I am truly flattered, Godwin. But the reason I have come to you is the magical uncommonness of your combined virginity and ancestry.” She stroked his feathers again. “I find your youthful attractiveness titillating, but I prefer more mature and bigger griffons.”

He stared up at her with a blank expression and a slowly burning blush before he hid his face in his paws. The golden bangles and bracelets he wore jingled, and lacking the ability to disappear into thin air, he just groaned. This time, Gilda simply failed to contain herself and started laughing. Wheezing like a deranged banshee, propping herself on the bed for support or she would drop to the floor.

And exquisite floor, by the way. Black marble, polished like a mirror under a white and fluffy rug under the giant nest-like bed. White walls and ceiling holding a candelabra or black rings and white candles. The room didn’t feel cramped, but it had its fill of sitting and relaxing furniture with a vanity and a bathroom sharing the same space, but off to a corner. It showed a luxurious bathtub made in a combination of black and white stone and metals, though. It was a functional room for sleeping, and doing other things, Gilda supposed.

Giant windows let in a bit of cold air with the storm clouds just outside. They seemed to be at the top of a tower and the thunder seemed so close that it made Gilda’s fur stand, filling the air with magic.

The Harpy had returned to Godwin, stroking his feathers and smiling. “Worry not, though. I am going to enjoy this, and you should have plenty of young queens thrilled simply by the fact you have my interest.”

Gilda had contained her laughter, curious about the room, but the large griffoness and Godwin grabbed her attention again. Geena sat next to her, holding the chalice with a nervous tenseness. Like she feared everything could go wrong at any second. Finally, Gilda noted with a mischievous smile that Godwin took a good, long gander at The Harpy.

As quadrupedal creatures, they didn’t kneel. They sat with their ankles and rumps, with their forefeet on the floor for support. They could also squat if they needed to use their forelimbs. It exposed their bellies and private parts, and The Harpy sat herself upright and straight, just like that. Gilda was staring, too, and so was Geena. Mother Harpy was not only big. She was perfection. Flawlessness with a taste for powerful muscles, like a feathering stone wall covered with silky white fur. Gilda wanted to touch her, so soft and firm her stomach seemed. Her size even gave her larger and fuller mammaries that Gilda absolutely envied.

Sitting on the sheets, Godwin closed his forelegs closer to his body, hiding his erection, but he didn’t take his eyes off the large griffoness’ shapely undercarriage. It might even have been awkward if The Harpy wasn’t so convinced that she was perfection incarnate, meant to be admired and worshiped. Well, if Gilda was a goddess, she’d give herself a body like that, too. And she’d be damn proud of it as well!

At least Gilda felt shameless enough to stare. It was not like it would be impolite in that situation. To be honest, she wanted to see the great griffoness putting that thing on, too. She didn’t get a good look when they fooled around in that dream.

She didn’t have to wait much longer. The Harpy propped herself up a couple of inches, pushing her hips forward a bit. Wet white fur surrounded the delicate black lips of her slit. A little strand of clear horny griffoness distillate broke when her fingers showed her pink inside, pulling them apart, and she slowly inserted the penis-shaped side.

Gilda would have paid to see her commanding Godwin to put it in her, but she supposed the goal wasn’t to torture him.

She even let out a little moan, the crystal inside her. It fit snugly in her groin. It even made little straps of light that whipped around her thighs and coalesced into a delicate harness to secure it around her hip and in place. Fine articulate pieces of silver and amethyst ovals.

Gilda giggled a little. The Astrani needed their fun, too. If they could build extravagant crossbows, epic walls of black stone, and giant iron mines inside mountains, they could make sex toys too. Although it almost disappointed Gilda, the Harpy didn’t leave the properly shaped part outside. But it was fine. The confusion in Godwin’s face was bad enough as it was.

“Is it too late to give up?” Godwin’s crest of white feathers had flopped, but Gilda detected humor in his voice and in his smile.

“Yes, it is. I shall not allow you to leave me as I am now.” The Harpy smiled mischievously at him. “This will not be nearly as bad as you think.”

Holding his nape firmly, she guided him to lie on his side and leaned above him, kissing him, pecking at the pristine feathers on his cheek. Her beak showed a creeping smile, and she spoke something with her beak hovering above his ear. If it didn’t make her so nervous, Gilda would laugh at her own reaction, at the anxiety her whispers to Godwin caused her.

Obediently, Godwin moved little, if at all. His eyes drifted away when he saw Gilda looking at him. A black paw massaged his shoulder while the Harpy laid on her side too, behind him, with her ‘tool’ rubbing against his lower back.

“I promise I will be gentle.” She smiled and chuckled, again whispering in his ear. She pecked at the feathers on his neck, a foreleg snuggling under, dragging her talons on his white feathers, embracing him with her paw on his chest. Stroking his feathers, she held his neck and made him turn his head to meet her. She dragged the edges of her beak on his with the soft clicking noise of kissing griffons. When she pulled back, he followed her before opening his eyes and staring at her, mouth agape.

Raising her body to sit on her thigh, Gwendolen reached for the glass bottle. Uncorking it, she poured a copious volume of the thick, water-like gel to stick to the crystal tip and shaft of her… Gilda called it a massager and was done with it. The Harpy also let the lubricant drip on her little tomfriend’s testicles and his cheeks. Godwin squeaked and gave her a nervous grin. She responded with a mischievous smile.

Gilda grumbled and mumbled something she herself didn’t understand, but she was angry at the Harpy. Not sure what for, but definitely angry at her.

Her wiggling fingers touched Godwin’s balls and slid down into little circles over his butthole. Gilda watched with desperate anticipation while Geena sat by her side, holding the hourglass chalice to her chest like her life depended on it. A moment of lucidity brought to Gilda the fever dream quality of the whole situation. Then she skidded a little to the side to see The Harpy’s fingers, the meaty part before her talons, massaging her friend’s tailhole. She was really missing Gevorg’s strong touch but lacked the shamelessness to do it herself.

Godwin let a soft whimper out. With his dick resting on his thigh, the great griffoness leaned into him, licking his beak. After another moan, she covered his beak with hers, holding his hind leg up, making herself comfortable behind him. Another soft whimper escaped him with the crystal toy, touching his testicles, already wet with lube. Holding his leg taut, she pushed her hip against his rump. The tip rubbed on the root of his tail, pressed against his pink flesh, and stretched the tight muscle to penetrate him. Godwin winced and his tail whipped once at the mattress, jingling with tailrings. He let out a small groan, blushing like his feathers would catch fire.

“Give in to the pleasure, Godwin. It always hurts a little in the beginning. Allow yourself to enjoy it, too.” The large griffoness gasped softly, pushing her hip at his and burying the ‘tool’ inside deeper. When her stomach met his rump, the white and black griffoness ground her groin against his behind, playfully pecking at a feather on his head.

Gwendolen surprised Gilda, actually being gentle. It filled the latter with an unimaginable relief. She held him tight, while tenderly. Insistently grinding herself against him. His brow wrinkled into a frown and his eyes closed tightly, though. His paws reached for his groin, but the larger and stronger griffoness held them with a throatful chortling she followed with a condescending ‘tsk tsk’.

“I have to go to the bathroom…” He whined, but all he got in response was a gentle, yet forceful stroke of her beak at his soft, white facial plumage, pushing his head to sheets.

“Shush.” She ground her groin at him slowly, but without pause. One paw on his belly pulled his body to snuggle against hers. Rings and coins ringed at his tail, whipping the sheets again. His beak hung open, and his breathing turned to breathless moaning. The Harpy kept pecking at his neck and then at the top of his head. She beaked at the feathers next to his ear, with her breathing worked up too. Her voice became a steamy whisper through a lustful grin. “Let go, Godwin. Do not take from me the pleasure of hearing your moans.”

The poor tom blushed like he could set the sheets on fire, but he obeyed with a long whine, holding his eyes tight. Gilda winced and shifted her sitting rump on the bed, staring like she was ensorcelled. It didn’t look bad. She could imagine herself letting some strong tom do just that to her. He would get to hump his cute kittyfriends later. And Godwin did consent. He was just helping The Harpy and her Loremasters get what they needed.

An important thought broke through Gilda’s sluggish, horny thoughts. Godwin had agreed to it to help her convince Lady Geena to let go of the hippogriff prisoners. Gilda eyed the Allmother, and she was entertained, to say the least. Her predatory grin had softened with mellow eyes over her lover, stroking his feathers softly, moaning next to his ear. Apparently, that magical dildo worked. How much did she enjoy that? Enough to embolden Gilda.

Looking at the steamy, kinky sex, because that is what it really was, something else dawned on Gilda’s mind. If the Harpy was there, and she was horny, and focusing on Godwin, Mother Harpy would not be where she normally was. If she was not where she would normally be, she would also not be poking around inside Gilda’s head. Therefore, if Aya Harpyia would not be poking around inside Gilda’s head… That meant Gilda had free rein to do whatever she wanted behind her goddess’ back. Including guilt-tripping Lady Geena into giving her the hippogriffs.

Gilda gave the taller and bulkier loremaster a sideway glance. Her mind, distracted with horny thoughts and sensitive body parts, struggled to find the right words at first. “You know, you owe me.”

Geena winced and her talons clinked at the crystal chalice she held. Gilda could almost hear the gears in the other queen’s head, also sticky with stray thoughts of cute toms and powerful matriarchs. “I do…”

“She could have gotten furious.” Gilda poked her. Just a little further.

“I know.” Geena winced. “I already said I owe you.”

“I want the hippogriffs. The prisoners from the GSA.” Gilda spoke softly, only between themselves, under Godwin’s helpless moaning. She spoke fast, too. If she gave Geena too long to think, she might deny Gilda her request. “I’ll take them in my caravan and get them to do something useful.”

“They are sick.” Geena didn’t take it nicely. In fact, she probably felt a little like Godwin. Wincing with a frown, she didn’t take long to respond. “Fine. Take them off my paws. I suppose. It is better than to leave them to get sick and die, anyway.”

Geena ended it with a whispered huff. She likely had something in mind, but the esteemed loremaster had lost. Gilda was sure it was not the first time some griffon lady used sex for political leverage. Yeah. She would call it that. The tan griffoness grinned with pride, pleased with her own cleverness.

Back on the bed, the Harpy pulled Godwin’s beak, turning his head and forcefully kissed him, huffing with a groan that matched his guttural groans. It broke into a needy whine when Gwendolen looked up at the white griffoness with a beak-licking grin. She said nothing, but Lady Geena probably had taken part in that before. Gilda rolled her eyes. They had a chalice specifically for that.

The white griffoness smiled for a second and hopped onto the bed carrying the hourglass chalice in her beak, but then in her paws as she laid next to the couple. Godwin’s penis dripped with a milky white cream from the tip, but Geena caught it with the chalice, giggling, despite his squirming. The chalice was big enough. Godwin’s squeamish thrusts with his hip wouldn’t cause them to miss a drop. Gwendolen kept ‘massaging’ Godwin’s ‘insides’. She caressed and kissed him again, whispering into his ear. “Nice job, Godwin.”

Gilda took another step to the side so she could better see the chalice slowly gathering the… Male milk? Gilda then spoke with her best, most supportive tone, desperately trying to hide her curiosity and pretend Godwin’s long groans didn’t arouse her too. “Does it feel nice, Godwin?”

He didn’t answer. He bit the sheets and tightened his fists that Gwendolen still held. Like he was her captive, she spoke for him, hushing him in a playful tone. “It does. Deeply. Not all enjoy it, though. But he does. Do you not, sweet little lovebird of mine?”

He jerked his hip when Lady Geena squeezed his dick and pulled it softly from the enlarged base. The larger griffoness held his thigh wider apart and forced him to stretch it further and whispered to him with a mischievous grin. Rather than grinding against his rump, she pulled back an inch and thrust the crystal dong fully into his butt again. And again, and another time, before she ground herself against him again. Geena grinned like a cheeky little queen, tugging at his penis, and stroking it softly like she was trying to get every drop out. Awkward, curious to Gilda, but they knew what they were doing.

“Oh, I think he’s ready, Lady Gwendolen.” Geena giggled, running her fingers on his spiking penile spines and caused his long groan to sharpen into an urgent wail..

The Harpy stopped grinding and thrusting into him, pulling the crystal shaft out and gave him a husky command, beak right by his ear. “Stand, Godwin.”

He blushed and hid his face on the sheets, letting his wings flutter a little and panting as she stood over him, holding his nape. Her wings opened stiffly while her tight grasp guided him, tightening by the second. Her eyes shone with glee, pushing him to lower his chest onto the bed. Godwin left his rump perked and lifted his tail. His penis pointed down between his thighs while he exposed his pink butthole and his wet testicles to the dildo-wearing griffoness.

With no shame, and no small amount of urgency of her own, she mounted him. Let her weight rest on his back and slipped the crystal not-penis under his tail with one fluid movement, going all in. Instead of grinding on him, she immediately pulled back and humped him again. Godwin gave a throaty whine to her husky, smiling grunt. Twice. A little cry escaped while she didn’t let him move, forcing his hip and his body forward every time she pushed against him.

The large griffoness shuddered with a grin. Humming every time she pushed into him. Faster and repetitive, like Geena squeezing and tugging at his dick. Godwin’s breathing became a sequence of quick cries in tempo with his mistress’ thrusts.

Unable to tear her eyes from the scene, Gilda let her beak hang with a distressed frown. Not out of regret or fear for her friend, she didn’t expect to like watching it so much. her eyes focused on the strong, black-striped, white thighs and her silver clad hip pushing the crystal under the tom’s tail. His frantic cries made the large griffoness huff, grinning fiercely. Her eyes were closed, and her expression changed from her usual grim to a straining frown. A curt moan escaped her beak, and she gave out a soft chortle when Godwin’s hindlegs weakened and he cried.

Godwin thrust his hip once and then again. With a bucking thrust and needy cry, he shot a squirt of semen into the chalice. It splashed over the glass’ curve, followed by another, and a couple more, while Geena tugged at him and wiggled his member at the crystal. Like she really didn’t want to waste a single drop. The griffoness on top of him gave a luscious sigh and stroked Godwin’s face with her beak and her feathers.

“Nice job, Godwin.” Geena smiled and whiffed at the content in the chalice after she was sure he had finished dripping into it. It was a bit too much for Gilda, but ancient knowledge about griffons and their jizz… And they spoke in such an unnecessarily patronizing way, Gilda stifled a chortle.

Godwin simply stayed as he was, panting deeply, his chin to the mattress and holding the sheets with his paws. His mistress sighed, never letting go of his nape, raising her back, keeping her wings taut, and slapping her stomach at his rump a few more times. Finally, she closed her eyes and exhaled with a quick groan.

Feminine moans mixed with his throaty whines. Her firm voice came out dry with her rapid thrusts, before her huge body quaked with a sudden gasp. Her hindlegs gave and she shuddered, leaning on top of Godwin before and she backed from him, sitting on the bed. Breathing rapidly, keeping her eyes shut, letting her head hang. Gasping with a shudder, and then another.

Geena touched Gilda’s shoulder. It yanked Gilda out of the fantasy going on inside her head and interrupted her plans on how to get the Harpy to do that to her. Brought back to reality, Gilda winced and approached Godwin, laying on his side like an emptied sack of whipped cream. She did her best to hide the huskiness of her voice. “Are you okay, Godwin?”

She didn’t touch Godwin, but looked him over, making sure Geena hadn’t actually hurt him. At least his sheath was undamaged, with no cuts. She resisted the urge to glance at his hind side in fear he might die of embarrassment, though. Gilda wanted to give him a comforting touch on his shoulder, just in case, but also feared that might send the wrong message. Walking on metaphorical eggs. The feathers on his nape smelled of blood and it set Gilda’s lower belly on fire. She resisted all the base impulses and the stupid jokes that came to her mind.

“I’m fine…” He finally talked to Gilda and his blush even seemed below steel-melting temperature.

Sitting next to him, Gilda twisted the sides of her beak. The Harpy was sitting on the bed, shaking her head and reclaiming her dignity with her cold eyes. Throwing back her head and putting her feathers back in order. Resuming her stately posture. Her instrument was already laid on the bed next to her. “Uh… Can he have some sort of compensation? I mean… He lost two of his kittyfriends… And, well, his first time was supposed to be with them.”

“Stop treating him like the victim of a mugging. Virginity is an outdated concept from the time griffons traded daughters for alliances before the Empire. Honor and duty are where my children find virtue, not in lack of experience of any kind. It only mattered because of magical properties that are completely irrelevant henceforth.” Gwendolen held the chalice Geena presented to her and examined it. “Besides, if that is so important, this was a ritual, not a sexual encounter. I rarely contain myself so much.”

The big griffoness leaned over Godwin with her mischievous grin. “Although I will not be cross if you wish to tell others you had sex with me.”

“Gee…” Godwin deadpanned with his face half-buried in the messy and torn sheets, speaking between ragged breaths. “Thanks.”

Gilda chuckled while The Harpy returned the material to Lady Geena. “You know your way around the mansion. Deliver this to Madam Galathil in the dungeon.”

“Right away, your grace.” Geena cradled the chalice with her wings to painstakingly climb down to the floor. She walked like carried the ultimate and most brittle of treasures. Maybe Gilda was ignorant, but she had to cough and conceal her grin at how silly the whole thing seemed. Like it was on cue, one of the peculiar mini-harpy griffons opened the heavy doors for her. And then they happily watched the loremaster carry it past the door before closing it.

Alone with Gilda and Godwin, the Harpy pulled him so that she would sit under her. Black paw caressing his neck. “You are not some pathetic Saddani shuffling in the mud, Godwin.”

When he turned around, she caught his beak on her talon and made him look at her. “You are a Child of The Harpy. You cannot satisfy yourself with less than all. It is a desire all griffons share, and part of your journey is finding a balance between getting what you want and not losing the faith of others by taking what is theirs. It is a manifestation of the same system within the social organization of griffonkind. Social standing and privilege are the same. On the structural level, and on the interpersonal level. If you are not the one mounting another griffon, they’ll be ones mounting you. Even if their intentions are noble at heart.”

“That is a very base and vulgar analogy.” Gilda groused.

“It is if your head is filled with petty notions that sex is vulgar. It is not always pleasant, and it leaves a mess. Sometimes it hurts and others it brings comfort. It can be a torture and it can be bliss. And then everything at once, or nothing at all. But the only vulgarity is in the mind of the individual and their intentions.” Gwendolen talked down to Gilda like teaching a dumb student, and the tan griffoness pouted at her, unable to find an answer.

“I thought I was supposed to be honored and dutiful.” He kept staring at her.

“You are, but ponies live in a world of perfect rights and wrongs, not griffons. What makes a griffon follow leaders who often disrespect the traditions of a single mating that they follow? Why would a poor farmer honor a lord whose dining hall is worth more than their entire farm but wretch in disgust before the southerner politicians? That is what you must understand so you can find your place.”

“Our meeting, for example. In the olden days of the Empire, any young tom would be beside themselves with such an invitation from me.” One sitting in front of the other. His confused eyes kept staring up at her stormy gray eyes looking down on him. Gilda looked at one and the other. After Godwin lowered his gaze, holding a frown, she spoke again. “Did you enjoy it?”

He looked down, but then at her eyes, this time filled with certainty. “It’s not that I did… I didn’t not enjoy it either… It’s just that. It had to be done. And not that bad. I just didn’t like it. Does that make any sense?”

“But the important thing is that we got what we needed from it.” He stuffed his chest proudly in front of the Allmother.

“Did we? I did. Geena did. Gilda did. Did you?” Her black beak twisted with a sharp smile and her eyes filled with a teasing glee. “What was it you wanted, Godwin?”

Something about the way she said it made Gilda’s skin crawl. The emphasis on him and on her. She could not be aware of the deal with Geena. Regardless, Godwin looked at her. He looked at Gilda. He looked back at Aya Harpyia with a pensive frown. All his certainty turned into a frown.

The Allmother grinned, all mischievousness at Godwin again. “You understand, more than you give yourself credit for. Naivety is a budding disease better extirpated soon, Godwin.”

Gilda glared at the black and white griffoness for taunting Godwin. Then she turned her worried frown to Godwin. He glared up at the black and white feathers on Allmother’s face. So much tension in the air, Gilda could rip with her talons. But then his glare turned into a frown. Gilda wished she could read his thoughts.

Gwendolen chuckled, opening her black and white wings. “A young griffon’s life is not a battle, Godwin. It is a war, and it is constancy that wins wars, not single battles. We will live close by, Godwin. And this meeting has barely begun. I will be watching you to see what you will do with what you learned. But for now, I must use the privy. Enjoy the meeting, Godwin. Gilda. Soon you will leave the safety of Frozenlake. You will take lives and suffer the harsh weather. Fighting monsters and dissent, ambushes, and perils. Enjoy my gifts. Whenever you can. I only give them to griffons I infatuated myself with.”

With much less theatrics than last time, the Harpy teleported with them back to the grand hall where the party happened. Godwin’s lanky, black and white kittyfriend shrieked at them popping back into existence.

It was disorienting and nauseating as before. But Gilda, at least, had time to prepare herself. And once they were done, the Harpy turned on her hindlegs and hopped off the bed, trotting on the white and black marble, chiming all her accessories with her, until she reached the pillars marking the end of the hall. Leaping, she gained flight, beating her wings and vanishing in a dive from the balcony. Godwin stood there, sitting on the bed, and staring at the pillars and the storm beyond.

“You’re not going Nightmare Moon on us, are you?” Gilda raised an eyebrow at him, but then gave him her playful smile.

Godwin deadpanned. “Seriously?”

Gilda blinked and sighed, hanging her shaking head before she gave him an apologetic grin. “Sorry. My head is fuzzy. Did she hurt you?”

“Yeah, my head is not in the right place either, it seems.” He cocked an eyebrow. “But no, it didn’t really hurt. After a while, at least. But it was weird, and I don’t want to talk about it. I certainly don’t want to do it again.”

Fair. Gilda nodded and offered a wing for him to walk with her. Those stupid coins made walking on the bed an exercise in tinkling awkwardness, but they were again with their friends. Godwin’s three suitors sat next to the edge of the enormous bed. Greeting them with huge eyes. Grunhilda and Gevorg too, and all stared at them. Gilda couldn’t gauge the stares on the three young griffonesses, though.

Grunhilda let escape a little giggle. “Do you need a fluffy pillow or something?”

Seriously, Grunhilda has been teasing Godwin the whole day. She was getting out of control. It might be she, too, was feeling odd with that place and that red dust the Harpy had immersed them in, but she could have kept her beak shut. Soon, Gilda would have to take care of Grunhilda’s unruly behavior. She just hoped she could actually punish Big Girl and her horny ass without being cruel or her enjoying it.

Gilda massaged the side of her head… Maybe she should not think like the Harpy and have a mature conversation. Godwin had ignored Grunhilda, anyway.

And speaking of enjoying it, Godwin was more important now, anyway. Gilda sat next to him with his three kittyfriends sitting next to the bed and looking up at him. The lanky, black furred and white feathered one frowned and pouted. Gilda laughed at how adorable, angrily fuming she was. The white fluffy chest made a pleasant contrast to her black fur. The black spots on her little bang of feathers too, but her wings were half and half. “Is it our turn yet?!”

Beautiful, black speckled green eyes that could use some wisdom as a spanking. But before Gilda could say anything, Godwin spoke for her. “You know what? It is.”

Gilda turned to him and blinked at his words.

Stoßgebet, pt. III (clop)

Author's Note

This wraps up the three-parter clop chapter.
Trigger warnings for this part are as follows.

M/F, F/F, threesome, vaginal and anal sex, fingering, beakjob, sex magic, griffon ladies losing their mind on gangbangs, self-important considerations on sex among mythical creatures, and ship-teasing. Someone probably held hands along the way and there is a surprisingly wholesome fridge logic.

Stoßgebet, pt. III (clop)

They had a giant silky bed for themselves, littered with a collection of coins and sex toys. The latter ranged from different objects of obvious cylindricity for penetrative purposes, to imitations of griffon members. Every single one of them was a testament to the Harpy’s pompousness. Each one a horny work of art. Strewn around the bed. Were they meant as decoration or did the Harpy expect them to join her and use the things? Considering their bed was large enough for several griffons and there was nothing behind it, the Harpy likely expected them to be used. Spectacularly so.

As far as Gilda was concerned, they wouldn’t be necessary. There was also the added fanciness factor of a small fortune in electrum coins. They turned out to be more of a bother than any kind of benefit. None of the griffons in Gilda’s group were megalomaniacs.

To be entirely honest, Gilda could see the appeal of such a statement of wealth. Griffons, included herself, liked the idea of it. But it was not like they had any actual use on the bed. Still, they kept the bed since the Harpy had left and they were the ones already there to claim it as theirs.

Hopefully, the Harpy would calm down after she got what she wanted from Godwin. Gilda still worried she’d pounce out of the blue at any second and conjure another exaggerated piece of sexual grandiosity. The wall of raunchy griffons would be hard to beat, though. Gilda kept watching her, like a hawk. And every once in a while, she saw her trotting in between groups of griffons with her wings flared on display and a gleeful grin on her beak. Chatting with resting griffons or talking to those who were ‘busy’. Certain to be making some of those comments and long-winded explanations of hers.

It must be annoying for them to get their future queen spouting bits of trivia about griffons and sex but, who knows? Maybe they found it funny or endearing, somehow. Gilda didn’t think the northerner nobles would suffer foolishness from someone they didn’t like. So, they either liked her a lot, or they feared her a lot. Go figure. Maybe Gilda was the boring one.

While everything seemed peaceful and griffons had fun around the great hall, mingling or in groups of horny activities, Gilda and Gevorg had left to fetch snacks. Grunhilda went with them, wanting to help. The creepy, unsettling griffons were still there, everywhere. Gilda’s initial impression of them changed little. They still messed around the party, being ominous and horny. They also helped griffons around, like a pair of them who helped Gilda, Gevorg, and Grunhilda carry their food.

Under Gilda’s command, the small group gathered a couple of bottles of mead and fruit juices, along with easy to eat meat rolls. Not too much, just enough for a quick meal between seven griffons. Even frugal food for seven griffons amounted to a considerable volume, so Gilda didn’t complain. Of the help they received. As they were starting on their way back, one of the strange griffons, an overexcited lady-mini-Harpy assisting them, nudged Gilda’s shoulder to get her attention. She kept pointing at an old loremaster sitting next to a table.

The loremaster was greeting a couple of griffons and the table behind her held a giant plate with a pile of little red, white, and black fruits. Several bottles with fancy corks, too. She even had a pile of coconuts and ice shards, like wet diamonds, for decoration. Honeycombs, dripping with the amber syrup and a series of seasoning-like plants. Another couple of griffons walked away, each with a pair of bottles.

“What? Do you want that?” Gilda frowned and cocked an eyebrow at the happy griffoness grinning at her. But instead of answering, the happy catbird remained agitated, flapping wings, and nodding until Gilda went to the loremaster.

“Help yourselves. It is the Allmother’s bounty offered to her Children.” The loremaster told them after a cheery greeting to Gilda and Gevorg with a friendly grin.

Clear crystal glass made up the bottles filled with a blurry amber liquid. Each one had fancy works of art in the shape of rampant griffons, a foggy engraving on one of the square bottles’ faces. Quality of the sort reserved for small potions, but those were larger bottles, each containing about a pint of foggy amber liquid. Corks made of coconut fiber and their green skin, twisted like roses, kept them sealed. No doubt pleasant to the eyes and the palate. Especially with all those coconuts and honey implying they were ingredients.

“What’s this? Looks expensive.” Gilda raised an eyebrow at the collection of bottles before turning to the loremaster.

“We call this Jolt Juice, and expensive it is not.” The old Loremaster told her. “Although, it should be.”

The loremaster was a gorgeous and mature griffoness covered with blue fur and feathers, except she had a glorious, V shaped, collar stripe of white, black, and white again, with her neck covered in cyan and alluring, natural, eyeshadow. She had velvetine blue paws with white talons that Gilda almost felt like holding and stroking her face with. She even wore a ridiculously elegant and intricate tiara with a pair of dancing griffons, branches, and leaves, all in silver with intricately cut pieces of a milky white gem filling in the spaces. It all went well with her blue silky cape.

“It is a cold drink made with shavings from the ice cap of our tallest mountains. The ones which touch the storm. But that is purely to keep them cold and add some extra magical flux. They are a concoction of nutritive and hydrating coconut water and guarana extract seasoned with honey, and ashes from ginger, vanilla, cinnamon, cloves and saffron.”

“What? No alcohol?” Gilda smiled, and the loremaster giggled. She giggled at Gilda’s joke. Maybe she had an easy and relaxed life without dumb griffons she needed to take care of.

“No alcohol, little raptor.” She offered Gilda a bottle. “They replace nutrients your body needs for the proper functioning of your muscles and several systems most griffons don’t need to concern themselves with. These little fruits can ward off tiredness. Wouldn’t want the party to waste away because you feel tired, would you?”

Supposing some griffons had been at it while Gilda was dealing with the drama. She deadpanned at the bottle in her paw. It was chilling cold but gave Gilda some unwanted thoughts. “Sounds like some of the stuff a pegasus I know would drink because it ‘recharges her batteries’.”

“That is how a simple mind would describe this, little raptor. These are for griffons, though.” The old griffoness grinned and raised her eyebrows at Gilda. “It also wets a tired appetite. Why, we made it specifically because of our long parties.”

“We’ll take a couple.” Gevorg took a step closer next to Gilda and reached for the bottles. “Maybe a few… Because… Godwin and his friends.”

Who was Gilda to complain of his enthusiasm, right? She pointed at the little fruits, though. “Where are these things from? I mean, I know coconuts exist in the Beachhome Hold, but these red little things…”

Gilda’s words lost themselves in her thoughts, with sharp stabs on the sides of her head. She cried a little ‘ow’ and frowned just as the red fog threatened to cover her eyes. The beautiful madam loremaster soon returned to her vibrant blues, smiling at Gilda, offering her one of the little fruits. It looked like a freaking eye, to be honest. “Don’t concern yourself with that, little raptor. Enjoy Our Mother’s bounty. All of it.”

Gilda opened the barky exterior and bit a part of the meaty white inside, offering it to Gevorg. “It’s… It tastes nice. Kinda like an angry, sweet apple.”

Gevorg tasted it and agreed with a couple of nods, licking his talons as Gilda looked at the small bounty they had accumulated from their brief trip to the tables. More than enough and they had spent sufficient time there so the kids could talk without them getting in the way. She thanked the loremaster on their behalf and, on their way back, Gevorg grabbed another pair of bottles of the drink. She just grinned and chuckled, teasing him, brushing her tail on his dreamy black hindquarters.

As soon as she shifted her attention from her captain, Gilda found Gertha. She blinked twice and twisted her beak with a confused frown. The pink mercenary had a companion, and it was not Georgia.

One of those ridiculously beautiful griffons, one of the fierce northerner older dudes who had aged exceptionally well. In fact, he seemed as fit as Gevorg, but he had the silver marks of an older griffon on his face and his fluffy crest. Sitting on a low chair and holding a big griffoness like Gertha in his lap, he absolutely looked strong. His plumage was a deep bronze on his face and caramel on his neck and his chest, with darker pinion-shaped spots. Fierce yellow eyes, and a sharp beak, dark brown over the rest of his body. If all that wasn’t enough, he even wore a small black crown over his head and a furry brown cape.

Gilda would have thought of him to be a nice eye candy if Gertha wasn’t supposed to be with Georgia. Instead, she was banging some northerner noble. Although there was some subtle difference between him and the griffons who met Gilda on her arrival. Something she couldn’t put her talon at. Curiously, she thought the same way about that loremaster, and, to a higher extent, those strange griffons that looked like the Harpy.

Regardless, Gertha wore a freaking giant piece of jewelry around her neck and over her chest. A large and intricate mesh of golden twirls and fiercely blue sapphires. Worth more than all the money Gertha had earned in her mercenary life, Gilda imagined. And all she had to do for that was sit on his lap and let him stick his dick under her tail.

That was possibly not how it went down, and Gilda restrained her incensed huff at Gertha having left Georgia alone. A blush crept into her cheeks, too. First, because Gertha was, by herself, already a beautiful thing to behold. Especially like that, with her hindlegs spread apart and bouncing on the handsome guy’s lap. Doing ‘fifth base’ lewds that Gilda was too squeamish to try, while he pecked at Gertha’s neck feathers like a caring lover.

“Uh, hi boss.” The pink griffoness blushed and giggled anxiously at Gilda’s approach, and her partner stopped thrusting into her. He still held her with his paws on her waist, though.

“With all due respect, milady.” The griffon’s grave voice sounded as fitting as it was annoyed at their disturbance. “We are busy.”

“Sure, ‘milord’. She can still use her mouth.” Gilda spoke with all the sarcasm she could summon to hide her awkwardness. She even shot an angry glare at the pink griffoness. “Why aren’t you with Georgia?”

“This spooky griffon lady showed up with some five griffons and said Lady Gwendolen really, really, insisted they took Georgia to see her. And it’s not like I could have stopped them. I mean… They work for your boss, so it’s probably fine.”

Gertha had obviously not seen what Gilda had seen that night.

“Sounds like Madam Galathil.” Gertha’s friend had a calm and collected tone. “She oversees the troublesome griffons around here. Not to worry. The young lady is perfectly safe with Lady Gwendolen, too. In fact, I would say there is no safer place for a griffon to be than next to her. Maybe she shall live through the most shameful experience of her life, but she should remain physically sound. And certainly learn a few things along the way.”

Gilda listened to him but rolled her eyes, focusing on Gertha. “So, you decided to fuck this dude?”

Gertha said nothing for a couple of seconds, just staring dumbly at Gilda. “Well. I was alone and Lord Gildon said I have pretty eyes that agree with this necklace. Is this a necklace? I think it’s too big to be a necklace.”

“It is a decorative peytral. Whatever its name, it is almost as beautiful as you are, milady.” Lord Gildon grinned at Gertha while holding a pawful of her fluffy chest feathers and delivering a lustful little pecking kiss on her neck. Gilda gave them an annoyed deadpan stare, watching Gertha giggle when they resumed their kinky lovemaking.

It took Gilda some restraint not to yell at Gertha’s drunk ass, but she supposed it wasn’t actually Gertha’s fault. All Gilda would get there was making some Frozenlake noble angry and bothering her friend. Hopefully, Georgia could live through the shame of whatever the Harpy had planned for her because she was on her own. Gilda wouldn’t go against the Harpy either.

As she turned to leave, Gevorg was there, smiling at her. “Hey, don’t worry. She may even be angry, but I doubt she’d really hurt Georgia. And I don’t know who this guy is, but your friend seems to really like him.”

Gilda agreed with a tired sigh. He was probably right, and thinking was too hard, anyway.

Back at headquarters, they found Godwin laid at the center of the bed. He held his head high with closed eyes, almost proud-like. He reminded Gilda of a photo of some sphinx she saw in a newspaper. The white-rosy pearly griffoness affectionately preened his feathers, laid at his side, as close together as she could manage. Her tail’s tip kept sweeping from one side to the other while she held his shoulders and ran her beak by his feathers.

The black and white, thinner queen laid in front of him and massaged his right forepaw with a glistening oil and held a small smile, blushing with her eyes at his neckline. A set of makeup paints stood to the side, and only then Gilda noticed they had repaired Godwin’s makeup. The bangles and bracelets were gone, and he wore only a thick decorative peytral of golden and rectangular, thin strips of metal. Each inlaid with a ruby.

The pudgy, sandy one set up a small aromatic candle in a small electrum cup on top of a delicate plate of the same metal. Several of them had already been lit, and the place smelled of sage, mint, and black tea. She hopped from one side to the other with a surprising grace, setting the candles just right in their places and grinning like a little cub to herself.

“What is going on here?” Gilda grinned and hopped onto the bed while Gevorg and the others placed their stuff on the bed, out of the way. Someone had pushed the coins and the Harpy’s selection of sex toys to the floor. They still provided pizzazz, and edginess, without being a bother.

Pudgy grinned at Gilda. “They have an aromatherapy shop in here! Can you believe it?! It even has a giant selection of massage oils! And several jewels for you to grab! Apparently, it was quite common for the males to wear jewelry in the Primeval Age, and some gracious lady told us all about it!”

“That thing looks expensive.” Gevorg added, scooting next to Gilda.

“Oh… She gave it to us.” The sandy griffoness grinned even wider. “She told us to enjoy the evening. I suppose we ought to give it back before leaving. Oh, but the oils and aromatic candles are all free to use!”

All of them wore some kind or another of intricate jewelry. Like Gilda’s tiara with Mother Harpy. The rosy queen, for example, wore a tiara made with a repeating knot design and a thin spike with curvy sides. Her tiara held a shiny pink gem Gilda didn’t know, but that looked like it had come out of an epic piece in the Canterlot Theater. Not a set prop, though. It looked every bit as real and impressive as Gertha’s jewelry back there.

“What the heck? Someone is out dolling out gorgeous pieces of jewelry and I didn’t get one? Something must be wrong! I’m the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani!” Gilda mumbled to herself and then chuckled.

Godwin seemed to be lost in joy, so Gilda turned to the thin kitty next to him and smiled at her. “I don’t think I ever caught your names.”

“I am Griska of Frozenlake! She’s Glóra of Wayfarer’s Rest!” The lanky, black, and white one cheered while her fingers pressed and pulled at Godwin’s paw. Thin, peppy, and fun, she seemed, while Glóra seemed dignified, like she could be on her way to becoming a Loremaster. Also, Glóra took a good whiff of Godwin’s feathers every time she beaked at them with a goofy smile of a horny griffoness that was way too much into her mate. It made Gilda smile; at least they were having fun. Finally.

“And I am Gloriann of Griffonstone!” Pudgy beamed with her paw on her fluffy chest. Gilda supposed she looked normal, if overweight by the northerner standards. Her vibrant, burnt sand shades of color made Gilda think of the desert and she spoke in a fun, bouncy way. “The pretty lady said I am a Haderani!”

“She’s been repeating that every five minutes.” Glóra giggled, stopping her work on Godwin’s feathers to talk.

“Apparently, the Haderani are almost extinct, and they are extremely rare. So rare, the griffoness who talked to us said I should follow the caravan to Griffindell and that she would tell Lady Gwendolen about me!”

Well, that sounded curious. Gilda inspected the four young griffons. Godwin sported a dark shade of the ‘Griffonstone tan’. The thin one looked like a Nartani, especially being born in Frozenlake. Black body and white chest and head seemed rare, though. Glóra… Gilda was not sure. She might be a Shaddani, with her beautiful colors or even an Astrani with her almost supernatural grace. And the pudgy one was a Haderani living in the south. That sounded reasonable, since they came from the desert to the east of where King Grover had ruled Griffonia.

All of them staying with Godwin that Lady Gwendolen, also known as The Harpy, the Allmother, the feathering Mother Harpy of Storms, wanted some crazy love juice out of. She even got angry Georgia didn’t go to her and Harpy knows what she would have done to her. Georgia, not to mention, was unquestionably Shaddani, with her vibrant colors and cute beauty. Giza too. Everyone met at Gilda’s caravan, which was going to Griffindell, where Lady Gwendolen lived.

All of a sudden everything seemed like a coincidence. Gilda never met their parents, but knew they were important. Importantly, the Griffonian secret military birds went looking for their kids when shit started to go down at the capital. What were the chances they were all part of the Harpy’s grand plan? There were no changes involved, that’s what.

Gilda had gotten past getting annoyed, though. The smells from the oils Griska massaged Godwin with filled her world. Grape seed. It brought a memory from her time back at Griffonstone. Before her life turned into a mess.

Her mind’s eye saw an overexcited Greta holding a fancy bottle and blushing madly. She was telling Gilda of all the benefits of grapeseed oil for a couple’s love life. Of course, she was excited. Greta had a nice husband that would massage her with the stupid oil and make sweet married couple’s love to her until she melted. Gilda was just annoyed at her friend. Not at her happiness. Gilda would always be happy for Greta and Gary, even after he betrayed her. She was annoyed because she was trying to sell scones at the time and Greta wouldn’t shut her beak.

Gilda blinked and stared at the bottle Griska had left on the bed. Like she wanted nothing much with it, Gilda grabbed the flask. Everything in that place looked like a work of art, and the little bottle was not different. Purple and green glass, shaped like a grape cluster and the little green part of the cluster hung from was the cork.

Still holding the little bottle, Gilda turned to the side and looked at Gevorg with Grunhilda. The black and gray Sky Sentry captain, in all his Astrani glory, sat by the side of the bed, sharing their snacks with ‘the kids’. He gave Godwin a wink and a bottle of Jolt Juice, taking a second for him. Gilda gave a needy, flustered stare to the grape-shaped flask and then to Gevorg. Her talons tinkled at the crystal glass; her eyes drifted away.

“Gevorg. Can I ask a favor of you?” She blushed as he looked at her half-way into gulping down the bottle’s contents.

She gave him a little modest smile, just before his eyes found the bottle. It was like a magical connection formed and their minds touched in a perfect moment of wondrous marvel. Gilda didn’t even care she made herself look like a dweeb. His beak instantly transformed into a giant grin, and he dropped the empty bottle. Trotting around the bed, he leaped onto it, and his weight shook the mattress under Gilda when he landed behind her.

Gevorg hastily grabbed the bottle from Gilda’s paw and left it aside. He held Mythical in his paws and tenderly pulled her from Gilda’s back. The magic which held the weapon to her strained and released before he politely left the magical sword in her scabbard to the side. Then he surprised Gilda again. Reaching for the latch of her dancing dress, fiddling with it for a couple of seconds and sending her heart rate so high above the storm clouds, she could swear she was going to have a heart attack.

She shifted her body around and raised her hip from the bed, taking her weight off the silvery-golden dress. Her eyes shifted from side to side, and she found the younger griffons. Instead of still posing like a sphinx, Godwin tenderly exchanged little pecks with Griska before he reached forward and pulled her closer, fitting his beak with hers. Grunhilda sat with the other girls, tasting their food, and watching with great interest.

Gilda heard Griska’s little whimper, but she hardly resisted at all. The other too soon left the food and Grunhilda to join them. Instead of resuming her tender preening, Glóra pecked little kisses at Godwin’s neck. Her eyes shifted into a pair of lusty pink peepers, watching the two kissing. Pudgy Gloriann giggled and turned on her back next to Griska, and reached Godwin’s jaw, stroking him warmly.

Gilda had more pressing matters to mind. A couple of seconds after Gevorg grabbed the bottle of oil from the sheets, the liquid poured over her back in a line from her shoulders to her hip and made her muscles tense. They pulled at her pelt and plumage over her back with a spontaneous tug. Then her captain sat behind her, and his paws pushed against her ribs and her spine. Muscles melting at his touch, Gilda made a goofy grin and moaned luxuriously.

“Excuse me.” His playful tone accompanied his fingers, kneading at her muscles. His palms pressed on her shoulders and his thumbs squeezed her muscles at her spine. How in the world did that work or what muscles and tendons were involved, Gilda had no idea. But she could swear he melted the flesh and sinew under her soft, fur-like plumage.

Gilda closed her eyes, raising her head and willingly, and willfully, exhaled a long sigh. “Ah… Dude!”

He chuckled and kept repeating the gesture, slowly making his way down her spine. Gilda laid her head on the mattress and let him work. Something popped and gave her a little startle before a wave of relaxation spread from her spine. He pushed her plumage and her pelt with his whole paws before holding her and pressing his thumbs at her spine again. Laboriously making his way down her back, crunching her muscles into serenity and peace of mind. Like she had sand in her muscles and his paws had the power of turning it to jelly.

“I don’t care what you think your job is…” she mewled, tensing at another pop his fingers caused and relaxing again with another moan. “Your job is now massaging me.”

“But Lady Gilda,” he faux-complained, and she could imagine his cheeky grin. “I need to help you fight off the bad griffons.”

She chuckled, never opening her eyes, much less moving her head from the mattress. “I’ll kill all the bad griffons in the world if you promise me a massage every night.”

“Sounds fair.” His fingers pressed between her hips and made her squirm. Strong fingers kneaded her joints and her thighs. All the strain of her dancing posture and tenseness from the night’s drama evaporated from her squished muscles.

Gevorg pressed his paws over her rump with his thumbs, squishing the tendons in her croup. Gilda’s tail raised like it had a life of its own and brushed at his belly. Instead of thinking of what had happened, Gilda gave a throaty chuckle. She looked back at his handsome smile. Giving him a foxy smile of her own and resting her chin on her shoulder to stare at him for a couple of seconds.

His paws glided against the grain of her fur with an electrifying wave. It made her raise her head with her eyes closed and a luscious groan through her serene smile. His touch triggered an itchy little pull at her back, passing the transition between feathers and fur. His forelegs enveloped and his weight gave her a cozy warmth on her back when he held her shoulders under her wings and leaned on top of her. Her head rested on the sheets again and she noticed the warmness and wet discomfort in her groin which replaced the tense straining in her muscles. She didn’t even think, perking her rump when his stiff, fleshy shaft rested on her hind as he accommodated himself on top of her.

Her breath had become shallow. Her neck relaxed when he pecked at her feathers and his stomach rested against her rear. He accommodated himself behind her, rubbing his shaft on her labia and giving her a shudder of anticipation. Her wings shuffled on her sides when the hot length of his member left her delicate little folds alone. She let escape a needy gasp, with her tail whipping under him, caressing his rump and his testicles.

With his hot breath on her ear, she shifted her shoulders and growled a whisper. “Dude, keep teasing me like that. I’ll slit your throat open right here in the middle of the party.”

“I’m not!” His hot breath wafted on her feathers; his tone was as restless as hers. “I don’t have eyes down there!”

They shared a chuckle just as he pecked at her neck again, just as his tip poked at her a couple of times before it found her slit. Coming through, it spread her open and forced a gasp out of her beak. Her wings opened stiffly with his shaft sliding effortlessly into her vagina, pushing at her walls to accommodate him. He forced a wave of pleasure through her stomach. A tense electric jolt from her nethers with his shaft traveling every inch into her until his jewels touched her groin.

“Oh, dude… Oh…” Gilda’s head rested on the sheets as her tomfriend gasped, thrusting into her with controlled eagerness. Going in or going out, steadily against her pressing walls, stroking her little pearl with his length. Quickly filling her groin with a strained tenderness. Her moans and gasps became needier, and her talons pulled the sheets.

His hoarse moans filled her ears, every time his insistent humps pushed her belly against the silky sheets. One paw supporting his weight on top of her and another holding her scruff, talons scratching her skin. The sudden surge of pain made her raise her head and with a short and ladylike yowl. Her insides rattled; her rump pushed a little more against Gevorg’s weight. The intense, explosive wave of pure pleasure shook her body. Her beak hung open and broken sobs escaped. She didn’t care if others would listen. Gilda rested her head on the sheets again and let herself whine instead of breathing. A short whimper every time her walls tried to squeeze him and every time he went back and forth inside her.

It went on and on for what seemed like a blessed, divine eternity. Her nape stung and burned, while her nethers quaked with sexual release. It had been way too long. Gevorg’s husky groans broke with a shaky grunt. He pushed into her one last time. His stomach tensed as his cock pulsated inside, and proved Gia wrong; that, yes, a tom could shoot a queen full of warm cub seeds. Gilda blurted out, giggling at her thoughts and just at how nice it felt.

Panting heavily, Gevorg stroked his gray cheek at her neck before he pulled out of her with a tiny, sharp sting at her lady bits. Gilda gave a playful squeal and turned on her back, wiggling her legs in the air. Oh yes, perfect.

The griffoness just laid there with her belly exposed to the air and her sore, overflowing little flower on display like the afterglow was the most important thing in existence. It was, as far as she was concerned anyway. Gevorg pounced at her and caused her to squeal and laugh again, with his beak tickling her belly, pecking at the velvety fur.

He rested his head on her belly and grinned at her while she reached for his feathers, stroking them with her paws. Gilda saw something in the deep gray eyes of the griffon, but it was gone in the next second as Grunhilda came a talon’s width short of body slamming Gevorg from Gilda. He rolled on his back and then on his belly again with a playful ‘ow!”

Gilda expected Grunhilda to hop onto her and prepared to swipe her talons at the over excited griffoness. But it didn’t happen. Instead, Grunhilda lowered herself to the bed, her wiggly rump in the air. Splayed out fingers and big, wide eyes. Before Gilda could tell her to wait, Big Girl pounced at Gevorg with Gilda in the way.

Playful hissing followed and Gilda didn’t quite see what happened because Grunhilda landed with her butt on her face. When Gilda reoriented herself and planted her feet to raise her head and look around, she found Grunhilda rearing on her hindlegs, screeching, and doing the teasing ‘please fuck me silly’ scratches at Gevorg’s shoulder.

He dived under her and flipped her onto her back. Just the surprised look on Grunhilda’s face, flying, spinning in the air, almost made Gilda cackle. With the bed shaking at her weight, Gevorg pounced on her and pinned her to the bed.

Three things went through Gilda’s head in quick succession. First, Grunhilda might not exactly know what she was doing, but Gilda smiled at her initiative. She had half-expected Big Girl to ask for her permission. Second, Gevorg, being the adult and experienced male he was, knew very well what the ‘playful pounce’ meant in that context. Being not a male, Gilda didn’t know specifically how that worked, but renewed vigor was a thing that crossed her thoughts when she saw Gevorg leaning above Grunhilda, holding her chest down with his paws and biting her neck. Especially with her screeching, playful swipes at him.

Third, the pudgy young queen got her wish from a while back. Godwin and his queens had gotten so engrossed with themselves they didn’t even care about the commotion. Godwin laid on his flank, hunched over the dark-sandy queen’s belly, with his paws holding her lady bits spread apart and licking at her pink insides from above. She squirmed, laying on her back, panting breathlessly, biting her own finger and staring at the ceiling. The white-rosy Glóra laid on her belly, next to Godwin, and he kept one of his hindlegs raised because the pretty griffoness had his dick inside her beak. She kept stroking his thigh with one paw while the other caressed his fuzzy testicles.

She shifted her head softly, resting his shaft against her tongue, rolled out of her beak. Licking and dragging it all over his member, too. Gilda did not know if Glóra was doing it right. Maybe she should bring Gertha, but Godwin seemed happy with it and Glóra’s humming sounded happy too.

The black and white Griska laid behind Godwin, heavily caressing his chest and pecking at his feathers, keeping her eyes on Glóra and Godwin’s groin. Gilda would make Gevorg annoyed by joking about it, but Godwin would probably like to reassert his malehood after what happened. The fact they could have their fun warmed Gilda’s chest.

Meanwhile, Gevorg was teasing Grunhilda, laying on top of her and pecking at her neck while Big Girl’s paws shakingly kept stroking his shoulders. Gilda laid down next to her with a dirty grin and Grunhilda opened her eyes to look at Gilda with a little frown and a blush, saying nothing more than a clueless ‘uh…’

Gilda chuckled and held her cheeks softly, first clicking her beak against Grunhilda’s, then fitting it together with hers. Long and muscly griffon tongues caressing each other, Grunhilda’s whiny murmur made Gilda raise her eyes, looking at Gevorg. He pecked at Grunhilda’s chest feathers, making his way down. Kissing Grunhilda, Gilda smiled, and her own paw reached at Grunhilda’s chest, letting the fluffy feathers caress her fingers in return, watching Gevorg lick her friend’s nipples in the middle of her silky white fur.

Gilda’s tail swished from one side of the other, letting go of their kiss and grinning at Grunhilda’s pointed shudder when their male friend stroked her lady bit with the curve of his beak. Hardly anything new for Grunhilda, but Gilda imagined the fact it was a dude made all the difference to Big Girl. Gilda’s paw glided to Grunhilda’s neck with a loving touch over her soft plumage. She watched the white griffoness squirm and let a loud moan out when Gevorg put his tongue to work.

“Having fun there, Big Girl?” Gilda pulled her mischievous grin a little more and Gevorg’s eyes looked up at her from Grunhilda’s crotch. She barely gave the white griffoness any time to respond, pressing another kiss into her. Grunhilda’s restless mutter vibrated in their beaks and Gilda kept her locked in their kiss, taking Grunhilda’s hot, forced breaths at her face.

When she let go, Gilda raised her head to look at Gevorg. He held Grunhilda’s legs open and his beak against her carpet. She knew he was into it because Grunhilda’s sensual whining got loud, and his closed eyes told Gilda as much as the wet flicking noise.

“Dude, don’t tire yourself out, ‘cause I’m next in line.” Gilda stroked Grunhilda’s belly between her perky little nipples and their tom raised his eyes to her with a grin pulling the corners of his beak.

Godwin’s grunting distracted Gilda from her two lovers. She even smiled a little that he was getting to enjoy the night as intended, even if she still didn’t see the appeal of a beakjob.

The pearly white griffoness bounced her head over Godwin’s private parts, blushing, and with an utterly worked up breathing. Her sharp, curved tip barely brushed at his length, mostly fitting snugly with the fleshy bits while her tongue did most of the work. Gilda could imagine it getting a little scratched, but Godwin didn’t seem to mind.

Beaks are tools for cutting meat and Gilda admired any male with the mental fortitude to have an orgasm with someone playing with such a thing near their dicks. But then again… Her eyes found Gevorg’s open beak against Grunhilda’s sensitive and fragile flesh. Apparently, that worked. Especially since one was supposed to use their tongue, and beaks were, in reality, very sensitive.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was?

Despite Gilda’s drama, Glóra fervently held Godwin’s shaft and stroked it with her mouth until Godwin gave a dry grunt and his stomach tensed. With him laid on his back, the white and black Griska kept giggling and pecking at his stomach, stroking his crotch with her right paw, reaching to his testicles, watching while Glóra did all the work. And Gloriann sat on her hip, watching with a fierce blush, using one leg for support and her other paw between her thighs, rubbing herself.

He groaned with a silly smile and Glóra gagged, holding her beak to his fur with a satisfied huff. His repeated moans were louder, though. “Ooh… Wow…”

Griska kept staring with giggly curiosity and amazement until Glóra finally let go of Godwin and concluded with a demure brush of her paw on the side of her beak. Gilda grinned at her, rubbing her jaw. Yeah, that girl knew what she was doing, and Gilda chuckled at her. “Good job, Glóra. Godwin looks like he enjoyed that.”

“I ah… Practiced…” She blushed furiously and smiled. “My Ma taught me. Using a sausage.”

“Well, now you gotta teach us!” Griska giggled.

While Glóra didn’t agree nor disagree because of her high levels of embarrassment, Godwin seemed to have recovered his senses. Griska, sitting next to him, pushed his chest with a pleading whine. “Can I be next, Godwin? Please?”

Before he could respond, Gilda had a brilliant idea. She was supposed to teach them, after all.

“Hey, I gotta teach you something, Godwin!” With Grunhilda in good paws, muttering incoherent sounds and squirming at Gevorg’s oral sex skills, Gilda pounced close to the younger side of the bed. “Come on! Show him this cute rump.”

The black and white, green-eyed girl beamed and obeyed, turning around, and lowering her chest to the bed with her rump in the air, raising her tail with a flick of horny griffon lady juices. Gilda could swear she saw her butt reflecting on Godwin’s yellow eyes. She walked past him and flicked the tuft of her tail at his face to get his attention.

“Come on, Chosen One.” Gilda chuckled, sitting near the black rump wiggling at Godwin.

As he obeyed and sat, Gilda held Griska’s behind and gingerly pulled her delicate black lips apart to show him the pink insides. His eyes locked on it and almost made Gilda laugh. She pointed at the little nub with a talon. “Don’t just go straight at it. You gotta get a feeling for what your partner likes. But you can start with some good passionate licks and flicking your tongue at her bean. And don’t stop until you’re going to drown in her, or she can’t talk anymore.”

“Yes, Miss Gilda.” Godwin grinned at her and took another good long stare at Griska’s beautiful girl parts next to hold his partner’s cute rump and give her a small shudder. “Excuse me, Griska.”

“Ah… Being nice is great, Godwin.” The other two sat next to Gilda to watch. The ex-southerner Gloriann watched with a hungry, lustful glare while Glóra spoke with a wincing smile. “But now is not the time… Griska needs you to be horny, not noble.”

“I would argue that being noble,” Gevorg raised his head from Grunhilda’s muff, “includes doing naughty things to a lady that so desires.”

“I’m the loremaster here. Shut up and eat the other horny griffoness.” Gilda chuckled at him. “He’s right, though.”

While Godwin either gathered the courage to dig in at his kittyfriend or quietly admired her, it occurred to Gilda that never in her life she had dreamed of being in such a situation. Well, maybe that wasn’t true, but the chances of her ever being invited to the Bordello of Candy or paying her way into it used to be zero. Now Gilda supposed she had the money and the prestige, but she didn’t care because the harpy had surrounded her with cute kitties and handsome toms.

Gilda’s beak donned a conceited smile, watching ‘her boy’ hold Griska’s beautiful rump and pull her lips apart like she had shown. Godwin’s careful touches made Gilda smile too, despite the whole ‘don’t be too nice’ talk. Until he started, because he gave her a tentative lick along her open slit, smearing his beak in her lady's juices.

She rewarded him by wiggling her butt again and giving a girly giggle. “This is amazing!”

First, Godwin licked his beak. He blinked, like a lever flipped inside his head. Then Godwin pressed his beak into her, slithering his tongue all over her vulva like it was covered in syrup before he went exploring inside and coaxing happy gasps from Griska. The sandy Gloriann distracted Gilda, though. She made a distressed little whine and stomped her feet on the bed a few anxious times.

“Are we supposed to just sit here and watch?”

Glóra giggled, hiding her beak behind her paw. “Well, Godwin is only one. I don’t mind waiting for a bit, especially since we’re in a net gain after the two walked off. Not to mention Godwin seems to have quite the appetite.”

Gloriann chuckled at Glóra’s words. “Yeah. Their loss!”

“Yeah. We still ended with a female-heavy little group here?” Gilda chuckled at Glóra’s words. “You better be ready to share, Glóra. Godwin is bound to draw attention further on.”

Glóra showed one of the best psychotic grins Gilda had ever seen, shaking her head and sweeping her crest of pearly feathers from one side to the other. “I’m gonna rip apart any cheeky stray that comes close to my Godwin.”

Griska’s anxious cries distracted them. She begged Godwin not to stop, holding the sheets like her life depended on it. Whether or not he listened, the mentioned tom gripped her hind and flicked his tongue at her pink parts, with his beak half-buried in her vagina.

Truth be told, Gilda believed Glóra. She seemed one of the true, bred and raised, northerners, and when one’s mother prepares her daughter for a sex party by teaching her how to suck dick like a griffon… Yeah. Better to take her seriously.

“Don’t worry, Lady Gilda.” Glóra grinned again. “We’ll figure this out.”

Assuming that they were friendly enough that Glóra wouldn’t poison the other two until the end of the meeting, or something. Things seemed under control there, Gilda supposed, while Grunhilda had had enough of their partner to herself. Ignoring Griska’s helpless cries, Gilda hopped back to Gevorg and Grunhilda with a devilish grin upon seeing the panting griffoness relaxing with her eyes closed and Gevorg licking her nipples, hugging her waist like a caring lover.

Gilda’s wings opened thoroughly with all the naughty thoughts that started showing up in her head. Grunhilda was finally experienced enough that she could be less ‘nice’ to her. Big Girl’s tired, panting breathing that made her look especially sexy and made Gilda’s grin widen. Gilda lowered herself to the bed, fondly holding Grunhilda’s head in her paws, letting her talons caress her plumage and staring at her from above.

“I know you’re kind of inexperienced, but Gevorg is kind of important.” Oh, her precious, precious, worried blue eyes. “I can’t let him play with my thrall and just not feel satisfied, can I? I’m gonna let him use you till he’s done now.”

The confused and scared eyes of an inexperienced griffoness, feeling hurt and betrayed, never manifested. Instead, Grunhilda’s eyes shone like two huge sapphires. Her beak opened with a grin hidden behind a façade of fear as convincing as Rainbow Dash’s humbleness. “Please don’t! I’m scared!”

“It was supposed to be a joke, you horny, degenerate, dweeb.” Gilda fixed her very annoyed stare on Grunhilda’s way too thrilled peepers.

“Oh. I knew that!” Grunhilda’s poorly disguised horny grin turned into a desperate wince, and her eyes kept going to one side and the other. “I was faking. My enthusiasm. I mean, faking fear… You know. Uh… As enthusiasm to serve my beloved master!”

“You know,” Gevorg, sitting by Grunhilda’s hindlegs, shot Gilda a frowny, annoyed glare, “this is actually against the Harpy’s laws and kind of offensive to us northerners.”

“Shut up and use my thrall till you’re done, you big northerner nerd.” Gilda held Grunhilda’s white paws and pulled them up, giving Gevorg a naughty smirk while she held the white griffoness pinned to the bed. “I’m horny and we’re gonna have a steamy threesome.”

“Well… Grunhilda is a very cute and attractive missy.” He smiled. “And her master is a powerful swordmaiden.”

Wait. Was he teasing her or… Never mind. When he leaned forward, she did the same, and their beaks brushed at each other. Waiting not a second, she held his shoulders and fit her beak on his, pushing her tongue against his. Details about who was supposed to be leading be damned. She just kissed him while he positioned himself between Grunhilda’s hindlegs and pushed into her while Gilda’s fingers pulled open her lips for him. Her lover’s little moan lit Gilda’s fire even hotter. She smiled while kissing Gevorg, and straddling Grunhilda, who, without a moment’s hesitation, held her hips and shot her tongue inside her.

“Hum… Nice…” The tan griffoness smiled a little wider, pushing herself against Grunhilda’s eagerness, taking a second to look at Gevorg going deep into her.

Grunhilda’s beak vibrated inside her with a long moan as Gevorg held her waist and pulled back to push his cock into her again. One hearty, eager thrust after the other. His grabby paws reached for Gilda and caressed her shoulders and her flanks with a heavy, lusty touch. She held onto his shoulders, kissing him again with a breathless cry. Grunhilda had learned well how to lick a griffoness, and her meaty tongue assaulted Gilda’s clitoris relentlessly to send her right over the edge.

She cried and her muscles tensed regardless of her will. Her back straightened, but she still held Gevorg’s shoulders to keep her balance. His grave mutters while he pecked at the feathers on Gilda’s neck felt almost overwhelming with the orgasmic contractions sending ripples through her. She almost doubled over in front of Gevorg and over Grunhilda, supporting her head on his chest, with a shaky groan escaping her smiling beak. Her eyes found Gevorg’s meat entering Grunhilda, back and forth, slick with leonine lube. Powerful thrusts rattled Grunhilda’s body beneath Gilda, like Gevorg didn’t hold back at all, and made the griffoness almost cry against her.

It occurred to Gilda that she has had sex with males and females before, but it was the first time she did it with both a male and a female. It was amazing. Raising her head again, she swayed her hips, teasing Grunhilda while her paws explored and caressed Gevorg’s sides. Still panting vigorously, Gilda rested her head against his neck, pecking at the plumage behind his shoulder. A surge of warmth took her over, and she smiled, laboriously scratching her talons between the soft feathers on his back. He opened his wings and gave a long gasp, pushing harder into Grunhilda.

“You’re a lucky cat. Didja you know that?” She put all the lusty velvet she could muster into her voice.

The throaty, strained grunt she got for a response was more than enough. She held him tighter, but when she opened her eyes, the white room with the pillars and the storm beyond had turned into a dim, grand hall with black walls. Her golden eyes shifted, scanning the room. A red fog covered the floor, shifting like the fog over the surface of a lake with its ebbs and rivulets. Their bed was an island above it, as were the various pieces of furniture. Instead of whites, blacks and silvery-golden, they were all black and white, like their bed, covered in glossy lead-colored sheets.

Her beak opened barely in shock, but twisted into a small smile while she held Gevorg ever tighter, reaching behind his shoulders. She felt no fear. Even if she had no idea of what had just happened or what it meant. Her head felt so light and dizzy. Thinking was hard, and it looked like a kinky room in a sex dungeon under the Harpy’s palace. It was the best explanation her horny mind conjured. Letting the electrifying sensations of Grunhilda’s tongue flicking at her knob flow through her was easy. The waves of mind-numbing pleasure that shook her were too enjoyable.

A black wall of ancient stone, smooth and lustrous, rose behind giant statues of the Allmother. They lined the walls where the pillars used to be. Powerful, stern griffonesses laid on their stomachs, wings to the ceiling, holding pyres of roaring fire before them. The ceiling was a living storm, black revolving clouds filled with thunder echoing now and then. They filled the room with a flash above the dim light of the flames. Griffons in the room had gotten into groups, every single one of them busy doing the deed. No more weird griffons roamed about doing whatever, either. They had joined in the carnal festival that filled the room. Too many griffons involved in it. At most, they walked around, looking for a partner to do naughty things with.

Gevorg held Gilda’s nape and pulled her back, pressing his beak into hers, huffing madly at her feathers. She held him too and pulled him to her with the same unrestrained vigor. Amid moans and heavy breathing, he lost his balance and brought Gilda down with him, collapsing to the side like a sack of potatoes. She laughed, letting his weight pull her from Grunhilda, and ended on top of him. His raising and relaxing chest filled her eyes with his otherworldly beautiful black and gray.

Gilda dragged herself on top of him with a fierce grin, grinding her velvety belly and wet groin against his. Velvety fur caressing her, she held his shoulder and his fluffy feathers on his chest, pulling them with a teasing grin. She kissed him, broke it for a second, and then kissed him again. “Give me back my toy if you know what is good for you.”

“Geez, kitty. Can I have a moment?” His laughter came out in between in ragged breaths, but his paws went all over her, from shoulders, under her spread wings, to her rump.

Still smiling, Gilda kissed him again for long seconds before movement had caught her eyes. She was not even surprised to see another couple next to them. One of the night’s new adults. He was a young tom, a southerner of blue and white pelt and plumage, leaned between the hindlegs of a pristine white Nartani lady. Her pale-yellow paws held him, and she kept her hindlegs up, curling her toes, both their bodies rocking with his thrusts. Gilda couldn’t see the color of her eyes because she had them closed fast, whimpering every time he pushed into her.

“Kiss her, dude.” Gilda chortled but paid little attention to the two, or the other pairs, trios and even quartets of griffons nearby. She stopped counting writhing griffons, looking for Godwin and his kittyfriends. She eagerly wanted to see Godwin getting at it with one of them after all the drama. But she didn’t find them, just Lady Geena. The sight made Gilda’s head tilt a little to the side.

Frozenlake’s lady finally got to see some action, too. She laid on her side, while a large griffoness Gilda didn’t know leaned over her, pinning her down to the bed and telling her something. A thin griffoness, with a curious crown of black feathers, nowhere as glorious as the Allmother’s but thick with long, slender black feathers. All rustling with her excitement. She caressed Geena’s jaw with the handle of a flail and her eyes, surrounded by an orange shadow, shone with arousal and delight. A trio of the disturbing mini harpies stood behind the griffoness, impatiently waiting for their turn.

What had happened? Mother Harpy was possibly angry at her, judging by the fact she had a gag, and a silk ribbon tied her forelegs together. Likely because of Georgia. One of the creepy griffons that looked like the Harpy, a big one, hugged her leg and humped her ferociously with a big smile and his tongue lolling off his beak. So vigorously her magnificent Nartani body shook every time his groin collided with hers.

There was a bit of a strange air about Lady Geena and those griffons. Because of the strange griffoness Gilda had never seen before. Maybe that was Madam Galathil they had mentioned earlier. But that didn’t seem all that bad. Gilda chuckled. The Harpy wouldn’t hurt… Like, really hurt Lady Geena. One of her own loremasters.

Gilda closed her eyes for a second, and soon heard the distinct, firm voice of the Harpy, laughing, and Gilda finally found Godwin. The scenery had changed, alright. Their bed was no longer in an unused space by the deep end of the hall. An altar rose a couple of feet above it and the stairs leading into it cradled their bed. Torches provided a ghostly light, and the Harpy was talking to Godwin and his kitties, sitting on red sheets. Or was it the red mist? It could be a trick of the light, but it seemed to cascade down the steps. She gave an appraising look to the sandy, pudgy little queen that was Gloriann. Gilda couldn’t hear what she said, but the Harpy smiled as she talked, holding the girl’s jaw in her paw.

Gilda turned to Grunhilda again, finding her lusty, wanting blue eyes trained at her. She would not deny Big Girl her attention, much less in that party. Priorities! The white griffoness was sitting on the bed, waiting in the middle of all those smells and sounds of griffons having sex. Leaning over her, making her lay on her back. Finding nothing but a welcoming smile, Gilda laid on her side, creeping her paw from Grunhilda’s chest to her belly.

She licked her own beak, smiling widely and feeling the velvety fur tingle her paws, the little nipples of an aroused griffoness. “So, did you like your first guy?”

“I want more…” Grunhilda whined, looking up at Gilda with pleading eyes.

“Don’t worry, Gevorg will be back soon.” Gilda teased her with a sensual, foxy stare while her paw traveled further down Grunhilda’s belly to find the gooey wetness on Grunhilda’s fur. Her fingers easily slipped between Big Girl’s lips and Gilda worked herself up so much she moaned along with Big Girl. It was the only thing she could do in that place, and it felt awkward not to be having sex with anyone. Grunhilda’s tight warmness enveloped Gilda’s fingers and her smile grew, watching the little squirm she caused on her friend. Wet walls tensed around her fingers, especially as she pushed them further inside and pressed them at Grunhilda’s walls.

Grunhilda’s little gasps became louder the more insistently Gilda massaged her wall toward her stomach. “Like this?”

Griffons had weapons at the tips of their fingers, and it was a bit of a technique lesbian griffonesses, and smart toms had to learn not to hurt their partner and it always scared the receiver the first time. Not to mention that not all griffons had the Harpy’s talons and most of the time there’d be some small bleeding and a somewhat annoyed griffon lady. It had become a familiar territory for the couple of griffonesses during the chilly nights inside their tent, and it became usual to make her friend pop like that. At least it had been until Gevorg joined them that night. He had a different tool they could use.

“We’re gonna have to take turns with our captain during the trip to Brokenhorn.” Gilda held Big Girl pinned to the bed, massaging her inside, knowing precisely what she was doing and extracting whiny groans from her.

The white griffoness giggled, raising her hip a little and settling down again. Her breath broke down into whimpering whines, begging Gilda for more. Gilda obliged, teasing her with a chortle.

Grunhilda’s sensual complaints intensified with Gilda leaning down and pecking the soft fur. The giggling turned to a squealing cry while Big Girl’s body squeezed Gilda’s fingers. Her grin grew wider, at the delight she gave to the big, awkward griffoness.

Taking her eyes from Grunhilda for a moment, Gilda found Gevorg, right next to them, drinking one of the silly drinks. The bottle remained the same clear glass as before and he tossed away the cork made from coconut husk. The drink shone with its own light, not reflecting from the pyres. It was blood-red, with a crimson shine, and a tendril of red mist spilled from its orifice once it was open. Never disappearing as smoke would, pooling on the bed. And when Gevorg upended the bottle, throwing his head back, the mist escaped through the corners of his beak and his nostrils while he emptied it with a few gulps.

Gilda watched for a heartbeat before Gevorg tossed the bottle away and offered a second one to her, holding it by the neck. “You must try this. The loremaster was not lying!”

She took the bottle, all but sparing it a glance. The beautiful, foggy engraving of a rampant griffon shone with the red light the drink emitted from inside. After she tossed the cork away, the bittersweet smell riding the vapors that arose from the drink lit Gilda’s senses without the garish pain the ‘red fog’ would bring before. What changed? Who cares?

She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she giggled and shoved the bottle’s neck inside her beak, tittering and letting her tongue caress it like it had a will of its own. Sitting straight just so Gevorg and Grunhilda could see her antics. She spilled some, but the liquid itself tasted like drinkable fire. Not in the sense that it burned, but it certainly set her on fire. Filling her with energy and flaring an obscene carnal need for Gevorg. Or Grunhilda. For both.

“Ah… Fuck…” she gasped when her squatting legs felt weak. She grinned and shook her head to clear it of the overwhelming sensation. Then she held the bottle for Grunhilda, who drank it too, but Gilda also poured the red liquid on Big Girl’s teats. Tossing the bottle away, she leaned over the other and licked the liquid in between her little mounds, listening to the desperate little moans she gave. Expecting the captain to be there soon, Gilda kept her thighs stretched and whipped her tail out of the way. Even the air touching her made her burn inside.

Gevorg didn’t disappoint her, holding her hip and slipping his rock-solid cock inside her in one energetic thrust, ending with his stomach loudly slapping at her hind. It fanned her fire like he had slipped a piece of pure pleasure into her. Her stomach tensed and her legs almost gave at the filling sensation, stretching her insides and traveling through her body in waves of pure bliss.

“Oh, yeah… Harder. C’mon, give it to me!” Her voice almost broke into a squeal with the repeated surges of pleasure he filled her with.

He supported his weight on her shoulders and his grunts mixed with the sounds of rough sex. After cleaning Grunhilda’s white fur of the red liquid, Gilda’s tongue promptly found her slit still oozing the sex goo Gevorg had left in her. She tried it on impulse, just wanting to lick her big griffon lady friend and hear her screaming.

A quick thought condemned the fact that she, for-feathers’-sake, in fact liked the added salty taste. It was the only Harpy-approved cream pie, Gilda supposed, and the thought passed away amid carnal thoughts when she found Grunhilda’s clitoris to play with her tongue. Big Girl almost jumped off the bed and stretched her elegant, muscular body as Gilda insisted on flicking her tongue at it.

Speaking of her, the Harpy’s laughter drew her eyes above from Grunhilda’s cute white mounds. Gilda found Godwin with the Harpy and his white-rosy queen on the altar above. He sat on the red fog-covered sheets of their bed-altar. Resting his back against Mother Harpy’s body as she stroked his cottony chest with a paw, while the other held his jaw to look at Glóra. She straddled his lap, going up and down on him and disturbing the red mist surrounding them. She kept her wings open too, with her eyes on Godwin’s too. Gilda could hear her screams and see her delighted grin from afar, as well as Godwin’s surrendering grunts.

The Allmother let Godwin rest on his back, and gingerly rose herself to place her genitals above the tom’s face. She gave her hips a little wiggle and her tail swayed from side to side just as he held her waist and strained his neck to reach her. She laughed and opened her wings and raised her forelegs triumphantly. The flames took on a red burn, and the light covered her with an eerie pink and deep crimson shade that made her thrilled smile seem sinister. All while the little harpies around the altar cheered as the red fog rose, thick, like a vapor enveloping everything.

Maybe Gilda was the only one who saw it all. Maybe the others just didn’t care. Abruptly, she gasped at the lightning bolt of ecstasy her male partner filled her with. Her wings stiffened up, and he held one of them, pulling it. Only just enough to cause a little pain, making Gilda rear her head and scream at the combined intensity of sensations overcoming everything else and filling her with bliss.

She cried, holding Grunhilda’s waist. She screamed again, resting her head on Grunhilda’s belly, at the waves of overpowering pleasure each contraction in her groin filled her with. Her legs almost gave in, with Gevorg still pounding her from behind. He stopped for only a second when he swelled inside her for an instant. His body weighed down on her and his penis throbbed, filling her with warmness again. His male grunt gave Gilda a shudder when he held her scruff and started again.

It was almost too much, praise the Harpy for that. She snickered and squealed with delight when he finally pulled out of her with the familiar sharp of his penile spines. She meant to look at him over her shoulders. Maybe give him a ‘good job’ stare, but she noticed Grunhilda wasn’t under her anymore. She had laid on her belly and an otherworldly beautiful griffon had mounted her. The red light made identifying his colors impossible, but he had clear markings on his head. The dude was an older griffon, much older than Grunhilda, and about as large as she was. She perked her white rump under him and turned her head to look at him with a quick lick on her beak.

“Please… Harder, mister!” She pleaded with a desperate frown while he held her with a paw around to her chest and another holding her scruff and making wet slapping noises, obeying her request.

Just sitting there, watching, Gilda’s emotions shifted from surprised, to shocked, to jealous, ultimately to horny and elated. The only word that fit the scene in her head was ‘beautiful’. Silly too, but chiefly beautiful. He even wore a charming veil of silver rings covering the back of his head, held by his silver diadem.

What amused Gilda, though, was that another griffon lady, about as old as she was, grabbed Gevorg from behind and pulled him away. Not only once, but twice because he was too heavy for her. Now that was just plain rude! That was Gilda’s penis! Her indignation must have shown in her face, because the griffoness giggled as she dragged Gevorg a third time, with his silly helpless stare.

“Repeating the same dish the entire dinner isn’t fun, lovely.” She wore a beautiful golden tiara, plain, but exquisite. Her voice slurred, almost as though she was drunk, but not quite. Gilda knew the difference. But she didn’t truly care, anyway.

Her point was fair, to be honest. Gilda responded, snickering and without thinking, because thinking was just too damn hard. She waved her paw at him. Not only were her thoughts funny but also her voice sounded funny too. “Bye, Gevorg. Have fun.”

Wait. Her eyebrow raised. Gilda was alone, and that was not good at all. She found Gertha nearby. Still wearing that beautiful piece of jewelry, she laid with her back on top of a griffon dude, still, letting him do most of the job of pumping his dick inside her back entry. A hunter from Frozenlake, judging by his pristine white doused with the red light. Another guy leaned into her, one of the caravan’s scouts, doing the same to her pussy, holding her flanks and breathing coarsely, kissing her chest. Her eyes turned upward, and Gilda didn’t know if she had passed out or just plunged into bliss. She kept bobbing her head, blowing a third guy, a younger northerner that seemed to be dark gray, sitting by them, petting her neck. She was probably fine. Gertha really seemed to like that stuff.

The problem remained. Gilda was alone, and Gertha was hogging three whole entire guys just to herself!

Before she could complain, a griffoness walked in closer to her in the sea of horny griffons. A beautiful griffoness, older than Gilda, and bulkier. The red lighting made it difficult to identify her colors but did little to hide the muscles of a griffoness used to fighting. Her eyes had markings of aging on their corners, but it hardly made her less beautiful. Seeing Gilda, her tail whipped from one side to the other while she beamed like she’d won the lottery.

“Thunder and lightning! I found her!” Her voice was like a lyre, and her eyes shone like a pair of stars upon recognizing Gilda. “Gaunther! Over here! I found her! The Swordmaiden who danced for Mother Harpy and her cute lovebird.”

Gilda raised a finger. “Ah. Nah. No. She’s Lady Gwendolen. It’s supposed to be a secret, you know?”

“It sure is, little raptor!” The queen chortled while the male joined her.

Another one of the ridiculously beautiful griffons. His colors, too, seemed lost to the hall’s red shine, but that did little against his physique or his glorious crest of forward-swept feathers. Gilda could see a few streaks of silver in his plumage, but even under the eerie lighting, he was utterly handsome. Their signs of aging just made them look more mature. Both wore matching iron tiaras adorned with the shape of a mountain. Or crowns. Gilda wasn’t sure about the nomenclature. What mattered was that the female petted her chest and smiled at her.

The male griffon, sitting by the female, showed Gilda a piece of jewelry. Although, she wasn’t sure that was the proper name for that either. It looked like one of those expensive things the pony princesses wore. It was an even more beautiful version of the collar Gertha had gained. A ridiculously shiny and intricate collar, like a netting of shiny metal and gems that would cover her chest. Shaped like a triangle, the tip held a gem about the same size as Gilda’s eye.

She gasped, but then she giggled with a wave of her paw. “Dude, you don’t need to give me a gift to get laid with me right now.”

He chuckled at her. “True that, milady. It may be awkward to gift someone in such a situation for you, the younger Children of the Harpy. You probably don’t understand, but you returned someone to us. And I insist you allow us to gift this to you.”

“Now, that is just dreadful, Gaunther.” His mate rolled her eyes and flared her wings before she smiled at Gilda. “Don’t concern yourself with that right now, little raptor. All you need to know is that it is a gift! From some silly old griffons to a beautiful young queen. You can even wear it now! It always makes me feel terrific wearing these pretty things. We girls like these things and that doesn’t change with the millennia.”

Before Gilda could even say anything, the older griffoness whizzed behind her and slipped the jewel into place, closing it behind Gilda’s neck. Gilda had to admit its weight sat nicely on her neck, especially with the smile she got from the old griffoness once she walked in front of her again.

“Now, would you mind joining us? It would honor us greatly!” The female bounced, as excited as a griffon could get, holding her paws together. “There is this thing that we enjoy doing…”

“What exactly?” Gilda raised an eyebrow and stopped petting her new bling.

“Well, you have a griffon lady friend. I would bet you are good at the old tongue lovemaking. We have some positively lovely young ladies here.” The older griffoness squealed and giggled. “But you are… The Swordmaiden of the Shaddani! I don’t think you understand how important you are to us! And we would love to play with a feisty young lady for once!”

“Ah. Sure!” Gilda chuckled and swayed a little. “Do you want me to eat you up? ‘Cause I’m down for eating a smoking hot griffoness anytime. I hope your dude isn’t just going to watch, though.”

“Milady, my stoicism is not indicative of my fervor in servicing an alluring and endearing young queen such as yourself.” He put a paw on his chest. Speaking like… Gilda didn’t know what he was speaking like, but he said he’d participate, so that was fine by her.

“Great! You Frozenlake nobles speak funny, but if you fuck right, I don’t care. And thanks for this! I love it!” Gilda chuckled at his funny words. What a trip.

“Of course, dear.” The griffoness grinned and then pushed Gilda’s chest, delicately, but Gilda held her paw and flapped her wings, hitting a few griffons around her.

“Nah, nah, no. You said feisty! I get to stay on top!” Gilda beamed at her, too.

“Oh! Of course! Splendid!” The alluring older queen even did a little happy tap-dance before she plopped onto her back and gave Gilda a wide view of her private area and her nipples poking out of her smooth fur. “Like this?”

“Yeah! Great!” Gilda was in the mood for more fun, and as far as weird kink stuff went, an older couple getting a younger griffoness involved was pretty tame. Maybe even wholesome? She let herself giggle at the thought of helping that beautiful couple with their fun. They didn’t even need to give her that necklace. Not that she would complain, though.

She joyfully walked next to the older queen, turned around, getting above her, and straddled her chest while pulling up her tail and pushed back her hip a little. Then she looked back at the griffoness holding her rump with fierce-looking talons, pulling her cheeks apart.

“Is this good? Like the view?” She chortled again, but gasped at a sudden shudder when the beautiful queen unceremoniously shoved her tongue inside her vagina like a meaty piece of griffon horniness. That made her titter and whip her tail at the avid griffoness.

“It’s perfect, dear.” The griffoness giggled her hot breath at Gilda’s already sensitive privates after a small sample. “Just get to work too, little raptor.”

Gilda gave a chortle at her comment, already stroking the soft fur behind the griffoness’ thighs and her male walked around them. Talons pulled her lips apart and the griffoness’ breathing on her was almost enough to make her beg for more.

“For feathers’ sake, Glenice. Have some manners.” He joined Gilda’s laughing, sitting behind her, and petting her rump while she looked back at him.

“Come on, old dude.” Gilda wiggled her butt at him. “Give it to me, already.”

“Of course. Excuse me, milady.” His tone was polite, but still cheerful, as he planted his weight on Gilda’s back.

His chest, pressing down on her back, did something to Gilda that if she wasn’t already as wet as she could be, she would drown his mate by now. She supposed it was one of those subconscious things the Harpy would love to talk about. Probably Gilda’s part that liked males.

A grin of anticipation pulled her beak as his paw guided his tip into her slit, dragging on her sensitive lips. And then he held her shoulders to push into her. A wave of pleasure made her gasp and chirp happily. His satisfied grunt told her the feeling was mutual and the immediate, gentle back and forth made her gasp again.

“Oh, yeah… Oh… Yeah. Nice!” She moaned at the growing warmness he kindled inside her nethers. Even if she missed Gevorg’s enthusiasm. The next best thing would be if she had some hot griffon lady to bury her face in. So, she did just that with the hot northerner madam under her.

Her talons pulled at the griffoness’ lips, and her tongue energetically stroked the glistening opening. Gilda pushed her way inside without delay too, delighted at the salty, warm tightness and letting little gasps escape at the filling sensation that kept moving back and forth inside her. Then the female’s tongue started snaking around Gilda’s vulva along with her mate’s dick and intruding in between them like the griffoness wanted to compete over who got to make her go crazy.

“Harpy above… This is awesome!” She gasped, losing a little of the firmness on her hindlegs, before gladly flicking her tongue at the griffoness’ bean, stretching her neck to reach just a little better. Her breath came out in moans and gasps and she kept her eyes closed, losing herself in the amazing sensations those two were giving her. Maybe a touch claustrophobic when the griffoness held her hungrily with her tights. Gilda bucked her hips against her partner’s mate, making muffled whines and groans. Her head was filled with nothing more than gooey, warm, and sexy feelings.

Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore and raised her head with a long, helpless groan. Her body shuddered, and she pushed herself against the male’s groin and did nothing more than enjoy the quivering waves of sexual fulfillment. She simply reacted with another long, surrendering moan when her genitals squeezed the male.

“Oh, she loves you, dear!” The griffoness giggled breathlessly at Gilda’s groin.

He grunted and repositioned himself on top of Gilda’s back and bit her scruff, talons pricking the skin on her shoulders before he resumed thrusting into her. She cried and her wings flared open so stiff they hurt while his pushes made her rock back and forth on top of his mate.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, little raptor?” The griffoness chastised Gilda and squeezed her butt with her sharp talons.

Gilda yelped and rapidly went back to work without even thinking about dominance. She rubbed her beak on the griffoness’ soaked lips and flicked her tongue at her clitoris. Repeating moans and whines, almost crying at every thrust the male pushed inside her. His straining grunts joined with all the moaning and whining from the two females. His groin slapped against Gilda’s hind faster and harder, to the point the whole thing threatened to overwhelm her. Any control was a long-forgotten whimsy.

His partner had stopped licking at Gilda, but she didn’t care. The tan griffoness on top hissed and her back bent as she held a scream at her throat with all the tenseness that his humping piled on her. Gilda let it renew her enthusiasm for the other griffoness and when she couldn’t hold it any longer, she humped her hip too, following the rhythm of her again spasming muscles dictated. The male liked it too because he held her shoulders, pulling her against him with one last thrust and stopped, groaning, breathing coarsely while filling Gilda with warm male griffon goo.

It felt better every time. Gilda squealed when he pulled out with a sting at her lips. This time she simply laid on top of her female partner and dedicated herself to coasting on that afterglow and breathing. Just breathing. She even made a quick mental note of trying that with Grunhilda and Gevorg, just for the sake of the kinkiness.

“Oh… Mother Harpy…” Gilda gasped before she let a grin show on her beak. “Hey, your mate made a mess. You should do something about it.”

What had gotten into her, she asked herself amid her hazy thoughts. Who talked like that? It sure was fun, though. When the horny griffoness beneath her hungrily licked inside her vagina, Gilda pushed her hip against her with a giggly moan. Satisfied with the meaty worm wiggling inside her, she lowered her head again to do the same to the griffoness. Her urgent murmurs told Gilda she was doing it right, but Gilda’s paws trembled, and she lost control of her breathing the more the griffoness mercilessly licked at her. She was not about to stop, though.

Gilda pulled the griffoness’ slit open and licked at her squeezing insides, still letting little whimpers escape. Not bothering with anything other than licking that hot older griffoness, just to hear her gasps too until her own lady bits exploded with yet another wave of mind-numbing bliss. Gilda’s head raised with a scream. She felt the griffoness giggling into her, flicking her tongue at Gilda’s sensitive nub. Shifting her body just so, she gave the griffoness a better angle and let her head hang, with tired little cries at the sensation flooding her body. It. Just. Wouldn’t stop!

Then her partner’s mate shadowed over her. She didn’t know what he wanted to do with his pink griffon meat outside of his sheath. Did he want to bone his mate? Did he want Gilda to blow him? He had a really nice one, too, glistening with Gilda’s own personal smell of horny griffoness. If it was too kinky, she didn’t care. She reached forward and let it inside her beak. Did she know what she was doing? No. But the griffoness’ still insistent licking and that repeating, amazing, orgasm made her do it. The whole thing felt otherworldly, thrilling. She just wanted it all to keep going. The saltiness covering his shaft filled her mouth, and she kept slithering her tongue around it, closing eyes and more orgasmic shockwaves of pleasure filled her, forcing murmurs around the male member inside her mouth.

He put a paw on her head and gently thrusted his dick into her mouth, so she was doing it well enough. The tip poked at the top of her mouth, and she did her best to envelop it with the fleshy parts of her mouth and her tongue, keeping her beak from hurting him. Largely by avoiding it with the sharp, curved tip. It turned out easier than she thought. And much more stimulating, too. The smell of an aroused male made her head spin.

She held on to his hips with her paws, doing her best to just do it right. Letting him slide back and forth on the soft insides of her mouth, murmuring every time he slid deeper into her, doing her best to tighten her messy caress on his penis. She smiled when she heard his pleased moan. From the female still brushing her tongue at her insides to the salty warmness in her mouth, it all overwhelmed her with horny pleasure, and she didn’t allow herself to stop.

Another tongue joined the lascivious older griffoness and someone held her flanks, pushing a very welcome warm piece of griffon meat into her. She had lost count of how orgasms she had already had. The penis inside her mouth scraped her tongue with its little barbs, it engorged inside her mouth and squirted at her throat. She coughed and let go, getting a couple of sticky squirts on her face. It sent her in a carrousel of overwhelming sensations all over again. When in the ever-loving world would she ever imagine she would like that sort of thing? Not the time for thinking. Just more lewd. More. She wanted more.

There was screaming, the good kind, and she was sure several paws shifted her around. At some point she found herself leaned over Gevorg’s lap, with his penis in her mouth while someone’s penis eagerly filled her vagina. She heard Grunhilda’s giggling moans next to her, but her senses refused to process anything that wasn’t some sort of sexual stimulation.

When she came to… Came… She giggled at the word. Her bones felt like gelatin and her vulva was sore. She smelled semen with every breath and her mouth kept the salty taste. She giggled again at how naughty she had been, full of sluggish thoughts inside her head and barely moving at all.

Her eyes were heavy, and her head rested on Gevorg’s lap. His little friend hid inside its sheath, but she smiled and giggled again. Shame it was all a mess of griffons fucking her inside her head. A dreamy and blissful mess, but a mess. Ah, well… She could always blow him again. That was fine, she supposed. Just… Rest now. All the surrounding griffons snoozed, and she wanted to quiet herself and do the same.

Before she managed, though, her surroundings slowly registered in her mind. The beautiful griffoness and her mate were gone. Shame, they seemed fun. Gertha was there too, sleeping while curled into a ball with the hunter from their caravan cuddling her. Lady Geena laid on her back with a young northerner on top of her, but she had some angry whip marks on her thighs. No sign of the freaky griffoness that teased her with the flail, nor of her helpers.

Gilda squinted and blinked sluggishly. They were back in the stony hall. Not even the great white hall to where the Harpy had taken them to, but the old temple. And she was gone too. Gilda found Grunhilda, though. The beautiful male with the wonderful headdress was gone. She laid on her back over a beautiful Nartani guy and another slept leaned against her chest. Godwin’s cute kittyfriends were nearby, sleeping too, but she didn’t see Godwin.

Touching her chest, Gilda could feel the delicate netting of the collar they had gifted her. Under normal lights and with lazy eyes, she could see the golden network of diamond dots and the giant yellow diamond it held. She smiled a little, too tired to think about it for too long.

A large, strong paw petted Gilda’s head, large talons trailing into her plumage. Gilda smiled and relaxed against Gevorg’s lap, smelling of horny griffon.

“What a beautiful gift you received. Did you have fun, Gilda?” Her strong, commanding voice sounded soft and cozy. Gilda nodded and crooned. “Did you get what you wanted?”

She nodded again, murmuring a soft ‘yes’. Mother Harpy spoke to her again, softly caressing her head.

“I said no griffon would leave unsatisfied, did I not?” Gilda could hear the mischievousness in the Allmother’s beak as she purred words at her. “Thus, I am compelled to do as he asks. He said he wanted to have you. And he is as faithful a húskarl, as you are a Swordmaiden, both symbols of my power and the fulfillment of my creation. Beautiful, faithful and perfect.”

“I have decided he can have you for now.” Her silky voice still carried the Mother of Storms’ stringent will, which no griffon could deny. “You both have much to learn, as I assuredly cannot deliver you to the First of My Children lacking in the arts of lovemaking. Now, can I?”

Gilda’s mind was sluggish, but that sounded reasonable. Regardless, her strong touch left Gilda, and a griffon laid himself on her. He pecked ardently at her neck and huffed at her, holding her shoulders.

Gilda wasn’t angry. She giggled. “Sorry, dude. I’m bushed…”

Someone pulled at her red scarf and jerked her awake with a sudden jolt of energy. “You don’t need to do much.”

“Godwin?!” Her eyes could have jumped off their sockets when she looked back at him.

She gasped as he still pulled at her scarf. It tightened around her neck and her eyes jumped from Godwin’s intense stare to the great white and black griffoness looming over them like she wanted to watch. To witness.

Gilda’s confused stare remained on Aya Harpyia’s devilish grin while Godwin licked her jaw and his stiff penis poked at her anus. A surprised gasp escaped her when he pushed his organ to stretch her with a jolt of pain. But she didn’t fight it. Instead, she let her head rest on Gevorg’s stomach and whined at the pain. At the thickness that pushed through the stretched plump muscles under her tail.

“Relax, Gilda…” The Harpy somehow grinned even more wickedly at her. “Give in to the pleasure. It always hurts a little in the beginning. Allow yourself to enjoy that, too.”

Gilda, in the hurricane of confusing thoughts, blushed while Godwin grunted in her ear, pushing his penis further into her until his stomach ground at her rump. She gasped when he pulled back and pushed again. A soft whimper escaped. She frowned, and her tail whipped at the sheets. She wasn’t sure anymore if it was the confusion, the pain, or a strange pleasure she had never experienced before.

“Oh, it feels so different.” Godwin moaned with a silly excitement and the Harpy pecked at the feathers around his ear, whispering something to him alone.

Gilda eventually allowed herself a sultry moan. It felt different. She wasn’t sure when she stopped hurting. Or had she? Her groin warmed with the sensations of Godwin’s penis moving both ways at her stretched hole. She lowered her head and moaned again, louder, when he began moving with a rhythm. Gasping and smiling at just how good it felt.

Gilda’s paws closed into fists, and her voice broke with a gasping cry. The fur on her sore lips wetted and her vagina ached with an unfulfilling lack of warm griffon meat to stretch her. A long gasp turned to yet another moan before she turned on her side and lifted her leg. She raised her head, looking back at Godwin with her beak hanging half-open. The tom caught on to her cue, kissing her. Their beaks fit together, and she pressed against him, reaching with a paw at his nape, holding him, forcing her tongue into his beak. Grunting and noisy breaths filled her ears with the wet noises of his groin slapping her rump.

The Harpy clucked while her eyes drank in the scene they made, filled with glee. Then she guided Godwin’s paw between Gilda’s thighs and he shoved a pair of fingers inside her. Gilda smiled with a long moan, breaking their kiss. It emboldened her partner, massaging her insides with his fingers, eagerly humping her. Gilda cried, letting her head rest on the bed and Godwin grunted and moaned, keeping his stare at her, increasingly restless with his humping and taking obvious pleasure in fingering her too.

Gilda laughed and held his head with another embrace, holding him close. “You know, this is kinda fair. I can’t really complain.”

The Aftermath, pt. I

Gilda woke to chatting griffons and conflicting feelings and sensations. She couldn’t remember ever having been so relaxed and rested after so much exerting activity in her life. The soreness in between her thighs felt insignificant next to the memories of ecstatic ‘fun’, to put it simply. She couldn’t remember ever passing out doing anything she’d rather just keep doing. The result was that her mind was as serene as a field of undisturbed virgin snow.

She was lying with her back on a mattress as soft as a cloud and a bedsheet as smooth as silk. Immersed in warm air, thick with the smells of griffons and a hint of lewd stuff. Snuggly comforting bodies, most still asleep, surrounded her. Such as Grunhilda, lying next to her and snoozing away with a soft breathing. Some stirred next to her, and others shared greetings with soft voices and respectful, hushed voices.

She stretched the discomfort out of her neck, keeping her eyes closed and shielding them from the light. Her right hind leg extended, and she let out the most satisfying yawn ever. Someone lied next to her, with their head on her stomach. When she finally opened her eyes and raised her head, she found Godwin using her belly for a pillow.

Godwin’s dark tan had a nice shine under the tinted light from the windows. A smooth velvet in the shape of firm muscles and shiny wings resting in their place. Shapely curves of a fit young griffon drew her eyes and reignited vivid memories from the past night.

Gilda’s beak moved but made no sounds and she looked away with a slight tint on her cheeks. Then she looked at him again, calling his name. He responded with a sigh and snuggled closer to her. Accommodating his head on her teats and hugging her thigh while her face reddened like a ripe tomato.

“Godwin!” she cried with a piercing shriek.

He jumped with a squawk and a few griffons around them startled awake. A few grunts and annoyed groans followed, but nobody really complained. Gilda turned on her side as Grunhilda stirred, and Godwin yawned, backing from her a step. Once the shock waned, he grinned at Gilda, speaking with a cheeky, cheery tone. “Hi! Good morning!”

Gilda glared his chirpiness into submission. “You better not let what happened get to your head!”

His grin turned to a grimace, and he shook his head frantically. “No! Not at all!”

With a final glaring scowl, she turned on her belly to stand and her body pressed something against the mattress. Standing, she grabbed Mythical in her scabbard and smiled. “Oh. Hi. I almost forgot you were here!”

“Are you talking to your sword?” Godwin frowned at her.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Gilda grinned awkwardly and sat. Leaving the weapon on her back where it stayed, she could feel the magic clinging to her.

She yawned again as Gjarma approached with a pleasant smile. Lady Geena’s attractive salmon and white colored Loremaster assistant carried something with her beak. A small wooden dish with a similar bowl. Sitting by Gilda, she offered it to her.

“This is for you, Lady Gilda.” Gjarma smiled, holding the dish in one paw, and offering the bowl with the other.

A combination of trust and a slow, sleepy mind moved Gilda. She didn’t even think, despite the potent smell. The bitterness seemed to shrivel her tongue, and she put it out with a childish ‘bleurgh’. The salmon loremaster giggled at her while Gilda recalled what that tea was. Eventually, the tan griffoness decided the tea wasn’t so bitter. At least not as getting a cub from any random male that stuck his peen inside her that night. She downed the thing in one go. It tasted disgraceful anyway.

“Thanks.” She returned the bowl to the young loremaster, who responded with a respectful nod.

“If you would like to bathe, there is a bathroom that way.” Gjarma pointed with a wing. She was busy that morning, it seemed. Probably making sure none of the high value queens got pregnant in an unfavorable matchup, even within the Court of the Harpy. It should probably irk Gilda more than it did, but she was past worrying about stuff she couldn’t do anything about.

Seeing Gevorg next to her, sitting, and giving his neck a long stretch with a groan before shaking his mane of gray feathers distracted her. He turned to her with a frown. “Wow. That was intense.”

Gilda laughed softly at him while her tail kept swishing from side to side and she grabbed the golden dancing garment. “We gotta do that again with some privacy. Just the three of us.”

“I need a bath.” Grunhilda complained, still half asleep, sitting next to Gilda.

Judging by the disheveled fur and feathers with dried up sticky patches, Gilda agreed Grunhilda needed a bath. She probably needed one too and smiled at Big Girl’s sleepy ‘just woke up’ eyes. “Come on.”

Gilda laid the dress over her back and led Grunhilda to the bathroom Gjarma had mentioned. It was easy to spot with a small gathering of griffon ladies chatting or just waiting patiently by the door. The male one was on the opposite side of the hall. Someone had thought big time about the meeting and the logistics of it. Orgy. It was an orgy. Whatever the name, it had been thoroughly planned. Gilda really wanted some personal care, and some distance after that night and the placement of the bathrooms provided that. She liked Godwin and Gevorg, but she didn’t need them right now and they would find their own place.

Unfortunately, the rich old lady was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Lady Gwendolen. Not seeing them made Gilda’s bang of feathers deflate, but she supposed the Harpy couldn’t expose herself that much. And that she had important goddess stuff to take care of.

The uneventful walk let her see the glorious mosaics of griffons on the windows filled with the day’s light. They departed from the heroic saga narrative of the northerners. Depicting griffons without armor or their ubiquitous weapons. They appeared naked, in tasteful poses that emphasized their more natural assets. Given the purpose of the building, Gilda didn’t even think it was strange. The griffons of old fucked too, after all. Creepy? After last night, nothing would surprise Gilda in that regard.

Judging by the brightness coming from the windows, the sun was high outside. It was difficult to gauge precisely because of the cloud cover and the painted windows, but they had probably slept more than usual. Regardless, Gilda shook the sleepiness out of her eyes and joined the others.

Gilda greeted about a dozen griffon ladies talking or waiting by the entrance. The younger ones bowed respectfully and deferentially let her and her thrall go in first. Nodding just as courteously, Gilda led Grunhilda past the white curtain doors, after a pair of gray griffonesses on their way in.

The air, thick with steam, rose perfume, and the sound of running water, greeted her from the next room. Finding herself in a cozy, dim anteroom, she saw Gertha giving her peytral to a cute griffon lady by a counter. The yellow griffoness gave it to another, behind the counter, who stashed the thing in a box as the latter sent Gertha to the next room with a smile. Then she smiled at Gilda.

“Greetings!” The yellow queen smiled radiantly. “Let me take care of those things for you.”

The one behind the counter was blue and white, and she also smiled at Gilda, resting her paws on the countertop. She pointed at the jewelry Gilda wore. “We’ll clean it properly for you! And we’ll also send everything to the Manor, Lady Gilda.”

“Sweet!” Gilda smiled as she removed her tiara and then the peytral, along with the red scarf and the dress. Grunhilda looked at the iron bracelet on her paw and didn’t give it to the griffon ladies, though. Gilda just let her do as she desired, thanking the two helpful queens.

Past the door, several showerheads lining the side walls rained hot water and filled the room with steam while chatty griffon ladies bathed. The central area was mostly dry, if heavy with steam, and there was a plate on a small table offering a pile of soaps. Deeper inside was a pool of hot water and a heavy door probably led into another pool with cold water.

A side door led to the latrines. With the amount of alcohol flowing in the previous night, it surprised Gilda none that nobody even minded the shared space. Running water just took all the nasty stuff away from minds, anyway. Funny how going to the bathroom and bathing became social things to the northerners. It probably came with the thrifty empire customs regarding water. She was not complaining, though. It felt much cozier than her previous self would have thought. She and Grunhilda just took care of business before occupying their places under the showers.

“Do you want me to help you, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda grinned while she held one of the oval soaps with chunks of rose petals in her paw. As if she needed to ask.

Gilda enjoyed a relaxing and warm bath and noted Godwin’s kittyfriend, Glóra. Like most of the griffonesses there, taking care of cleaning herself. Conversations sounded casual and relaxed, and Gilda even took part in some small talk with the griffonesses next to her. Just mindless words about the fun and her beautiful thrall.

Grunhilda rinsed Gilda’s back and front with the soap, and then she returned the favor. Big Girl seemed to have a lot of fun with it. Gilda spotted Gertha there and allowed herself to watch as the strong pink griffoness covered herself with foam and washed it away. The Harpy’s words about how Gertha too desired Gilda made her blush slightly. If she didn’t take care, she’d end up bedding every griffon in her group of friends.

Lady Geena soon joined them and distracted Gilda. Although she was just as much an eye candy as the other. They exchanged greetings, then Grunhilda innocently decided she wanted to help her aunt too. Gilda had to conjure up some thoughts of dead puppies. Fortunately, nothing too embarrassing happened. She never thought she’d be glad not to be a male.

Once clean, they joined the others in the hot pool. Grunhilda swam around the pool like a cub while Gilda and Geena talked. After all, they still had a mission to perform. Some bandits to bring to justice. The Harpy’s justice. The best kind of justice. Although Geena had no new information about that. Just a quick, friendly reminder that Gilda was supposed to go murder some horrible griffons soon. Gilda should meet her in her office, in the keep for details. And that was it. Just a formality because they had to share the same space.

Gilda reassured her she had not forgotten and that she’d take her friends on the mission just to guarantee success. Once their exchange was over, Lady Geena turned her attention to other important griffonesses of her realm. Gilda saw Godwin’s partners close together, like a bunch of cubs in high school, talking and celebrating. Apparently, the experience made them friends, or something. Good for them. Gilda wouldn’t mind knowing them further, but she decided not to intrude on their little group. Other griffon ladies wanted to talk to her too, although about nothing important.

Once the hot bath was done, with its additional soaps and oils, they moved to the cold bath, and it was peaceful as it was back at Wayfarer’s Rest. As she let herself float and drift in the water, Gilda did not know what her future home would look or be like, but she was going to make sure it had one of these awesome places. Not even all the present griffon ladies disturbed the experience as they kept silent. All the chatting and happy griffonesses took the time to relax.

Once it became boring and Grunhilda grew restless, Gilda decided it was time to move on and start the day already. But before the exit were several little vanities, each one with a cute griffon lady offering to spruce up the visitors after the bath. How could Gilda say no? Both she and Grunhilda simply relaxed and allowed Lady Geena’s servants to take care of them with brushes, pincers, and a few creams.

Featherbedding? Possibly. Probably. Lady Geena understood the importance of a relaxing bath and some pampering and of trustworthy griffons to perform such jobs.

When it was over, Gilda felt like she had been born again and walked on clouds. Exiting the baths with Grunhilda following close, she found the hall was still half-filled with excited griffons. They talked and mingled like it was still party time. Especially because some did more than mingling and talking, but Gilda didn’t let that distract her.

She found Godwin and Gevorg at a table with several light and refreshing little pieces of chicken and vegetables. Her brow wrinkled a little when they stopped talking at her approach. But either Grunhilda didn’t notice, or her good mood just made her ignore it. “Hi, guys!”

Admittedly, Gilda’s mood was pretty great too, and seeing Gevorg’s shiny black, velvety ass did wonders for her already light mood. As they responded to Big Girl’s greeting, Gilda sat next to them and took one of the little morsels of food. It smelled of lemon and chicken. “So, I’m supposed to go see Lady Geena at her office. Inside the keep.”

“We got a rebellious hamlet to set straight.” Gevorg nodded with a frown while Godwin and Grunhilda stuffed their faces with food. “I had almost forgotten about that with all the weirdness and excitement of the night.”

“I’ll bet…” Gilda responded with a chuckle. “So, I’ll just eat something, and I’ll go see Lady Geena. I suppose I should visit the Aviary and see if everything is alright.”

“Yeah.” Gevorg agreed and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “I gotta see my griffons at the barracks and solve any hitches that happened during the night without bothering Lady Geena. Then I’ll tell my best griffons to get ready to leave. Tomorrow, at dawn ought to work. A little earlier would be better. I'd rather have daylight to find a decent place to camp for a while before attacking them.”

Gilda thought it would be a quick trip, a brawl, and the trip back. But what did she know? She simply agreed with a nod, and both looked at Godwin just as he finished gobbling one of the chicken and veggie canapes. He just stared at them for a while before he talked to them. “Ah… I have to take care of something. It’s kind of weird…”

Grunhilda gave him the evil eye. “Are you trying to squirrel away from the raid?”

“You’re an adult now!” Gevorg’s eyes opened wide, and his voice became urgent. “It’s expected that you seek glory and offer service for sponsorship and honor. You gotta pay for your living too, and serving under a noble like Lady Gilda is legitimate and good. I know it’s not a monster hunt, but some of these griffons are just as bad. I’ve had reports that some of them are downright feral. You know, honor, duty, and glory. We gotta stop them. It’s important.”

“No!” Godwin flapped his wings before he controlled his impetus and coughed into his fist. “I… The Har… Er… Lady Gwendolen. She mated me and Glóra. And she has granted me a title of nobility. I am the ‘Leifrlendgriff of Griffindell’, and that means that I am going to be the next Lord of the Black Gate. She wants me to remain in the caravan and go to Griffindell. She is going to train us to do our jobs. It’s not that I’m trying to ditch my duties, it’s just… I have responsibilities now.”

Maybe Gilda should have worried she not only understood it, but that the news failed to surprise, or even shock, her. What surprised her was the fact that the Harpy hadn’t made up some new rule for Godwin to mate all three of his kittyfriends from the meeting.

Gears kept spinning inside her head. After all, if Lord Gilad was to become the Griffon King, he would have to move to Griffonstone. Or even if he wouldn’t, he probably couldn’t be Lord of the Black Gate and king at the same time. Someone would have to take care of Griffindell for him to focus on the rest of the nation. Or so seemed reasonable to Gilda. It seemed reasonable the Harpy would find someone trustworthy to take care of Griffindell and the northerner griffons. After that, She could focus on making the Empire become a reality. Ensuring that Grigory would inherit Griffonia with the best chances of making it happen.

Unless Gilda had grossly misunderstood something, that was even more reason for Godwin to go with them. He must earn respect pronto. Because Gilda doubted the northerners would be okay with their nobility, was it not for their system of honor.

“You’re still going with us to fight the bad griffons, aren’t you?” Grunhilda glowered at Godwin. Gilda had expected him to respond immediately, but he didn’t. He turned away from Grunhilda’s stare as it quickly turned into an angry glare.

“You’re afraid something is going to happen to you and Glóra is going to be left alone, mated to a dead griffon.” Gilda offered. After all, griffons should only mate once, or so she was told. But Godwin still didn’t answer. But Gilda knew he had two sisters who he worried about. Gilda understood all that, too. She didn’t want to die either, but…

Gevorg put into words what Gilda was thinking, and more. “If you let her see you thinking like that, your mate will accuse you of cravenness and could get the mating nullified. Though, I would not think the problem is that you are afraid. She would not mate you to Glóra if She thought you to be a coward, and I assume Her to be a good judge off a griffon’s character.”

Gevorg shrugged. “The point being, if Her all-knowing grace chose you, chances are on your side. Now, I know you are young and want to protect your sisters and be with your mate, but if we were supposed to think like that, nobody would go out to hunt monsters. And that is why we are supposed to live our days as though they are the last and be prepared for the Allmother to call us to the Stormy Eyrie.”

Gilda just let him speak. As did Grunhilda and Godwin. All three listened to the black and gray griffon. “I never got myself mated. I had never found a queen that distracted me from my job. But I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. To let her think I am craven before my duty. I don’t think Glóra is the kind that will join the fight, but she strikes me as the kind that will hold you to your duty. Dutifulness, bravery… Those are the things she likely sees in you and that Lady Gwendolen saw, too.”

Gevorg’s appraisal of the Harpy’s motivation struck as naïve. There was more than that, Gilda knew for sure. He was not exactly wrong, but that was not all. But she said nothing. Godwin certainly knew it too, and nothing needed to be said.

“She… Glóra wants me to meet her parents. Officially.” Godwin said something. “Before we go out tomorrow. She plans on moving in with me immediately.”

Gilda rolled her eyes. Must be overwhelming. Glóra clung to him like she had found the best piece of ham in the market. She made a small, discreet smile, because she didn’t blame the young queen in the end.

“Then go with her. Show them who you are. And tonight, make it another one your mate will remember. Tomorrow, do all you can to return to her. All except putting it before your duty.”

Godwin didn’t answer right away, and his eyes aimed at the floor. Only after a few breaths, he looked at them. “I’ll find Glóra. Thank you, Captain Gevorg.”

Gilda, Grunhilda and the black griffon watched Godwin walking away toward the exit of the female's bathroom. There he sat from a respectable distance and waited. Gilda frowned, not looking at the griffon sitting next to her, still focusing on the young tom. “For feather’s sake. Now I feel responsible for both of them.”

Gevorg chuckled and walked a couple of steps before turning around and walking backwards, talking to her with a wave of his wing. “Nothing changed then. I’ll see you later, Gilda.”

His words made her blink and then raise an eyebrow. He had a point, the rascal. Gilda stood where she was, watching him leave and exchange a few words with griffons on the way out. Until Grunhilda pulled one of her primary feathers like a cub about to ask for a candy. “Is he going to be traveling with us? We could buy a larger tent. I promise I’ll keep it tidy!”

Gilda turned to Grunhilda and poked her beak with a talon. “We gotta do something about your horniness. Go to the Manor and tell the majordomo that Godwin gotta have a better room to accommodate his mate. And that Georgia should have a better one too now they’re adults. Stay put in there and don’t make trouble with the maids. I gotta take care of stuff.”

“Yes, Miss Gilda.” The white griffoness went cross-eyed, but then she grinned and shook her fists in a bout of excitement. “Can we take our new weapons to the blacksmith? We’re going on a quest tomorrow!”

“Take this seriously, Grunhilda. But yes. After I’m done.” Gilda concluded. “Don’t bother them for now. Just get your hind to the Manor and wait.”

“Yes, Miss Gilda.” Grunhilda said, stood, and trotted out of the hall, past all the griffons in there.

Left alone, Gilda made a small frown and clicked a talon on her beak. “I suppose I ought to let Lady Geena get herself ready. I could go see the Aviary before everything. Just to be sure the roc is alright. The others will be at the Manor when they’re ready and we’re bound to see each other at lunch.”

Just as Grunhilda left, Georgia came into the hall. The blue queen swiveled her head to one side and the other until she saw Gilda sitting in there and approached. She looked well-groomed compared to how Gilda must have been before the bath. “Morning. Wanna tell me what happened? ‘Cause you vanished in the middle of all that drama.”

“No.” Georgia blushed and frowned, sitting before Gilda, and wrapping her tail around herself. “I don’t.”

“Fair enough.” Gilda chuckled and made Georgia’s blush worsen. “You should go see your brother and meet your new sister-in-law.”

“My what?!” Georgia’s sapphire eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “What did you say?”

“You better go find your brother. You have stuff you need to talk about. Meet me in the Manor later.” Gilda said as she raised and left Georgia to figure it out on her own. She’d probably need the queen to deal with the hippogriffs when it was time. It was a good idea to give Georgia some space and time before that.

On her way out, Gilda greeted a few griffons and made small talk with them. Outside of the old building, the city’s guards kept watch as griffons returned to the town after the festivity of the night. Fresh snow covered the ground and flavored the breeze swaying Gilda’s feathers. She stopped for a second and took a deep breath before resuming her way to the city proper. The perpetual gray of the storm clouds dominated the sky, violent as usual, but they seemed higher than the last day.

Life seemed to have returned to normal after the giant celebration that had taken over the city. Streets needed to be cleared of the snow and walkways tended to. Goods needed delivering and griffons had places to be. Cubs ran, converging on one home in the street as Gilda walked by, under the eyes of one of the blue-wearing griffon ladies. Some of the city guards patrolled the streets, but a calm serenity reigned, with peaceful and amenable griffons returning to their routine.

Griffons worked on dismantling the fairgrounds near the entrance of the keep. The job was nearly done, and it was understandable given the late hour. The city’s market plaza returned to business as usual, as griffons still needed to buy stuff and vendors needed to sell them. Most of the work revolved around replacing the plank walkways and taking apart the stands. In the surrounding stores, griffons removed the ice from the windows and the snow from the walkways. A griffon-pulled cart hauled fresh straw for the keep’s courtyard, while another hauled the soggy and dirty out.

The guards greeted Gilda as she passed the gatehouse, and all the activity seemed normal in the yard. Under the breeze, the banners with the Harpy’s iconography barely moved, and some dogs barked in the distance. The execution block was clean, and the cages were free of prisoners. Griffons didn’t seem to want problems that morning.

Most of the additional decoration for the Gathering Storm was still up. Griffons worked, removing colorful banners and strings hanging between the tower and the walls. Working carefully so they could use them again next year. A pair of Sky Sentries stood guard before the tower’s massive, reinforced wood door and a trio of griffons talked about something before it. An older lady wearing a white veil over her blue feathers too stood nearby. Gilda supposed they waited to see Lady Geena.

A group of small cubs ran everywhere, making a raucous racket while a young loremaster, gray and white, tried to keep them under control. Gilda thought they were cute, but she pressed her step with the side entrance of the Aviary in sight.

“Hi! Are you Miss Gilda?” One of the wee griffons looked up to her and made her stop or she would trample the little thing. An adorable little cyan and gray thing with big blue eyes. Full of innocence and hope. “Can you make a donation to our orphanage?”

Gilda chuckled and patted her little head. “Sorry sweetie. I’m afraid I don’t really have a lot of money myself. I owe everything to Lady Gwendolen.”

“Aw… Well…” The little chick stared down and shuffled her wings a little. “At least I don’t owe anyone money. Good luck with that!”

With that, the little griffoness trotted away after her caretaker, the loremaster, calling her back to the group. Gilda watched the small army of cubs grouping together, making their way to the other gate. Those kids probably had it better than Grunhilda growing up in Griffonstone. She wondered if the loremaster had some sort of activity for them in dismantling the carnival grounds. Having been one of the problematic ones, Gilda knew keeping the kids occupied with something safe was a good idea. And the loremasters seemed to really know their way around the cubs.

Wait, did a feathering orphan just pity her? When she turned to look again, the loremaster and the cubs were already gone. Gilda huffed and resumed her walk to the Aviary.

A couple of guards in leather armor, both different shades of gray, seriousness, and boredom, sat before the small door on the side wall of the Aviary. Apparently, Gevorg worried someone might have tried to mess with the infant roc during the night. The pair greeted her with respectful bows and the older one talked to her while the other opened the door after a long yawn.

“Greetings, Lady Gilda. The captain posted a couple of us by the door during the night. Griffons are a touch too curious about the roc. We’re covering the morning shift, and have nothing to report.”

“Did anyone try to enter?” Gilda raised an eyebrow, trying to understand the logic of breaking into a place housing of a feared animal.

“Not exactly.” He shrugged while the other walked out of the way with the open door. “No. But he felt it would be a good idea to expect that. They just kept flying to the roof to see the roc, though. We yelled at them to cut it out, same as the night shift. The caretaker complained they were making the bird nervous.”

Gilda acknowledged his words and made her way inside, past the small storage room. The warmer air welcomed her, as did the sounds of griffons working. Walking into the holding area, the first thing she saw was one of the caravan’s hunters standing on his hindlegs and scooping up straw with bird poo. A lot. A couple of buckets received the nasty loads before another took them away.

Next thing, the gray huntress approached Gilda. She seemed under the weather. Probably a consequence of too much alcohol and partying the previous night. She was up and doing her job, though, and her father and her mate helped clean the place. The roc apparently had simply collapsed on the floor. He slept with complete disregard for all the activity around him or his caretaker talking to Gilda.

“Good morning, Lady Gilda.” The Huntress smiled with tired gray eyes. “He got a bit excited with all the noises and movement.”

“He seems like a bit of a pawful.” Gilda just stared at the bird, fast asleep. Then she turned to the huntress with a grin. It grew in proportion to the idea inside her head. “Say, how many are going with us to the Brokenhorn? Griffons who can help you with our little guy?”

“Ah… A couple. I guess. My Pa and my mate. Most are going back to Wayfarer’s Rest.” The huntress shrugged. “Are you going to hire workers? A lot of the local handlers and hunters make it nervous and get scared of it. I don’t think they will take the job.”

Gilda’s grin grew larger still. Her face lit up with all the glowing excitement. “Do you mind working with hippogriffs?”

“Only if they are lazy.” The griffoness shrugged again, albeit more alert and curious after the surprise. “I’ll work with anyone that will help me do my job! But… Uh… hippogriffs?”

“Cool. Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything!”

Gilda turned on her hindlegs and almost galloped out of the Aviary, barely able to contain herself. She hurried outside and observed the keep’s tower. The griffons outside were still waiting, and the guards were still watching the entrance. Dressed griffons; ladies with dresses and males fancy wearing brigandines or fur stood there. The leather wearing griffons of the city’s guard sat on the wood deck floor and held their pikes on their shoulders, tired of staring at the bourgeois griffons.

She nodded to herself as her wonderful plan grew and became better by the second inside her head. Finally, she turned around toward the Manor. Another quick trot took little more than a couple of minutes to carry her to the closed doors of her temporary home. A pair of Sky Sentries greeted her and opened the doors for her to enter with a passing nod. Inside, the great hall smelled of burning wood and roasting meat. It was mostly empty except for a minor commotion with a pair of the Manor’s maids watching as Godwin and his sister looked down on Giza. The blue baby cub laid on the floor while their green loremaster, Gia, examined her. Godwin’s trio of friends from the previous night too were there.

“She should learn not to eat so many fatty desserts.” Gia declared, raising her ear from Giza’s belly. “Serves her right for screeching at me because of them. I’ve given her something, so that she doesn’t feel too nauseous. I recommend just letting her rest. She should feel better before long, and she can define her own limits.”

Gilda smiled at Gia being a loremaster and approached.

“Poor thing.” Georgia grabbed her little sister and held her in her forelegs. Giza looked miserable, like a rag doll bent backwards and with her beak hanging open. Coming closer, Gilda patted her head.

“I can understand.” Gloriann giggled. “Those fritters were delicious!”

“Guys, I need to talk to you.” Gilda declared and the urgency in her voice drew their attention. Giza raised her head but surrendered after a couple of seconds. Once she reassured the little griffoness again, Gilda addressed the others a second time. “Gertha, I need you to find some good, trustworthy griffons going further north with us. From the caravan. I’ll need them for guard duty, and you can promise them a reasonable pay.”

Gertha said nothing, but her eyes widened with understanding. She simply nodded at Gilda’s command. “Get your brother and the Gunner dudes involved, too.”

“What’s going on?” Godwin turned to her. “You look nervous.”

“You just need to know it is important.” She wasn’t sure why, but Gloriann and Griska showed up there. Maybe they wanted to say goodbye to Godwin, or something, but Gilda would rather they not know about the hippogriffs. Anyway, Godwin’s nod and serious eyes afterwards told Gilda he remembered the situation. “Go with Gertha. You too, Georgia.”

She looked at Gertha again. “Wait for me here. I’m gonna talk to Lady Geena and get the captain of the city guard. We’ll go together.”

“Go where? You’re up to something. What is it?” Gia rolled her eyes, and Gilda’s shaky paws were barely under control. She stared at the green griffoness for a moment, but Gia spoke again before Gilda produced an answer.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Gia offered in an uncharacteristic bout of usefulness.

‘Don’t get involved.’

‘Mind your own business.’

‘Pretend you heard nothing.’

‘Go stuff your mouth with Geary’s dick so you don’t talk.’

All those crossed Gilda’s thoughts, and she was just happy it wasn’t Madam Gelinda talking to her. Hardening her frown and keeping her voice assertive, Gilda settled with something more effective and mature. Gia was better kept busy and under control. “Yeah! I need you to stock up on healing stuff.”

“We already have a stock of remedies and supplies with the caravan.” Gia twisted her beak like a lazy cub given an order.

“Boost it up. Potion crafting supplies too. And potions. I don’t know! You’re the Loremaster. Figure it out. And take Miss Gisele with you. Pay for everything with my name. Mention Lady Gwendolen if you need. Get Gil to talk to the cooks and the maids. We’ll have to feed a bunch of creatures soon. It doesn’t matter if the food is cheap, ‘nutritive’ is fine. Also blankets. Clothing against the cold… Bring everything to the Manor and say they are all supplies for the caravan.”

Gia’s face transformed from lazy contempt to childish stubbornness. “Are you going to tell me what you are up to?”

Gilda responded with a glare of her own. “You offered help is what is going on! Get busy.”

“Fine. Fine.” Gia groaned tiredly and started on her way.

She watched the green griffoness leave before addressing the others again. “Just do what Gertha says. She knows what is going on. I’ll meet you guys here soon. Try not to draw too much attention.”

After a few nods of agreement, Gilda took the stairs up to her room. She barely spared a look to servants or guards along the way. Nobody bothered the important lady in a hurry, and she soon reached her room’s atrium. Grunhilda was on a couch with her book about smithing and holding a knife with a critical scowl, like it had done something wrong.

“Big Girl. Get dressed in something fancy. We’re gonna go see your aunt and Gevorg.” She needed no more words. The white griffoness closed the book and dropped the knife, hopping off the couch and following her into the room.

Smiling at seeing her things waiting for her, Gilda hurried to the bed while Grunhilda stuck her head inside one of the room’s armoires. Mythical was on the bed, and all of Gilda’s bling rested on a griffon mannequin. She donned everything. She started with the ridiculously expensive-looking golden mesh with diamonds. Then the pair of magical bracelets, and the headdress with the Harpy’s visage.

The dancing garment was probably not a good idea. Better save that one for the night. The white cape was perfect, though. Mythical was going too, but the goal was not to slice griffons open. It was to show off. Gilda adjusted her magical sword’s place on her back, under the cape, but so that the hilt poked from behind her shoulder. Finally, Gilda made sure her red scarf was easily visible with one of its satin red legs showing the crest of the black and white griffon wings. Underneath it all, the golden jewel rested on her feathers with the diamond dots shining in the light from the torches.

An honorable and powerful northerner lady griffon stared at her from the mirror, raising her beak and looking down at her. With a chuckle, she patted down her crest of feathers. Turning to the side and found Grunhilda. The white griffoness blinked at her, wearing her confused frown along with a silly, large headdress of blue and silver feathers.

“Never mind.” Gilda shrugged. “Just take yourself and it will be fine. Come on!”

Grunhilda shrugged, dropped the headdress, and followed Gilda’s frantic pace down the stairs. They rushed past Gertha, talking to some griffons along with Godwin, but they didn’t stop, and nobody bothered them. Another quick trot took them out and around the keep’s tower, but then Gilda restrained her gait to a dignified walk. Grunhilda caught on and did the same, keeping a respectful distance from her.

The same selection of griffons as before waited outside the tower, plus a few other extravagantly dressed griffons. Just as she arrived, two more joined. Gilda stopped in the middle of the gathering and talked to no one in particular, and to all of them. Mostly to the guards flanking the door. “I need to talk to Lady Geena. It’s important. Like, I need to see her right now.”

“Well, her office is on the second floor,” One of the noble-looking, fur and steel wearing griffons started. A rather short, black, and white griffon with brown eyes. He and the others measured Gilda up and down before he gasped. “Lady Gilda! Greetings. Ah… Milady is still quite busy with matters regarding the festival yesterday. I’m afraid she cannot see us right now and we must wait. She’ll summon us whenever she is ready.”

“This is quite common.” A griffon lady, sandy and cyan, wearing a rabbit pelt hat and a green cloak added. The others agreed. “The city could barely function without her. Even more so when Lord Graham is away. We all must wait.”

“Thanks.” Gilda simply turned and entered through the open door despite a complaining voice. The guards just nodded at her. Inside, another selection of well-dressed griffons surrounded a large table with a map before a pair of empty thrones.

Stone and mortar for proofing made the outer walls. Wood shaped the internal structure with individual rooms and decorating panels. At the tower’s entrance, that meant the audience chamber, a small kitchen to the side, and the staircase going up. The place seemed old, with several planks looking clearer and sharper on the walls, floor, and ceiling. The ambiance was dim, but sufficient while the air smelled of burnt wood. Torches on the walls, a candelabra with countless candles hanging from the ceiling and from a central hearth fire provided both the heat and lighting.

A map of Snow Mountains occupied the center of the room and a pair of thrones sat at the top of a couple of steps in the back. A giant banner with the city’s trout covered the stone wall behind them. The map of the hold had models of mountains and blue paint for rivers, with small castles representing the important cities and houses for the smaller ones. Half a dozen griffons surrounded the map and silently judged Gilda for her invasion.

The warmth from a burning hearth reminded Gilda of just how cold it was outside and made her hurry. A pair of axes and shield armed Sky Sentries, recognizable by the blue and gold armor, sat by the staircase. Neither bothered her as Gilda started on her way up. Surprised comments turned to perplexed gasps, but nobody tried to stop her as she nimbly climbed the stairs and Grunhilda followed. The soldiers on guard duty? They nodded at Gilda, as respectful as though she were Lady Geena herself.

Privilege. If you got it, flaunt it.

The second floor had an open passage from the stairs into an office. Rustic decorations included a painting of the city’s lords, carved wood, and a painting of the city’s emblem: the jumping spotted trout again. About a dozen griffons of northerner colors filled the room, wearing clothes that ranged from the humble to the luxurious. From cotton to silk and fur, but what got Gilda’s attention hung from the walls. Crests and banners showed what Gilda assumed were the personal crests of Lord Graham and Lady Geena. A snowed pine, white on blue for him, and a dancing griffon lady for her, white on lead gray.

Gilda wanted a personal crest, too! But she had more important things to mind. Heedless of protocol, she walked into the office. A large desk occupied the back with Lady Geena sitting behind it, signing stuff other griffons constantly offered her. Gilda raised her voice and greeted Lady Geena like she was an old friend. Or an aunt-in-law, for all Gilda cared. “Hi!”

“Hello, Lady Gilda.” The loremaster did an exemplary job of matching Gilda’s enthusiasm. Even with her frown, frantic writing, and the sea of bureaucratic work on her desk. It made Gilda feel nice that Lady Geena considered herself close to her. “Hello, Grunhilda! Welcome!”

She just finished reading and signing a paper to return it to an anxious, fidgeting black griffon wearing reading glasses. He, upon receiving the paper, promptly gave her another. Only the first in the group of fidgeting and huffing griffons. “You can see I am slightly busy. But what can I help you with? Did you come to talk about your mission?”

The salmon colored Gjarma, Geena’s assistant loremaster, sat next to the table, and she too held another pile of papers. Gilda nodded a greeting at her and sat herself before the desk. She was going to rest an elbow on it, all chill and informal-like, but decided she was a noble lady now. Instead, she took a second to stare at her shining talons and adjust her cape. “I came to talk about the brigands. Yes. And also, to collect on that thing you owe me.”

Oof. That came out too blunt, but the damage was done. Geena let out a curious exclamation and looked up from the paper she was reading. Fortunately, not offended or anything. Thank the Harpy for the northerners’ sense of practicality and bluntness. “Do you want to take the hippogriffs to the rogue settlement? They are not in fighting shape! At all! Many are bound to die on the trip!”

“No. I want to get them to help my beastmaster with the infant roc.” Gilda kept her voice as calm as she could. Pretending she couldn’t feel her fingers trembling or her heart thumping in her chest. “And I’m willing to pay a decent doctor’s fee to get them healthy. Erm… Because they can’t deal with the roc if they’re sick.”

Gilda waved her paw around with a flourish. “Obviously.”

“Ha!” One of the present griffons croaked. On the older side, but a griffon who may not have aged as graciously as the griffons Gilda met the previous night. His back had a lump under his gray cape and his black feathers lost most of their shine. One of his eyes had gone white and gave him a most unpleasant appearance. “Hippogriffs can’t deal with monsters, period, ma’am. What you’re doing is a wastage of your time and resources. Hire more monster hunters and scouts. Yes.”

He rubbed his fingers on his thumb. “This is an expensive cheap you’re shooting for, milady. Just as soon as they stand upright, they’ll give you trouble. To try and escape. Might even kill your precious roc, just out of malice, the spiteful and dishonored things they are.”

“Sell the filthy half-bloods and use the money to hire actual griffons to do a griffon’s job.” He concluded with a dismissive wave. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay you four hundred Eagles per head.”

“You are out of your mind, Garson.” Gjarma shot him a fierce scowl. Perhaps out of place, but simply annoyed. “They are soldiers. They should be at least a thousand Eagles, each. If they were not to be returned to the south. They are not slaves.”

“Ah. Hippogriff soldiers, milady.” The griffon turned to her with a condescending tone and smarmy smile that would have made Gilda claw his face. “And barely soldiers at that. Warriors don’t get themselves ambushed. Much less surrender like scared, motherless cubs at the first sign of an angry enemy. They forfeited their freedom through their cravenness. Come now, they are slaves. Griffons are prisoners, half-bloods are not griffons.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Gilda gave him an icy stare. “But I have plans and they don’t include selling them.”

Lady Geena cleared her throat and left her feather pen on the desk.

“I believe it would be better for me and Lady Gilda to talk alone.” She declared clearly. Immediately the griffons holding piles of papers, except for Gjarma, started complaining like a litter of motherless cubs. Geena responded with a dismissive wave of her paw. “Off you go. Nobody is going to die if I don’t sign these papers right now. I promise you we shall finish before supper.”

Her tone, like an experienced mother, convinced them that whining wouldn’t win them anything. They left in a line. Gjarma left last, but eventually Gilda, Grunhilda, and Geena were alone in the office. She turned to Geena again, and her face bore an impenetrable expression behind the desk.

“I will not back down on the deal we struck.” The large and white griffoness frowned. “But I am curious.”

“What? I really want them to help. That bird is a pawful and I need help to take care of it. Locals are scared of it and I’m sure the hippogriffs are going to be cheaper. With supervision from my new beastmaster!”

“Of course.” Gilda scowled at her but gave Lady Geena’s sarcastic tone no response. “Ask Gjarma. She’ll help you with that. I suppose you also would like to talk about the brigands you and my captain will go out after.”

“Yes.” Gilda cleared her throat, glad to put a rock on top of the other subject.

“Very well, then.” From friendly and professional, Geena’s shifted into scowling and growling.

She produced a map from underneath the desk and slapped it on the table, prompting Gilda and Grunhilda to come closer. It was a map of the region of Frozenlake, rather than of the entire hold, and it held much greater detail. Most noticeable of those were that the map, rather than a to-scale representation, offered clear indications of landmarks. The edges of a forest, a frozen stream. Abandoned ruins of failed settlements or ancient households of the Astrani. A mound or an exceptionally shaped peak, all found their places on the map.

The faux stone doors represented Frozenlake, with the city’s name written inside a banner for clarity. Drawings of distinctive buildings marked the location of lesser towns, such as a windmill or some local lord’s mansion. For Gilda’s destination, Lady Gilda’s talon pointed at a drawing of a feather nestled between three clustered mountains and a stream on the map.

“These are called the Triplets. They are notably easy to identify, but low clouds often obscure them.” Gilda listened as her eyes drank in the details on the map. “Don’t worry, though. Gevorg knows the way by heart.”

Three mountains, one stream. A forest nearby, covering one of the three entrances, all clearly evidenced in the drawing. Even without Gilda’s memories of past lives, the forest was an obvious entrance. Especially if the weather graced them with low cloud cover, obscuring not only the peaks, but the view from them.

Notes carefully written on the map measured travel days rather than distances and noted landmarks to look for during a trip. Feathertip was a day and a half east of Frozenlake and Goldharvest two days, but only a half from Feathertip, due south. They may have passed close by, coming from Wayfarer’s Rest. The brigands might even be what spooked Gosalynn’s scouts on the way.

“You will face icy winds most of the journey.” Most of the friendliness and comradery vanished from Geena’s voice. Her talon ran across the expanse of rolling hills between Frozenlake and Feathertip. Only some particularly protruding rocks or terrain shapes and small forests offered guidance along the way. “But I suggest entering the valley from the forest. They will guard it, but less effectively than the walls and perches in the other two valleys. If you time your approach, the forest should protect the party under the dark of night.”

“They have been preying on the nearby hamlets. Small farming and foraging communities dot the area, and even your griffons will not be safe here unless we deal with them. The only one of significant size is Goldharvest.” Geena huffed. “Gavingkal, that filthy dog wanted to clear the forest and Graham forbad it. As though nobody knew he was likely to stage a little coup one of these days. We just never expected something like this. They have been raiding the area for some time, but only recently we’ve noticed it. And that is the concerning part.”

Gilda nodded, looking at Geena and the map. She frowned. That Gavingkal dude probably filled the forest with lookouts and traps, though. But such was so obvious Lady Geena didn’t bother saying so.

“Feathertip is itself a small hamlet. It is literally half-a-dozen streets and some homes surrounding Lord Gavingkal’s longhouse. What concerns me most is that any griffon we send to check on those cities returns with no news. What we know is thanks to survivors and escapees found by Sky Sentry monster patrols.”

“There have been reports of rapes, mugging, burglary. At first it seemed like common brigand matters and scared griffons. Recently, intimidation raids and abductions started. We received reports of missing griffons and it all points to Feathertip. Finally, an emissary never returned, and Sky Sentry patrols reported aggressive behavior from locals. That was when Graham concluded this was beyond the local enforcers and decided something must be done.”

“I will be honest with you. More than I should.” Geena’s eyes raised to meet Gilda’s. “I asked Lady Gwendolen to deal with these vermin. She has responded by ordering that you deal with the rebellious griffons. And that is all I am allowed to tell you.”

Gilda smelled a trial in the air.

“Do you think that Lady Gwendolen knows what is going on?” Grunhilda asked with a worried tone.

“That is little which happens in Snow Mountains she doesn’t know, sweetie.” Geena’s voice and countenance softened. For a second and a half, Gilda wondered if she wanted to say something else, but Geena turned her attention to Gilda again.

“Kill any who resist. Take back those who surrender. Help their victims however you can. Once you have dealt with the situation and made the area safe, I will get Gjarma and my griffons to assist whoever remains.” Again, she wanted to say more, but pursed her beak.

The elegant griffon lady stood from her sitting pillow on the other side of the desk and stared out the thin, slit-like window. “There is a griffon… Actually, two. They must absolutely not survive your raid on Feathertip.”

Gilda kept her beak shut and listened. After a long pause, Geena turned to Gilda from the window. Her expression had transformed. From the angry statesgriffon, crossed by some criminal, her eyes had lost their shine and her fierce visage became a blank, inscrutable deadpan. “One of the griffons who absolutely must meet an end is Gavingkal himself, condemned to death for harboring brigands and conniving with murder, arson, terrorism, rape, griffnaping, and treason. Since I doubt he will surrender, you are to deliver Mother Harpy’s justice to him in what manner you consider adequate.”

The white griffoness stared outside again. “The other griffon is Goving.”

But she said nothing more. Okay. Fair enough. She wanted a couple of griffons to make a hasty departure from the world of the living and make it safer for the more decent griffons. Gilda could work with that. Second intentions be damned. Only one problem, other than her change in tone. Gilda started with a ‘uuuh’ and a small wince. “You haven’t described them to me. How am I supposed to recognize them?”

Geena never turned back to her. “Don’t worry. Gavingkal will make sure you know him and Goving should be easily recognizable as well.”

Okay. Gilda spent a moment staring at Geena’s back, covered by her cyan satin and swan feather cape in awkward silence, before she spoke again. “Do this for me, and you can ask me anything. Including not telling Lady Gwendolen you are trying to help the half-bloods without her noticing. Ask no questions, make no decisions, simply send those griffons to the Stormy Eyrie, and let Our Mother deal with them.”

Fair. She had her reasons for doing stuff, and so did Gilda. That worked. “Cool. I should leave you to your ‘powerful lady things’ now. I guess we’ll see each other after we’re back.”

“Make sure you are thorough.” Geena proffered her parting words without leaving the window.

Gilda said nothing further either, merely turning and walking down the stairs outside the little office. She rushed down the steps and past the guards at the base of the stairs. Again, ignoring the griffons at the map in the audience hall and the anxious griffons with papers. She stopped before Gjarma, though. The salmon griffoness gave her a curious stare from behind the pile of papers she held while sitting on the straw and planks of the courtyard.

“Come on, we gotta talk. Real quick.” Gilda told her plainly, dryly. Her response was dropping the pile of papers onto the griffon next to her. The surprised leather-wearing guard who had nothing to do with the conversation dropped his polearm with a squawk but held the papers.

The next moment, Gilda was away from the impatient griffons. Away from ears, and with Gjarma following close. Gilda turned to her and her attentive red eyes. “I bought the hippogriff prisoners from Lady Geena and need you to tell me where they are. I’ll take my griffons there to deal with them.”

Gjarma nodded at her request. “There is a tawdry inn leaned against the inner side of the city’s new wall. It is close to the construction site and owned by a Saddani couple. The city’s guard moved the hippogriffs there at the innkeeper’s request during the night. They are prisoners and since they’re staying inside the city now, they are being watched closely.”

Gertha had said the northerners left the hippogriffs on their own and they had occupied some hovels. Gilda supposed it was an improvement that they let some inn take care of them. Maybe Geena didn’t want it to look too ugly to Gilda after she showed an interest in the hippogriffs. Maybe, inside, she knew it was something to be ashamed of. Or maybe she was actually rotten… Who knew? It mattered little, and it was up to Gilda to do something, anyway.

The problem remained that if Gilda didn’t take the hippogriffs away, they’d end up in trouble. She doubted an inn owned by an already discriminated against griffons would have enough resources to house the hippogriffs. It was hardly ideal, but at least Geena tried while she knew the Harpy would look down on that.

Gjarma’s attentive and focused eyes lost their shine when she aimed them down. Her feathers on her head and neck deflated a little and her wings sagged too. “Good luck. I hope it works out.”

“Great. Thanks.” Gilda put forward a paw that Gjarma shook. Something about that mess had Geena insecure like a cat being held above a tub full of water, and now Gjarma too. That profoundly irritated Gilda, but she decided it would be best to just get it all over with already.

The Aftermath, pt. II

Gilda caught the eyes of every single griffon passing by or working on cleaning up after the festivities. Her destination, the barracks, was an elongated building next to the keep’s tower, resting against the defensive wall. Mostly made of stone and with several windows reminiscing of a hotel with a thatched roof.

They even had a small smithy, billowing black smoke, and an exercise area in front of it with a running track and fighting dummies. A dozen young griffons exercised under the watch of a veteran guard, and a few whacked the dummies with wooden weapons. Everyone was busy. Either a forced cantering gait to the beat of their instructor counting to three over and over, or a mock-up fight.

Noticing Gilda and Grunhilda, several of the young recruits stopped and stared at them. Their beaks moved with comments among themselves, but they received no acknowledgement on Gilda’s part. All they managed was to incur the instructor’s wrath. Under his bellowing, they returned to their exercises in a hurry and the moment passed.

Their instructor was an aging gentlegriffon wearing the city’s leather armor. He greeted Gilda with a respectful nod but spared her no further attention. He turned back to yelling and telling the recruits all the ways they made him feel sorry for the future of Frozenlake.

The pair of guards by the barracks’ door also noticed Gilda. Northerner griffons, on the bulkier side of physical builds and both in gray shades of blue and white. They wore the same leather armor as the others but held pikes and sat by the heavy wooden doors, looking bored.

Gilda stopped and smiled at them. “May I see Captain Gevorg?”

“Sure!” The slightly older guard on the right said. He had a shiny, bluish silver under his leather armor. Probably a couple of years older than the other. His eyes never left Gilda, but he coughed and spoke a second time. “I mean, yes. Ma’am. Upstairs. Uh… He’s upstairs.”

As he spoke, the other immediately pulled open the door for Gilda, and she excused herself with a nod before walking in. Grunhilda followed. The white griffoness kept quiet, but with a haughty posture, strutting around like she owned the place.

Or as though her master owned the place, Gilda supposed, and suppressed a chuckle.

The entrance was an atrium with some reasonably comfortable furniture for griffons to wait. A pair of them sat by and talked but stopped when the pair entered. One of them kept looking up and down at Grunhilda, but Gilda’s greeting snapped him out of it.

To her left, a staircase led to the second floor while the atrium opened to a mess hall on the right. Further that way, it probably led to more living space or utilities like the forge she saw outside. Wasting no time, she took the stairs up. Coming to another living area with a banner with the city’s emblem and an office where she finally found Gevorg.

Sitting on the wooden floor past the door, the captain made some gestures to the three griffons talking to him. They were mostly unremarkable next to his dreamy black and gray. And when Gilda entered through the door like she owned the place, they immediately silenced.

Gevorg blinked and coughed into his fist. “Hi! Hello, Lady Gilda.”

All sorts of ‘soldier paraphernalia’ occupied the walls and the corners. From flags and a stand holding his blue and golden Sky Sentry armor to weapons of all sorts. A framed black-and-white photograph of a sultry griffoness hung from the wall. She laid on her back, wrapped in a white furry tippet and hiding absolutely nothing from the camera. Gevorg’s friend closest to it immediately took the framed photograph and hid it behind himself as best as he could. Barely at all.

If Gilda’s head was not so full of the dire situation with the hippogriffs, she would have found it all cute, funny, and endearing.

“Just call me Gilda, dude.” She said as casually and naturally as she could, still trying to channel the rising star. Smiling softly, sitting on the floor, and letting her cape rest on her back. Gracefully pretending she didn’t see the griffon trying to hide the saucy photograph. Then she smiled slightly more, eyes on Gevorg. “Since we’ll be traveling together, both to the bandit camp and to Brokenhorn, I figured I could ask a small favor from you.”

“Of course!” He blurted and smiled too widely, enough as to be awkward. “I ah… I mean… Sure! What do you need?”

“I just got the hippogriff prisoners of the GSA army and Gjarma told me they are being held at an inn.” As she spoke, Gevorg’s face transformed. His smile slowly died away. The shine in his eyes dimmed like the sun hiding behind the mountains in a cold and joyless evening. Even as she spoke, she could feel the excitement draining away from his increasingly deflated posture.

Her confidence drained away, and she hoped she never let it show as she kept talking. Doing her best to keep the posture of a powerful and dignified, if not pompous, noble lady. “So, would you come with me and make sure your griffons don’t mind pawing them over? I need to get them ready to work with my roc and ready for the trip to Brokenhorn.”

The other three griffons with him too reacted to her words. One of them, with the photograph hidden behind his back, winced as his eyes kept jumping between Gilda and Gevorg. The other, behind Gevorg, hid it better, but Gilda could read the disappointment in his eyes, even if his expression remained stoic.

The third, sitting next to Gevorg, raised his fist with a grin. “Great idea! Dealing with a still unbroken magical beast is risky! Getting the half-bloods to put their limb and life on the line for such a menial job is brilliant!”

Gilda’s confidence turned to shaking paws in a split second. What the fuck was that? She thought he would be all over himself to help her. But she couldn’t stay there, staring at them and not saying anything while Gevorg looked like a crumbling sandcastle.

“So, you’ll be keeping the hippogriffs as slaves?” Gevorg finally said something. His voice came out in a neutral and monotone, matter-of-fact sequence of words. “I suppose that makes sense. I ah… I’ll get my griffons to cooperate.”

Gilda’s beak clicked. “I’m… Ah. They can’t stay here. And I will treat them like I treat Grunhilda. You know. She is a very good thrall.”

Gevorg blinked and then understanding filled his mien. An awkward laugh exploded out of his beak, along with a nervous cough. Thank the Harpy, thank Discord, thank the Alicorn Sisters, if need be. Thank Harmony and all the gods in that stupid world of theirs.

“Of course!” Gevorg clamored. “I could expect no less from you.”

A wave of relief washed over two of the other griffons in that room, and the third nodded again. His smile accompanied a confident nod that Gilda would treat those filthy half-bloods how they deserved, alright!

“So, ah, sure! I’ll go with you!” Gevorg laughed awkwardly and then he stroked the feathers on top of his head like an insecure cub talking to the popular queen at school. If the northerners even had schools like the southerners. “I just had something I needed to ask you first. If that is alright.”

What were they talking about before she arrived? Because after the dreariness of the hippogriff subject lifted, something funny seemed to be going on there. Fourth grade level funny. She just stared at the four griffons, and they stared at her. Grunhilda blinked, and she too watched, with her dumb ‘I don’t know what is going on’ face. The three griffons with Gevorg kept looking at Gilda like they expected her to say something. Gevorg kept fixated at her, also expecting her to say something.

“Sure.” Gilda said with a confused frown.

“I was just about talking to the guys and… Ah… I’m just gonna get the quartermaster to get my tent from storage. You know, just to be ready. To leave as soon as we can. Right? Once we’re back. From the raid. Because I’ll need my tent. You know. To pass the long, cold nights during the trip to Brokenhorn.”

Oh… Oh! After she suppressed a goofy, silly grin from showing, Gilda gave Captain Gevorg a coldly calculated frown of disappointment. “I thought you were going to sleep in my tent with Grunhilda and me. In fact, I was even expecting you to join us at the Manor tonight. There was not even a question in mind whether you would stay with us. Now, can you help me with the hippogriffs?”

“Right.” He coughed, but his beak opened in a giant smile again. “Sure. I’ll meet you outside in a couple of seconds. I just need to set some things straight before we leave.”

Gilda finished with a smile and walked out of his office, with Grunhilda following and closing the door behind her. As soon as it closed, discreet, but excited comments filtered through, and Gilda smiled triumphantly at Grunhilda, who giggled back at her. What was more childish? She and Grunhilda giggling at it. Or the congratulatory comments Gevorg received.

“Well, that was easy.” She whispered to Grunhilda, barely containing her gleeful grin. “I thought I’d have to throw the charms on them, but I guess things worked out. I sure am not complaining that Gevorg is all over us too!”

While Grunhilda shared another giggle with her, Gevorg took little time to exit his office. Gilda smiled when the door opened and he came out, pulling it closed with his tail. He was going to say something, but the laughter from the other side of the door gave him pause.

“They… They think it is nice I’m dating you.” He said and concluded with an uncomfortable grin as more laughter came from the other side. “Because they think we’re going to mate at some point. Or something.”

That was a new and alien feeling. Nobody had ever cared that she had dated the nerd who was good at math in school. Later, some ponies thought it was inconvenient for a promising pegasus to be seeing a griffon savage. Come to think of it, Neighsay probably would try to ‘stop with that travesty’ had it ever reached his ears.

Gilda really ought to stop thinking about the grassbreaths when she had nice griffons to look at and gallivant about with. With a small nod, she invited Gevorg to walk with her and as they reached the stairs, she caught someone peeking up from the corner before they vanished. As they walked past the living room, at least a couple of griffons peeked from behind the tables further into the mess. Walking out, several of them peeked from windows. Gilda even heard some cheering.

“I’m sorry!” Gevorg walked stiffly. He looked at her, but his eyes avoided hers. “They’re… So damn immature.”

Gilda knew that part of her charm was authenticity. She was the noble lady that talked like a nobody from Griffonstone. A nobody who had struck luck with their goddess. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t capitalize on her neat cape and jewelry, posing like she belonged at her station. Because she did. And if griffons saw her as something special, then so be it. That was the point of swordmaidens, right? Much less that she couldn’t reap the benefits of her position.

“I’m not complaining.” She smiled and walked closer before pecking his beak softly. The barracks behind them exploded with cheers and shocked shouts. Once again, the drill instructor yelled his recruits into shape as the trio walked away.

The black griffon didn’t respond. He kept walking and smiled while Grunhilda giggled and did a skippy little prance next to them. After that, they walked in silence. It took them a couple of minutes to reach the Manor. Inside, Gertha had a dozen griffons in the hall, waiting for them. The Manor’s maids were there and did their best attempt at hospitality, offering refreshment and little snacks. The overall mood was not accommodating, though. Something that Gilda couldn’t truly put a talon on bothered everyone in that whole affair.

Several griffons didn’t fit with the southerners from Gilda’s caravan. Some northerners may have caught wind of the situation. The huntress, the roc’s caretaker, and her family were there. Others too. Griffons Gilda didn’t know, but if Gertha trusted them, it would be fine. The only reason they were there might be that Gilda meant to help the hippogriffs. Convoluted and awkward as the whole thing had become.

Gilda quickly pieced together a small speech to give them. A cold paw grasped her stomach as it became obvious that she should have thought that through, and a wince showed in her face. Some of those griffons had grim stares and pursed beaks, like they expected her to tell them to beat someone. All of them were armed, like Gilda had hired them to raid a place. Gilda’s heart skipped a beat at the thought things might turn that bad. All it would take is for the griffons to not like her idea.

Oh well, it could be worse. It could be that none of them showed up at all.

She walked to the tall chair at the top of the stairs and dragged their stares with her. Turning around, she looked back at them again. A nobody from Griffonstone that struck luck, Gilda cleared her throat as she put that luck to test. “So, I asked you guys to come here because I bought the hippogriffs.”

She almost slapped herself at the puzzled expressions she received. Poor Gertha and her disheartened frown looked like she really regretted getting behind Gilda. Clearing her throat, she tried again. Quickly thinking of something less distasteful to tell them, preferably without spilling the beans entirely. If they were there for the right reason, they would understand.

“Ah, what I mean is that there are these hippogriffs who came with the GSA army that invaded Snow Mountains without proper authorization. Or something. I don’t really know how that happened. But… Chances are that Griffonia has abandoned them. What I know is that there are some hippogriffs that may not be getting proper medical treatment, or shielding from the cold… Or food. So, I decided that I rather they worked for me. I need help with my roc, and they need someone to take care of them. Ah, I don’t like ponies and I’m not fond of hippogriffs, but those are not reasons for me to leave them to suffer just because.”

Nobody responded to her little speech, but they nodded and remained stoic. The important thing was that nobody objected. Supposedly, they all agreed that it was better than leaving the hippogriffs abandoned to their luck. With that implicitly agreed upon, Gilda and Gevorg led them out and towards the inn Gjarma had mentioned. A dozen griffons walking around with weapons drew attention, but the citizens of Frozenlake didn’t seem to want the trouble. Gevorg’s presence certainly helped too. Their walk took them across half the city, but it was uneventful, and Gilda was grateful for that.

The inn was not as decrepit as Gilda had imagined. Gjarma probably had a different definition of tawdry than Gilda. A five-story building with lots of windows and using the city’s new wall for support. A central chimney let out a black smoke from the topmost roof made of washed-out blue tiles. The several rows of square windows seemed opaque in multiple colors because of the curtains on the other side. Overall, it was new, but the inn lacked quality materials. An unremarkable building that obviously seemed designed to house creatures in the most practical way possible. Its most distinct characteristic was the ground floor and its extension. It looked like it used to be a mansion before it became an inn and went through renovations. It became an amalgamation of northerner architecture trying for something more practical like one might find in the south.

In front of it was a small force of seven griffons wearing the guards’ leather armor with the crest of the jumping spotted trout. Armed with spears, they just wandered about like they had nothing better to do or stood on their posts looking bored. The street had walkways on both sides and griffons passing by preferred the one across the street from them. Even carts braving the mud preferred the opposite half of the street.

Walking across the wide street made it dawn on Gilda again how much of a good idea it was to bring Gevorg along. He would make the guardsgriffons cooperate without a hitch. But there was also the fact she was walking in on them with a dozen armed griffons. One might become nervous. They were holding prisoners, after all. The situation was likely not as smooth as it seemed. Gilda would not bet on the GSA soldiers being completely docile either. Hippogriffs were half-griffon, after all.

One of the leather-armored griffons kept staring at Gilda and Gevorg. Two of his companions talked next to him, and he poked one of the distracted griffons with a talon on the back of his neck. The conversation ended with all eyes turning towards the Captain and the Swordmaiden. A few silent comments moved beaks with a few smiles and even one contained laughter. Gilda almost thanked the Harpy news of her and Gevorg spread so fast, and griffons decided to be so silly about it.

Instead of a stiff and formal approach, Gevorg took a couple of steps before Gilda and addressed the guardsgriffons as they converged before them. “Lady Gilda is taking the half-bloods with her caravan, so her griffons are taking over. You cats are dismissed. Let’s get back to the barracks and grab some spiced wine on me.”

With no more than a few nods and stares, the griffons started on their way. A few comments about her and Gevorg dating reached her, although the word ‘fucking’ was more prevalent.

Gilda suppressed her silly smile, and Gevorg let out a nervous cough. “I’ll leave you to it. The hippogriffs should be more comfortable without me. Just don’t forget that these guys are soldiers.”

“Don’t worry.” Gilda smiled at him. Then the corners of her beak pulled just a touch more. “Meet me in the Manor later.”

He smiled at her, too. “Will do, ma’am. Later.”

The captain joined the armored griffons walking down the street and suffered some hushed comments with dignity. Meanwhile, one of the guardsgriffons recognized Gertha as the second in command and threw her a keyring and they exchanged a nod. After a couple of seconds of watching them leave, Gilda turned to her griffons. Gertha opened the door for Gilda and Grunhilda to enter and Godwin followed with his sister and a few of their armed griffons. The pink mercenary told the others to wait outside before she closed the door again.

The first thing in Gilda’s head, as she turned around, was trying to understand why Godwin’s three kittyfriends were there too. They stood in front of her, side by side, and she supposed her glare conveyed her thoughts well enough. Glóra gave Gilda a glare of her own. “Well, Godwin is my mate. If he is getting involved in whatever is happening, so am I.”

Fair enough, great start. Gilda turned to the other two. Gloriann winced and Griska did a little nervous tap-dance. “Well, we were with Godwin and Glóra. They are our friends, and we wanted to ask you to take us to Griffindell with your caravan. And… And you said you needed help… We didn’t expect to come upon you buying slaves!”

Gloriann mumbled something and frowned. “Can we? I mean, follow your caravan?”

Gilda groaned and restrained her desire to smack the two out of the building. “Keep your beaks shut, stay in the corner, and pretend that you can’t see anything. I’ll talk to you three later. This whole thing is already too much of a mess and I don’t feel like making a scene!”

The three young queens didn’t respond and simply stayed close to Godwin while Gilda turned back around again to survey the entrance hall of the inn. First impressions-wise, it was a basic inn. A place to spend the night that had found itself turned into housing for a bunch of displaced hippogriffs.

The entrance lobby was nothing to write home about, with little more than the furniture to fulfill its role. An open hall like a living room with four wooden pillars supporting the ceiling and windows behind the beige curtains. A fireplace occupied the center of the room, made of stone and raising into the floor above. It provided heat, light, and the smell of burning fresh wood. Several sets of candles on iron sconces by the walls and pillars supplemented the lighting since the curtains blocked all the windows.

A pair of doors flanked a receptionist’s counter and the stairs beyond let upstairs. Another door led deeper into the ground floor and the lobby spread on both sides with sofas and a cozy, if simple, decoration. To the right was a passage into a restaurant and to the other side was a small sitting area with larger windows, but also covered with curtains.

The reason for all those curtains was obvious. About a dozen hippogriffs milled about or sat on the chairs and sofas close to the fire. Gilda didn’t know what she expected, but she didn’t expect to see hippogriffs lounging about. Almost like they were on vacation. They didn’t even wear uniforms since the fireplace made it so cozy. But then again, it was during the day, and the nights were probably much worse. They kept staring at Gilda, who was obviously in charge there, but she said nothing yet.

Gilda only said anything when she looked at the griffoness behind the counter. Propped on it with her forelegs and waiting for Gilda to notice her. “Hi. Do you own this place?”

She was a cute and young griffon lady in shades of purple, with pink eyes and twirly plumes on her head like she wore a headdress. The counter itself was basic and made with varnished, caramel shaded wood. The griffoness took a second more, staring at Gilda, taking measure of her and not liking what she saw before responding.

“Yes. I’m Genith. I believe my mate spoke to your friend. He is not here now, though. Granulf went to the market to buy some things.” As she spoke, a hippogriff approached the counter, also eyeing Gilda critically. “This is Lieutenant Blue Feather.”

True to his name, the hippogriff sported a shade of blue similar to Georgia and Giza, but without their characteristic white griffon heads. His mane was aquamarine, as was his tail. The first he kept short and standing, while his tail flowed smoothly and made a twirl at the end. His yellow eyes seemed like a griffon’s but carried the softness of the pony's eyes. For some dumb reason, Gilda expected him to be wearing the green uniform of the Griffonian Standing Army. He was naked, but didn’t seem very comfortable, stiff and frowny, with tense wings on his sides.

“So, you’re the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani I keep hearing about.” The hippogriff spoke almost as though he accused Gilda of something. Her brow shriveled into a frown, and he sighed, shaking his head, completely changing his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m just so incredibly frustrated with your people. We lost too many of my hippogriffs because they refused to assist us with proper sheltering. I don’t know how Stingray hasn’t died yet.”

“What is wrong with him?” Gilda swallowed her pride and sat on the floor as the others spread around the room and made themselves comfortable. It helped ease the situation further.

“He has asthma.” The hippogriff sighed. “How do you think he is doing in this cold? Without his medications?”

“How in the feather does the military let an asthmatic hippogriff serve in the griffon army?” Gertha’s brother, Guille, asked, laying his claymore to rest on the wall.

“It’s simple, really.” One of the prisoner soldiers, standing next to a couch, glared and raised his voice. “You get a bunch of xenophobic assholes threatening the country with civil war, and recruitment standards get a little lax. Especially after the Royal Cake Eater decides she’s okay with it.”

The worst thing was that Gilda had to agree. And a block of ice dropped on her stomach when she realized that they could have drafted her. All because of that mess of punching the mayor’s kid.

No. Not her. Mother Harpy wouldn’t have allowed it. Coughing into her fist before she spoke, she focused on the situation again. “When did they get you here? I thought that until yesterday you were on your own.”

“Miss Genith and her mate got permission, just this night, to shelter us.” The hippogriff from the couch said. “I hear that this Gathering Storm feast makes the northerners slightly less abusive.”

“Let it go, bro.” Another hippogriff told him. “She’s here to help us.”

“Reaching Lady Geena is not so easy when you’re a ‘filthy-blooded Saddani’, Lady Gilda.” The griffoness behind the counter closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s not usually the problem, for a loremaster. The city is full of twits between us and her. Especially if you are worried about the hippogriffs who everyone would rather pretend don’t exist.”

“With help from others, me and my mate fed them and got them some medicine. But we couldn’t take them from the abandoned houses they had sheltered in. Some genius decided that if they let us move them, they’d escape. Eventually it worked out, but the inn is closed now. We’re not making any money and feeding so many creatures is not cheap. Especially when a few have strict diets.”

Part of Gilda wished to leave them with the innkeepers. But it didn’t look like they could do a lot. Not more than they already did. The hippogriffs would not find her idea too hot, either. And there was also Godwin. Looking at him, Gilda found a good-natured young griffon next to that unknown quantity that was Glóra. Not to mention the two young queens that shared the night with him.

She felt naïve. Did her infallible plan to help the hippogriffs stand a candle’s chance in the Frozen North of working?

“Godwin?” Gilda waved him to come closer, and when he did, she turned her backside to the others and spoke in secretive tones. “Do you want to say anything? Should we leave them to the care of these innkeepers? I’m not sure they can take care of them until the northerners allow them to go back south.”

Godwin opened his beak and drew in the air to speak. Glóra talked first, suddenly next to Gilda. “If they owe you their lives, then they should be happy for the opportunity to repay their debt.”

Gilda gasped and turned to talk to her. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your beak shut?”

The young griffoness cocked her head with an offended frown. “You told the others. I am Godwin’s mate. Anything that concerns him concerns me. And, considering the way you secured these griffons from Lady Geena, they are more his than they are yours.”

“They are not ‘mine’ nor Gilda’s, Glóra.” Godwin deadpanned. “They are not pets.”

“They are prisoners and undesirables.” Glóra retorted. It sounded more like pragmatism than disdain, though. “They owe Gilda and you their life and should be dead, anyway. They will be dead if you don’t care for them. The choice is not theirs.”

Godwin retorted back to her, raising his hushing voice. “We don’t need a bunch of slave hippogriffs!”

“I’m not so sure.” Glóra grinned. “We’re starting a new homestead! We could use some servants!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Godwin slapped his own head. “Even if this was morally acceptable, we don’t have the resources to keep them under control!”

“Shut up, you two!” Gilda growled and walked from them. “You’re mated for less than a day and already remind me of the reason I never got mated!”

The hippogriff raised a paw while the others around the room kept paying attention to Gilda and their superior. “Hey, do you guys want to include us in the conversation or what?”

Gilda hardened her frown. “I dealt with Lady Geena and Lady Gwendolen to get you guys from here.”

“So, you’ll let us go and we can get back south, right?” Lieutenant Blue Feather gave her a sarcastic glare. It broadcasted he had his doubts, but more than that, it rubbed Gilda off the wrong way and her tone and tense wings showed it.

“I can’t. You will die. The northerners will only allow you to leave when they let the remaining soldiers go, and that is going to take a while. You’re not stranded tourists. You are prisoners from an army that came here to do harm to the northerners. I’m not even sure the others can go home without help. The northerners will have to organize a caravan just to take them back. And I don’t think the northerners will care about protecting you.” Gilda shook her head. “No. I’m going north, and I mean to take you guys in my caravan to Griffindell.”

Someone gave a nervous laugh. “Even further north?”

“Are you feathering high?!” Another one cried amid complaining hippogriffs making angry gestures, flapping wings, stomping hooves, crying, and screeching over each other. “This is some bullshit!”

Gilda mostly ignored them. Who knew what a mess that situation could have turned into had she come without armed guards? She didn’t ignore Lieutenant Blue Feather, though. He was fuming. But Gilda didn’t feel like allowing him to complain, either and beat him to the first word. “I’m going out of my way to help you guys.”

“So that is what we are doing and the best I can do for you is a promise that my griffons will treat you with dignity and that I’ll help you guys go back south as soon as I can.”

She spoke again, before he could respond, and gave the conversation a gesture of closure with her paw. “I wouldn’t like it if I was in your place, but I’m not in your place. I’m the one helping you. Offering medical help, food, and shelter. I am the one making the decisions. Not you.”

Gilda inhaled with an angry scowl. “You morons came to fight for the most corrupt government in the world! I even have something for you to do and not make griffons suspicious. I don’t want to hear any more complaining, because I am one talon from dropping this shitshow and going back to my own problems! Which are significant, by the way! You guys can either shut up and do as I tell you, or I’m walking out that door.”

The hippogriffs piped down their complaints. An aquamarine and lavender hippogriff guy, with a mane like the foam on the beach, stood from his laying pillow and raised a paw. “We got hippogriffs in need of medical help. It will be better than staying in the city. Who knows when the northerners will get fed up and kick us out? I vote we go with Miss Gilda.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Another added his squawky voice to the discussion, raising other voices in agreement. Immediately, the complaining rose too, and other hippogriffs cried about how ridiculous the whole thing was.

“This is not a foalscouts trip. We’re prisoners of war! We’re soldiers.” Blue Feather countered with some angry shouting. “We should make every effort in our power our to escape these freaks and return to our unit.”

“They detained your entire unit, dumbass.” Guille growled. Thank the Harpy, Gilda didn’t laugh.

More inane shouting and angry arguing followed, except now there were two sides in that mess instead of one unified front of complaining. Arguments ranged from honor and duty to simple pleas for their survival. Some hippogriffs, at least, understood just how utterly fucked they were. What would happen to the souls of hippogriffs dying like flies to the winter and the monsters? Gilda doubted Mother Harpy would shed a tear over their souls getting snatched by the Windigos.

Once again, Gilda didn’t know what she expected. Certainly not all that whining from adults that couldn’t understand things were less than perfect. Maybe it was because she had learned she was not part of the Pony Utopia, and those hippogriffs still hadn’t understood the situation they were in.

The complaining and arguing didn’t cease. It started escalating with more stomping hooves and fists pumped into the air. Some of them hovered above and pointed fingers. Angry calls to reason came from both sides of diametrically opposing ideas. A lot of big talk coming from hippogriff idiots that got themselves captured while trying to help a corrupt government. Gilda felt she’d soon start agreeing with the Harpy and seconds later, she had decided. Screw them.

She raised her paw and turned around to leave, but hesitated. In that split second Glóra and Georgia walked by her with the former raising her voice. “Where are the sick hippogriffs?”

Most of them didn’t respond, too engrossed in their bickering, even as some of their friends tried to shut them up with gestures and angry words. Gilda turned around again and gave them another chance. When Georgia asked again, their commanding officer, or whatever the feather he was supposed to be, gave a defeated sigh, and shook his head in defeat.

“We got some in the rooms. On the beds, where it is warmer. But we’re running out of firewood. There are panic fits, frostbite, a broken leg… We don’t know what some of them have, and a few just gave up. It’s a long and sad list. One of them even tried to kill himself but we stopped him. There is Stingray. He’s asthmatic and not dealing well with the climate. He said that in the south he’d get a tobacco syrup that helped a lot.” Blue Feather’s frustrated expression turned angry with a deeper scowl. “But it is one of the forbidden things here in the north.”

“Uh… Isn’t tobacco bad for your lungs?” Gertha joined them with a confused frown at Gilda, as though she would know.

“It is if you smoke it.” Georgia explained as though she held a cigarette. “But you can make medicines out of it. Inhalations are quite common.”

Vague memories came to Gilda that asthma was common in hippogriffs. A common enough problem with ponies and griffons, for starters. Then, something about the way griffon and pony lungs worked didn’t mix very well, and the hippogriffs took the short stick. Lung problems used to be the biggest cause of death in hippogriff foals… Cubs… Whatever they were supposed to be called. And then the things in their bodies that cause allergies didn’t mesh well too.

As doctors and healers learned how to deal with the entire package, they started living through to adulthood and the problem would mostly disappear. There was the possibility that the early deaths filtered out the hippogriffs with the harshest issues and they never passed it along to their kids. They also suffered from problems with blood sugar and weak hearts. Not everyone, but those happened more frequently than on griffons or ponies.

Their use of magic to go back and forth into the sea may be involved too, but that was hearsay. Nobody knew for sure, and Gilda didn’t really care. Gloriann’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Steam inhalation with tobacco. Doctors use it to treat some coughs and dyspnea. Sage and physalis too.”

“You can buy sage in the market!” Glóra added with a beaming smile. “I’m pretty sure Loremasters use it for a lot of stuff.”

Gilda turned to the hippogriff officer with an inquisitive stare and he frowned. He looked at his soldiers around the lounge. One of them, closer to the conversation, shrugged and said what the others seemed to have accepted. “We don’t have a lot of options, sir.”

Gilda admired his stoicism and maturity, but Lieutenant Blue Feather didn’t seem convinced. Gilda could see it in his eyes. And truth be told, in his place, she probably wouldn’t like it either. She refused to just keel over and die back at Griffonstone, after all. She understood. But there was something she understood better.

“So, get this, and get it good. I am not going to repeat myself.” Gilda let her voice raise and poked the hippogriff in his chest. “I am likely getting myself in more trouble than you guys are worth, but some dumb thing inside me is keeping me from slapping a ‘not my problem’ label on your asses.”

She took a step back and put a paw on her gold and diamond covered chest to look at the others too. “I am helping you, but the world outside of the lame pony utopia works in such a way that you have to be useful to me, otherwise I will stop caring. That is how I survived the mess my life became. So, you are going to behave. You are going to help take care of the roc. And you are going to work for me.”

Her earnest expression turned to a serious scowl. “Because the moment any of you stop being an asset, I’ll dump you to freeze in the wild. Are we clear on that? Cool. So do what the cute kitten here tells you to, and the big scary pink mercenary chick won’t have to whip you into shape. And I won’t have to take measures. Help me help you.”

“Fine.” The lieutenant finally relented.

Gilda nodded at him. Then she looked at Glóra. “Can I trust you to take care of them?”

Since the beautiful young queen nodded and Godwin did too, Gilda turned to Gertha. “Cool. Gertha will make sure that nobody does anything stupid, and Georgia will take care of their needs along with Glóra and the others. Does anybody have any further questions or bellyaching?”

Nobody answered, and from there, things worked almost on their own. Glóra incarnated the matron and took care of things like it was her little family. The inn would keep the hippogriffs cozy and warm until Gilda was ready to leave for Brokenhorn. Away from eyes, with Gilda’s griffons providing for them. Georgia got Gil and Mister Gillian, their caravan master, would buy stuff as though it were for the caravan. Gertha took care of security so that none of the hippogriffs had stupid ideas and none of the northerners harassed the prisoners. Gevorg eventually helped Guille get in touch with the other prisoners and let them know Gilda would take care of them.

Things progressed smoothly. So smoothly, Gilda feared they would go out of rails at any second. But they never did. Lunch time arrived and her griffons, under Gertha’s orientation, organized a quick schedule so one third could lunch each turn. But Gilda doubted there would be any trouble because the hippogriffs were happy enough to eat the decent food Georgia and Gil bought. They started caring for the sick and morale improved like a magic trick.

The less Gilda interfered, the better, so she delegated everything to the others. All she really did was endure Gisele’s angry stare. Her secretary quickly explained how unwise it was for a griffon without a fixed income to invest more than they owned in anything. Gilda matched her sarcastic tone and thanked her. Inside, she was glad her secretary was doing her job.

Lunch itself was a quick deal, and Gertha’s schedule worked. Meanwhile, Grunhilda reminded Gilda that she wanted to go to the blacksmith. Specifically, to the two Astrani sibling blacksmiths. Big Girl wanted them to look at the spear and shield she had gotten from the ruins where they fought the monstrous rocs. With the situation on the way to resolution, Gilda decided they could relax enough for a shopping trip before the mission tomorrow.

Battle on the Fields of Sorrow, Pt. I

Déjà vu. Two bodies brushed against Gilda while lying on her almost cloud-standard bed. Above the aroma of the last embers of burning oak, the smells of sex hanging in the air assaulted her nostrils. The soreness reminded her of their antics last night. A mischievous grin made it to her beak while she was still waking—she hadn’t had nearly as much sex her entire life as the past two nights.

She groaned softly, languidly, stretching her limbs and her neck with a luxurious moan. Her head raised lazily from the pillow, and a paw supported her to look over Gevorg’s shoulder while Grunhilda’s strong forelimbs held her. The weak, trembling light came from the candelabra and from the fireplace. The thin window on the stone wall showed only darkness outside. With the softest of moans, her head plopped back to the pillow and her paws reached for her captain’s chest. Fingers brushing over his plumage.

Grunhilda stirred behind her, holding her tighter. Her affection made Gilda smile, and speaking softly, letting her talons dig in between Gevorg’s feathers, she said, “We should get up. We got a job to do. It’s important.”

The charcoal and silvery griffon laying in front of her shifted on his back lazily before finally looking at her. Gilda lost herself in his purple eyes for a while and propped her weight on his chest. With no hesitation, she closed her eyes and clicked her beak against his before a slow and gentle lick on his cheek. In the next second, their beaks fit together and their tongues, tangy but ravenous, carried the vibrating moans of desiring lovers.

Seeking her attention, jealous as always, Grunhilda held Gilda’s shoulder and pecked at her nape. Chuckling, Gilda dropped herself back onto the bed and pulled Grunhilda over to her. A paw behind her neck, she pulled Big Girl’s head into a similarly passionate kiss, running her fingers over Grunhilda’s back, but stopping short of her rump.

The white griffoness mumbled once their beaks parted, and Gilda let her lift herself from her. Guilty blue eyes looked at her while her cute ear-like crests of fluffy white feathers flattened. “We were supposed to have rested…”

Gilda and their male friend laughed. Left with a confused frown, Grunhilda gave the former space to stand. Hopping off the bed, Gilda stretched her wings and popped her neck. “Come on. We’re supposed to leave before sunrise.”

Gunhilda hopped off the bed too. Flared wings, showing a huge grin, and doing her excited tap dance like a cub off to summer camp. “We got a mission!”

While Gilda would rather kill monsters,—the Windigos’ brand, particularly—bad griffons would do, too. It was a means to an end, as well as a part of both being young northerner ladies. Big birds had their place and the little birds had theirs. And also, the male birds, they had their place too. After kicking Gevorg out of their bedroom, she and Grunhilda worked on making themselves presentable.

For Gilda, that meant donning her cape, her magical jewelry, and the red scarf before making sure Mythical was with her. Some preening too, because the chosen of the Harpy had to look the part. Grunhilda donned her armor quickly, proving Gertha’s lessons served her well. She armed herself with her spear, the shield, her father’s hammer, and her mom’s Astrani Thunderbow. With her size and fancy gear, one could almost forget that Grunhilda had next to zero training.

Gilda ought to trust Mother Harpy and herself; it was what Grunhilda was doing. Even without Gilda’s supernatural ability to recall memories. Gilda grimaced at the sight of Grunhilda fangirling over her own image in the mirror. But another luxury she lacked was space for doubts.

It would be fine. Grunhilda would be fine. She was a northerner lady, supposed to fight and stuff. Everyone did that and they had to start somewhere. Grunhilda could do much worse. Besides, Big Girl, being so strong, was more likely to help Gilda.

It was pointless to stress over any of that. Gilda donned her confidence, throwing a leg of her scarf over her neck, and let Grunhilda open the door for her. Despite the early hour, the servantry offered a quick breakfast at the twin tables in the main hall. The hearth already held a tall fire and offered a comforting warmth along with roasted meat. The smell of roasting chicken brought water to Gilda’s mouth, but she felt like she was late already. Everyone was already there.

Gilda walked past and greeted the two Gunner guys. Both soldiers of fortune busied themselves checking their backpacks, and already wore their mail and plate armor. Their rifles, nothing fancy other than being expensive northerner weapons, rested nearby against the planks of the wall. They took the time to return Gilda’s greeting, and next to them, Gertha and her brother did the same.

Closer to the fire, Georgia glared and fumed at Glóra. The northerner lady mumbled and fiddled with the fastenings on her brother’s armor. The other two ladies that had shared the Meeting with Godwin were there too. Griska and Gloriann just sat there, watching. Maybe they wanted to wish Godwin good luck. Whatever was going on, Gilda decided Godwin didn’t need another hen getting involved. Little Giza was probably still in her bed.

Gia and Gil met Gilda together. The former wore her Loremaster cape and a brigandine in shades of blue. Her tomfriend and thrall sat next to her in full battle gear, like the Gunner duo. An impressive chain mail, complete with a beak-protecting helmet, an ax and a shield with Gia’s profile painted on it. Ignoring Gilda’s raised eyebrow, she yawned with a greeting. Gil had a mask of sleepiness on her face and yawned even wider but smiled at Gilda. She said everyone had at least a decent meal ready to eat for their trip. Being the quartermaster and daughter of her caravan master, Gilda trusted Gil intrinsically. Especially when she also said she had packed extra supplies and medicinal stuff for whatever they found at their destination. Gia said nothing, but never corrected Gil either.

Several griffons Gilda didn’t know had also gathered there. Most clad in Frozenlake’s city guard hardened leather armor, sitting by a pile of backpacks and supplies waiting to be picked up. Others had their own more eclectic sets of armor. A collection of griffons interested in getting stuff done. Seeking glory. Seeking revenge. Who cares? To each their own reasons, as Gilda had her own. She greeted them, too.

Her caravan’s guest blue thestral was there for reasons Gilda ignored. The archeologist, or whatever he did for a living, wasn’t. Sitting alone, Moonbow had an apprehensive frown above her cyan eyes and the pursed lips of things to say. Gilda simply nodded at her. As annoying as the pony could be, it warmed Gilda’s heart that she truly worried for her.

“There is something about this situation that feels… Wrong.” She finally said, and Gilda nodded she had understood, but kept walking.

Before she knew it, Gilda was at the center of the hall, in the middle of all those griffons. Even with all eyes upon her again, it was easier than the first time. The only problem was that she just had very little idea of what to tell them. She coughed into her fist. The northerners liked honesty, and she supposed she was good at that. Determined, and so that all could see her, she climbed the steps to sit before the chair.

Wrapping her tail around and kicking herself over sitting in front of the damn thing, and not on it, she spoke plainly. “Thank you all for coming.”

“Lady Geena asked me to look into what is going on at Feathertip. For those of you that don’t know, it was supposed to be a farming town, but they started raiding nearby hamlets and it got pretty bad. She spoke of the usual things that villainous scum do to helpless creatures, things you can imagine. What I expect is going there, killing some bad griffons, and helping however we can.”

“And that really is it.” Gilda shrugged. “Now you know about as much as I do, but does anyone have any questions?”

“What about loot?” A yellow paw raised among Frozenlake’s guards.

Gilda’s beak twisted. She had no idea, and the notion had not even passed through her thoughts. But she supposed it was a reasonable question. Fortunately, Gevorg came to her rescue.

“There is nothing out of the ordinary.” The captain spoke with all his trained confidence, walking in front of the steps. “Let’s just be reasonable. You can take from the raiders, but not from the decent inhabitants of the town. It’s just… we don’t really know what is going on. You get first claim, but any surplus goes to Lord Graham and Lady Geena. They’ll probably leave it with Feathertip or trade it, anyway. Feathertip is likely going to need help. Don’t go expecting much of a fortune. This is not a raid on a ruin.”

Gilda raised an eyebrow and her paw holding her beak hid a smile. That was an idea for later. They were sure to stumble upon some ruins like the roc’s nest the further north they went, but that was for later. There were no further questions.

With Gertha’s help, definitely Gilda’s second-in-command, and Captain Gevorg’s too, she got everyone moving. They carried their own stuff, except for Grunhilda. She carried her own and Gilda’s share of the supplies like it was nothing, and that was on top of her armor and weapons.

The company of thirty-or-so griffons spoke in respectful tones, waiting while Gilda led them out of the Manor. The majordomo and the headmistress flanked the doors with a professional air about them. It was awkward at first, but Gilda had become good at pretending she knew what she was doing. Outside, dozens more had gathered despite the biting cold and they stood to follow.

Lady Geena watched them cross the yard from the top of the keep. The torches on the battlements illuminated her, but her expression was unreadable. Blank. The little feathery crests fluttered in the wind like the high neck of her cloak. Gilda simply kept walking with crunchy steps on the snow. Through the gatehouse and then into the wide street, still covered by frozen mud and snow. Dark windows spoke of still sleeping griffons. The few sitting outside, Gilda supposed, had friends or relatives following her.

Outside of the keep’s walls the wind rushed even colder past Gilda, and still griffons had gathered. They gave her party a restrained and silent farewell. Young queens and a couple of cubs, more asleep than awake in parent’s forelimbs. Fathers, mothers, lovers, brothers, sisters. The entire spectrum. The on-duty city’s guards joined further down the street, giving their send off to their colleagues.

Even the blacksmith siblings had attended. Groffi hid under a mountain of furry pelts, and her brother kept his cape closed around him. The female sibling emerged and waved her charcoal paw enthusiastically when they approached. Almost jumping out of her blanket carapace, shouting her wishes of good luck to Godwin. Maybe she thought he looked nice, or just liked him. Godwin seemed to attract the goodwill of griffons wherever he went. Gilda, too, had fallen for his charms, after all.

Some followed them to the city’s limits, easily identifiable by the faux stone gate. A small parade that stopped for a last farewell. Beyond the stone arch was only looming darkness, cold wind, and unending snow.

With only the essentials, they could travel fast. After a few purposeful steps, Gilda leaped and flapped her wings to fly, and the others followed. At the front, nobody saw the self-important grin she gave herself. Even if the sooner they were done, the sooner they could be back, and she could leave for Brokenhorn, she was playing the northerner noble lady. Just because it was required of her, it never meant she couldn’t enjoy her place in the political machinations and adventuring. It was all part of her journey, after all.

Nightly clouds hid the stars, and the dark obscured the soft white mounds of the open snowfield approach to Frozenlake. It seemed the fishergriffons woke up early, and the lights over the ice provided enough of a reference. Flying instincts took over, and it quickly became a pleasant exercise. The liberating feeling of flying clashed with the apprehensive anticipation. They would soon engage to death with evil griffons. Every part of Gilda’s mind, from the memories of the past to the scared little griffon inside her head that just wanted to survive, warned her to be careful. The things Geena told her about what those griffons had done… Those were the things evil creatures did.

Sunrise soon came and banished away the ominous shades as best as it could through the ever-present revolving storm clouds. The dreary night turned into an anxious morning. It shifted into an eventless morning. It breezed past them, dotted with sightings of the occasional hut or house. Isolated griffons that cared little about whatever a group of busy griffons meant to do. A ruin, here or there, probably filled with draugar. An opportunity for some scavenging later those were. Sometimes a small forest dotted the terrain. It barely changed, and few animals allowed a glimpse before scampering away. Deer, rabbits, birds.

The cold remained and did little to Gilda, but the dreary passing of time bothered her more. Her thoughts roamed freely, and a familiar ember burned in her chest with them. Geena had said she asked the Harpy to deal with the problem, and Mother Harpy responded by setting Gilda’s trip so that she would be the one to deal with it. Those were griffons hurting the Ditty Harpyi. The Children of the Harpy. Aya Harpyia had passed her judgment, and Gilda was going to deliver it. Before she knew it, Gilda couldn’t wait to arrive. And those evil monsters better be prepared to suffer her wrath.

The ever-present storm clouds made judging the sun’s height difficult, but her stomach complained. Her wings soon felt heavy against the wind and reminded her she still needed training. Flying over a white stream amid the rocks and dark soil, Gilda looked back at Gertha. She pointed at the stream and prompted the pink griffoness to nod. Finally, Gilda banked to the left, letting go of her altitude for speed and the others followed. Flaring her wings brought her to land on the pebbles and yellow moss nestled in the loose black soil. Cold and wet, refreshing after a morning of hurried flight.

The griffons landed in the immediate area, stretching wings and folding them. Different degrees of yawning and relieved groans followed. The smells of wet soil and the running water were wholly pleasant and so was the chilly air as a breeze rather than wind flowing past them. Gertha with her brother, and Gevorg and Godwin trotted closer to Gilda, while the others simply paid attention.

“We’ll stay here for some food and rest.” The tan griffoness told the pink one as much as she told the others.

“Refill canteens and grab a bite.” Gertha yelled. “We fly again in a jiffy!”

Griffons nodded and minded their lunches, chatting among themselves or taking care of their necessities. It was a good thing Gertha mentioned canteens, because Gilda was parched. Soon, she shared a meal with Grunhilda and their closest friends. Gevorg, Gertha and her brother, the two Gunner Guys, and Godwin, too, all sat together with Gilda. Gia and Geary too, but while the others talked in reserved tones, their loremaster pretended not to like anyone.

Someone had packed a lot of chicken sandwiches, and the consensus was that they were exquisite. It had Gil’s special touch, for sure. But the conversation was dull and spiceless in contrast to their food. Gilda understood that the fact they were going to fight soon weighed on everyone’s heads as it did on hers. Before long, Gevorg and Gertha started talking to each other over a map and agreed on something before including Gilda.

“We’re right on path,” the Captain said, smiling at her while Gertha dug another sandwich out of her backpack. He pointed at the horizon, guiding Gilda’s eyes to a small hill crowned by a dead tree, and poked the map with a talon. “We gotta go left by it. We’ll find a wide river after a while. Follow it until some ruins and then we go due west again until we see the Triplets.”

“How was our speed?” Gilda asked after swallowing another chunk of her food.

“It was good.” He sat next to her, reaching into his backpack for more food, then he raised his head from the leather and pelt thing. “I mean… We have to time our arrival with sun fall. I rather we entered the woods under the dark. Then we navigate our way through and attack already. The more we wait there, the more we risk an ambush and attacking them at night, or right before dawn would be great. But we must be mindful of traps or patrols.”

“I just realized I don’t really know what I’m doing.” She sighed and rubbed her head.

“Eh… Most nobles don’t.” Gevorg calmly folded the map and tore a piece of his new chicken sandwich. After swallowing, he noticed her smoldering stare and frowned. “What?”

“Just keep me from killing everyone and you can sleep with me and Grunhilda again.” She muttered and glowered at him.

Confused, he tilted his head with a perplexed frown. “What? What did I do?”

Gilda didn’t answer. She simply turned her back to him and minded her food.

Soon after, they were ready to depart again. Only a quarter of an hour passed, and the entire company had finished. Gilda yelled at the others to get back in the air and took off. Instants later, they were cruising over the modest vegetation and dark soil again. A bank to the left, after passing the small hill with the dead tree, and they picked up the pace again.

The hours had merged into an unexciting morning, and then it turned into a whole day of apathy. More drab terrain zoomed beneath her. Mounds covered in snow, rocky outcrops wide river, ruins, and a pair of mountains ahead. Nothing worthwhile presented itself, and the thing which kept Gilda going was that she had a mission to fulfill. The afternoon breezed past them and was it not for the slightly hillier terrain and full stomach, Gilda would wonder if the morning had indeed ended.

The highlight of their journey was eating a sandwich, but Gilda’s imagination went wild with ancient memories. What did that dull scenery look like before the Windigos were done with it? Timid forests spoke of lush greens filled with prey without the eternal winter. Crystal streams, maybe even a river, full of life. What about the rocks? Could the Windigos have brought them up, marring an otherwise bountiful, harmless scenery?

You might yet live to see it restored, Gilda.

Mother’s voice wouldn’t even surprise her anymore. The flying griffoness chuckled to herself before whispering back. “You called me by my name instead of ‘child’.”

I did. Well, good for you. You will find that closeness to me is in your interest.

Cryptic much? Gilda raised an eyebrow, but before she could say anything, Gevorg broke formation and flew closer to her.

“We’re getting there.” He shouted above the wind.

Gilda blinked; her eyes followed his finger, and a curtain unveiled. The pair of mountains she had been seeing off in the distance were precisely the mountains she ought to be looking for; the perspective hid the third mountain. She might as well have flown past their destination. The good news was that the clouds indeed veiled the peaks, and it didn’t appear that lookouts could sit on the steep mountain face. She could see the forest that was supposed to hide their incursion into the valley. A dense pack of conifers, but it would take them some flying around south to come at it from the right direction and under the cover of the nearby hills.

She groaned and shook her head before talking to him. Stopping and hovering in the air, so she didn’t need to shout. She also touched her forehead with a pained frown. “I promise I’m gonna get better at this.”

He either didn’t catch her jocose manner or chose to keep a serious, no-nonsense tone in his reply. “We should fly lower and approach from the south side. Walk into the woodland from those hills. They’ll cover our approach, because Gavingkal certainly has sentries in the forest. I’d even send someone reliable to skulk around and find them before we ingress. Maybe even put them down because I don’t want to take chances with whatever is going on here.”

“Got it.” Gilda said, swallowed her pride and sense of humor, donning a proper, serious expression. “I’ll get Gertha on it.”

Gevorg shook his head. “You want Gertha with you and the others. I’ll send one of my cats that has done this before. We should slow our pace, approach carefully, and give her time to do her job.”

Gilda nodded her consent, and he signaled to one particular griffoness at the front of the hovering griffons. An older griffoness, wearing a reindeer adorned set of leather armor and carrying none of the stereotypical shield and ax or spear on her back. In fact, she seemed disarmed. Pristine white, barely touched by the silver of aging, despite the hard gray eyes of a killer. Once Gevorg relayed to her ‘Gilda’s orders’, she left with no spectacle.

The details of their approach dealt with, Gilda resumed their flight with a gradual gliding descent, but never landed. She kept their swift flight a few cubits above the snow. Traversal became dangerous and thus slower. The company broke formation and flew around outstanding rocks and trees, but she remained convinced it was better like that. The image of a sentry watching them fly by wouldn’t leave her alone. Details jumped at her while her eyes scrutinized every blade of grass and leaf. Like the Hunter had awakened inside of her. A white rabbit dashed across the riverside pebbles. The tan blur of a herd of deer hid inside a paltry group of yellow trees, fearful of the predators. A hawk watched them from the branches of a dead, twisted tree, alone and with an air of respect. No griffons to be seen, and still the feeling of being watched refused to leave her in peace.

The fleeting hours, dashing with the terrain, turned to slogging minutes. The running water and flapping wings replaced the shrilling wind. At the back of her mind the Hunter worried someone might hear them, but she silenced its voice. All she heard was the clinking metal, flying armored griffons following her, no cries or horns.

Gliding around the soft hills, Gilda finally saw the forest creeping out of the valley again. A small, condensed army of conifers spilling out to take over the field under the mountains. Unfortunately, they did a poor job. An infuriatingly plain field of black, shades of green, and white stood before her.

She landed by the protruding rocks, watching the tree line and the open field. Two-hundred cubits of partially melted snow, black soil, and sturdy low vegetation, hardly any cover at all. Gevorg said nothing, but came closer to her. Gilda trusted their scout and quieted down. The wet, cold grass was less aggravating than she expected, and moist smells filled the damp air. Nothing sounded any bells inside her head, but she never truly put herself at ease.

She prowled forward, seeking a better view, slow as a cat, watchful like an eagle. Lowered body over the grass and dirt, the cold on her belly helped, but not by much. Her eyes scoured the edges of the open field and the tree line. Behind her, the others did the same, but remained hidden. Every instinct in her head told her it was too big a group. Someone would see them, especially from the air. Again, she quieted those thoughts; her griffons were so silent she could hear her heart beating. It could not be helped that they were a large group.

Their wait lasted not too long, Gilda supposed. It felt like an eternity, though, until the grass-reeking alicorn princesses fancied changing the day for the night. The transition was soft, but swift, and barely with any fanfare other than a dramatic shift in lighting. The storm clouds hid the stars and the moon, anyway. Gilda wasted no more time, pouncing into a gallop that the others followed.

Gilda’s company finally reached the trees after an agonizingly long rush, albeit no less quiet and careful than before. The notion that the stupid Alicorn of the Night could have afforded to start the night a touch earlier poked her mood from between thoughts. The situation was more important, and she noted her new surroundings as her griffons settled under the cover of trees.

Conifers filled the air with their citrusy scent, but a tangy smell hung like an afterthought. Heavy snow had fallen to the ground, and the trees whispered amongst themselves while Gilda approached the scout. She was there, sitting by a small fire, waiting for them. Gevorg, Grunhilda, Gertha and Godwin followed her while the others took the occasion to rest for a bit. Silence reigned, softly disturbed by clinking metal here or there.

“They were expecting us.” The older griffoness spoke softly, barely a whisper above the rustling of the leaves while dumping snow on the fire. “I killed a small squad of strange ferals. They didn’t seem entirely gone… deranged, but not mindless. I don’t know how to explain. I better show you something.”

The scout drew a leather-bound bundle from under her wing. Telling them to be careful, she revealed a dried and burnt femur of a deer with the animal’s teeth added to it. Dry sinew and leather made for a handle and secured the severed jaw to the grizzly weapon. But the worst was the frosted ‘quality’ it had. Like they had kept it under the snow for too long. Like it had become impregnated with a magical frost much like the land itself.

It shimmered to Gilda’s eyes with a cold light. When she noticed, she had approached Gevorg and frowned. Brushing her body against his even through his armor warmed her.

“Well, that is something.” Gilda kept her voice low. The aggravating smell from the unsightly weapon didn’t wash away like the cold. “Ferals are like… An urban myth. Right?”

She rolled her eyes at her own words. Nothing should surprise her anymore.

“There are stories of griffons that became wild.” Gevorg said. “Distant from the others, they forgot what it is like to love and to talk. They lost the capacity to think and became like animals.”

“Miss Gilda, this is creeping me out!” Grunhilda frowned with an alarmed mewl.

On cue, the scout showed the damage the weapon had done to her cured leather. A bloody tear on the properly tanned, cut, and reinforced leather would be reasonable. Beneath it, Gilda expected to see at the worst case, a bloody gash in need of some cleaning and suturing.

When she removed the improvised dressing from her leg, an overwhelming stench of putrefaction hit Gilda like a punch. The wound beneath seeped blood from the deep of the gash. Her feathers fell and left behind discolored flesh. Where it should be red and moist, the wound carried a sickly collection of terrible greens, blacks, and yellows. It smelled of griffon blood but with an overwhelming stink of rotten meat. The damaged leather had a paw’s worth of material missing and what remained was dark and flaky, slowly undoing itself like the frost carried rot with it.

“It worsened quicker than I imagined.” The griffoness said with a frown.

“I would’ve thought this is some psychological warfare bullshit.” Godwin told Gilda, keeping his composure, but his eyes remained on the wound.

“Let Gia have a look at your wound. And lose the armor. I don’t like this. I’ll get you another set.” Gilda told the scout, shaking her head. The stench remained, and almost brought her lunch out of her.

The scout nodded in silent agreement and Grunhilda helped her remove the vest, careful not to touch the affected area. Gilda watched, making sure Grunhilda didn’t get herself hurt with that thing. Suddenly Godwin yelped and Gilda jumped with every hair in her body standing, heart pounding and wide eyes.

She turned in time to see the young tom desperately rubbing his paw on the snow with the ghastly club before him. Her brow twisted into a scowl and her voice raised more than she wanted.

“Why do you think she was holding it with something, Darkwing Cluck?!” She scolded him like an angry mother, berating her stupid cub for doing stupid things.

Despite Godwin’s childish mewl, she held his paw and examined it. Not seeing any outward signs or magical evidence that he had been hurt, she let him go but her eyes told him he better not do anything stupid like that again.

With the drama resolved, Gevorg picked up the weapon, holding it with the piece of leather. Even the leather slowly deteriorated where it touched the object’s bony shaft. Gilda reached, and after a quizzical look at the weapon, Gevorg gave it to her.

“Be careful, Miss Gilda.” Godwin urged.

The bone hissed when her fingers closed around it. It burned, but not like the Harpy’s magic, sizzling and barely contained as light, heat, and hair-raising anticipation. Instead of living magic, it was an icicle, frigid as the very idea of cold made into freezing magic and stuffed into the bone. And yet, it didn’t hurt her; something inside Gilda fought back. The walls of a city that resisted assault time and again, allowing her to hold the weapon with impunity, raising it to better see the details.

Gevorg and Godwin took a careful step away as Gilda frowned at the weapon. The others watched from further back, like they were peeking at their lord dealing with stately matters too complicated for them. Gilda shoved the distractions away from her mind.

The shoddy weapon pulsated with a cold emanation, and the odor which Gilda could only register as ‘cold rot’ grew stronger, but it never bothered her. It was a worm, wiggling, helpless to harm her and trying futilely to escape. Gilda’s mind’s eye filled with visions of a frozen city by a lake, but not like Frozenlake. Larger, colder. Dead. No fishing huts raised from the ice and a layer of frost rested over streets, houses, and abandoned, destroyed carts and pottery. Dilapidated husks of boats had frozen into the ice. No griffons worked or walked among the frozen stone houses. A white mist clouded all in the still air and filled her with a melancholy like when her little house crumbled before her eyes.

Frowning and frustrated she didn’t understand what it all meant, Gilda put down the weapon. “I’m not sure what it is, but there is some bleak shit going on here.”

“Well, that is why we are here.” Gevorg told her grimly, but confidently enough. “Let’s sort this stuff out. We want to reach Feathertip and attack before dawn.”

“I have a better idea.” The darkness past the trees spoke to them in the voice of a male High Griffonese-speaking griffon.

The entire company jumped. They stood on guard, weapons drawn, but they had already surrounded Gilda’s griffons. Shapes moved in the shade among the trees, with the creaking of bows being pulled. Gilda never had the time to count properly, but more griffons than she would have liked appeared out of the woodwork. Enough to surround her company. Who knew how many more would be in the dark?

“Nobody move!” Gevorg barked before anyone did anything hasty. Including Gilda, because she was ready to draw her sword and split open the closest... What was wrong with those griffons?

They mostly wore cheap leather for armor, but it didn’t look like any Gilda had seen used for armor, even in Griffonstone and its local militia. The hardening process seemed to have gone wrong and left folds and a patchy finish. Reddish-yellow leaves and bones tied together made up pieces of armor. Elk antlers, animal pelts and feathers served as adornments. In all of it, an unsophisticated craft and dirty pelts replaced the careful dedication of the northerners with their attire. More like hoodlums than griffons living off the land. Only a couple had actual armor or weapons made of steel but even to Gilda’s barely trained eyes, those seemed poorly maintained.

Inside Gilda’s head, her company could deal with the ambush. The quality of her fighters was much more inspiring, but she supposed Gevorg knew what he was doing. Probably thinking about hostages back at Feathertip. But neither that nor their garments bothered her. If she didn’t know better, Gilda might have disregarded them as not worthy of the worry, but out of the dark also came muskets and crossbows. Even poorly maintained, those worried her.

Yet that was still not what raised Gilda’s feathers and made her skin crawl. Their eyes were yellow and sickly. Pale, unfocused, unlike the usually vivid griffon eyes. One of them had a white eye with a festering wound beneath it. No Loremaster would ever allow a griffon to get to that point. No normal griffon would allow themselves to get like that.

It was their leader that unsettled Gilda. Not because he seemed deranged, with the wrong garments, or filthy like a motherless stray. In the north’s dark night, lit by the torches brought by the strange griffons, Gilda thought Lady Geena had betrayed them. The griffon was built like a beast, even larger than Gertha’s brother. Covered in the same snowy fur and feathers as Grunhilda and Geena and also sharing their big, expressive blue eyes. He looked at Gilda with a cocky grin and barely contained anger. His feathers flared with his telling little crests of ear-like feathers, just like Grunhilda and her aunt.

First and foremost, Gilda realized she was exhausted from the bullshit. She frowned and sighed.

“I don’t pretend to be smart like Shirelock Holmes, but I’m willing to hazard a guess you are Goving,” she said dryly.

“I am truly sorry, Miss Gilda, but I don’t have your background of cultural references. Growing up here in the frozen end of the world and groveling before the almighty Mother of Storms has a tendency of sucking the fun out of life. Especially when you are born a failure. A broken little cub.”

Gilda spent the overly dramatic pause he provided echoing his words inside her head. Before she could reach any useful conclusion other than that they had dragged her into a family drama, the griffon approached Grunhilda. He touched her face, soft like her feathers on his touch. Her typical frown of confusion would have made Gilda smile and chuckle if the situation was not so daunting.

Flanking him came the strangest of those griffons. Unlike the filthy ones who surrounded Gilda’s company, he was more a monster than a griffon. Gilda took a step back, grimacing at the creature that followed Goving like a bodyguard and carried the cold of a night without shelter in his wake.

Foremost, Goving’s bodyguard reminded Gilda of a draugr. He radiated cold, a bizarre living statue who had once been a griffon and had been frozen, only to be brought back to a monstrous unlife. White orbs filled with an impenetrable fog replaced his eyes. Bony fingers ended in talons with no shine. His fur and feathers had no sheen or fluff. Not even the frost holding on to him sparkled, grimy as it was. His desiccated flesh seemed more alive than that of any draugr Gilda had seen, but not by much. Even the filthy strays that had surrounded her company seemed healthier by comparison. He was breathing, but never puffed out of his nares with the same white mist Gilda’s breath produced. Something horribly messed up happened to that griffon, and the biggest sign was the icy spikes growing out of his skull, neck, and shoulders. Along his feathers, like they were part of him, quivering like the feathers did. If there was a name for whatever made that monstrosity, it was Necromancy.

Gilda’s eyes locked on the icy spikes, and something squirmed inside. She almost jumped back. A disgusting flat worm, long like a party streamer, coiled inside it. She shared a distressed stare with Grunhilda and saw her thrall had seen it too. That it aggravated her just as much. But the white griffon that looked like he could be Grunhilda’s brother spoke again. He had none of that, but his posture was no less threatening with that thing by his side.

He held Grunhilda’s jaw so she would stare at him. Their white beaks almost touched, while Grunhilda was so shocked she didn’t even pull away. “They never told you that you had a cousin, did they? Not the griffons in the south. I doubt they knew or cared.”

“Alright, dude.” Gilda frowned and spoke calmly, still eyeing his ‘ice-infested’ bodyguard. “You got us. Now what?”

“Now you and Grunhilda will be coming with me to Feathertip. Your friends are going to die!”

"Cool story, bro." Guille said. Still speaking like a hooflicker. Next to him, his sister also had a contemptuous stare. Godwin stood on his four legs and showed a grim scowl of his own. The wine-colored griffon challenged the nearest stray with his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere with Miss Gilda, nor Grunhilda, and we’re taking you and these guys down.”

Gilda did note his loyalty, though.

At his words, the entire company tensed again. Griffons readied for a fight, all of them agreeing with Guille: nobody was taking Gilda or Grunhilda from them. Godwin reached for his fancy firearm, as did the two Gunner guys. Eyes shifted one way and another; griffons sized up their opponents. The filthy griffons hiding behind trees and on top of rocks backed down not even a step. The surrounding griffons grinned with their grimy and chipped beaks, holding their weapons with purpose, itching for bloodshed.

“Let’s not do anything stupid.” The white griffon made a calming gesture with a mocking grin. “Let’s not forget there are innocent, Allmother-fearing griffons at Feathertip and it would be a disaster if anything bad was to happen to them.”

He raised a couple of chuckles from his band while others seemed unamused when he concluded. His blue eyes gleamed with spite and an arrogant stare down his beak at Gilda.

Gilda's company was still better equipped and filled with actual warriors; they had the advantage, despite being surrounded. Yet the little loremaster inside Gilda’s head told her to thread carefully. To take command and use the situation to her advantage. She saw Grunhilda in that young tom, so she made use of it.

It was the tone, more than the words, that almost made Gilda grin. He talked like one of the angry, dumb pegasi that used to bully her in Cloudsdale. Like he had issues at home and needed some poor soul to unleash it on. Gilda herself, being one of those twisted, hurt griffons, might have felt too much pity for a griffon that had just threatened her, but she saw much in those words, his tone. In his eyes. Gullible, hiding his fear and awkwardness behind an angry stare and a monstrous bodyguard.

“Don’t be stupid, guys.” She filled her voice with confidence and made calming gestures. “I’ll go with Goving here.”

It was like fighting, except with words in the place of an enchanted blade. And much like she did when she dueled with Mythical, Gilda let those ancient memories guide her. Through all the nasty stuff Loremasters could do, understanding the minds of griffons was the most important thing. To understand, to teach. To manipulate when the Allmother needed them to. As one who had made it all, She had taught her Loremasters just the right intonation, the perfect pitch, the precise words. She had given them the key to open the minds of her children and plant just the exact idea they needed inside their heads. Like running a poor bastard with a magical sword, but cutting through reason. Piercing to the most basic pieces of the griffon mind, which would submit to her authority.

“There is no need for violence.” The little loremaster in her head prodded her onward. Encouraged. Calmly, Gilda controlled her voice. Soft as to not invite alarm. Precise as to allow no ambiguity. Doubtless, as to leave no question of her authority. “Just take us and let my guys go. You don’t need to lose your griffons; you already won. Everyone can see it.”

What had she done? Something like touching the mind of an irrational animal. Not unlike what Geena had taught her with the roc. Instead of a soft and comforting touch, her voice carried the magic. With a soft smile hidden behind Gilda’s stoic façade, the little Loremaster in her head laughed. That little trick filled her with glee every time, like whenever Ghadah danced to an audience of enthralled griffons. Gilda smiled too; she could practically hear the clicking lock and whirring gears inside that poor simpleton’s head.

She was actually growing!

The tom nodded and relaxed. Like she had just told him the most obvious of facts. The others didn’t, but nobody seemed ready to raise their weapons and attack just yet. Gilda kept her stare at Goving, watching his almost naïve grin.

“Come on.” Gilda ordered Grunhilda firmly, with a nod towards the griffon.

One of the filthy griffons with Goving let his jaw drop and nervously patted his paw at an outgrowing root. “Ah, boss… You sure?”

“Yes!” the white griffon snapped like a twig and silenced the murmurs among the others. “I’m sure! Why else do you think Master Gavingkal put me in charge? I’m taking the Swordmaiden and my cousin to the town. Your filthy mug is going to escort these griffons to the hills! It’s not that hard!”

Before anyone thought too much about it, Gilda walked from her friends. Past a couple of growling, filthy griffons still holding their crossbows at the others. Nobody bothered her, but without warning, Goving grabbed Mythical and yanked it from under her white cloak, scabbard, and all. Magic pulled and resisted, as though the weapon refused to leave her, but he overpowered it. The brightness of lightning escaped by the locket, and the acrid smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Goving screamed and dropped the sword to the thick snow on the forest floor, holding his paw and swearing. A dark impression remained on the scabbard, in the shape of a griffon paw, slowly burning away.

Furious, blushing, he tore a piece of rotting leather from one of his filthy minions and wrapped it around the scabbard. Then, holding the weapon again, he showed it to Gilda with a mocking grin. “A piece of rotting leather is more powerful than your precious Allmother.”

“Dude, do you need to talk about something?” She replied nonchalantly. “I mean, I get that you have some mommy issues going on, but...”

Despite her jest, Gilda saw the impregnated magic in the piece of leather. Like the cold had claimed it. Like a festering mold intertwined with the material.

“Shut up! You understand nothing!” Goving yelled. His face contorted into a scowl and tinted with red. Then he shoved his ice-taken monster-griffon toward Grunhilda. “Relieve my cousin of her weapons.”

When the white griffon pointed his finger at Grunhilda, Gilda saw it. A delicate iron chain bracelet. It tinkled and danced for her eyes before Goving pulled back his foreleg. But instead of inquiring about it, Gilda paid attention to his bodyguard moving towards Grunhilda.

It would be a northerner gray griffon were it not for his frosted pelt and plumage, deathly appearance, and icy spikes. The freaky worms inside those still made her squirm. Still, Gilda’s stare directed her griffons not to interfere.

For all his jerkiness and bizarre movements, the monster moved as fast as a normal griffon, reaching for Grunhilda’s thunderbow. He said something Gilda couldn’t understand, half gurgling, half belching and letting a disgusting black foam out of his beak. Big Girl hissed and slapped his paw away. Her wings flared and she tensed to attack him.

“It’s okay, Grunhilda. Trust me, it’s gonna be alright.” Gilda acted quickly and spoke firmly before she did anything or the others intervened. Thank the Harpy, the monstrous griffon never reacted to Grunhilda’s defiance, and everyone trusted her.

The situation defused like a deflating balloon, but the white queen still pouted and mumbled. Her big blue eyes didn’t mesh well with the anger she tried to convey and Gilda ignored that stare. She could forgive Grunhilda for being stubborn in that situation.

Finally, she obeyed, surrendering her mother’s thunderbow and the spear and shield she had looted out of the roc’s nest. Not her father’s hammer, though. It remained on her armor’s belt, but the other weapons satisfied the bizarre monster. Gilda suppressed a ‘clever girl’ smile as the monster walked away.

With Goving satisfied too, the pair followed him right after he gave Mythical to the frost monster-griffon. Nobody crying and no metals clashing with their departure helped ease Gilda’s mind.

Goving’s feathery crests flattened, mimicking the ears of an angry cat as he led the way into the dark. With his back to them, Gilda saw long stripes of unevenness in the feathers and fur covering his back. She kept her beak shut and followed him diligently.

Battle on the Fields of Sorrow, Pt. II

The plan to infiltrate the valley between the Triplets and attack the town had crashed harder than Rainbow Dash after too much liquor. The new plan was following Goving and his minion, infiltrating the settlement, and figuring out what was happening. Then get stuff done, Gilda wins, everyone goes home happier, richer, and free to move on. It shouldn’t too hard.

The walk to town was a silent and quick one with fewer griffons and no need to skulk around. Even in the dark, Goving walked briskly and surely on the forest floor. The two queens had no choice but to trust him and his knowledge of the region and still tripped like every root and pothole deliberately sought their feet. They still had to keep up the pace or his monstrous bodyguard growled-complained.

On their way through the woods, Goving never wised up to the fact he should not have left without making sure the others were dead. That taking away the monster was a bad idea. Then again, he never struck Gilda as particularly bright or experienced. She was counting on his thick skull to not wake up to her ploy until it was too late. As they walked, they had distanced themselves from the rest of the company enough that Gilda hoped Gevorg and the others had already fought those traitors. That they, hopefully, were on their way to help her and Grunhilda.

Time breezed by during their walk, and sooner than Gilda had expected, they exited the forest. A frozen mud street greeted them, but there was only so much she could see under the dark of the night. The mud road seemed to meander in between cultivating fields and around the entire area, skirting the forest and the base of the mountains beyond. The scarce light came from a few lonely torches and abandoned oil lamps along the street, unevenly fighting a losing battle against the dark. A lugubrious glow came from what seemed to be the main street and from a lone barn at the edge of the town. Like someone had forgotten to snuff out the lamps before bed. All the rest was an impenetrable gloom.

Gilda frowned, both trying to see and in frustration. Even in Griffonstone, griffons were mindful enough to keep the lighting for safety and for comfort. Even worse, silt had taken over the glass panes of the greenhouses. Many of those had broken, making holes in the ceilings otherwise covered by thick, seated snow. What poor lighting reached Gilda’s eyes teased the imagination with shades and promises of more collapsed buildings.

The griffons of Frozenlake would shovel the snow away and board their roads. It helped carts and coaches on their way and made walking more comfortable. In Feathertip, walking down a slope, Gilda and the others struggled with the fresh, unstable snow. Gilda had time to think, and the situation had her stumped. How long had passed? Those buildings seemed abandoned for years.

Ahead was an almost dead town. Griffon homes in the distance appeared eerily abandoned. One of the homely stone houses on the edge of the city had a hole in the wooden tile roof. Lacking maintenance, the weight of the snow defeated the support rafters. Nobody seemed to care anymore than they did for the greenhouses. But Gilda kept those questions to herself.

Further on, at the limit of the light produced by a grimy lamppost, rested a dead griffon lady. Gilda stopped for a second, along with Grunhilda, staring at the frozen corpse; a poor, malnourished old lady, simply neglected to the elements. Left on the field and so close to town. Cruelly abandoned to freeze and rot, denied the traditional northerner burial. Her actual colors were hard to see; the frost had washed them away. A frail corpse like a draugr missing its magic. The pair resumed their walk after Goving’s minion gurgle-growled at them.

The road took them between an abandoned two-story house by the fields and the illuminated barn. The living room was dark, and pieces of furniture were left abandoned along with blood splatters and common daily-use items. Down the street, a trio of mindless dirty griffons patrolled it, armed with clubs. Upon seeing Goving and his prisoners, the pair of unkempt males and their female friend stopped talking and stared.

A rancid smell of putrefaction filled the air. Gilda twisted her beak and Grunhilda grimaced but said nothing. Before Gilda could complain, she looked at the barn across the street from the house. She wished that the old oil lamps had already run out of fuel.

The remains of wooly oxen, much like the ones which pulled her caravan’s cargo and supplies, remained in their individual stables for days after dying. One of the utterly desiccated creatures laid lifeless in a pool of black ooze coming out of its mouth and nozzle. Its neighbor showed bone through a tear on its rotten leather. Two rows of dead animals ranged from bloated to broken and extended all the way from the wide doors to the frozen, dark field on the other side.

Gilda coughed and bile soured her mouth. The image stayed with her, giving her the impression that those griffons had stopped caring for themselves and their animal friends. The foul sludge seeped into the beaten dirt path in between the bays, flooding old straw and around abandoned farming tools. Even the maggots that fed off the dead remained still in that vile scene, either frozen or themselves half-decomposed.

“This is horrible!” Grunhilda yowled.

“You’ll get used to the smell.” Goving said casually, leading the way further into town. “It’s not so bad in the longhouse.”

“Do you see anything wrong with this place?” Gilda asked, full of sarcasm, despite the distress creeping into her voice.

He turned to glare at her, yelling. “I think I told you to shut up!”

“Are you for real?” She retorted, raising her voice. “I feel like I should ask you to take me to an adult so I can talk to them!”

Gilda chastised herself; she could have ruined his passiveness. Fortunately, the trio of patrolling griffons exploded in laughter and distracted him. Goving’s blush and retort that he was an adult simply made them laugh even harder. Gilda even started feeling sorry for the flustered, awkward white griffon. Goving’s flared wings, childish anger, and yelling at them to shut up made it worse the more he talked.

Gilda watched the trio undoing themselves with mocking laughter. Beneath all the grime and caked mud, the queen had a lovely combination of purple and pink, with an exuberant fluffy chest and long multicolored feathers. The two toms were about as young adults as she was. One showed two shades of gray and the other carried a beautiful blue that had completely lost its luster to all the mud and broken feathers.

How in that Mother-forsaken place could those griffons have gotten so dirty? Ninety percent of the ground was covered in a layer of water! Dried blood, inscrutable stains, missing patches of fur and feather left sore and pimpled skin showing… Their oddities were too many to count. The queen had mating scars on her shoulders that simply festered and never healed properly. Missing feathers and dried pus stained her shoulders. Just the thought almost brought Gilda’s lunch to her throat again. The gray tom was laughing so hard he started coughing and blood sprinkled on the snow. It was so horrible and otherworldly that Gilda couldn’t tear her eyes from the abomination before her.

“Make them stop!”

Goving’s raging yell startled Gilda out of her thoughts. For a second, she thought he was talking to her because he stared her way, but his frosted minion stirred behind her. The monster splayed its feathers and icy spikes, shoving her aside, out of his way. The wormy shades inside the spikes stirred. A wave of cold washed over Gilda when the monster stormed by. Its screech died inside that thing’s throat while its paws reached and grabbed the dirty gray griffon. Like he suddenly awakened, the laughing griffon screamed, helplessly pawing at the monster’s forelimbs.

“Alright. Alright. Calm your feathers.” The purple and rosé queen contained her laughter and snerked into her fist before she made half-hearted appeasing gestures. “Lord Gavingkal told you to take them to the longhouse. They’re waiting, and you’re kinda late. So… yeah…”

Because Goving relaxed or because the monstrous griffon recognized the queen’s pleas, it stopped and let go of her friend. Goving on the other paw, suddenly reminded he was in a hurry, urged Gilda and Grunhilda to walk. He went as far as pushing Grunhilda’s rump onward. Walking with him, Gilda tried to think of something to tell him, but nothing came to mind. Her head was too full of that place’s bizarre circumstances while he hopped on ahead like an anxious cub.

Closer to the main street, what remained of the houses sheltered a few lethargic griffons lounging around the campfires. A few drank, others engaged in heartless fighting, and a dude mounted a queen, barely hidden behind a crumbled stone wall like mindless stray cats. Most of them simply laid on pieces of cloth strewn by the fire, looking bored. A sudden laughter distracted Gilda, and the overall impression was that of a late evening with nothing to do. Except the place was a mess, and a cub was crying, weakly, somewhere.

Apathetic stares kept following her while Gilda drank in the scenery. Abandoned pets had died and nobody recovered them. Cats, thick furred dogs, and a couple of starved simargl canines had stayed behind and remained ignored on the street and porches. Gilda could see the distress in the Grunhilda’s eyes, jumping from one detail to the next, but both remained quiet. The smell of ‘frozen rot’ hit Gilda’s beak like she walked into a wall before she followed Goving into the main street itself.

Where the eyes could see for a long unbroken line, Gilda would have forfeited such a privilege. It remained a road of frozen mud and snow with larger griffon houses and stores flanking it. Windows had been broken and doors battered down. Blots and sprays of blood remained above the broken bodies of griffons, abandoned, and left to freeze. Their armor, jewelry and belongings had been taken, and what wouldn’t fit or suffered damage lay abandoned along the bodies. Corpses and discarded loot littered the sides of Feathertip’s main street. A thin, broken layer of snow covered everything.

Building after building, abandoned and tortured corpses laid on display. Cut apart, pierced by bullets, or showing arrows and crossbow bolts from what used to be beautiful feathers and velvety fur. Blackened walls spoke of fire, broken windows and doors torn from their hinges, testified to the violence. Little dolls of griffon make, and toy swords were left shoved and trampled into the frozen mud, as broken as the bodies. Not even someone’s little pet bird had survived, being left a tiny, frozen body inside a mangled cage. Elsewhere, a little lifeless mink was bent in half. What sort of monsters did that?

Open eyes stared at Gilda, devoid of shine, hard as the stone of their homes. Frozen solid, they told of those Children of the Harpy’s last moments. Beaks hung open and brows frowned, stricken with pain and horror. Talon marks remained on their feathers and fur from when they were dragged outside. Stomachs, cut open, let intestines freeze outside and vile gashes covered caved skulls. Not only the toms and queens, but the elderly and the cubs too. Pets and working animals, which seemed a word more appropriate to whoever was responsible. Mangled paws, broken beaks, gored eyes, ripped pelts and torn wings, nothing seemed too obscene for this place. And around a corner a pile of dead young toms and queens stood like a monument to perversion. Gilda closed her eyes, but those griffons’ last hours haunted her thoughts.

Further up the street, the diorama of torture and horror continued. Paltry campfire lights poured from the dilapidated buildings. Rather than fixing, they used the houses as though they were an improvised shelter. A plaza capped the main street before the longhouse. A statue of a griffon had collapsed to pieces and only the base remained, surrounded by a dead pool of dirty, frozen muck. Three stakes circled around the fountain. What initially looked like cloaked griffons left hanging revealed themselves to be decapitated bodies. Someone had nailed their paws at the stakes. The cloaks turned out to be their blue satin capes, blackened with blood, while their heads adorned the longhouse’s façade. A grim scenery with the light from the torches on the entrance’s support beams, shadows reaching across the ground toward Gilda like the claws of a monster. A couple of pelt-and-bone simargl dogs stood and dashed away between the buildings.

Standing at the center of the street, just by the plaza, a strange emptiness filled Gilda. No anger, no fear, or any sorrow. Only the heat of searing flames and the disgusting smells of a past life staring back at her from the figures around the little plaza.

“I don’t like this place, Miss Gilda!” Grunhilda yowled again, but this time she clung to Gilda and shivered against her side.

“No!” Goving said, soft-voiced and reaching for Grunhilda’s shoulders like a caring brother. “They are not going to do that to you, Grunhilda! Only to the bad griffons.”

He stopped dead in his tracks when Gilda’s paw held his throat. Both sat on the snow for balance, even if she was half a head shorter than him. Her talons held him like vices and threatened to pierce his neck. He raised his paw to fight her, but she slapped it away while her eyes pierced his. All the while, like the bizarre, deranged griffons they had become, the locals started laughing. It caused the white griffon to frown in distress, but also to grimace with anger. His monstrous griffon bodyguard stirred and approached them.

“Call your lackey off, or you won’t live long enough for me to ask about your creepy infatuation with Grunhilda.” She said with a fire in her throat. “Did you do this?”

He kept his grimace, but it reflected a broken ego more than anger. His eyes closed, and he tried pulling away, increasingly agitated and quaking. Gilda held his neck tighter and shook him.

“I asked you a question, you little shit!” She let go and shoved him away. Not with enough force to topple him, but enough to get the message across that she was done playing that game. “Did you do this?!”

His eyes moistened and his brow knitted into a deeper scowl, like a cub about to throw a tantrum. Banging doors stopped him before he could speak. Two more griffons with icy spikes emerged from the longhouse, shaking their bodies and scattering frost on the wooden deck. They guarded the door while a third griffon walked from inside, strutting like he owned the place.

He was large, although not as bulky and tall as Goving. More like the northerner standard Gilda had grown accustomed to as far as physiques were concerned. His red eyes spilled delight at witnessing her anger. Deeply gray feathers, perfectly preened and clean, framed the slackening face of a griffon growing too old. His longhouse reflected it perfectly, sticking like a gleaming diamond in the middle of all the filth.

He paraded down the stairs to his home’s façade, but never stepped in the mud. A diva owning the stage. He stood on his hindlegs, showing off his bleached white armor, shining like he was trying to compensate for something. A complete set too, akin to the one the blacksmith siblings had shown Godwin but missing the tail and much heavier too. The chest plate reflected the light from the torches like he was supposed to be the center of attention and don’t you dare forget it. A white cape outlined his body, as he opened his forelegs and dark wings like all eyes existed to stare at him. It swayed with his feathers in the rot-smelling wind.

A pony mare came from inside after him. A piece of dark metal peeked around her neck from under her cotton cloak. Her purple coat was like a black orchid, and a harsh pink for mane stood like a crest. The fractured horn brought memories of the mare that made the news and caused Gilda to scoff at the newspaper and think ‘the ponies are at it again’ a few years ago.

While she stood at the top of the stairs, Gilda’s eyes found themselves fixated on the male griffon again. He laughed gruffly and spoke so his audience would listen. “Graham doesn’t have the gumption to come face me. Instead, his whore of a mate sent me her lackey. It’s alright. I do find it appropriate. Well then, don’t mind the poor cub, I did this. All of this. Have they told you why?”

“Dude, I didn’t really care. I came here just because I made a deal with Lady Geena.” Gilda shrugged and gave him a disinterested stare. She knew the type and would not give in to his appetite for attention. “I was going to kill you just because she asked, but you kind of convinced me that someone really needs to put you down.”

“Unfortunately, it seems your friends did not make it.” He said and gave her a patronizing smile like only a griffon could before he turned his stare back at Goving. He approached, catwalking down a strip in a fashion show dedicated to his ego. “And you… I ordered you to bring them inside. Did you really have to make me come out?”

Goving was going to say something, but the armored griffon swiftly struck his face. Even with his prodigious size, the white griffon yelped and dropped like a sack of flour. He cowered, covering his head with his paws and his wings. Grunhilda rushed to comfort him.

“You monster!” She screeched at the armored griffon.

Gilda took a moment to appreciate how Lady Geena hit the nail on the head. There was no way she wouldn’t know who the two griffons were she was supposed to kill.

“Shut your beak, broken doll.” He said with a growl while a cruel smile fitted his griffon beak perfectly.

Pleased with himself, he smiled softly at Gilda’s thoughtful frown. Proud like the popular bully pushing the right buttons. Complete with an audience of filthy griffons congregating on the plaza to attend to their boss’ performance.

“Oh, Lady Geena never told you? About your broken thrall’s problem? It runs in the family, you know? Quite the indignity to the relatives of the Astrani Star. Why, why else would Lord Graham be so ashamed of his spawn as to send him from his home? Or to forget his niece in the south? Oh… The honorable Lady Geena never told you any of that, did she? And you are not particularly smart either, are you?”

He laughed at Gilda’s attentive squint. At the sheer outrage in Grunhilda’s eyes and Goving’s helpless sobbing.

“I suppose the Allmother never mentioned it either, did she?” He wheezed, squeezing words between his cruel laughter, armor shaking with his deranged cackling.

“Gavingkal, can we get this over with?” The mare with the broken horn said through a disdainful stare. “I’m just here to apprehend this hen and take her to Griffonstone. I can’t take any more of this bucking cold or your… griffon-ness.”

“Yeah, dude,” Gilda glared at him, “the line is growing. Cut the cryptic bullshit so I can kill you, deal with this mare, and go back on my way to Griffindell. Hey, are you the angry mare that killed the hippogriff king working for the Storm King, or some nonsense like that? Are you here looking for me?”

The angry unicorn with the broken horn didn’t answer in time. Gavingkal promptly took the word again. Angry? Worried someone stole his limelight. Testy that his ego was not properly pampered. “Now, spare a shred of empathy for the poor things. Did you not notice anything out of the ordinary with your dear thrall?”

“Jackass, Grunhilda had a meltdown and hurt a local militia in Griffonstone. They were taking her to Shatteredrock.” Gilda’s consternation spilled into her words as much as she raised her paws in a gesture of sheer frustration. “I just wanted to get her out. I didn’t ask for her bill of mental health. Besides, with how fucked up my head is, I ain’t judging no griffon.”

Gilda rolled her eyes, thinking no one was normal in that batshit insane world. In the next instant, she blinked. Because she had noticed something was off about Big Girl. Something subtle, but it was there. Something she never really was able to put a talon on and just ignored. An eyebrow raised and her stare changed from annoyance into curiosity, and then back.

“Fine. I’ll bite. Enlighten me.”

Her tone of contempt made the black griffon laugh before he pulled Grunhilda from Goving by her nape. It was almost funny, because Grunhilda was bigger than he was, and as strong as he was. He still acted like the star in his own epic opera, immune to outside evidence of how otherworldly inane the whole thing was.

He kept holding Grunhilda by her nape and showed her to Gilda like he wanted her to buy the white queen. “This is what happens when the psychotic she-devil in Griffindell causes the Nartani to inbreed so much that a northerner lord doesn’t want his own cub. Gaharjet and Geena producing these disgraceful wastes of griffon is barely the start. Craven, gullible, simpleminded morons the lot. More and more, they will be born. Instead of mighty lords, a generation of submissive griffons not fit for much more than thralldom. She is destroying us!”

“I will save our noble race from that future.” Gavingkal let Grunhilda go and stood on his four legs, eyes aiming at the storm clouds above. His expression softened, and he petted Grunhilda, not noticing her vexed frown. “I found a use for them. I found a way to control them. To harness their unnatural strength, and they will help me-”

“Hey, grassbreath, what is funnier?” Gilda interrupted him, addressing Tempest Shadow. “A simpleton idiot going on about simpleminded griffons? Or a tough mare that keeps getting herself roped to work for these idiots?”

The mare said nothing while Gilda sat and crossed her paws. “Alright, chill on the theatrics. You’re just an incompetent jerk that got too old and never worked up the courage to challenge Lord Graham for Frozenlake. Then you made up some bullshit to justify your cruelty to your thrall. Or maybe you’re right. Fuck if I know how this breeding stuff works, but I know Grunhilda is not like that. Can we just cut to the part where you put your head on a chopping block, and I lop it off? I got places to be, and I doubt this mare is just going to let me go.”

Gilda stopped her rant and blinked twice. “How much is my head worth, anyway?”

“Enough to pay a decent compensation to the foals of the ponies you killed.”

“Well, tough. Take them to Griffonstone and you can give them my home’s insurance.”

Gavingkal laughed. “I’m sorry, Miss Gilda, I don’t understand where your bravado comes from. You are alone with your feeble-minded thrall and surrounded by mercenaries out to deliver you to Griffonstone. There is a throng of angry griffons that want to rip you apart and do worse things. They are quite tired of the very thing you symbolize.”

Truth be told, Gevorg and the others were supposed to have arrived to help her already. Gilda simply stared at Gavingkal with nothing to tell him and nothing to do about it like he was her math teacher. After a couple of seconds of uncomfortable staring between the two griffons and the angry mare, Goving interjected.

“I sent them off, Master Gavingkal!” The white tom declared with the pride of a prized student.

Tempest Shadow turned to him with a bewildered scowl. “You did what?”

“I sent them away!” He recoiled from her stare, raising his paw like a scared cat. “I told the others to escort them out of the forest! I… I had. They surrendered. And Lady Gilda… She said… She told them to go away. And that nobody else needed to die. And… And…”

“Our guys should have returned by now, milord!” One of the filthy griffons at the front of Gavingkal’s audience cried. He was a yellow, medium-sized tom with the blue highlights on his feathers almost gone due to all the poorly maintained plumage. He held the edge of the raised deck, and his fingers kept shaking. His wide eyes and jittery head seemed too much with the mannerisms of the drug addicts Gilda used to see on her way home back at Griffonstone. “This stinks! They’re probably dead by now or they would be back! The forest is not that much of a walk!”

“Captain Gevorg is the head of the Frozenlake’s guard!” Another said in the middle of the throng of dirty griffons. It was difficult making them out among the nervous rabble under campfires and missing public illumination lamps. “They’re creeping on us right now!”

Panic set in, and the mass of filthy, deranged griffons became agitated. They were all going to die; they said. Gilda was a ‘Loremaster Hag’, and she messed up their minds. Someone joked it wouldn’t take much to mess up some random griffon’s head. Someone was confused, as they had thought Gilda was a Swordmaiden. Others kept telling them to shut up. The concerning part was that they started shouting that they ought to kill the loremaster. Kill Gilda. Shoot her. Bash her head in. They wanted to do increasingly grim and concerning things to her, and that bothered Tempest Shadow. She tossed her head and neighed for them to simmer down.

Gavinkal needed a couple of seconds to understand what was happening in the middle of the growing chaos. His monstrous minions stayed in their positions, screeching and fluffing their feathers while watching the agitated crowd. From inside the longhouse came another pony, one of those tall, lithe mares, covered in white and with a flowing pink mane. What else grabbed Gilda’s attention was her fancy white gold armor and a mask styled as a white and orange fox.

A thousand little loremasters squawked at Gilda, telling her to beware. Tempest Shadow was dangerous, but so was the white mare. A second look showed she held no weapons, but a selection of jewelry and that meant her horn was her weapon.

While the ponies talked in their neighing language and with increasing distress, Gilda caught little of their exchange. She was more interested in Gavinkal slapping Goving again and cursing the white griffon.

“You blithering moron! You were supposed to have had then killed!” His armored paw struck the white griffon a third time and caused Goving to cower under his wings yet again. “Get your cretin cousin inside. To the excavations! Go!”

“Quit yelling at him!” Grunhilda shouted back. A fierce wrath in her sapphire eyes dared him to hit her.

Rather than facing Grunhilda, Gavingkal ignored her and turned to the assembled griffons in the plaza. Under the light from the torches, he raised his voice and made a grand sweeping gesture at them. “Shut your beaks and prepare to defend the city! I will deal with her. I will deal with her and send the Frostbound to fight the intruders. You thugs keep them out and try not to die too much!”

A dozen griffons among the rabble reinforced Gavingkal’s orders and threatened the others into action. In the anarchy of griffons scrambling to fight and the two ponies arguing, the armored griffon turned to the purple mare. “Get your associates and help us fight them, or you are not leaving either.”

The purple mare spun on her hooves, with her ears straight up and a fiery stare in her cyan eyes. Before she could say anything, her friend wearing the fox mask waved her exquisitely armored hoof and urged with her voice muffled by the mask. “We need their help to get home, Fizzie! Myrtle is sick!”

“I will pay you extra, cursed grassbreath!” Gavingkal insisted. “I’ll have my lieutenants escort you and your associates to Thunderpeak!”

“Fine!” Tempest roared before directing her words at the wizard mare. “Get them inside and tell the others to prepare to defend this frozen piece of Tartarus.”

While the fox-masked pony hopped to Grunhilda and Goving and encouraged them to stand, Gilda walked with Tempest Shadow. “I thought that Princess Twilight Sparkle had friendshiped the evil out of you.”

“Queen Novo wanted my head on a spike. Princess Celestia wanted to stick me in a prison until the end of times. Princess Luna wanted to give me therapy. And Twilight wanted to give me homework. The Griffonian government was kind enough to lose me during transport with a small financial incentive.”

“You really ought to stop working for the wrong creatures, though.” Gilda chuckled, but the mare didn’t seem to be in a good enough mood to share in her joke.

“Shut up, griffon hen. You killed two of my friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can hate me all you want, but are you just gonna leave Grunhilda here? With these dudes?”

The mare paused and blinked at Gilda’s words. Then she turned around to look at Goving and Grunhilda entering the longhouse. Finally, she turned back to Gilda. Without a second glance, the mare’s horn remade itself with a magical light. Enchanted shackles materialized around Gilda’s legs and connected them with extra chains to restrict her movements. Maybe it was her smile, but Tempest Shadow saw through her words. Gilda sighed and the mare also pulled a pistol from beneath her cloak. Scowling, she nodded for Gilda to enter the building.

Gilda obeyed with a frustrated sigh. She was going to dissuade the mare, but she must have failed to reach the right intonation. Before she had much of a second chance, Tempest’s horn magicked itself into existence again. A gag fitted inside Gilda’s beak to tie itself around her head. She never got to see it and reeling away proved pointless as the thing just came into existence solely to silence her. It forced her beak open and ignored her surprised mumbles. Between indignant and murderous stares, Tempest Shadow ignored Gilda, too.

“Shut up and walk, hen. I’m not taking chances with this Discordian griffon devilry.”

Just where in the feathering world had Gevorg gone to? Maybe she shouldn’t have allowed that dweeb to take her sword. Maybe she should just turn around and mess that mare up with her bare talons. Gilda held her temper; she would still be at a disadvantage without the others. Grunhilda might get hurt. Begrudgingly, Gilda followed the others into the longhouse.

She didn’t know what Gavingkal had named his hall, but Gilda called it a dump. It was dark and musty, literally the opposite from the one in the Manor, or even Geena’s keep. More like a warehouse or a workshop than a noble hall. Several sconces missed their torches and patches of dirt covered parts of the floor. No tapestry, no rich candelabra, or rugs except for one rolled into a corner. A few griffons, who still seemed normal to Gilda, turned the main table on its side and placed neat piles of crossbow bolts by their barricade. One of the walls had been turned into a barracks with bunk beds, collections of packs and random gear. A couple of young queens cowered behind a pillar and griffons in armor hurried everywhere.

It was difficult to see in the dark, but one of the meek griffonesses—never a good sign—looked at Gilda. A darkened halo was visible under her cyan feathers, but she averted her gaze and closed her eyes. Her friend hugged a young tom that Gilda hadn't seen. She could swear he was crying.

“Don’t lag behind.” Tempest ordered.

Gilda growled back. She wanted to remind the mare she had tied her legs, but all she managed was a collection of raging grunts. She couldn’t even admonish the dumb pony to look around her and see the disgraced mess she had tangled herself with. A passing insight that Tempest Shadow might be as blind as those griffons to all the insanity in that place chilled Gilda’s blood and silenced her.

Her tantrum caught the attention of a bulky, green-gray griffon with rustic, black iron armor and a horned helmet. Just as he arrived from further back in the longhouse, he saw Gilda and squawked to the others. He shook his head and more of them joined him, abandoning their job of preparing to defend the building. They talked among themselves with unhappy whispers, and noticing the disturbance, ponies who certainly worked for Tempest Shadow stopped working too. A short one with a mask that more reasonable creatures used for hockey looked one way and the other with a worried mumble, asking what was going on.

“This was not our deal, Tempest Shadow!” The bulky griffon said as the others gathered around. Her ponies joined too, and nobody seemed happy with the situation. “I dislike this profane place already, but I can accommodate for a decent pay. However, she is the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani!”

His words made the ponies nervous. For a bunch of pudgy grass-eating equines wearing masks, they seemed well prepared. Each carried a multitude of firearms and melee weapons, armor, and fancy apparel. All gleamed with magic to Gilda’s eyes, as shiny as the gems and expensive metals they were laced with. Their anxious backward steps and tossing manes confirmed they didn’t like what they heard. Nervous stares were shared, and it became a dangerous situation, especially with the imminence of battle hanging above their heads.

“Quiet!” Tempest Shadow took a threatening, stomping step closer to the griffon in iron. He stood his ground and squinted at her, but his beak remained shut. “It’s all griffon nonsense for all I care! I have paid you! Stop crying and do your job. You’ll get the rest of your fees when I leave with this hen. Walk away if you don’t like that.”

Satisfied she had said enough, the mare’s hard hoof shoved Gilda’s flank for her to walk after Goving and Grunhilda. The griffoness obeyed while the others resumed preparing the place for a last stand. That was when Gilda noticed the gaping hole in the floor. A couple of walls had been taken down, replaced with improvised support beams. It disfigured the inside of the longhouse and a plethora of digging gear laid strewn around the hole. Semi-improvised stairs led down into it, and torches lit the way. The entire longhouse had been turned into a mess. The entrance of a mine, messy with tools and dug-up soil.

Gavingkal raised his paw and ordered Tempest Shadow to stop. “There is nothing for you in here. My Frostbound will keep her under control.”

“I will not leave her alone.” Tempest retorted. “So, we’re all going down into your precious excavation, and you’re going to deal with it.”

She ignored his fuming and angry stares to the point he never even bothered replying. Goving kindly guided his cousin on, and the others followed. Going down the stairs, the abrasive dirt from the dug soil, spattered on the stairs, turned into mud and bothered at every step. Ahead, Goving kept reassuring Grunhilda to the point she lost her patience and snapped at him that she was fine. The two were so amusing that Gilda almost forgot she was a prisoner and that her plan had gone up in flames.

Behind Gilda, Gavingkal and Tempest Shadow kept arguing like a married couple. Their whispers were nowhere as silent as they thought, going back and forth between the two. The tan griffoness smiled, despite the uncomfortable gag in her mouth. At least, the two dirtbags were as miserable as she was.

The noises of griffons dragging furniture and shouting orders, the anxious neighing and trampling hooves all died away in the distance. The tunnel made of wet, dark soil and the broken remains of old rotten trees and rocks made way for walls of stacked cobblestone. A mist covered the floor and the wood planks felt, somehow, colder.

They soon reached a corridor in a buried building. An ancient one, and to Gilda’s quickly sharpening magical senses, thick with ancient magic. It practically seeped from the walls and hung in the air like steam in a hot bath, but instead of roses and sandalwood, it smelled of rot and rather than cleansing sweat, it brought shivers. A cutting cold that seeped into the bones replaced the abrasive dirt on the smooth stone and the walk remained an unpleasant exercise. Where did such a cold come from? Could it be coming from the frozen soil behind the cobblestone walls? Gilda knew little about that. Did the mist come from it?

They kept walking, turning twice, and soon passed a pile of discarded torches. On the walls, they were replaced by magical lighting crystals, recently fitted into the gaps between the stones. Branching paths led to old rooms with broken, ancient furniture. All both frozen and rotten, undoing itself into nothing. Just breathing burned Gilda’s nostrils, and the smells seemed dulled, but what she had dubbed the ‘cold rot’ prevailed.

‘What is wrong with you, dumb grassbreath? Are you seriously going to fight the griffons coming to fix this dump just to take me to Griffonstone?’ Gilda wanted to tell the mare. Her friends had attacked her and Grunhilda first. Not only that, but while Gilda had a paw in the grave and was about to slip in already. Why couldn’t the two of them just take their beef outside? Mare and griffoness. If Tempest would only let Gilda deal with the scumbag and help whoever they could in that Nightmare Night freak show, she’d gladly settle the score.

Groaning and swearing to herself around the gag, Gilda kept following Big Girl and the white tom. How deep were they going? They just kept walking. Gilda could have killed that jackass, Gavingkal at least three times over with her bare paws only to make him and the mare shut up. The corridor grew darker and colder with every step, and only after passing a couple of lighting crystals Gilda noticed they lost their shine. Pair after pair, they grew weaker and weaker. Slowly, the scowl on her face undid itself.

The corridor started tapering around her. The crystals dimmed their light with every step, barely illuminating the mist, much less the floor. They seemed to pulsate with her steps. Or was it her heartbeat they followed? She couldn’t understand the bickering duet behind her. She could hear their words, but the meaning eluded her. The cold seeped deeper into Gilda’s paws, up her legs, every time she dipped them in the thick mist. Like sticking her paws in ‘ghost water’. It had no wetness, only the cold that clung to her joints and made them stiff.

She never noticed when the lighting changed further, but the crystals no longer grew darker as she advanced along the corridor. Gone was their clear white, replaced by a distant, bluish twinkle, chilling her soul through her eyes. Like a star lost inside the mist, cold and abandoned. Gilda frowned and scanned the corridor. Did the stacks and stacks of cobblestones lining the walls move? At some point, the mist had seeped into the gaps. Or was it coming out of them? Cascading down the stones and playing tricks with her eyes?

Someone shoved a heavy piece of furniture. A griffon lady screamed. Gilda jumped and gasped. Her frown deepened, and she looked around herself. A door on the wall had been boarded. Fresh planks showed patches of green and flaking trenches etched into them. Did it move? A small worm, white and fat, moved inside with tiny black claws. On the other side, the furniture scraped repeatedly on the floor, and someone wept. Their broken sobbing and compulsive gasps crawled up Gilda’s spine. She had to distance herself from the boarded door before the sounds and the cold in her stomach overwhelmed her.

Faces of griffons swam in the mist, cascaded from the cobblestone. Old males and females, stretching themselves with the flow. In the next second, it was all gone. The dark corridor took a cold cyan shine and the cobblestone, while still smooth, seemed much crispier. The lighting crystals had vanished, and left Gilda lost in the dark.

‘Did you guys…’ she tried speaking, but her words never escaped her gag. Not even her mumbles received attention; Gavingkal and Tempest Shadow bitterly snarled at each other. In front of her, Grunhilda walked forward, and her wings sagged to the floor while Goving kept talking to her. Completely ignored, Gilda let escape a breath out of her nares and kept walking.

A surprised grimace showed in her face again as ghostly griffon paws sprouted their way past the cobblestone on the floor, pushing them aside and reaching for Gilda. That could not be real. She was most definitely seeing things. Those were not griffon paws rising from the floor. It was the mist. Ghostly rivulets of mist in the dark, playing tricks on her eyes. Grunhilda and Goving simply kept walking and Gavingkal kept arguing with Tempest Shadow. It was obvious the others did not even see any of it.

And yet frigid fingers skimmed against her paws, real as the gale of flying above the frozen land. They brushed at her feet and grasped her legs. Fingers undid themselves as she kept walking, ignoring them, but the cold of their touch remained.

‘There is some freaky magic shit going on here. I’m just seeing things!’ Wide eyes and thumping heart, she mumbled to herself as best as she could with that irritating ball gag in her mouth.

‘As though magic itself isn’t dangerous enough in this batshit insane world.’ She added with the same difficulty and rolled her eyes. Her sarcasm never made her paws stop trembling, much less soothed her anxious heart.

Something pulled at her tail and even she saw all her bravado shatter. Her tail puffed up when she tucked it between her legs. A muffled scream escaped her when she turned around. Everywhere, bony, spectral paws reached for her. Gavingkal and Tempest Shadow were gone. Shaking, gasping, she turned the other way and neither Goving nor Grunhilda were in sight. Big Girl’s name trembled on her throat, but the gag never let Gilda call her for help.

Alone. Her cape she was so proud of was gone too. Her magical jewelry vanished with it. The red scarf went missing. Gilda stopped walking. The ghostly paws grasped her legs, no less frail than they were before, no less cold, but Gilda’s muscles refused to move. Her joints locked, unyielding, shoving in her face what she didn’t want to see: her whole body trembled, and her thoughts refused to flow, paralyzed with fear.

She shivered. She couldn’t explain how, but she was standing before a black pillar in the center of a room. It evoked images of the obelisks which decorated cities throughout the old empire. Scratch marks, like someone had carved words with a chisel, imitated the griffonian writings and bled a cold blue light. Distorted symbols hid their meaning and teased her eyes, desperately searching for something that seemed real.

The mist seemed to flow from under the pillar, like it was the heart of winter itself. A statue of a snake-like being coiled around the obelisk and a long, desiccated equine leg held the creature to it. The snake became the front half of an equine, not unlike the undead draugar, but the parched muzzle of the creature showed fangs most unpony-like. Even carved in stone, its mane seemed to flow like the silky hair of the alicorn-gods and its grimace shed an unnatural malice.

The eyes shone like sickly stars. Unlike the twinkling beauty of Luna’s lights, those carried the oppressive cold of the Frozen North. It spoke to Gilda inside her head, not with words, but with noises and a pickaxe against her skull. Her vision blurred, and a blizzard took over her thoughts. The cold made her hiss and tremble.

“Welcome, child.” A griffoness spoke to her in a calm voice and in a respectful tone. “They yearn for you, and unfortunately, you are lost, alone in their domain.”

When Gilda’s eyes focused again, a raven griffoness stood before the obelisk. Was she there before? The word ‘raven’ described her uncannily too well. Black velvet for coat and a shiny jet for plumage. Onyx for a beak, and vibrantly honey eyes standing out so much Gilda could not look elsewhere. Her face held a supernatural and mature beauty. Her presence demanded attention. She walked, and her gait barely disturbed the pervading mist covering the floor. Her pieces of ornamentation barely rattled. Animal teeth and small bones hung in between squirrel skulls from her necklace. The antlers rising from her headdress made with the skull of a deer barely swayed. Her majesty and poise could not coexist inside Gilda’s head with her gross ornaments.

Finally, Gilda noted the place they were in. She had no reference to compare it to. It was a round room made to accommodate the obelisk with the statue. Foggy ice covered the walls. It was solid as stone and cold as the heart of a Windigo. In fact, it pulsated like a beating heart. It thumped inside her head like an oppressive force crushing her. Gilda’s stomach turned and her head spun. She shivered again, sighing a mist into the air, and hugged herself, hazily wondering when she had entered that room.

Spikes protruded from the walls. Hundreds of them oppressively dotted the dome-like room, reaching toward the statue in the center. Each one was clear as crystal, filled with liquid. Every one of them harboring a ribbon-like worm inside, twisted into itself to fit inside. The raven griffoness examined one, and then another, and another, before finally squinting her eyes at one and smiling. She touched it softly, running her fingers across it, and the worm shivered inside. Finally, she held it in both paws. One powerful pull freed it from the ice layer on the wall and the jagged base bled a foul-smelling water.

Griffons like Goving’s bodyguard had surrounded Gilda. Several of them. She tried stepping back, but the ghostly paws on the floor held her stoutly. Those monsters walked towards her, with their bleached feathers bristling in a hurricane wind that never touched Gilda. Slow steps like the inexorable crawl of time. A frost covered their icy spikes, but the shades moved inside, reminding her of what was in there. They approached, keeping their foggy white eyes on her. She couldn’t even see their irises, but her skin crawled; she knew they scrutinized her every naked inch.

She was looking through the keyhole of death’s door. Her eyes filled with a glimpse of the horrors beyond the edge of life. Were they undead? Were they just hurt griffons, perhaps beyond salvation, but still just griffons? What were they? Magical machinations of terror and cold. The thousands of Loremasters in her past telling her what she saw had silenced. Where was Ghadah and her bravery? Where were Godwin and Gevorg?

“You are… Alone. Forsaken.” A hideous, shrill, and mournful neigh froze her blood, riding the grating High-Griffonese the monster spoke. His beak, twisted and flaky with decay, came too close to hers. Her throat filled with ashes and her nares with the acrid smoke of burning flesh and fur in his breath. She tried screaming when his black tongue licked her beak and her feathers. “Bared to the bone. Powerless to resist.”

A rushing storm of terror rolled over Gilda and filled her muscles with energy. She tried pulling away from the monster to no avail. Her throat closed; her nares seemed too small to carry the air into her lungs. She pulled again, but the bony spectral paws held her. Three on her foreleg before yet another latched on to her so tightly they could break her bones. She could not hold it anymore, but her panicked shriek never escaped her gag. It squirmed inside her mouth and crawled into her throat, filling her with a fleshy mass. She shook her head wildly. Her screams, again and again, remained sequestered in her throat. Her chest weighed like a mountain against her muscles and cold, bony paws with cutting talons held her body; she could not move.

Ash, scorched flesh, and sweat overwhelmed and sent her eyes spinning. The gag turned her cough into retching and spastic seizures, but that was denied of her, with overpowering and rugged fingers about to shatter her bones. They grasped at her feathers and pulled like they had tied her with iron chains and forced her to grate her face against the stone floor.

Tears streaked from her eyes, and her muscles pulled in vain. Rough clasps of ice and harsh fingers scraped up her thighs, heedless of her protests, pulling muscles or curling toes. Her head pounded with her desperately hurried heart and her screams that never left her chest. Life-stealing cold poured into her flesh, spreading through her body like her veins carried the cold of the Frozen North. It cut into her with a thousand knives.

“Mother!” she cried.

The corridor, the monster, and the eerie ghosts vanished. In one instant, they held and hurt her. In the next, she stood on a placid lakeside. Golden light made into liquid washed over the black sand and an island sat in the middle of the lake, taken by a single, solid tower of black stone. A gale flayed Gilda’s feathers like the wind was petting her. Distant thunder rolled with flickering lights above a towering mountain, far behind the lake.

She grimaced and heaved before she controlled her nerves. She pawed at her neck, at her belly and her nethers, telling herself again and again none of that was real. Still trembling, she reminded herself it was a vision. A dream, a nightmare. Something. Whatever it was, it was over, and she was safe. A wave of warmth enveloped Gilda. It washed away the residual cold. Petrichor filled her nares, doing away with the ashen fires and disgusting stenches of heinous defiling. She finally breathed calmly again.

Gilda then smiled with the comforting steps on the sand. Mother Harpy was walking beside her, but then suddenly flicked a finger between Gilda’s eyes. Gilda yelped and attempted to cover her face while Mother Harpy spoke in her usual disappointed tone. “You should have called me sooner, you little idiot.”

How dare she? Gilda had just come out of one of the worst nightmares in her life. She was stuck in a nightmare factory without help! When she growled and looked up to complain, Mother Harpy was looking at a pawful of black sand. She watched it pour from her fingers and undo itself like glitter in the air.

“Deceptively cunning.” Mother Harpy frowned. “They crept into your mind and found your biggest fears, like you had an open menu for it to pick and choose. I almost lost you.”

“They’re messing with my head, the pricks.” Gilda flared her wings and splayed her fingers at the sand, snarling and scowling.

“Messing with heads, as you put it, is what they do.” Mother Harpy petted Gilda with a brief smile that soon shifted into a worried frown. “I despise what I am seeing. This devilry seems strong enough to turn powerful and loyal griffons into their minions.”

“Do I want to know what is actually going on?” Gilda asked with a raised eyebrow, folding her wings, and sitting down on the sand. “Never mind that! I just want to go back there and whoop some ass!”

“The details are indeed complex and unimportant to you. You met Madam Gudrun. She helped their magic to worm into your mind. She has then tainted you with a parasite. It is a magical entity pervading the ruins but bound to the worms. Its physical form is no more than a carrier for the Windigos’ magic. She is herself a victim. I fear all the survivors in the town are infested.”

She poked Gilda’s forehead with an obsidian talon when the tan griffoness flared her wings again, standing and demanding to be sent back. “The parasite is attempting to take control of your mental faculties after arming itself with your fears. It was battering down your defenses with dread and horror, but it was easy to cleanse. While intelligent enough to improvise, like its masters, it lacks the true creative power of the Nightmares.”

“Or mine, for that matter.” The great black and white griffoness held her fluffy, silvery chest. “Had it succeeded, you would have become one of those monsters. Their mistake was underestimating your connection to me.”

Those words gave Gilda some pause. She folded her wings and waited, paying attention to Mother Harpy’s words. Soon, the traitor loremaster and the parasite would realize something went wrong. Mother Harpy frowned; her eyes aimed at the sand. A chink appeared in her armor of inscrutableness.

“In all the previous cycles, they attempted nothing similar. I am not entirely sure of what this means.”

Gilda watched with a touch of curiosity the nigh impenetrable expression of the great griffoness before her, lost in thinking. The tan griffoness wanted to insist. That Mother allowed her to put down Gavingkal and his cronies already. She wanted to ask her about his claims in the subject of inbreeding and what it meant for Grunhilda and Goving. Mother Harpy never gave her the chance for either, and spoke first.

“Blessed is the mind too small for doubts. They are cracks in the foundation of a strong faith. You are not yet ready to understand and your reservations about my designs will sap your strength when you need it the most. You are not yet ready to face this, under the pain of me losing you. I cannot allow this. I command you to flee.”

Gilda frowned at her. She found it awkward to impose herself against a taller griffoness, so mighty she could snap her in half if she wanted. Although feeling like a cub challenging her no-nonsense mother, her glare aimed at Mother’s stormy eyes.

“I made my choices and burned my bridges; you know I am on your side, and that I don’t doubt your power, or your wisdom. I simply disagree sometimes with your ideas. Sometimes.” Gilda responded with words solid and cutting as steel.

“You are not smart enough to appreciate the difference.” Mother Harpy half-snarled, half murmured at Gilda.

She might not be smart, but certainly knew what side she was on. And she might be too dense to understand Mother Harpy’s reservations, but the tan griffoness chose bravery over prudence. Thus, she intensified her glare with the surest of frowns, and perhaps the silliest of pouts, staring up at the black and white griffoness.

“There is no way in the Scorch I will leave that place without my friends. I don’t know what they are doing, but I am not just fleeing like a scared chicken! Much less leaving that place as it is! You gotta help me kill that jerk and save whoever I can, not flee! There is a whole town of griffons we need to bury.”

The Harpy kept her blank expression. “You do not even know what the Scorch is.”

Gilda cared little. She had made up her mind. Still sitting on her haunches, she made a smug grin and crossed her forelimbs. “Besides, I’d be a pretty crappy Chosen-of-the-Harpy-Awesome-Swordmaiden-Loremaster-Dual-Purpose-Bootylicious-Griffoness if I just squirreled away. Right?”

To say the Harpy was not amused would be like saying her late earthly mother used to be happy with her low grades.

“Do you want me to sign an I. O. U. or something?!” Gilda threw her paws, even letting her voice raise. “You already own my soul! My ass is buried in debt to you! I’ve already agreed that I’m going to be your big Swordmaiden hero, and that I’m going to be your chosen one’s concubine. Or whatever. I even accepted that you make me hornier. Or friskier… I dunno!”

“The word you want is libidinous.” Mother Harpy was still not amused.

“Whatever! Whatever that freaky dream was! I even took part in your big orgy! The point is… What more do you want?!” Gilda’s shoulders and wings slackened. “I… I never had a lot of friends, and I don’t want to lose them… and I know you can help me deal with Gavingkal!”

“So… Ah…” She joined her yellow paws and made a pleading grin. “Please? Pretty please?”

Mother Harpy stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Gilda’s jaw hurt from holding such an awkward and forced grin. Finally, the great griffoness filled her chest and let escape a long and blaring sigh, also massaging her brow.

“End it, then.” Mother Harpy resumed her stately and haughty posture. “Put my traitorous children to the sword and relinquish their souls to me. I will cleanse them of the Windigos’ parasite and heal them before I send them on their last journey.Avenge their transgression and correct their wrongs. Bring my light to those lost in the dark and let the name of the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani echo in the voices of the living and of the dead. Show the enemy that the Children of the Harpy glorify Me in the fury of battle and wash their sins in the blood of their foes.”

“In the future, I shall teach you prayers which will help focus your mind. For now, remember the Raptorial Creed. Love your own infinitely and hate your enemy infinitely. Take everything and give nothing. Make use of my Gift of Wrath; give in to the raptor.”

Her large paw shoved Gilda’s chest, and she fell into a black nothingness. Slowly, light cold as winter poured into the walls and a room came into being. She saw the statue before her, lifeless and as mundane as any statue. Its empty eyes became twin dots, like distant stars. Cold and piercing instead of twinkling gracefully, pouring malice and unfiltered hatred out of themselves.

Its voice rocked her head like a collapsing mountain. An unfathomable cold surrounded her, and an unholy stench attacked her nares, but she never shivered nor retched. At most, her beak twitched with unpleasantness and her brown knitted.

Proud is the daughter of the Raptor Queen.

How could not she be, for truly did she win.

Vast is the Frozen North, untold its cold.

Empty is her worth, vain her bold.

Mightier is our grasp inside her kin. Cold are their souls within.

Gilda’s expression contorted into an annoyed roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah…” She twisted her beak again. “Roses are red, violets are blue. Something-something, fuck you.”

Gilda’s chest throbbed with pain. Information bombarded her. She was back in the cold room, sitting on the cold floor, with her back to the wall, and encased in ice up to her ribcage. The cold was beyond understanding and only by magic her body remained undamaged. Her most sensitive parts felt numb and sharp stabs hurt her extremities with every heartbeat. Her limbs remained chained by Tempest’s magic, and even the warmness of the pony magic seemed distant as the moon. She was awake and her warmth fought the cold like two armies clashing.

The spikes protruding from the walls shone at her and every little detail assaulted her eyes. Every pulse of magic surrounding her, every squirming worm presented itself for her scrutiny. The frigid ice on her teats, the icy spear shoved into her chest and the icky blood on her feathers. Cracking noises from the ice echoed inside her head and the filthy ice filled her nares with rot. Reality screamed at her.

The raven griffoness’ black paws held the spike firmly past a broken rib and into Gilda’s heart. In the next instant, her honey eyes widened, and her beak opened in sheer shock. Unrestrained fury filled Gilda’s blood and Mother Harpy’s fulgurating magic, itching to be unleashed, boiled it. Gilda screeched at the black griffoness. The chains snapped and she held the icicle. A bolt of lightning filled her nerves with fire. It seared the worm into nothing with a flash and shattered the ice spear into a million pieces. A light so bright it blinded Gilda for an instant. Shards so sharp they cut the raven griffoness’ forelegs when she shielded herself. It reduced the ice holding Gilda to cold dust, and free, Gilda reached for the griffoness’ neck.

“Mother wants a word. Traitor.”

Her honey eyes enlarged further still when Gilda’s fingers held her neck. When the shock subsided, she failed to react. What was the black griffoness thinking, Gilda wondered. She smiled at her, and her eyes whispered to Gilda she was sorry. Gilda was not.

“Beware. There are more.” The struggling words squeezed through her black beak.

The stoic stare of acceptance which followed almost made Gilda grieve for her. Almost. The residual pain where that hag had run her chest through still hurt. The black griffoness simply closed her eyes and never resisted. Gilda toppled her, laying on top of her and didn’t let go, putting all her weight on her paws and anger in her eyes. Gilda held the black griffoness’neck until the twitching limbs stopped. A pang of sorrow struck Gilda, finally, as she let go and all the fury subsided. Her body was so cold it was like throttling a corpse. A passing glance showed a beautiful body, tainted with repeating scars that left missing feathers and fur on limbs and between her teats. For better or worse, she was free, and Gilda would bury her properly.

Grunhilda and the awkward white male both stared at her. One mimicked the other’s wide eyes and hanging beak, but Grunhilda pulled her paws free. He tried to hold her, but her paws slipped from his. The male cried ‘no!’ and grabbed her armor behind Grunhilda’s neck. In the next second, Grunhilda reached for her hammer and in one fluid motion, hit him on the side of his head. Goving collapsed to the thawing floor and the muddy water stained with red.

The white griffoness shrieked and jumped closer to Gilda. A quick once over showed she was unharmed, but the thawing crystals cracked open and released the disgusting worms into the cold, filthy water. They twitched and wiggled helplessly. The obelisk completely lost its magical shine, and darkness took over the room. Only the light from the magical crystals in the corridor allowed them to see. Thank the Harpy, they were working after the magic in that cursed place ceased.

Neither queen needed a word, and Grunhilda followed Gilda. As if to hasten their flight, the stone once under the ice cracked and pebbles splashed in the water along with chunks of dirty ice. Grunhilda stopped by the doorway, though. She turned and looked back into the room with a distressed frown and her beak hanging open.

“We can’t help him, Grunhilda.” Gilda told her. “Maybe it’s better like this… We’ll try to give them a proper burial, but now we gotta go!”

Battle on the Fields of Sorrow, Pt. III

Gilda and her friend galloped along the corridor as fast as they could. None of the mist, noises, ghostly apparitions or cold remained. Only the dark persisted, partially controlled by the lighting crystals that seemed to work properly with a white light. They merely lacked the numbers. Nothing supernatural seemed to be happening anymore.

Rolling her eyes, Gilda thought Gavingkal was not only delusional and a traitorous tailhole, but also a stingy jerk.

An elongated hallway provided her with a moment of reflection. How were they going to properly bury Goving and the black griffoness? She simply couldn’t leave them to rot and allow their souls to become even more of a plaything for the Windigos. She kept going with those thoughts in her mind. Soon enough, the branching paths had been boarded up and torched replaced the magical lighting crystals. The way up was close.

Turning a corner, Gilda stopped with a gasp. A pair of the griffons Gavingkal had called Frostbound blocked their way at a bend in the corridor. One hissed upon seeing the pair, and the other turned to look at them. Both stood to fighting stances, each holding a spear and readying for a fight. No armor or shields, but their weapons, made in dark metal, seemed ancient and so did the magic they radiated.

Gilda hissed at them, flaring her wings out of surprise, while Grunhilda barely even slowed down. She barreled down the corridor like an out-of-control train in a racket of clanking armor plates and showing no signs of slowing down, despite Gilda’s orders to stop. Their spears slid past her armor and one of them gurgled, crushed against the wall with a high-speed Grunhilda-worth of kinetic energy.

Just as Gilda could open her eyes and stop grimacing—and be angry at Grunhilda’s recklessness—Big Girl’s hammer smashed a spear against the floor with a thundering crack and a shower of sparks. Screeching, the frostbound let go of his broken weapon and lunged at the white griffoness with his talons. Gilda grabbed him first, while the other monster was still stunned against the wall.

Her fingers sizzled at the frost in his gray plumage, and the monster’s strength surprised her. After a momentary struggle, she shoved the griffon back against the wall, and without an instant of hesitation her talons slashed his parched throat open. Black blood, sticky like a melting pony candy, flew with broken, sickly feathers and glued to her talons. But that wasn’t the worst. It was that the monstrous griffon simply kept moving and his talons just barely missed her eyes. Only then, the frostbound stopped. He only seemed to register the injury after a heartbeat and as long wiggling worms spilled out of his exposed blood vessels.

Gilda jumped back with a mismatched combination of different swear words. Likewise, Grunhilda shrieked, hiding behind her when the griffon she had crushed too kept moving and worms crawled out of its mouth along with the leaking tar-for-blood. Grunhilda screamed again, hiding behind Gilda’s wings.

“I really don’t like this place, and I would like to go home, please!” Big Girl shrieked yet again.

Worst of all, the slit throat began knitting itself up and slurped the worms back inside. The frozen, decaying flesh melted, for lack of a better word, and started melding together. With a disgusted grimace, Gilda grabbed the nearest torch from the wall and shoved the burning tip into the wound. It produced a satisfying hiss, even if neither the monstrosity nor the griffon it had taken over were readily flammable. While it slowed the monster down, what Gilda called corrupted flesh simply grew over the burnt wound after the frostbound removed the torch.

The two griffonesses backed several steps as the monster clawed at its re-knitting throat and the other hobbled towards them. Gunhilda’s little ear-like feathers perked when a threatening screech came from behind. Two more monstrous griffons emerged from the direction they had come from.

Grunhilda screeched at the monsters in front of them and flared her wings while Gilda turned around, measuring the other duo’s approach. They prowled, step after step, but they didn’t flare their wings. Instead, having no weapons, they hissed menacingly. Big Girl hissed at the first two again, standing on her hindlegs and wielding her hammer at the ready.

“We gotta burn them! We need more torches!” Gilda yelled with the nervous energy she found herself filled with. She shifted her posture, nervously pacing from side to side until something unseen slapped her behind her head and she yapped. Then her eyes widened with a sudden realization. “Oh… Yeah. Right.”

She gave herself a confident grin and stood on her hindlegs, closing her fists, willing the magic to flow, and channeling it to her talons. Fingers tingling, her chest filled with warmth and certainty. The nearest frostbound griffon lunged at her, but she was ready for its attack despite its unsettling speed. Gilda gracefully danced a step back, redirecting his paws with her left paw. Her right traced the air with lightning and teared at the sickly flesh, searing and cutting the monster’s face with Mother Harpy’s magic.

The monstrous griffon reeled, screeching, and holding the blackened wound across its face. He tumbled and fell on its back while Gilda reached for the other. The overly long talons out of the shriveled fingers glanced off her chest; her very feathers flashed with Mother’s Light and unleashed its power against the monster. Despite the magical protection, the vigorous impact hurt and made Gilda step back not to lose her balance. The monster shrieked at the black, mangled thing his paw became.

Gilda acted quickly and held the monster by the neck to let lightning magic flow into it. Its eyes popped and its flesh ripped itself apart, bursting with steam and the disgusting ichor the monster had for blood. When she let go the frostbound collapsed with streams of smoke coming out of its nares and ears.

Gilda’s gut clenched. A second thought reminded her it was death. Release. That griffon’s soul was free of its frozen shackles and once they gave him a proper burial, Mother would take care of him. She raised her eyes to the other monster, the one whose face she had clawed. She saw a griffon in there, thrashing against bars of fouled meat. Not too unlike she had once been thrashing against bars she couldn’t touch. The monster used to be a young queen, probably with a cyan shade of blue under all the magical frost and disease. Something lingered behind the foggy eyes. A ferocious predator, mangled by sickness and chained by profane magic. Gilda’s eyes hardened as the Frostbound lunged at her again. She held her paws, fingers intertwining, but before the monster could attack again, she reached forward with her open paw, planting her fingers on that creature’s face.

“It’s over. Mother calls you to the Stormy Eyrie.” She willed lightning to unleash, and it burned through the ailing creature in a display of vapor and convulsing, bursting flesh.

Watching the creature die by her actions, listening to herself speak, a sense of accomplishment and belonging filled Gilda. Unlike anything she felt before. Even after joining the northerner griffons and fighting in Thunderpeak. Even more so than helping those helpless griffons cross the northerner frozen lands. It elevated her soul, and somehow, she felt closer to the Allmother. The clanking of Grunhilda’s armor and her struggling snarl brought her back to more immediate matters.

She jumped closer to Grunhilda as Big Girl snarled and growled at the frostbound, both holding the monster’s metal spear, snapping beaks at each other. Next to them, the hobbling monster she had crushed against the wall was ready to attack. All her anger, Gilda channeled at the enemy, at the actual monster behind that wretched soul and twisted body. The horribly mutated rocs came to her mind and the undead swordmaiden lingered longer still.

Her feelings turned into a furious screech, and lightning flashed through the air into the monster. Undoing the filth for reddened and brown meat. The smell, while sickening, was not as bad as the rot it had replaced. The other magically corrupted griffon soon followed. It had taken the spear from Grunhilda, but Gilda never gave the monster a chance to use it. She screeched again and teared at the sickened flesh under his plumage with her talons. Finally, she held the creature and unleashed Mother’s power on him.

Grunhilda waited next to Gilda while she looked down at the smoking corpses. Whatever remained of their souls had already departed. It was what her newfangled magical senses told her and filled with both sorrow and relief.

The moment didn’t last as the noises of battle reached them. Gunfire, mostly, and urgent shouting. After acknowledging she’d punish Gevorg and Godwin for taking their sweet time, Gilda ordered Grunhilda to move and followed.

Trotting out of that cursed hole, they found the same griffons as before. They were busy defending the longhouse so intently they never noticed the pair emerging from the hole on the floor. They kept shouting and shooting out the windows. The room was dark, with snuffed out torches, and naturally cold, unlike the underground corridor. The ponies were gone, and it was one of the griffon mercenaries carrying ammunition who first noticed Gilda. A small, but scarred tan, soldier-like griffon, he froze like his mom had found him stealing cookies.

“Stop shooting at my griffons!” She yelled above the clamor of the fight. Three of them laid dead in pools of blood. The only ones that didn’t jump at her wrath. The waste, after what she had seen, enraged Gilda. “You joined the wrong side!”

They hid behind the logs which made the walls and under the windows. Gunhilda lowered herself to the floor to stay under stray bullets and the occasional crossbow bolt. Gilda just ignored it all, too angry. Instead of cowering, she pointed a finger at them and their increasingly wide eyes after every bolt that flew past her head and a bullet that whistled into the room.

“I have griffons out there that I care about. I swear, if you killed any, you’ll spend the afterlife licking toilets in the Stormy Eyrie!” she hissed. Grunhilda tried to say something, but Gilda told her she too could shut up. “Go kill the right griffons, or I will end you myself!”

“I believe these are yours?” After quick seconds of shock, one of the mercenary griffons, deep blue, and steely gray, crawled to her, bringing a bundle. A roll of white cotton cloth he left on the floor before opening. Mythical and Grunhilda’s thunderbow, along with Gilda’s cape and magical jewels, were inside. “Those strange griffons left them here when Gavingkal called them to fight. I thought it would be wise to secure them.”

Gilda opened a wide smile seeing her beloved cape was alright.

“Miss Gilda, please get your head down!” Grunhilda pleaded from the floor just as a whoosh flew past Gilda.

Pretending she didn’t notice she was tempting fate, Gilda lowered herself down to the floor like everyone else and pulled the bundle to her. Praising the griffon while she took her magical sword and slid Grunhilda her bow.

“Lady Gilda, you should know…” A third griffon, a shiny yellow and pink queen, talked to her while Gilda donned her magical jewelry. The griffoness hid behind their barricade and Gilda wasn’t sure if it was because they were in the middle of a battle or if she was ashamed. “Gavingkal locked up several townsgriffons. Behind the longhouse.”

Feathering poetic. The jerk probably had found the buried ruins after he started digging his own dungeon. Then he just improvised. Rot begat rot. Gilda took measure of the griffoness and decided she trusted her. A gruff, proper mercenary with broken feathers on her crest and dirty feathers on her chest. A far cry from the filthy griffons outside, pretty like Gertha.

The queen’s tangerine eyes avoided Gilda’s as she still hid behind their barricade. “Some of the locals didn’t ‘take’ the… thing. The Loremaster ordered them beat, but they still resisted. A pair of my griffons are guarding them, and they are not well.”

“Keep them there and keep them safe.” Gilda wasted no time with judgment, finally leaning against the wall for protection. Outside was a chaos of filthy griffons holding the line. “Are all the others… Infected? All those outside?”

“Yes…” The blue griffon trailed off.

“We’ll deal with this later.” Gilda interjected with a waving gesture. “I don’t care what happened. Help me deal with this mess; stay here and keep the prisoners safe. I’ll tell the others that you cats are alright.”

The blue griffons nodded, a gesture the others in the hall mirrored. “Be careful with that mare. Tempest Shadow was furious with what she saw. She means to take you back to Griffonstone. One way or another.”

“I’d like to see her try. Come on, Grunhilda.”

“Okay.”

Following their indications, Gilda and Grunhilda found the servant’s door in the remains of a kitchen. They passed a couple of scared griffons cowering behind the cupboards, and Gilda gave them a quick, reassuring smile. Although she kept staring at a young tom with gray eyes. He seemed lost in a limbo between terrified and passive, not to mention malnourished. For now, the mercenary accompanying them unlocked the door and Gilda peeked outside.

Despite the cold, the outside was colder still, but fortunately, it wasn’t the same evil cold as the ruins. Outside was a pathway skimming the backyard. Whatever its features, piles of soil and snow hid them. Those were so large they nearly obscured the small building Gilda supposed was the jail. She growled at the thought that idiot Gavingkal seemed to destroy everything he touched in a misguided quest.

A small wooden fence had missing and mismatching or damaged boards. The fact Gavingkal had no guards posted to that entrance meant he either trusted the mercenaries or didn’t really know what he was doing. Or both, for all Gilda cared.

More importantly, the old veteran queen that Gevorg had sent to scout the woods before their arrival was there. She hid behind one of the dirt mounds, cocking her head and blinking in surprise when she saw Gilda. The tan griffoness smiled and quickly told Grunhilda to wait before she trotted her way to the other griffoness. She smiled even more at the sight of a dozen soldiers from Frozenlake in full gear and Godwin and one of the Hunter guys. Her Loremaster, the blue cape wearing green griffoness that was Gia hid there too, and so was her thrall Geary. Yet another competent fighter Gilda could count on.

“Where is Gevorg? Never mind… get yourselves inside the longhouse.” Gilda addressed the scout, hiding her words below the sounds of battle. “Careful with the hole; there might be more of the frosted monsters. Try to put them on fire. The cats inside are with us now. I don’t think Gavingkal’s griffons are expecting an attack from the longhouse, so do with that what you can.”

“The Captain is on the frozen fields. Gavingkal took his monsters there.” The old scout pointed the way past the houses. “The rest of the guard is keeping them busy. Gertha took the rest around the other way and should be fighting the ferals at the south approach.”

“They are not ferals. They’ve been infected with a weird magical parasite from the Windigos.” Gilda corrected her mindlessly.

“Infested.” Gia corrected Gilda, matter-of-factly. “Parasites ‘infest’, rather than ‘infect’.”

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you taking care of our injured?”

“Captain Gevorg wanted me to come see you. In case you were hurt.” Gia shrugged and made silence for a second of self-pity. “You don’t look hurt. How do we deal with the not-ferals?”

Gilda shook her head. “Kill them. Free them. Regardless, there are some hurt griffons in that house. I asked the sellswords to keep them safe, but since you’re here, tell them I sent you. Get them to a safe place until we’re done cleaning this mess. Leave some cats to take care of the victims and go help Gertha. And watch out for the ponies.”

“Ponies?” The veteran made a confused frown.

“Some random grassbreaths got themselves stranded in here looking for me. They sided with Gavingkal but looks like their boss may have a change of heart.” Gilda explained in a hurry. “Just try not to step on their hooves. I’ll deal with them when it comes to it.”

Orders given, Gilda brought Big Girl to her from the longhouse’s backdoor with a gesture and the guards started on their way inside with Gia. Godwin smiled and greeted Gilda briefly, as did Gunner and went along with the others. Then, with a brief explanation, Gilda took Grunhilda from the backyard of the longhouse. The two prowled among broken houses until they reached an open area. Rocky outcrops and the slanted foot of one of the Triplets made it bad for farming and the locals had left it undisturbed. Old, packed snow and a few flimsy leafless trees were the only witnesses.

The pair happened upon the remains of a battle. Gilda’s griffons had crossed paths with what seemed like a patrol of ‘ferals’. Blood splatters and sprays tinted the trampled snow and a dozen filthy griffons laid on a pile. Their blood smelled wrong, and Gilda twisted her beak looking at them. She didn’t have the time, nor the expertise, to examine their wounds, but it looked like an open fight and some crossbow bolts on the snow corroborated the theory.

Four dead griffons from the Frozenlake’s guard had been placed away from Feathertip’s residents. Side by side and with their weapons upon them, four good griffons, dead. Instead of clean wounds, the cursed weapons used by the filthy strays turned flesh into a disgusting goo and blackened the exposed bone. Frozen rot really was the best way to define such vileness. Their obscene magic stuck to the wounds like maggots. More than disgust, it filled Gilda with anger. How dare those monsters defile Mother’s beautiful creation?

Who was she angry at? The griffons who sided with Gavingkal, the jerk himself, or the Windigos who used those griffons for their foul fuckery? Gunhilda squealed and distracted Gilda from her brooding anger.

One of the frostbound laid on the snow, convulsing and jerking its limbs. Gilda’s griffons had decapitated the monster, and lacking better words, it had started to fix itself. The worm, or worms inside it, simply started bringing its head back, but the monster didn’t seem dangerous, batting its limbs on the snow with no proper coordination. It was still every bit as unsettling as it was ‘alive’, with twitching ice spikes filled with the parasite and leaking black ichor from its wounds.

“Eeew! I hate this place!” Grunhilda whined and grimaced, making a tantrummy little tap-dance on the snow, despite Gilda telling her to be quiet. “I hate these things!”

With no hesitation, Gilda swiftly rested her paw on his chest. With barely any effort, she willed her magic to unleash a bolt of lightning into the poor creature. It fulgurated the vermin from existence, boiling fluids in its path. The icy spikes growing out of the creature exploded with vapor and insignificant shards. Then, finally, the griffon remained still, letting white smoke.

“I hear you.” Gilda said with a tired sigh, sitting on her haunches. “I wanna forget this place too, but hopefully, we can leave it better than we found it.”

The distant sounds of battle brought Gilda back to the severity and urgency of the situation. She commanded Grunhilda to follow and received a nod as the white queen lowered herself to the snow with a serious-business frown. They navigated the tree line as fast as they could with the advantage that nobody remained behind to watch the small forest of conifers.

The two soon reached the farmhouses and the fields beyond the town proper. Only now Gilda noticed the sunlight filtered past the clouds and she could see the fields. They were divided into parcels of land by what remained of the simple fences. The accumulated snow and abandoned roads turned it all into a single, barely discernible mess.

Gilda hid at the edge of a rickety wooden wall to peek. Trampled snow, blood stains and blck ichor covered the fields and spoke of a chaotic and recent battle. In fact, it was still happening. The evil monsters surrounded too few good griffons. They wielded barely proper weapons made with animal carcasses, and half-a-dozen ancient Astrani weapons. Gavingkal’s infested minions used anything for weapons, and often no more than their talons and beaks.

Gevorg or anyone she knew was not in sight, but griffons from Frozenlake’s guard held the top of a soft hill. Gunshots rang frequently, but bullets didn’t bother the Frostbound. Gavingkal was readily visible, though. He stood at the top of a flat roof, using the embattled parapet like it were the battlements of an ancient Astrani fortress. Shouting orders and commands like his own personal crusade was just starting.

His white cape swayed in the wind, and he projected his voice like the delusional lunatic he was. “Embrace a new age, you heathens. Put down your arms and you will be accepted in this new order. Keep fighting and you will be forced into subservience! Such is the way of the North Wind!”

Whether anyone paid any attention to what he was saying was pointless. The worst was not that the monsters outnumbered them, as Gevorg’s griffons fought competently. The problem was that the dismembered fleshy monsters in the shape of griffons simply redid themselves. Gilda gasped and frowned at the sight of several of them standing back up, picking any weapons they could find, and rejoining the attack.

Forcing them to divide probably was a good idea, and a good thing Gavingkal had his head too far up his ass to notice. Snow Mountains had enough horrible machinations from the Windigos already. Gilda decided the jerk needed to make a swift trip to the Stormy Eyrie. She doubted it had enough toilets for him, though.

“I’m gonna put this birdbrain out of his misery.” She said, turning to Grunhilda and her attentive blue eyes, full of exciting anticipation. “Put that magical bow to some use. Let’s see if it can kill the parasites. Just be careful. Don’t take chances and don’t wait if you have to flee.”

After making sure Grunhilda had understood and that Gavingkal was distracted with his little theater, Gilda rushed out of her hiding spot. Now hidden behind the snow-laden stone wall surrounding the field, she looked again to make sure Grunhilda wasn’t doing anything dumb. Finally, she started towards Gavingkal’s stage, leaving Grunhilda with a small nagging feeling she shouldn’t leave Big Girl alone. Duty called, anyway, and Grunhilda ought to take care of herself too.

Little stone fences separated the fields from the muddy, frozen street skimming the houses and she prowled under the shoulder-height wall of stone and mortar. An instant later, lightning struck the open field. She stopped in her tracks and looked over the short wall. Then her beak hung open when Grunhilda let fly another magical, forged iron arrow from her mother’s bow. It carried lightning with it like Mother Harpy herself had thrown it from the clouds. An instant later it exploded on the back of a frostbound standing on his hindlegs along the others. The magical lightning vaporized the monster’s midline and split it in half. Like that was not enough, the bolt of light divided among the others right next to it and dropped a trio of griffon monsters into the snow. Charred wounds and smoking dead meat in lifeless corpses.

Glorious or unpleasant, Gavingkal’s howling ‘no’ was more than worth it. Then he cried for his minions to kill her. Gilda was done sightseeing and resumed on her way. With feline speed and stealth, she reached the stone wall of the house Gavingkal had taken for stage, then slipped into the street behind the house.

It was a simple, one-story house standing out from the town and reaching it took Gilda only a couple of minutes. Slipping unseen into the alley behind, she found it occupied. Other than a single surviving torch on a wall, a pair of young griffons stood there. One was a queen, piss yellow with white, brown-stained feathers, and the other a green with a faded blue tom. The first clutched a limp griffon doll and had a nearby femur club against the wall. Green-blue held a feather-adorned bow and a quiver full of the things on his back. They reeked of an unidentifiable nauseating stench Gilda could only bear on the grounds of how furious off she was.

Blue-green saw Gilda approaching and squawked like a choking parrot. The other, closer to Gilda, turned with a startled skip and promptly started groveling.

“We… We don’t want any trouble!” She mewled and dropped to the mud. Leaving her club forgotten and holding the flabby doll to her chest, flattening her feathers, and breathing frantically. The other started backpedaling after dropping his bow, taken with an obvious panic in his hanging beak and wide eyes. Ready to bolt, but he never did.

“It’s too late for you.” Gilda walked towards them. “You let Gavingkal put that thing in you and you’re gonna turn into one of those freak monsters. You killed the others and even their cubs and their pets, you filth!”

Yellow shrieked and started shaking, holding her doll, mumbling that they didn’t have a choice. They had to join the others. They feared saying going against the black loremaster. The others would have killed them, too. She begged Gilda not to hurt them as they didn’t know what to do. They just wanted to save their family. Saying that the things in the ice made them think weird things. A barrage of disconnected, panicked excuses. She quaked and shielded her doll with her body while the other froze like a deer before Gilda. When she stood on her hindlegs and the dim light of the torch bounced off Mythical’s blade, yellow started crying.

It never came down. Gilda found herself staring at the malnourished griffoness. She had once been a beautiful creature made by Mother Harpy. Her fur and plumage were supposed to be shiny yellow and pristine white, but now she had sore mating scars on her back—seemed to be a theme—and ribs showing under caked mud and dusty feathers. A hip bone showing where a healthy griffoness would have sultry muscles. Mismatching broken feathers all over her wings and still holding that stupid, very life-like doll. The other cowered in the mud and covered himself with his wings, crying like a lost cub.

“For fuck’s sake. The legends of the Northerner Lords talk of brave warriors and awesome leaders.” Gilda growled, sticking Mythical’s tip on the dirty, frozen soil and sitting on her haunches. “I’m becoming Mother Hen of hopeless griffon losers!”

The pair turned her eyes up to Gilda as she spoke again. “I swear on Mother Harpy’s feathers. If you try to flee, I will find you and you will beg the Windigos to save you. Stay here and don’t do anything. I’ll be back when I’m done dealing with this mess and we’ll work something out.”

The blue and green male gasped, shaking so much he could barely pronounce his thanking words. He simply pounced to hug the yellow female. Gilda understood they thanked her about eight different times. Only when they finally quieted down, Gilda looked up, hoping Gavingkal was too engrossed with his madness to have heard any of that. With Mythical back on her back, she flapped her wings and leaped to the roof.

She held onto the wall edge and peeked over it to see Gavingkal ordering his minions to go kill Grunhilda. Frantic gestures and angry screaming, as though they needed the motivation. Meanwhile, Big Girl hid behind the stone fence and a couple of javelins bounced off it before she stood and shot another arrow, downing three more of the infested monsters.

From her vantage point, Gilda could see Gevorg standing on his hindlegs, wielding a shield and a spear. He shouted to his griffons as they either dragged the injured away or charged at the monsters’ back. Too many were injured for Gilda’s tastes, but that was not the time and Gavingkal had just delivered them a perfect opportunity to reorganize.

Gilda didn’t have the time to ensure Gevorg would be alright, though. She hopped to the wooden roof as swiftly as she could, silent like a hunter. The first lights of day radiated from the cloud cover, and still unknown to Gavingkal, she stood on her hindlegs, drawing Mythical again. She then threw a pebble at his neck and caused the grimacing griffon to turn and make his cape dance dramatically.

Holding Mythical in her paws, she squinted at him and spoke seriously. “I let live two of the poor losers you roped into this. My oh-so-benevolent self feels inclined to give you a shot before cutting your sorry ass in half.”

“Damn you!” He roared.

From his white armor belt, he drew a broad-bladed ax and a round shield from beneath his cape. Without a second word, he flapped his wings and lunged at her. Lightning filled Gilda’s veins. The rounded edge of his weapon arced towards her so slowly she almost botched her response from overthinking. She danced to the side, way past his range, and launched her sword in a straight jab.

Gavingkal was no incompetent fighter and was prepared. The tip bounced off the metal-covered face of his shield and the ax came again. Much faster than he was, and trusting Mythical, she deflected the blow, holding the handle in one paw, and supporting the blade with the other, directing his savage blow away. He let the weight of the weapon lead too much of his momentum and let his guard open for her: she shoved the sword’s cross guard at his face with all her might. A satisfying crunch later, Gavingkal reeled with a pained groan.

Against better judgment, Gilda didn’t end the fight. Instead, she yelled at him. “Did your dumb ass really think you were going to save the griffon race? From what? Your own mediocrity? You’re some minor lord in a backwater, tiny farming town! You never even worked up the courage to challenge your boss!”

He threw his head with howling laughter, despite the misaligned and bleeding beak. “So says the homeless hen from Griffonstone!”

She smiled with all the snark a griffon could summon. “I really hope you can appreciate the irony in that.”

“We are all a joke, Miss Gilda. Our hopes and our dreams are the punchlines and our struggles entertainment for the gods.”

“You’re a bad joke, dude!” she retorted.

Barely a heartbeat after she spoke, he lunged forward. His shield came at her face, aiming to reciprocate the broken beak, but Gilda was much faster. Not only did she step out of his bashing attack, but this time, she exploited his open guard. A quick swipe of her sword, just to the side of the protecting plate, cut deeply behind his thigh with a gush of iron-smelling blood.

The griffon in white armor screamed and fell on his side, swearing at Gilda and awkwardly supporting his weight on one forelimb. Just as awkwardly, he threw his ax at her. The deadly metal spun in the air, hurtling with a murderous rush, giving Gilda a terrifying split second to react. She more hid behind Mythical than properly blocked the weapon but deflected it away from her with a resounding clang.

Before she even understood what had happened, something hit her chest so hard she almost lost her balance and her breath after the awkward juggling with the sword. The ferrous smell of blood and stinging smoke mixed. Taking a step back, she first saw the deformed lead ball settling between the planks. Gavingkal held a flintlock pistol in his paw, smoking out of its barrel before he let it go and laid his back against the roof.

“I hate you so much.” He breathed, staring at the cloud ceiling churning under the wind. Griffons still cried, and the thunder of Grunhilda’s bow kept roaring in counterpoint to his tired words. “It is not fair.”

“What is fair, then?” Gilda returned Mythical to her scabbard and let it cling to her back. Returning to the comfortable four-legged stance, she walked to him, step after step, eyeing the downed griffon and raising her voice after every word. “Forcing your citizens to take in a parasite made by the devils intent on killing your race? That your people have sworn to fight? Adopting a thrall and treating him like a common slave? What else? Trying to use an army of brainwashed griffons you made from vulnerable members of your own damn kind?”

Gavingkal laughed while the pool of blood increased in diameter, running the grooves between the planks and covering them with red.

“What’s so funny?” She snarled, stepping closer to him.

“My whole life… As a cub, I saw my parents and tried to be like them. I dedicated it all to becoming the best ruler I could.” Despite his haughty stare to the clouds, a tear streaked from his eye. “It was all for nothing. I could never compete with Graham. I could never take his place at Frozenlake… My city sustained his. Always to be the servant to my liege, who is himself a giant cuck to his mate.”

He paused with a sigh. “What was the point?”

Gilda kept her focused frown, but it relaxed a feather’s touch while she lent him her ears and sat next to his pool of blood. His eyes had lost their shine and his face its fierceness. “I lost my family to this cursed land. This endless, hopeless war with the Windigos. Stuck with nowhere I could go. Forever in someone else’s shadow, dreaming of grandeur that would always see it denied to me. Would you chance everything? Would you turn to something you should not, when all you believed your whole life proved fruitless?”

“Even after I understood… They… The Windigos… They showed it to me. The damage the delusional she-devil in Griffindel is causing.” He frowned softly. “When opportunity presented itself to me, I took it the best I could. I would have fixed the problem, had I had the chance. You could never understand. You are someone’s lackey, and happy with it.”

When she looked again, his grimace had washed off his face. Her frown deepened. “Me? I just wanted to bake scones. It’s you. You missed the second part of the lesson, dude. There are big cats and little cats. I just happen to know my place and to pick the right side, you idiot.”

With one last gaze at the dying griffon, Gilda stood and walked to the edge of the roof. The snowed fields had turned into a disgusting chaos of black ichor, blood, and wiggling vermin. Victorious, Gevorg’s city guards started pouring oil on the dismembered griffon monsters once they were down and put them on fire. Grunhilda had probably instructed them, given that she was doing her anxious tap-dance near one of the downed monsters. Gevorg, thankfully, was still in command, and Godwin was next to him. Thank the Harpy, both seemed unharmed, even if both had that abominable black ichor clinging to them. The captain shouted orders and rushed towards the longhouse where the scout would be, with Godwin close behind.

Did those monsters have consciousness? Did any part of their original minds remain? They squirmed and tried to move once injured and tried to reach their wounds. However, Gilda did not doubt their passing was much less distressing than turning into those things. At least that was the end. Perhaps they would wake up and depart on their journey to the Stormy Eyrie and there would find some solace. Memories of ancient Loremasters from the past told Gilda so.

The stench of burning meat seemed even worse than in Gilda’s memories. She had become familiar with it, but it would never not evoke her first dream back in Griffonstone.

Mythical weighed on her back and so did her head at her neck and shoulders. Gilda’s heavy eyelids closed, and a deep sigh escaped her. The smell of blood, griffon blood with the disgusting tang of the parasite, infested her nares. The noises of clashing steel came from the main street. Like the rooster had called, she shook her body and her brow remade itself into a focused frown. There was always something to do. In this life and the next, it seemed. Even Mother Harpy ought to have a lot of work in between.

Gilda took flight. A quick shift let her land on the ridge beam under the thatch roof on the next house. Using her wings for balance, she dashed to the other end, towards the main street. Arriving, she hid behind the parapet. The unsettling smell of blood from the infested griffons, the ones not quite ‘there yet’, became a near unbearable stench. She groaned and looked away before summoning the will to survey the battlefield.

And it was a mess.

The fighting took over the street and spilled out of every door. Black powder smoke made a thin mist and shots rang frequently, adding to the cacophony of screams and clanging metal. Mostly an ugly brawl of melee weapons drenched in blood, bayonets at the tips of muskets and even an occasional grenade or similar explosive rocking the decayed structures. A fire started somewhere past the other side of the main street. The longer she looked, the worse it all became.

The plaza with the bodies of the decapitated loremasters remained secure, and one of Tempest Shadow’s masked ponies showed some serious authority keeping a line of those filthy griffons guarding it. They kept casting anxious stares over the individual fights and amongst themselves. A couple of them stood on their hindlegs, swinging their rustic weapons back and forth, but the pony, a beige stallion with a hazel mane, kept stoically watching the fight. Inscrutable behind his tree bark mask.

How in the Mother’s forsaken fuck did those grassbreaths manage to be professional mercenaries when they wore things like ridiculously large and edgy masks?

Something cold poked Gilda’s head from behind with the telltale chiming of pony magic in the works. A series of possibilities scrolled past her mind. She could grab it, as pony telekinesis could be overpowered. Feline agility was a thing, after all. She could simply slip to the side. Perhaps shield herself with her wing and griffon magic. She could even simply trust the magic in her enchanted jewelry. Or, perhaps, just perhaps, a bit of common sense would prevail?

Gilda slowly turned on her feet to find a unicorn on the other end of the ridge with his telekinetically held pistol hovering before her. A work of art and a weapon, much like the elaborate arabesques on the mask, plates of armor and a fancy wine-colored cape. The tan pelt and stylish brown mane went well with those. The gems and white gold finish on the weapon kept her attention, though. Ponies furnished their magical weapons, most of which were not to be trifled with, even with all the magical jewelry she had gained from Lady Gwendolen. Or so the stories floating around in King Grover Plaza had told her.

“So, in case you didn’t see the dead griffon on the other roof,” she said, looking around the barrel, “could you take a gander and confirm that Gavingkal is indeed dead? Also, can you tell your boss to piss off? We got griffon matters to deal with and you guys are kinda getting in the way. Let’s just talk this out like civilized creatures.”

“We were not here because of him. We were here to catch you, catbird.” The pony said aggressively in his soft neighing voice and through the mask. He adjusted his footing on the ridge, clinking armor plates and tensing muscles beneath.

The hammer cocked on the floating pistol, clicking softly, so well-oiled and maintained the gun was. The pony shook his head and juggled his brown mane around. “Also, you are not civilized, murderer.”

Gilda realized something very incisive. She was done, fed up, and tired of dealing with creatures who knew nothing about her judging her. Annoying and intrusive creatures that contributed to her problems, and not to solving them. So, she started solving problems instead of tolerating them.

She batted the telekinetically held pistol to the side. The clapping bang whistled in her left ear, but she leaped at the pony. Thirty-three cubits covered in a single leap and flap of her wings. Fifty hooves the pony had to realize he had missed the shot, and still Gilda landed on him with all the weight of her massive griffon body. All the pony did was neigh in alarmed surprise. Fighting truly did not come naturally to his race.

Gilda’s momentum sent both tumbling into the moldy thatch roof. They crashed through the ceiling boards, kicking and thrashing, straight down to a stone and mortar floor, but not before crushing a table with an oil lamp. What remained of it spilled on the old wood and promptly started a fire. Coming from below, the light showed Gilda the pony before her, missing his mask. A middle-aged deep blue pony with wide purple eyes and his navy mane getting in the way.

His horn lit up and Gilda saw the gleam of pony magic pulling a dagger from his saddle's girth. She acted so fast it hadn’t even cleared the sheath when she yanked it out herself. Ignoring the stinging needles his telekinetic magic pierced her paw with, she pounced at him despite his flailing hooves. Her weight toppled the pony, and the sheer wrath fueled her muscles with such strength she straddled him and pinned his head to the stone.

“I wanted to talk, you grass-eating idiot!” She screeched, raspy voice drowning the pony’s cry for mercy.

The pony’s telekinetic magic sputtered out of existence as she drove the dagger to his neck. In its length, through thick muscles. Then again, through arteries that spurted blood. At the base of his jaw. She screamed all her rage at the mercenary, jamming the blade behind his gorget, aimed downward at his chest, again and again until it became stuck at the base of his skull. Then she screeched and swore because the blood made the hilt slick, and her paw slipped from it.

The door burst open. A pair of the filthy residents of Feathertip pounced into the kitchen, already assuming fighting positions. One had a bone club, and the other had already knocked an arrow on his bow. He let it fly and Gilda careened from the pony’s barrel with the impact like he had punched her in her chest.

Angry, more than worried, Gilda yanked the arrow off her chest with a splash of blood and screeched at the unbelieving griffons. Quick as lightning, she drew Mythical and lunged with her wings’ help, sword tip forward at the griffon armed with the club. The magical sword pierced the flimsy armor, ignoring whatever twisted magic it harbored. Through plumage, skin, muscle, and bone, straight to the heart.

With Mythical through him, the yellow tom stared at her in shock. She spared not a heartbeat’s glance before she kicked him from the blade and launched it in a cut at the other with a swirl of blood. Again, Mythical all but ignored everything from wooden bow, leather, and flesh. A more technical and precise cut would have aimed at the neck, but Gilda’s rage-fueled assault cut the griffon half across the chest, and he bent like a gory, broken twig on his way to the floor.

A groan escaped her while she returned to the four-legged stance. Yes, her chest hurt, but their fluids ruined the perfectly fine pool of pony blood. Not sparing them a second look, Gilda skipped a few quick hops to the door and out of the house with renewed energy.

Much of the same scene she had seen from the roof greeted her. The weak light of morning barely hid the worst details from the eyes. The chaos of a messy melee fused together in confusing sights, sounds, heat, and smells. Everywhere, an enemy and a friend engaged in bursts of violence that ended with sprays or gushes of blood. Clanging metals, cracking woods, screams, and cries drew the eyes in every direction. Blood, urine, and feces joined the disgraced smells of that place, but she kept them in the background of her thoughts. One would think griffons with guns would keep away, but their enemies had numbers and different ideas. The cramped quarters for a battle didn’t help.

A gray, large griffon holding a shield between himself and one of Gavingkal’s more monstrous minions screamed. The monster of unidentifiable washed-out colors and withered members held a long, two-pawed war hammer, about to bring it down on one of Gilda’s griffons. He raised his shield to meet the heavy weapon, but it broke through wood and tore a hole in the metallic lining. The impact dropped the shield’s owner to the frozen mud, and the monster prepared a killing blow with a stunning speed that couldn’t be farther from a Draugr’s.

Gilda lunged with a screech and used her weight to topple the uncannily cold griffon. He lost his weapon and fell to the ice with her, resorting to his talons to attack her. His unnaturally long talons moved fast, but broke, glancing off her plumage. Gilda ignored the pain and jumped from the monster just as the gray griffon swung his ax at the monster’s ribs with enough force it stuck between corrupted flesh, bones, and black ichor. While Gilda landed, her new friend took back his ax and split the monster’s face in half in a spectacle of alien flesh and sticky black essence.

“Disgusting piece of filth!” He both talked and spit on the still moving monster before looking at her. “You are injured.”

“I’ll live. Gotta kill these freaks properly.” Gilda said, standing on her hindlegs and drawing Mythical again.

There was screaming, shields and weapons clashing and the gurgling cries while the abomination had already begun to redo itself. She ignored all distractions and pointed her sword to the monster’s chest. A quick shove did the trick with Mythical’s magical properties, and magic obeyed like Gilda had snapped her fingers. Magical lightning shot through the blade, jerking flesh that soon rested, and the flat worms that inhabited it ceased to exist along with the freakish icy spikes the monster had grown.

“Allmother preserve me from dying like one of these wretches!” The gray griffon said, spiteful like only a griffon.

An inhabitant from Frozenlake, he adjusted his mail cowl and similar thoracic armor. Nothing too fancy, just a protection. He nodded at her before finding another thing to kill in the messy battle. Apparently, northerners didn’t slack around when there was killing to do.

Gilda’s griffons should not have much trouble dealing with the Gavingkal’s murder hobos, but if more of the scary monsters were around, she ought to deal with them. She ought to deal with the ponies too, but never located them. Before she could investigate, one of the dirty strays lunged at her with a flimsy, but still dangerous spear, screaming her lungs out like she wanted witnesses. Gilda, in one fluid movement, stood and stepped back from the weapon’s path. Next, she clocked the griffoness on the face with Mythical’s cross guard.

With the griffoness out cold, Gilda let the weapon rest on her back and returned to her quadrupedal stance. She flew, meaning to miss the entire melee, and that was a mistake. Every gun in that cursed place must have shot at her. Thank the Harpy for her magical jewelry, for Mother’s magic coursing through her, and sheer luck that the worst was that she dropped back to the mud, a little wiser than before and stood in time to defend herself.

Gunfire cracked and whistled by above her and now every idiotic stray cat in town knew where she was. No matter how many of their friends died to Mythical, no matter how gruesome their deaths, they kept coming at her. She and the growing pile of griffon pieces turned into the center of attention until eventually her griffons congregated next to her with dwindling numbers on the enemy’s side.

“Stop fighting, birdbrain morons!” She yelled at none in particular. “Gavingkal is dead!”

But barely anyone heeded her. Guille dismembered the filthy idiots too dumb or too far gone to see he was too big and too skilled with his giant sword. Gertha fought close to him, as did several griffons Gilda didn’t know. One of the Gunner guys had a halberd on the floor and cracked a couple of skulls with a small war hammer paired with a shield. Although the ‘other gunner’ was missing. Probably inside the longhouse with the others. Yet another of the local idiots attacked Gilda as she was surveying the brawl. She promptly splintered his bizarre teethy club against Mythical’s steel, and then she slit the griffon’s throat open with a quick swipe.

Before she knew, that was it. The fighting died down gradually, and only Gilda’s griffons remained. Not the screaming and crying; it continued, but it changed to pleas for help and swift executions of injured griffons too far gone to receive any assistance. A few pockets of scared, not as deranged filthy griffons, huddled in a corner under watch from Frozenlake’s guards. Gia ordered that a couple of griffons haul an injured fighter out of the mud. Seeing her pristine condition and immaculate blue satin cape, Gilda took a second to look down at herself. She saw white feathers stained with mud and blood, which was about how Gia’s thrall, Geary, looked too. Not to mention that stopping and looking at herself hurt. Everything hurt, there was something definitely wrong with her chest.

She meant to ask Gia how she looked like she had just walked out of a bathhouse, but something didn’t fit despite nothing apparently suspicious. A few spontaneous whoops and cheers of victory as those fighting in the fields joined them. Grunhilda was hurrying toward her, but not seeing Gevorg initially worried Gilda.

A thousand loremasters from the past screamed at her head to beware. She had seen none of the pony mercenaries, except the one that tried to detain her. The longhouse. She meant to go there, but a deep peace took hold of her. In fact, it held her like a violent thug.

“Whoa! That’s… Nice?” Gilda said while a smile crept into her beak, whether or not she liked it.

Around her, bloodied and dirty griffons relaxed after an initial wave of shocked gasps and wide eyes. Grunhilda giggled and said she was feeling funny. Mellow smiles and relaxed feathery crests surrounded Gilda. Klaxons wailed inside her head that something was horribly wrong, but the feeling was too nice. How could anything be wrong?

“It’s a spell!” Gia cried, properly alarmed. “It’s Sweet Serenata’s Serenity Suffusion! A unicorn spell!”

Gilda had had bizarre dreams of past lives, dying, witnessing the end of the world and its creation. She had dreamed of sitting with Princess Luna inside a room in her head. Then she had a similar dream with Mother Harpy. The weird part was that those were no mere dreams. The pervading peace which took over her thoughts, however, was the worst. She lacked the words to even define what it felt like.

The best imagery her mind conjured to comprehend it was magical tendrils holding her mind back. Shoving her in a direction she did not want to go. It reminded her of the reported magical vines that once took over the Equestrian capital. But worse, they didn’t hold her limbs. The spell was restricting her mind, castrating her emotions, dulling her edge. Why was she angry? There was no reason to be angry. Nobody to fight, nobody to kill. Nobody was in danger. Just relax. All will be fine.

Tempest Shadow finally appeared again, cresting the ridge of the longhouse’s roof and kicking Godwin for him to walk in front of her. Her tall mare friend with the fox mask did the same to ‘the other Gunner’ while a blue gray pegasus, on the other side, escorted Gevorg. Whatever that creepy spell was doing to her, it also prevented Gilda from swearing at the plum-colored mare when she pulled Godwin’s hock and forced him to lie down. Tempest’s remaining mercenaries showed up on the rooftops surrounding the main street. Each one of them held a richly adorned pony gun. Yet another of her ponies came out of nowhere, flinging off some sort of invisibility cloak next to Grunhilda and putting a dagger against her neck. He kicked her flank when she started to panic and walk away with a whiny expression.

“Don’t you move!” The pony, a bulky, brown earth pony, threatened her by kicking the air and unfolding a firearm attached to armor over his leg.

Gilda knew herself, and she should be spitting fire and swearwords at the mare. Instead, her head filled with melancholy. The fear in her voice was a slip because Gilda comprehended Tempest had her where she wanted.

“Let my friends go! They have nothing to do with Griffonstone.” She said, not so much shouted, but spoke as loudly as the spell allowed. Tempest Shadow didn’t respond. Instead, she produced one of their fancy firearms from her cloak and held it aloft in magic behind Godwin before she spoke.

“Don’t test my patience.” The pony shouted back, finally. “Put down that sword and walk to the… Whatever you call this dump. You and your servant. Tell your griffons to let us go. I guarantee the spell can be much worse and I have no qualms about putting you down right here.”

Gilda replied as best as she could, fighting intrusive thoughts of surrender. She resisted the spell’s tendrils coiling around her. Her voice failed to convince even her. “I am tired of trying to argue with you. Let them go and I’ll fight all of you alone if it makes you happy.”

“You need to learn how to shut your beak, griffon. I am in charge here. Not you.” The mare’s ragged shouting made Gilda regret her quick mouth, but she was not done. She looked at the tall unicorn lady, and Gilda needed a second to understand what happened.

Gilda’s eagle eyes allowed her to see considerably more detail than she liked. Where there should have been a brown eye, was a gush of blood. Metaphorical ages passed before she closed her beak and the images connected with their meaning. The resounding bang of a firearm echoed inside her head like the cackling of death. She wasn’t alone; the others maintained an eerie, disbelieving and stunned silence until a mournful cry shattered it.

Could she call him a friend? Some might question if she did really share such closeness with the griffon she kept calling ‘one of the Gunner Guys’. They were always next to each other, and they were both called Gunner. They even shared the same story: fed-up soldiers from the Griffonian Standing Army. They took the joke in stride and owned it like mature griffons. Ironically, their lack of distinctiveness was their charming uniqueness, much like Godwin’s naïve knightly manners and Gertha’s distinguishing colors and rugged beauty.

They had come to Gilda as mercenaries joining the caravan to Wayfarer’s Rest for money. There they joined Gilda’s mission of taking a procession of fleeing, politically persecuted griffons to their new homes. For money, or because they truly believed. It didn’t matter. In the end, they too were griffons looking for a better life among the traditionalist northerner griffons who appreciated their services and their expertise.

Now one of them was slumped from the ridge of the longhouse’s ceiling and his blood ran down the green wood tiles, pouring out of a gory hole in his head. Grunhilda screamed and panicked but thank the Mother her captor didn’t shoot her. He simply knocked her on the head with his armored hoof, and Grunhilda cowered in the frozen mud, covering her head with her wings. Godwin called Tempest Shadow a coward, and she rewarded him by whipping him behind the head with her pistol. Gevorg’s resigned stare to Gilda hurt more than anything she had been shot or whacked with.

“Am I coming across to you now?” The mare bellowed.

“He had nothing to do with what happened at Griffonstone!” Gilda’s voice broke. A talon’s width from crying. “He had been nothing but a loyal friend since I met him!”

“He was an accessory to your crimes!” The mare shouted back, raging. “You are wanted for so many things I stopped counting when I followed you to Thunderpeak! The price on your head is astronomical, but this is personal. I will have you pay for my friends you and your servant killed!”

“Craven grassbreath!” A male voice cried behind Gilda. “At least let us defend ourselves!”

Other voices raised, but with little conviction, and Gilda’s legs seemed too weak to hold her. Tempest Shadow would lose her patience. She was going to have Grunhilda killed! Gevorg and Godwin too! Just to hurt Gilda. All the complaining would just make her angrier. Only one solution presented itself before Gilda. That was the end. She had to surrender. A distant thought appeared at the back of her mind of a later escape, but it quickly died. The mare would not take chances. She might just as well have the others killed anyway, and worse, no burial. Their souls would be abandoned for the Windigos to do whatever they wanted with them. Gilda could almost hear them laughing.

Gilda’s mind was so sluggish. Ideas refused to come to her, but all the reasons she could never surrender assaulted her. Things had changed. It was more than fleeing from Griffonstone’s mayor and his family. It was no longer about only her. It had become more than survival; she was no longer simply trying to escape.

“I can’t!” She cried. Her chest hurt, and not just because her body was injured. She felt the tendrils of magic constricting her neck, edging her into the direction she refused to go. They pulled relentlessly; it was a losing battle against a force she could not lash out at. “There are others who depend on me! I can’t abandon them! Thousands of griffons that fled from Griffonstone. You know that the Griffonian government is crooked beyond belief!”

Her caravan, the hippogriff soldiers. Grunhilda and the roc she had saved from dying alone and cold. She had finally found a griffon she liked. Even Mother Harpy. Even Mother counted on Gilda. Giving up was too much to contemplate. There was too much at stake.

Tempest Shadow’s eyes hardened. Gilda understood her and could not truly blame the mare. Three of her friends had died and left a pair of foals. Tempest Shadow probably had issues of her own. She, too, fled from the law. But all notions of sympathy flew out the window when images of Gevorg and Godwin intruded on her thoughts. Images of both, or either, collapsed lifelessly, with a hole in their head filled Gilda with despair and gnawed at her heart. She would rather die. She couldn't picture Grunhilda injured and broken.

Gilda inhaled profoundly. Her chest hurt with every breath. The right words never came to her, much less the proper course of action. All she drew from her cards was ‘surrender’, ‘calm’, and ‘quiet’. Any other thoughts slipped past her, like floating planks in a sea of tranquility. A talon away from her paws that magical tendrils kept pulling at. And yet, she refused to accept.

Just say the words and all three of them would live. Gilda had said it herself; they were not responsible and if she surrendered, they would live. A grimace twisted her beak. Her forehead knotted into a pained frown. Her heart burned, but her blood was serene as a stream crossing a flowery meadow. All the voices from the past silenced, all the vivid memories of the dancing fighter blanched. All paths converged into surrendering. Submitting herself to the mare and whatever she had in mind so her friends wouldn’t suffer. It was only fair that she would pay. Maybe even Grunhilda, but not Gevorg, or Godwin, who had a cute young queen waiting for him.

She found Gevorg again, looking at her. His purple eyes carried a cold quiet while he stared at her. Trying to see every little detail, saying a weeping, wordless goodbye. Her stomach dropped when she found herself doing the same. Then Tempest Shadow waved her pistol and poked Godwin’s head with it. The mare’s pale cyan aura pulled the gun’s hammer into position.

“I am tired of waiting. Tell your thugs to not interfere and come into the house.” Tempest said in a tone of finality. “You are alone. You were never one of these griffons. Just a scared scared hen from Griffonstone, with few expectations of being anything in life.”

All eyes aimed at the longhouse in eerie, peaceful resignation. None moved. Not the bloodied and tired griffons with her, nor the pony mercenaries with muskets lowered at them from the rooftops.Gilda called for Mother in her thoughts, but this time, no answer came. Or perhaps, no answer was needed because Gilda already knew it. Something inside her snapped.

It started as a spark, insignificant and dull, but it grew. All despair and dread vanished. Like they had caught fire and burned into ash the magical tendrils holding her mind. From their embers rose spite and hatred. A flash fire consumed her blood, bright as Mother Harpy’s magic and her face shifted into a grimace of pure anger.

“Fine.” Gilda’s voice came out in a gruff, low snarl, and her paws carried her forward. “Kill them too.”

The clouds no longer churned. The wind carried them, bringing down petrichor and ecstatic anticipation with gales that flailed feathers, manes, and capes. Hidden behind the clouds, the sun let the morning darken. Ponies and griffons shuffled, eyes on the sky, raised feathers and ears perking. The clouds whispered to Gilda and light sparked inside them. Distant thunder rolled in her ears and found an echo in her heart.

“Kill all of them. Kill me and drag my corpse back to Griffonstone.” If there was one thing the High-Griffonese was good for, other than singing the legends of the Stormborn and the glory of Mother Harpy, it was for distilling hatred. The language to best fit griffon beaks was anger and vengeance, turning words to daggers. “But I am not alone. You are.”

“You are far from home, little pony. Deep in the cold of the most heartless of griffon lands. Where is the sun? Where is the moon? I can see only the storm in the sky.” Gilda’s words hung in the air like sheer wrath turned into words and the clouds responded. Thunder rolled above with the laughter of the Mother of Storms.

A frown broke through Tempest Shadow’s stern façade. The pegasus holding Gevorg hostage still held his pistol with his cannon, but all the certainty had drained from his posture. The fox-mask-wearing mare looked at Tempest and her shifting hooves betrayed her anxiousness. Her horn still shone, although she was no longer holding the pistol she had murdered Gilda’s griffon with. Grunhilda stood again, slowly, and the eyes in the main street turned to Gilda.

“If I ask, My Mother will scorch you with lightning and I will offer your heart to her on a platter of electrum. Griffonian authorities can’t reach you here. The pony princesses can’t help you. Nobody can save you. You are at the mercy of my kind, lost in Mother Harpy’s territory, and I am her favored daughter!”

“Shut up, you hen!” Tempest yelled and shoved her pistol behind Godwin’s head. “I will kill all of you!”

Gilda hissed, standing on her hindlegs, slowly opening her wings to the drumming of the thunder in the clouds. “We will feast on pony flesh this day, and I will burn your heart in offering to the Mother of Storms!”

Lightning bolts, bright as only the Harpy’s magic could be, climbed from each feather in her wings to meet the spear of light that fell from clouds. The dusky morning turned bright as midday in Canterlot. The screaming neighs raised above the thunder and filled Gilda with spiteful joy. Dressed in lightning, she laughed and raised her forelimbs to the sky. Mother Harpy’s power course through her leaving excitement and bliss in its wake.

Spears of fulgurating light from the sky showered from the clouds and sent splintered stone and broken, charred wood all over the main street. Tempest Shadow screamed, covered in the Harpy’s magic. Its power threw her from the roof. The pegasus holding Gevorg hostage screamed like a scared foal, and with cat-like grace and agility, Frozenlake’s captain spun on himself and attacked the pony. His talons dug into his neck and his massive griffon body threw him tumbling down the roof. The white unicorn mare’s horn exploded with such violence her mask flew off her face.

“Kill them!” Gilda screamed. “Slaughter them! Mother commands it!”

The main street in front of the longhouse spilled with carnage. Gevorg called Godwin to him, and they leapt off the roof. Gunshots rang, but there were too many griffons and too few ponies when even Gavingkal’s filthy strays joined them. The surviving Gunner flew at one of the pony mercenaries, and toppled her off the roof, viciously ripping the pony apart even before they reached the ground. His talons found every opening in her armor. Gushes of blood flew, and his furious screaming matched the equine’s terrified cries. Others joined with spears and axes.

A new battle joined. More shots fired, but without protection from their spell, the ponies found themselves overwhelmed under a storm of bright hot wrath and shining steel. An error in judgment, a poorly calculated maneuver. The tables turned so suddenly they never had time to recover from their shock.

Gilda left the killing to her subordinates. Taking her dancing sword in her paws, she flew above the roof. An instant was all her sharp eyes needed to find the purple mare laying on a snowy paved path in Gavingkal's backyard. She coughed black smoke, sluggishly moving her legs against the snow. The griffoness poured all her hatred into the sword. It snarled like a furious lioness, and Gilda landed on the mare’s body with all her weight. Mythical missed Tempest Shadow’s head by barely an inch. The stone beneath the snow sizzled, and the blade was stuck in the melted rock.

Tempest’s hooves struck Gilda’s face with a bright flare of pain, but the griffoness held her partially melted gorget. Almost burning her paws on the hot metal and smelling charred hair, she held the scorched metal in her paws. Gilda pulled and then shoved her enemy against the snowy pavement so viciously the mare cried, and the hot metal bent.

“You feathering ponies think you own the world!” Gilda’s Common Equestrian came out marred with a High-Griffonese accent and the realization the pony language had no proper swear words. Her own voice sounded awkward, but she never stopped. She had arteries to rip open. “I will serve you for dinner!”

The mare’s eyes focused, and her horn produced cyan sparks. In an instant, she popped out of existence and dropped Gilda ungraciously on the snow. So much anger, such burning hatred, Gilda let escape a frustrated screech, clawing at the snow tainted by blood and burnt remains of the mare’s cloak. A pained groan interrupted her tantrum.

The elegant mare with the pink mane laid on the snow not far. Her mask was nowhere to be seen and her armor had open holes where the melted metal simply gave way to lightning. Her horn didn’t exist anymore, and what remained was a gory, charred wound. Gilda smiled and started on her way to the mare.

A gunshot and a hard knock behind her head made Gilda snap around to see the pegasus aiming his pistol at her. He stood sitting on his haunches, tossing the weapon away, and reaching for another strapped to his gear. When he raised it, Gilda had already covered the distance between them. She yanked the pistol from his folded leg hold and screeched. Before the pony could do anything, she pounced at him and clawed his neck.

He screamed something about monsters, but Gilda didn’t pay him any mind. Her talons found resistance and her weight sent him on his back with her on top. He cried for her to stop. A begging shriek of horror that bounced on Gilda’s fury like a pebble against a volcano. She held his muzzle at the same time her talons dug into his neck, tearing through every fiber of muscle and sinew, to destroy everything she could find. Muscles tensed, and his gasping neigh drained with blood through her fingers and his teary eye begged her ‘no!’.

Hooves kicked at her chest and her stomach as her talons dug deeper into the warm flesh. The overwhelming smell of blood did away with all hesitation the pain had impressed in her. She pulled her talons through muscles, arteries, and cartilage softly like she was caressing Grunhilda. Her beak made into a wicked grin as the wet warmness embraced her fingers. The pony mercenary pulled his head and tossed in a panic, but she pinned him in place and hissed at him to be quiet and die with dignity. His whining was ruining it.

The exposed, twitching muscle and gushing blood filled her with sensations straddling between the erotic and the gruesome. The pain became a distant memory. Her large body tensed above the equine form and feathers stood in the flickering light of the fire. An electricity sparkled in her veins. The wet stickiness in her feathers, the sweet, ferrous smell the air carried with her panting breath sequestered any thoughts that threaded her mind. A savage jerk further exposed his gory wound. Her beak opened like it had a will of its own and tore a chunk of red flesh seasoned in the warm essence.

A long hiss escaped her again with a tightness in her stomach when she swallowed. She should be ashamed, but her savage grin remained. The pegasus’ eyes still focused on her when she caved to the urges drowning everything else. She bent over and tore another meaty chunk of muscle from his neck. Again and again, after her prey had stopped moving.

A soft sob distracted her from her prey and made her look at the still moving white unicorn. A smile showed again in her beak as she turned, swallowing the chunk of meat before walking away from the dead pegasus. Approaching the unicorn, Gilda grinned wider at the pink eyes aiming at her. A sprinkle of blood accompanied the unicorn’s coughing, and her voice almost failed to reach Gilda. “Help…”

“Help.” Her feathers were covered in warm sticky blood that dripped from her leering beak. “Even when you’re dying, you ponies are a riot.”

She grabbed the mare’s mane. It was frazzled and impregnated with the smell that came with lightning, but it held when Gilda pulled and dragged her along the snow. “Don’t worry, your boss left you alone, but I have a friend that is going to love making your acquaintance.”

She first squealed with the initial tug, but then succumbed to mournful sobs, barely hoofing at the snow. On the other side of the blazing longhouse, Gilda reached the street under the hanging corpses of the Loremasters. She could see the other griffons finishing up. Looking for injured companions and snuffing out enemies still not dead.

“Hey, Gunner!” Gilda cried. “I got you a bit of reprisal.”

Her words drew curious stares. Most of them, she knew, and among them was Gunner. The first to arrive was Grunhilda, followed by Gevorg and Godwin. Gia and Gunner arrived soon after, surrounding the white mare under the disfigured armor and robes.

“Let’s hang her!” Grunhilda suggested with a cruel glint in her blue eyes between red-stained feathers and smelling of pony blood.

“She wouldn’t survive long enough.” Gia suggested with a shrug. “Just shoot her.”

Several suggestions crossed Gilda’s mind. Memories from old Loremasters presenting ideas of execution methods contemporary to their times. From cutting the mare open into a gory representation of an eagle to living sky burials, but she ignored them. Gevorg and Godwin shared a stare before directing their eyes to Gilda, but she said nothing to them either. She turned to Gunner.

The worst of the bloodlust had washed away along with the life of his first victim, leaving behind blood and bits of gore on his feathers. The curiously nondescript griffon, tan and white ‘Griffonstone colors’, kept a stoic stare. His thoughts were beyond Gilda, and she simply waited patiently for him to decide what to do with the mare.

“No, it’s too fast.” Gunner said, glaring down at the pony and her wide, pink eye. He frowned and snarled. “Just leave her here. To see the sort of madness she got herself involved with. I think I’ve seen enough violence for the day. I just want to bury Gunner.”

Gevorg spread a wing over his back and walked away, leaving the others with the mare. Taken by a new energy, but locked inside a broken body, she stirred, and her eyes filled with horror.

“You can’t just… Abandon me.” She pleaded.

Gia chuckled as she and Godwin started on their way, followed by Grunhilda.

“Feh… There are way worse ways of dying, pony.” The griffoness shrugged before turning tail and following the others. “At least you get to rest. We gotta cremate all these griffons.”

Another Mourning After

How fast could the Windigos claim a soul? How long before a dead griffon became a draugr? Gilda’s ancient memories offered no answers. Gia even less. Madam Gelinda might know the answer, but she was not there to tell them. Someone mentioned the infested griffons might know, but nobody could extract consistent answers from any surviving ‘Frostbound’. Gilda decided she would rather not know and ordered griffons to stop wasting time before they ended up finding out in a bad way. It was one of those ephemeral situations where all griffons agreed with something.’

Mother Harpy likely knew the answer, but She ignored Gilda when asked. She either didn’t bother or was too busy doing goddess stuff with all the dead griffons they were sending her way. And they had barely started.

“Always something to do.” Gilda sighed.

Her wounds during the fight would have killed a lesser griffon and surviving all that depleted her energies. Like smarter griffons had told her, her bling uses her body’s magic and will drain her of her stamina if it must. All she felt like doing was laying down and sleeping. Bath was optional, even with all the gunk on her.

“Let me take care of this mess.” Gevorg laid a gentle paw on her shoulder.

He fared little better than she did. Clotted blood was the least bad thing he had gotten stuck in his armor and himself, and that was after he had done some wiping. She could see cuts in his face, and a bloody beak, and damaged armor at a cursory glance. Not to mention that he smelled no better than the rest of town, and Gilda suspected she suffered from the same affliction.

“I’ll help!” Grunhilda blurted, raising her paw like a cub at school, but Gevorg shook his head at her.

“I appreciate it, Grunhilda, but this is not a noble griffon’s job.”

Her feathery ‘ears’ flattened, and she groaned an unintelligible response. Grunhilda even looked at Gilda for support, but her master was too tired to partake in additional drama.

“Just be there to wrap things up and give it your official touch of ‘it’s over’. Alright?” he asked Gilda before turning and leaving to join the others, also ignoring Grunhilda’s complaints.

As he walked away, Gilda surveyed the griffons on the main street from the porch. The strip of dirty frozen mud stretched past the main plaza before the longhouse, with its lines of dilapidated buildings. This place made her skin crawl. It was not just the worms and the horror the Windigos had wrought in that town. Everything seemed diseased, hazardous to the mere touch, as though an immaterial sickness could pass through one’s fingers.

The rising pillars of smoke and the gleaming brightness of fire illuminating them made her feel better. Like it consumed the disease, and any unseen remains of the magical parasites. Was that truly the case? She didn’t care. Watching griffons just getting started on the work made her feel better. The only ones not working were the ones entitled not to because of rank or injuries and the lazy ones.

“What do we do with the grassbreaths?” Gia asked, sitting next to Gilda.

Gilda shrunk her shoulders with a frown. “Just burn them too. I ain’t hauling dead ponies who tried to kill me to give them a proper pony burial. I don’t even know what ponies do to their dead.”

Gia shook her head as Gilda understood the actual issue at a second thought. She shrugged with a groan. “Right. The northerners won’t have any of that. Put them in a hole. I just don’t want them around for the Windigos to fuck me up later with undead ponies or some shit! Geez, Gia. You’re supposed to be the smart one! Figure it out!”

With one of her typical tired sighs, the green griffon removed herself from Gilda’s presence and her attention returned to the funeral works. One of them held a particular importance to the griffons, maybe because he had died in such an unfair way. They didn’t even let him defend himself. Gilda’s old memories agreed. It was a grim reminder not to underestimate the ponies.

A funeral was being prepared in the plaza before the longhouse. Griffons brought tinder and fresh logs from the forest, while others cleaned the debris from the area. The statue was gone, and Gilda didn’t even know what they had done to it. Volunteers cut the logs to proper size and shape before laying them on a platform of interlaced timbers. Heat-dried moss and branches filed the gaps. It was already half-completed, and the other half remained a neat pile of logs and branches standing by. A griffon lady was drying the moss in a campfire while others passed the logs along and set them in place or cut them neatly.

Saying the mood was grim would be an understatement. Several griffons had died among Gilda’s party, and all of them got their funeral. Their own funeral pyre, even if theirs were not as impressive. Their friends would not leave them without their rights as Children of the Harpy. The ones who had no friends had volunteers. One thing the northerner griffons would not experiment with was the funeral liturgy. Even enemies got funerals. Like Gavingkal. Just not a very impressive or respectful one.

As such, volunteers also piled up mangled bodies at the end of the main street. It grew to the size of a cart in no time and prompted someone to just light it on fire already. Some younger griffons, mostly the ones that didn’t have the stomach to drag the frozen-rotten bodies, sat around and sang the funeral rites. It was a nasty business, but Gilda’s griffons were taking care of it at her orders, one way or another.

Gilda found herself sitting on the sidelines with a very young and impressionable griffoness with too much energy to shed. Fortunately, the somber tone kept Grunhilda’s nervousness under control and her mind out of ideas on how to use the time and energy. Harpy only knew what was going on in her head with the things Gavingkal had told them. Gilda’s head, though, filled with ominous thoughts. It was the first time she understood what ‘morale’ meant.

They had won. They had captured and could help many of the peasants that Gavingkal’s weird cult turned into monsters. The griffon himself and the loremaster helping him were both Mother Harpy’s problem now. The little burg was still a disgusting, cold, and rotting wreck, but it had a future. Supposing they could clean the villagers, of course, but that should work out fine if the Harpy’s magic could fix them without killing them. It removed the thing from Gilda, after all. Gia, being a Loremaster, would find a way to heal them. With all that said, griffons didn’t look like they had won. Gilda didn’t feel like she had won.

It was a battle that should not have happened. It was a mess at every level. They killed commoners resting in the winter to work the land as soon as the snow and frost receded. Everyday common griffons, betrayed by their lord. No wonder it hurt. It was not a glorious fight to bring an end to the undead abominations in the ruins. Not even the loot was good with the execrable weapons the enemies used. It was a violation of all that the northerner griffons held dear.

“Damned Windigos knew exactly what they were doing,” Gilda murmured to herself, watching the works to build Gunner’s funeral pyre. “And damn ponies, too.”

That disgrace could have grown out of control, but ‘could have’ was a poor substitute for shiny Eagles and ancient magical gear. It didn’t help that Gilda’s griffons remained deeply distrusting of the infested griffons, as though they could turn at any moment. Even worse, the funeral duties plummeted what good spirits their victory had produced, and to top it all off, Gunner was dead.

The hole ‘that guy’ left gaping was more like a sore wound she tried not to think about. He’d been true during the brief time he spent with ‘the gang’, and yet she barely knew him. Did she even have the right to mourn him? Gilda let a sigh escape: she couldn’t let that happen again. Could not just keep them at an arm’s distance and then feel bad because they died and because she didn’t give them attention. It hurt a lot more than she ever imagined. ‘No matter’, she kept trying to tell herself, ‘it was not just about getting to Griffindell anymore’. The caravan and those griffons were not just an addendum. There would be no victory in arriving without her friends.

To think she could have lost Godwin and Gevorg, just like that, made it all worse. And then Grunhilda, and all the others too, because Tempest Shadow would not have let them go. It just got worse the more she thought about it. On the other paw, it almost made Gilda respect the mare, and turned her sadness to anger. She also understood Grunhilda: sitting there, doing nothing, filled her with a dreary sense of uselessness. Until Gia interrupted her brooding again.

She climbed up the stairs with an uncharacteristic fleetness, and a frown that replaced her usual tired expression. Gilda felt tired already, just watching her approach.

“You better come see this.”

“Didn’t I tell you to figure it out?”

“Gilda, please,” Gia’s frown worsened. “Just come. Please.”

“Fine. I’m not doing anything, anyway.”

She followed the green loremaster with Grunhilda in tow. They walked in hurried silence, soon reaching and following the road between the frozen fields where griffons still worked collecting corpses. She followed Gia all the way to the perimeter of the forest. The night still covered the dense foliage, but Gilda knew the trees swayed. The wind picked up speed and chill, and the trees wept.

Pickaxes, used to pick the frozen soil into submission, laid strewn about next to a messy pile of ice and dirt. Half a dozen griffons sat around the hole, holding idle shovels and staring expectantly at Gilda. She approached and craned her neck to look down at the hole. As expected, they had laid the bodies of the ponies to be buried.

“There is a lot less pony in there than there should be,” Gilda said casually before she looked back at Gia.

One of the northerners snorted at her words, but it was not a joke. Her voice had not a shred of humor. Someone had cleaned the carcasses, leaving behind only fleshy bones, discarded viscera, and some carcasses even had missing bones. Horns and manes, for example, were gone. A confusing range of emotions colored Gilda’s thoughts, and they manifested as a blank expression of deadpan, looking down yet again at the remains.

“Really?” Gia produced a novel sound, combining the whine of a nagging bitch—or molly—and the one from a distressed baby. “That is your reaction to this?”

Was she simply too tired and hurting all over too much to care, or was it that memory of the taste of pony meat wetted her tongue? Old and new. The ponies often said, half-jokingly, that chocolate was better than sex. Gilda’s old memories filled her thoughts with the luxurious and debauched banquets fueled by exotic foods and wanton sex of the past, and she decided that not chocolate, but pony meat was a close contender to sex for the first place.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t tell the others to put them back together. Ponies are food, anyway. I’m only gonna be angry if I don’t get a good cut. Heck, I want some prime cut preserved, so I can offer it to Lady Gwendolen when we get to Griffindell.”

The green griffoness opened her beak, making her usual impatient expression when the others just resumed the work, shoveling dirt inside the hole and one of them even said ‘yes ma’am’.

“Are we done here?” Gilda started on her way back to the longhouse. “I’m more worried about Gunner’s funeral. As far as I know, these plotholes may already be in a better place than I am right now. We still got this dumb sidequest to finish before we’re back on track and on our way to Brokenhorn. I am not going to cry over some ponies that wanted to kill me for defending myself. Their friends ambushed me when I was already half-dead. It’s only because of Grunhilda that I’m alive.”

Gilda cast one last glance back at the hole and the working griffons. “It’s not like they’re alive to feel anything, anyway.”

“I thought you used to have a pony marefriend.”

Gilda turned around and held Gia by her leather armor. “And I’ll probably kill her when I see her again. And you… we have got injured to help. We have griffons to cleanse from those fucking nightmarish abominations, and you are our Loremaster.”

“Yeah, the noble griffon thing suits you well, doesn’t it? Giving orders, being all high and mighty…” Gia glared at Gilda, holding her forelimb, but could never make the former let go.

“Less whining, more working!” Gilda shoved Gia to sit on her haunches before starting on her way back to the longhouse.

Grunhilda stood behind Gilda with an unfriendly glare over the other and followed her master, walking off to the sound of working shovels. Sunlight had just started to creep above the treetops, peeking among the higher leaves like a kaleidoscope. Or a headache waiting to happen after a tumultuous and sleepless night. A refreshing sight, Godwin was sitting by the line of houses, waiting for them. Approaching, Gilda smiled at him. Godwin had done alright by her accounts: he was not dead.

“Hey, how are you doing?” she smiled warmly at him, and he responded in kind. The young tom too was tired and dirty, but his face lit up at Gilda’s smile for him, and at Grunhilda’s peppy greeting.

He said he was alright, his tired eyes and distant stare said otherwise, but Gilda knew he would be. As soon as they went back to the routine of traveling and he had his cute young mate again. It would be even better once they arrived at Griffindell and whatever the Harpy’s designs occupied his mind. The same was true to Gilda, so she didn’t blame the likable tom.

Godwin let the pair lead and Gilda had the distinct impression he was skipping his job of burying the dead, but she didn’t blame him and let it go unmentioned. He was noble too, after all. Back in the main street, the pyre was almost ready, but Gertha and a pair of gruff griffons waited for her under the porch of the longhouse. The mercenary glared at Godwin, and when Gilda looked back, he had a sheepish stare on his face. Gilda didn’t have the time to inquire what was going on, though. Gertha had something to drop on her shoulders, so she said.

“What’s up, Gertha?” Gilda greeted her mercenary friend with a tired smile. The other said they had an issue and to that, Gilda said that water was wet.

After a short chortle, the mercenary finally spit it out, gesturing with a paw to the griffon on her left. “This guy handles the others guarding the prisoners. He wants to kill all the infested griffons and give them the funeral rites already.”

“No. Unless they become a problem, we’re keeping them alive and helping them.” Gilda said but let the griffon, a burly guy under a chain mail and a neat helmet that covered his beak make his case to her.

“If they escape, we cannot bury them properly.”

“Well, don’t let them escape.”

He nodded to her words, satisfied, and Gilda appreciated the lack of complaints as she looked at the other.

“We searched the ruins, Lady Gilda.” The white and gray griffon with a combined armor of plates, chain mail and ragged, muddy silk said. “Master Godwin can attest to that. No one found the white tom, Gavingkal’s thrall. We did find the Loremaster, though. And all the worms, dead and dissolving, I guess. The entire room thawed and inundated the corridor. It was a disgusting mess. Now the ruins are mostly safe after we killed the remaining monsters. But we’re still finding villagers hiding everywhere.”

“Ask them to surrender once, and if they don’t, put them down. And find Goving. I don’t want to wake up one night with that creep leering over me.”

“Can we try to help Goving, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda mewled, sitting next to Godwin and pulling her wing like an infant. Once eyes were on her, she joined her paws and begged. “Please?”

Gilda kicked herself for not ending that smarmy little dweeb properly. Then she wouldn’t have had to deal with Grunhilda. There was also the fact that Lady Geena had asked her to kill him and solve her family issues for her. She should have told Grunhilda ‘no’. That it was dangerous, and that Goving was probably too much of a lost cause. But then again, so was she, and so was Grunhilda.

Gilda massaged her brow and sighed, again donning the mantle of Mother Hen of Lost Griffon Causes. “He has one chance. If they find him and can capture him. The moment I feel he is dangerous to me, you, or anyone, I am sending him through the Stormy Eyrie express.”

Grunhilda’s happy squeal didn’t match the lugubrious morning in that cursed village, the other griffons' somber acknowledgement of Gilda’s orders, or the funeral rites. Nobody complained, though, of just a little happiness and hope. Truth be told, Gilda wondered what the Harpy thought of the whole situation with Goving, his mother and the fact that Grunhilda was his cousin, also a thrall. It lent some credence to Gavingkal’s dying words, but Gilda had little time to ponder.

Grunhilda’s whining groan distracted Gilda from her lordly vibrations while she watched the others leaving to follow her commands. “I don’t like not doing anything while everyone is working, Miss Gilda.”

That sounded right. Grunhilda enjoyed doing things, even if it was because it made her feel useful to her master. However, Gilda didn’t want Grunhilda running around, focused on something and putting herself in danger in that place. Fortunately, she was also very naïve and prone to being persuaded.

“I understand, Grunhilda, but you’re not doing nothing. You’re escorting me. This is a dangerous place. You don’t want some random malcontent to jump at me when I’m busy talking to griffons, do you?”

Grunhilda gasped loudly, comically shocked, and then shook her head eagerly. “No! I’ll keep all the bad griffons away from you!”

“Great.” Gilda grinned at her, even if she was so tired. “Let’s see how Gia is doing.”

The pair went about the place, doing their best to look like they knew what they were doing, on an inspecting tour of the works, walking past burning piles of deceased monstrosities or dead locals. Some griffons, usually the younger ones, kept to singing the funeral rites and left the dirty work for the more callous ones. On and on, with no end in sight, the funeral works didn’t seem to stop. Gilda’s cats took care of business with efficiency and a good measure of fear of what might happen if they dallied. Good enough for Gilda: the sooner they left that place, the better.

Gevorg—a griffon who knew what he was doing—had set up a reasonably clean and safe spot for the injured to rest inside one of the less dilapidated houses. Gilda went there to make sure things proceeded without incident. It was a mansion by the fields. It had a grand but rustic entry hall on the other side of a battered door, barely left standing on its hinges. Inside, the hearth burned with fresh wood from the forest and several griffons occupied leather beddings, barely leaving any uncovered floor. Someone had boarded up the access to the connecting rooms and wings, a precaution Gilda considered smart, but the access to the cellar was open with a pair of griffons standing guard.

Injuries ranged from punctures to bruises, cuts and lacerations. It was the usual stuff Gilda had already gotten used to seeing when griffons swung around metal sticks and balls with murderous intent. The freeze-rot was the worst, leaving behind gangrenous wounds surrounded by black-greenish tissue covered in foul-smelling frost.

It was not the permeating smell, though. That was burning ash, smokey and unobtrusive, burning in the hearth like the fire radiated a cleansing heat. To Gilda’s senses, Mother Harpy’s magic filled the air, not only in the burning ash, but in the greasy bandages laid on their wounds. Like the land itself had begun healing, the hall was an isle of salubrity amid the sickness. Most of the griffons in there slept deeply, while the others worked bandaging, setting bones, cleaning wounds. A young lady performed surgery on someone’s chest with minimal help, but things were getting better.

One of the caretaking griffons told Gilda the ‘Frostbound’ in need of healing were down below, where it was easier to control them if necessary. Considering the precaution wise, Gilda took the steps down, as she could not find Gia among the griffons from her company. She supposed their loremaster was busy with the near hopeless cases. She was almost proud. Walking down the stairs, the cold and stench of rot assaulted her, but it was not as bad as she had expected. Grunhilda gagged and twisted her beak, though.

It was a cellar with stone walls and illuminated by smokeless torches not to damage the planks in the ceiling. Many torches fought a losing battle against the darkness of the underground hall over lines of griffons in their improvised beds. The fire itself seemed diminished, missing its fierceness as the griffons in there. They coughed, cried, or thrashed about in their sleep while volunteers helped take care of them. Among them was Gia, and next to her was a clueless, very young and cute orange and yellow griffoness, barely an adult, watching Gia look over an unconscious older griffon.

With Gilda approaching, Gia raised her eyes from the injured griffon and cleaned her paws with a water pitcher and a towel the younger one offered her. “Since you’re here, let me have a look at you.”

Gilda stopped immediately and sat before Gia, raising her head like a soldier for inspection. At a second thought, she chastised herself, but remained still while Gia touched, prodded, and poked. She did her best to not to grimace every time something hurt, though.

“Yeah. You have a couple of broken ribs and burned feathers on your wings and chest. They also stabbed you a few times. You’re only not bleeding to death somewhere because of the magical stuff you got. They skimmed the damage away from your organs and stopped the bleeding.” Gia said, before holding Gilda’s paw for her to see the dirty, bloody sores. “Magical burn on top of traditional burns. How did you manage this?”

Gilda shrugged. “I suppose it is from yanking a dagger from a unicorn. I then tried to hold Tempest Shadow by her armor, and it was searing hot. Sheesh.”

“You shouldn’t be walking around without proper bandaging unless you want to lose your paws to infection. Much less in this filthy place. Especially in this cursed place. Even the walls look diseased.” Gia chastised her before pulling up Gilda’s paws and looking down at her undercarriage. Despite Gilda’s complaint, Gia stared at her again. “A few bruises and cuts that your magical jewels kept under control. I will not be touching you there, so ask your girlfriend to tell you if she feels any bumps or nodules on you.”

Gilda covered herself with her wing and glared at Gia while she talked and cleaned the burns. The water and the soap burned, but it was nothing Gilda couldn’t withstand. “There is not much we can do, anyway. I suppose your fancy magical bling will have to help you against any infections.”

While she talked, Gia bandaged Gilda’s paws with a white-green balm smelling of citrus. It too stung for a while, but Gilda would not give the other the satisfaction of hearing her complain and Gia was giving her a list of instructions she paid no heed to. Then Gia turned her attention back to the griffon on the ground.

He looked like a veteran of an older campaign. He had settled down in the small farming town to take care of his little parcel of land while waiting for Mother Harpy to call him to the Stormy Eyrie. His stony gray brow shone with sweat and restless muscles kept clenching his paws. He mumbled gibberish words in his sleep and his eyes jittered restlessly behind his eyelids. The remains of a once glimmering chain mail and a nosed helmet stood by his side. Not only the fighting had ruined it, but the creeping cold rot had claimed it too. No shine remained, and the metal had become brittle. It was a rot, not unlike rust, but cold and seeping malevolence like a reek. The Windigo’s magic sickened the metal as much as it did the flesh. His chest and shoulders showed blackened bruises and a frost that clung to his feathers. The side of his stomach had a deep, bloody cut.

“Will he be alright?” Gilda sat by the griffon while Grunhilda kept staring at him with growing distress.

Gia murmured a non-committing response Gilda couldn’t quite understand while she kept her paw hovering by the gash on the griffon’s flank. It took Gilda an embarrassingly long time before she noticed the bloodied scalpel and shaving razor nearby and that Gia herself had opened the wound on his stomach. Before she could ask what the green loremaster was doing, a gush of blood leaped out of the wound. It was the only way Gilda’s tired mind could explain what she had seen. A blood-covered snake coiled around Gia’s arm, staring at her with beady eyes on a blunt head like a worm. Sharp teeth let slide a forked tongue when it talked.

“Multiple rib fractures, punctured and bruised left lung, severe blood loss, hemothorax, infected external wounds, and a dangerously intense infection of the blood. Ruptured intestines and external infections facilitated by the necromantic nature of his wounds.” The thing spoke to Gia, hissing through his words and with a surprisingly smooth voice. “Advanced age. There is a severe risk of death. His heart will fail under the septic shock and blood loss. The effect of the necromancy on his soul cannot be ascertained.”

“I know, genius.” Gia growled at the snake. “I need some insight on how to cure him!”

“The disease is heavily based on magic; however, it is also much more mundane. Sepsis quickly claims his body and abnormal clotting, cellular debris, and damage to the organ’s structure have diminished blood flow within his liver. He needs surgery as much as he needs powerful healing magic.”

Gilda kept her shock at bay for long enough to remember the gift Madam Gelinda had given Gia, and kept her beak shut so as not to disturb them. Grunhilda seemed more amused than shocked, curiously.

“Wait. No parasite?” Gilda asked.

“He is from Frozenlake. I brought him down here because the smell from his wounds was disturbing the other griffons upstairs.”

“So?”

“What?”

“You’re not doing anything to help him.”

“I don’t think she knows how to,” the young griffoness assisting Gia complained like Gilda was the manager at a store.

“You’re not doing much either,” Gilda snapped back at her.

Gia groaned. “Fine! I don’t know what to do. I was never particularly good at the healing stuff. You better get Lady Geena here, or something. There are way too many griffons that are just too injured and way past my skills, even with help from the local healers. And that without the Windigos’ magic doing creepy things.”

“What? No! He is going to die!” Gilda held Gia by the gorget of her leather armor and pulled when she tried to stand. “You can’t just give up! There is no time to get Geena here, and this is your responsibility!”

“She is correct,” the blood snake added matter-of-factly.

Gia’s expression turned to her usual disinterested blank, but Gilda shook it out of her. A couple of griffons who were busy helping stopped working, drawn to the commotion, but said nothing. Gia’s assistant also said nothing, because the anger etched in Gilda’s face gave her pause. Even Grunhilda took a step back.

“This griffon needs help!” Finally, a dry slap to the face drew Gia out of her indifference. “You can tell me you can’t save a griffon because their injuries are too grievous. You can even tell me you don’t want to treat them because you don’t like them. But I’ll flatten your beak if you ever tell me again that you can’t be bothered to try!”

Gia refused to stare her in the eyes, much less show any response.

“The reason you’re traveling with me is that Lady Gwendolen summoned you back to Griffindell after the stunt you tried to pull back in Thunderpeak. Remember that? You are not in a good place right now and can’t just abandon your duty because it is too hard! And most certainly not while my griffons are involved in this mess! You are our Loremaster. You are working for me!”

“What are you even talking about?” Gia complained, pulling but failing to free herself.

“I don’t think you understand how bad your situation is.” Gilda pulled her closer and spoke in a more personal tone. “I don’t even know why I care so much, to be honest. But this griffon deserves that you try your best. Even if you fail. And not just because of him… I will not let you give up.”

How much of a clue did a griffon need? Madam Gelinda had already explained it thoroughly during the festival. Gilda’s voice turned grave.

“I would rather not find out what the Harpy does to bad griffons,” she finally said and shoved Gia back. “Griffons that betray her. You are a loremaster, and you can’t go back on that.”

A moment of silent awkwardness extended itself. Most griffons believed the Harpy lived in the Stormy Eyrie. It was a weird rationalization since the Windigos had destroyed the place, and that was common knowledge. Others believed she lived inside their hearts, or their heads. Gilda was a privileged one to understand Lady Gwendolen was the Harpy. Gia lived in an ignorant bliss where she didn’t believe the Harpy existed and was only a manipulation tool invented by Lady Gwendolen.

To be fair, that was exactly what the Harpy did to Celestia all those years ago, but that was not the point. If a griffon could be dense, Gia was denser still. And if a griffon could be dumb, Gia had also found a way to be dumber. Gilda waited to see her getting to work, just to be sure she would not let that guy die because it was easier or something. But most of all, because Mother Harpy would not forgive her if she did.

While Gia processed what Gilda had just told her, another griffoness trotted down the stairs and beelined toward Gilda. A northerner on the larger side, one of those that seemed made for the eternal winter, covered in shades of gray, quality ring mail and blue silks. The latter was torn, bloodied and muddy, and certainly not just for show. Neither was the battered shield on her back, along with the flanged mace showing a couple of dents. That thing looked vicious.

In true northerner fashion, she didn’t bother with formalities and just fixed her blue eyes on Gilda, despite her respectful tone. “Lady Gilda, you must see to the loot before someone has ideas.”

Gilda nodded at her, cast one last glare at Gia, and then turned to the junior assistant. “Call me if she tries to shirk her duty again.”

With those words, not bothering to see if the other had acknowledged her order, or dignifying Gia’s outraged gasp, Gilda followed the armored griffoness. She led Gilda up the stairs, out of the house, and across the street to another husk of a house. It used to be a store, judging by the wide hall and excess of shelves. What remained of the broken ones and a ruined counter were burning in a stone oven.

A congregation of some twenty griffons had gathered there, and in the middle of the lot was a paltry pile of loot under stern glares. It was not like they didn’t trust each other, but griffons were griffons and coming up on top was the point of the Game of Griffons. Gilda was the referee for that match.

Fair enough, it fit the ‘noble griffon lady’ job description and convinced her not to just wing it.

Someone had gracefully cleaned it all, and hopefully someone monitored them while they did. It was such a pathetic gathering of valuable weapons, armor and accessories, Gilda was sure whoever cleaned it all had walked away with something under their wings.

A young tom, about as young as Godwin, watched over the pile. They both took after the griffoness that had fetched Gilda, and the others kept a respectful distance—out of paw’s reach so they could not be accused of yoinking something out of the pile. Gavingkal’s shield and axe stood out, supported against the pile. The other items which stood out were the strangely shaped plates Gilda recognized as being loot from the ponies.

“Can this pony stuff be adapted?” Gilda asked the pile, expecting one of the present griffons to answer.

Surprisingly, it was Grunhilda who answered. “It can be. They forge their magical alloys differently from the Astrani steel. They can be reshaped, and their charms recast.”

No one said otherwise while Gilda examined the pile and tried to decide what to do with those things. A flash of torchlight caught her eyes among the steel. A dagger. To her eyes, the whole pile gleamed with magic. The petite selection of Astrani craft shone softly, but with the searing white of lightning and the pony-forged steel glowed like the afternoon sun. And among the latter, a dagger shone with the might of griffon magic.

It was what all daggers were: a sharp knife, double-edged and straight, with a handle of light tan leather. It lacked any particular characteristics, such as decoration, which added to the purely utilitarian make. Not even the pommel displayed the overplayed pony decorations. Not even gemstones, or a particular shape that even the griffons put on their weapons and tools. But it called to her, like something in it recognized Gilda among all those griffons, and only she could notice it.

The mechanics of how that worked escaped her, but she didn’t care. She reached and grabbed the weapon. It was her right, anyway. Someone had, indeed, cleaned it, but the leather still emanated a combination of coppery and sweet only to be found in the blood of ponies. A smile pulled her beak at the recognition, but she had nowhere to sheath it in or stash it away, so she gave it to Grunhilda and nobody complained.

“Well, any surplus was supposed to go to Lady Geena and her mate, but I don’t think there will be a lot,” she said. “Get the others that earned something to grab something from the hoard. Just get everyone to understand there was not a lot to begin with.”

A pause let her think for a couple of seconds and the last thing she needed was a bunch of angry griffons fighting over loot. The local jerks dealt with Windigo magic more than with decent weapons; even that was their fault. Regardless, telling griffons to share or not to be greedy was pointless.

“I’m going to tell Lady Geena that a financial compensation would be appreciated because of how little loot turned out. So, nobody needs to fight over this crap.” Then she grinned like the predator she was. “I will also put in a nice word or two about you cats with the Allmother.”

Her words waved the tension in the air and, as she turned to leave with Grunhilda, the griffoness who had fetched her spoke. “Ma’am, you killed Gavingkal. You’re entitled to the first pick of his shield, ax, and armor. They are of exceptional quality, even if the rest is acceptable at best.”

The only reason Gilda even knew how to use Mythical was that it was included in the Swordmaiden deal, but it put her above that stuff. The shield would just get in her way, and the armor was too heavy. She had her own cape and Gavingkal’s was just tacky. The pistol… Gilda’s experience at the festival taught her never to touch a gun again. The dagger was all she wanted, missing what remained of Tempest Shadow’s horn and a nice purple rug.

“I’m not interested”, Gilda said drily, before she remembered something. “Did anyone find Tempest Shadow?”

The only responses she got were frowns, twisted beaks, avoiding eyes, and a braindead ‘uuuh’ for half of a dozen seconds before an older tom walked forward from the group. He was a nightingale-blue, covered in rich shades of cerulean that went from the cyan in his head to a vivid sapphire in his chest. He didn’t wear any armor, but the bruised feathers and limp told Gilda he had taken part in the fight.

“I sent scouts out into the forest to find the ‘frostsworn’, Lady Gilda. One of my griffons glimpsed the mare escaping but could not catch up to her. She teleported away when she realized they had found her.”

“I want guards.” Gilda’s expression twisted with anger. “I don’t want to wake up next to my thrall and find out a sore loser grassbreath stabbed her.”

The griffon nodded and said he would take care of it, but Gilda waved his words away. “No. Get griffons to find any traitorous dweebs still hiding in this dump and locate the grassbreath if you can. I’ll get Gertha and Gevorg to deal with my security. I don’t even know you, dude.”

The griffon took her comment with dignity and simply agreed while Gilda led Grunhilda outside. Speaking of Gertha, she was waiting outside, sitting on the porch. She was startled at seeing Gilda’s tempestuous expression walking out of the house and the sitting griffoness raised a paw from the wood.

Gilda restrained herself and took a small breath in. “What’s up?”

Gertha stared at the floor. “We’re ready. You know, for Gunner’s funeral.”

It was cold enough outside, but her words hit Gilda like a bucket of chilled water on top of that. All the fiery thoughts drowned and froze, her angry grimace undid itself. “Alright. Thanks. Let’s see this through.”

All the griffons in Gilda’s company and rallied citizens from Frozenlake joined around the funeral pyre before the longhouse. All the work stopped, and the only ones not present were those too injured. Many of the survivors from the hamlet joined too. All of them kept a respectful distance of about twenty cubits, except for Gilda, her closest friends, and the ‘other Gunner’. The one that had survived. Gia didn’t join them; she’d better be saving that griffon’s life.

Gunner approached the pyre and deposited his friend’s halberd, a war hammer, and a shield on top of his covered body. Like it signaled the beginning of the ritual, several other offerings followed. They deposited all manners of weapons and Gilda wondered just how many knew the two Gunners. She recognized a couple that were guards from her caravan, southerner griffons too, and even a couple of guards from Frozenlake. How many actually knew him, or just wanted to send a fellow griffon on his way, was not important. Only that they made the offerings and performed the rites correctly. It was his right as a Child of the Harpy.

Gertha gave Gunner a lit torch. It was a fancy one, with an iron holder and a bright, fiery flame. They had probably coated it with something, a pleasant touch for a painful goodbye that should not be happening. Once the flames touched the oil-coated linen covering the body, they took over in a burst of heat before he tossed the torch at the flaming pyre. The singing began right away, melancholic even if it was as solemn as it was back in the Astrani mine. An atmosphere of defeat within their victory sullied Gilda’s mood. This time there was no vision of a beautiful place, and whatever those ruins used to be was lost to time. It was probably better this way, given what had taken residence and drawn Gavingkal’s greed.

Gilda and Gertha sat next to Gunner, and the latter rested a paw on his shoulder. His eyes reflected the flames at Gilda like a dancing sprite making fun of her pyrrhic victory. And when the singing stopped, the sheets had undone themselves in the flames, and the body became indistinguishable from the flaming pyre. The pillar of smoke had joined the others into the clouds.

Gunner looked at Gilda. “You could have saved him.”

She looked away and at her feet while Gertha gasped. The first impulse was to snap at him. To tell him to shut up, but Gilda kept her beak shut. She wanted to tell him she could not, but she also refrained from that impulse. Finally, she opened her beak to say it was his own fault he got captured and got in that situation, but she shut it once again. She wanted to tell Mother Harpy to fix that, but She would not listen, and Ghadah’s memories, and those of a thousand Loremasters gave her no easy way to fix that.

“That was out of line, Gunner.” Gevorg told him. Not angrily, or threatening, but softly. “Uncalled for. It was not Gilda’s fault. If it was not for her, we would all be dead.”

“I’m sorry.” Gilda finally said. “It happened too fast. I didn’t even know I could break out of the unicorn’s spell. I am really sorry… If I could, I would have saved him. Now, this is the best I can do. Say that I’m sorry. And even I think it is not enough.”

“I apologize.” Gunner responded, looking at her, even if it looked like he didn’t. “I’m just sad. I’ll get over it.”

“Some work ought to do you good,” Gevorg offered. “There is a lot. But if you gotta be angry at someone, be angry at the ponies. They had no business being here other than hunting Gilda and Grunhilda. It should have ended with Gavingkal’s defeat.”

“Don’t worry.” Gunner spoke gravely. “I’m fine.”

He walked away. And one thing Gilda’s ancient memories could tell her was that ‘fine’ was not good enough. When griffons said they were fine, it meant everything sucked, and they were trying to cope. But how to follow that? How to fix that? Only time could. Gilda had no argument against that. Even if it was nothing new, death was still not so common to her. She felt lost in a limbo between understanding and ignorance.

Gertha had a panicked little distressed expression, letting her beak hang, looking back and forth between Gilda and Gunner before she grimaced at Gilda and stumbled on the words. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

She nervously held Gilda’s gaze for a couple of seconds, as though she wanted to say something, but did not. She hurried after Gunner and Gevorg, leaving Gilda with Godwin and Grunhilda, all three of them not knowing what to do, other than stare at the fire and wish it took it all away. But Gilda knew it was worse for her, because she could hear their laughter mocking her in the crackling of the fire.

Mercy

How could one spend a whole day doing nothing and still feel so tired? How could one feel so exhausted and not fall asleep? Was it the foreign ceiling? Gilda had gotten used to changing ceilings. Her home—may its ashes rest in peace—, the hotel, the open skies, the manor, the manor in Frozenlake… Whatever that place Mother Harpy had taken them to was. That must be it. Gavingkal’s bedroom, luxurious as it was—so far above the normal of his hamlet—seemed to hide threats everywhere.

Every shadow hid a malcontent mare or a creepy griffon watching Gilda, just waiting for her to slip into slumber. But maybe that wasn’t it. Images of the brown griffon rolling down the roof of the longhouse and painting the tiles with blood projected behind her eyes whenever she closed them. She couldn’t even know if she was asleep, but now and then, it would be Godwin or Gevorg tumbling down like a rag doll, spilling blood instead of cottony filling. Then she’d open her eyes and find the green-gray planks of the ceiling in the dark. The lack of evil, corrupting magic in the air somehow made it all worse.

Perhaps the threats were only in Gilda’s mind, and she pondered whether that thought was profound or if she was too dumb to think something actually profound. She rubbed her eyes in the dark, softly scowling through her exhaustive lack of tiredness. Not because she couldn’t sleep, but out of jealousy.

Grunhilda’s soft, peaceful snoring filled her with such faux anger that she almost started looking for excuses to wake her lover up. On top of that, Gevorg had decided to sleep elsewhere. ‘This way, you can actually rest,’ he had said. She sighed and twisted her beak at the thought.

The thunking of the axes working on the firewood had ceased long ago. Of the funeral rites, only the flaming pyres remained. Their bright flames cast undulating shadows through the gaps in her shutters and punctuated the deathly silence. Even in the cold snow, one could hear birds and tiny animals outside, under the roof. Not there outside Gilda’s room. The clinking of armor from the walking guards unsettled her every time.

“Leave it to that dumbfuck to have his bedroom on the ground level…” she sighed to herself.

The guilt that Gilda would rather share their bed with Gevorg—doing things other than staring at the ceiling—probably helped keep her awake. He thought of showing respect for her, for the dead, for the situation. Gilda thought she was a horny degenerate because she really didn’t care and would rather do naughty things with him and Grunhilda. At the same time, she thought herself a fool for not waking Grunhilda up nor dragging their tomfriend to their bedroom anyway.

It was all so dumb. What is the point of being the boss if you don’t get to do the things you want? She sighed, again staring at the ceiling and holding her blanket to her beak. Mother Harpy would not mind. She was probably doing naughty things herself with her hunk of a mate, Lord Gilad.

What was Godwin doing, by the way?

Suddenly, it was morning again, and Gilda knew it because they knocked on her door and woke her up. On the bright side, she had gotten some sleep. At some point, she had nightmares of freakish, ribbon-like worms and unfathomable cold, but the warmth of her fireplace gave her some reprise. Grunhilda sat by the hearth, poking the burning wood, and greeted her with a peppy grin before trotting to the door. By the time Gilda had sat on the white bear rug under the bed, Gevorg stared at her from there.

“Gilda, I’m sorry, but there’s a situation. And it is grim.”

“Of course there is,” she yawned into her paw. “I’ll be right there.”

‘Breakfasts are for the weak,’ she mumbled to herself, surprised at her good mood. She even smiled softly, seeing that the nice griffons working for her had set up a sizable one. Sausages, fruits, some fish, and some lean cuts of beef and poultry waited on the main table before Gavingkal’s throne. It was their second morning in that cursed place, and it was only slightly better than the first, but the neatly organized food and empty plates waiting for her were nice. They had even set some candles for soothing lighting.

Work first, then she’d be right back for that tasty food. Unfortunately, as soon as the dead stopped being an issue, it was up to the living to remind her that the damn Windigos had actually won. Gilda followed Gevorg outside the main hall and into the still cold of the morning. The rancid smell of frozen death was slightly more bearable than the stench of burned flesh, fur, and feathers, but Gilda preferred the latter. Going down the stairs, she saw griffons leaving whatever shelter they had used for the night. Some had slept in a couple of houses in better condition, and others slept in tents still standing along the main street.

And it was down that street that Gevorg led her to a small agglomeration of griffons who seemed concerned about a young queen and her cub. Gilda raised an eyebrow, approaching the griffoness. “Hey, what is going on?”

“Oh, he is just very tired,” the dirty queen said with a sheepish smile. The very same Gilda had met and spared during the fight, still holding that doll from when Gilda stumbled upon her and her mate. Except it was now stiff and was not a doll like Gilda had thought under the dark of night and with a mob of murderous griffons in every corner. Gilda’s first thought was an expletive that she was glad never left her beak.

Why did everyone think she would know how to handle that? It was probably the ‘leader effect’ and the fact that nobody else wanted to. They could just drop it at her feet. No biggie, Gilda could just delegate away. She could tell Gia to deal with it and nobody would say anything. But she didn’t have the heart. Could the Windigos turn a cub who died so young they never even had a rational thought into a draugr? Or any other undead monstrosity? For no other reason other than to fuck with the living?

The father wasn’t helping. All he did was shy away from the conversation and keep a few paces away, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Not that Gilda could judge him, as she hadn’t the first idea of what to do or say either.

One thing she knew. Gilda would rather not test the Windigos. Not only because she was sure the monsters were creative, but because she didn’t want to see it become reality. She didn’t want those young parents, already caught in that nightmare, to see it. All Gilda needed was to figure out how to explain that to a delusional queen without making it worse.

She stared at the young queen holding her dead cub like she feared someone might snatch it from her—someone had certainly tried. Her yellow pelt and white feathers seemed a little healthier than on the previous day. That is magic for you. It can be terrible, but also heals fast. She was also clean, even if her fur and feathers lacked proper care. She had a sheepish grin that showed she understood Gilda was the one who was going to end that debacle, and it worried her.

Gilda didn’t want to rush. In fact, she raked her brain while scratching her head, trying to find something to say that might help while pretending she was examining the queen. Maybe force one of those ancient memories to surface. Some ideas came to her, but Gilda’s faith in her ability to argue away the problem didn’t convince her. Not because she thought she couldn’t pull it off, but because the whole ‘slipping thoughts inside their heads’ thing seemed cheap and disrespectful. Eventually, after staring at the queen, her mate, and the others surrounding them, Gilda relented. There was one thing she was particularly good at, and that was being bluntly honest.

“There is no nice or kind way of putting this, so I’m just going to say it. Your cub is not tired. He is dead, and I’d rather not find out if the Windigos can … You know. Do the undead thing to newborn cubs.”

“Oh. I understand Lady Gilda. But we… He is… Just…”

“Please, don’t do this.” Gilda’s tone was a whimpering supplication. While her paws joined in a pleading gesture, her eyes shone, unblinking, with the same anxiety mirrored in the younger queen.

Yanking a dead cub from his delusional mother was within Gilda’s power. Daring the Windigos to do their worst, too, but Gilda preferred the former. Words bubbled to her throat, but she reined them in. Muscles tensed, but she held them back. It would be so easy to invoke her title, her position. Realigning that hen’s compass with a few slaps and taking the corpse from her was almost expected. But Gilda didn’t. Enough suffering in that place. That mother had already gone through too much. Gilda would not relinquish another piece of her soul; she held to the majesty and pride of her lion and eagle self. A Child of the Harpy, not a tool of the evil gods of corruption or a mindless victim of circumstances.

Gilda’s tone came out soft and restrained. From one messed up griffoness to another. “It is his right as a tiny Child of the Harpy. A burning pyre that will take him to Our Mother. We gave it to all the griffons who turned their back on the Mother of Storms. Because they were weak or malicious, it didn’t matter. There is no other way we can treat a tiny, innocent little brother under our mother.”

Gilda almost didn’t recognize the words out of her beak, but they were earnestly hers. Back in Griffonstone, she would have twisted her beak and distanced herself from any weirdo who said that. At the same time, her old memories were silent. Would the veteran Swordmaiden, Ghadah, have said that? Any of the venerable Loremasters she had been could have said that merely because it would convince the mourning mother. But not Gilda. She simply didn’t want herself, the mother, or anyone else to see the horror the Windigos would create just to hurt them. But most of all, she believed the funeral pyre would send that tiny soul on its way to the one, the only one, who could make that better. Not to mention that the poor, delusional queen would have to live with the fallout of that mess, and Gilda wanted to spare her the pain.

The queen clutched the tiny body, but the fear and unease in her eyes were gone, replaced by sorrow. She sobbed, holding him to her chest, and a second later, she sobbed and wailed. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Gavin. I couldn’t protect you!”

Her mate and Gevorg were the only ones who dared approach her. The former held her and Gilda’s tomfriend slowly made for the cub. She barely resisted and let go after a second, suddenly, like she feared she might not if she thought about it for too long. Gilda watched in silence. That was a kind of bravery she might not have had.

The griffoness wailed into her mate’s chest, and the others that had gathered around decided it was time to leave them with their moment of grief. Gevorg needed only a stare to communicate that he would take care of the funeral. Part of Gilda wanted to see it to the end, but she decided it had been enough already. A nod of her own communicated to him she understood, and soon it was only Grunhilda following when Gilda turned around to leave the couple alone in the dirty street.

Gertha was waiting for her. She was sitting on the burned wooden porch of a dilapidated stone house. A neutral expression on her face, watching from afar and not wearing her mail armor. She carried none of her weapons—only a shut beak and a neutral stare, waiting for Gilda’s attention.

“Please tell me some good news.” Gilda approached and sat by her with Grunhilda in tow.

“Our flyers came back with supplies and ‘stuff.’ Lord Graham is back from Griffindell, and he said they will welcome the survivors for whatever treatment they can devise. He is Lady Geena’s mate; I think these poor griffons will be alright in the long run. They also sent us some fancy-schmancy flying carts to help us carry the injured cats. They’ll probably resettle the place in the future. Once nature heals and the evil magic is gone. Or, however that works.”

“One can hope,” Gilda responded absentmindedly, but inwardly relieved Gertha’s good mood helped lift hers. “Get everyone ready to go and the injured loaded into the carts. The sooner we’re gone from here, the sooner we get to Frozenlake, and the better. I want to depart for Brokenhorn as soon as possible.”

Not to mention that the longer they stayed, the greater the chance a particular mare would show up again. But Gertha was not done yet. When Gilda stood to leave, Gertha touched her shoulder. The abruptness made Gilda look.

“You just saved this place, Gilda. Then you saved all of us from that creepy unicorn spell.” Gertha blurted out, sitting on her haunches and holding her paws together, avoiding Gilda’s stare. “I don’t know how to say it… I—I just never saw anything like that before.”

How much of that could Gilda claim responsibility for consciously doing? She had no idea. But it was easy to soak in the admiring stare once Gertha had stopped being so awkward. Not that a griffon staring at her like she had gold for feathers would ever not be awkward, but at least Gertha stopped looking like an infatuated teenager.

Gilda awkwardly petted her bang of feathers and made a gawky grin at Gertha. “I guess that is my job now.”

“Sheesh.” Gertha blushed like wine tinted her feathers. “I’m sorry… It’s just… Yeah… I’m gonna leave it at that.”

Rather than saying anything that might ruin the moment of adoration, Gilda stood and walked on. Around the main street, griffons busied themselves checking the destroyed houses. They either looked for loot or survivors, hiding bandits. Gilda just let them. The whole thing had been much less lucrative than they expected, and they were within their rights. In the fields, far past the houses, Gevorg took care of the tiny cub’s funeral with his parents and a few griffons that attended. They were both from Gilda’s company and the hamlet. Their motives were their own, but Gilda could imagine they understood the young parents’ pain. Maybe simply didn’t want the funeral to go unwitnessed. The singing was important, after all; Gilda just wasn’t sure why.

Some charitable souls had laid planks so they could walk on the sides of the frozen mud roads. Others, not busy looking for loot, had started campfires and minded the breakfast. Many already packed their stuff for the return trip to Frozenlake. All of them solemnly nodded at Gilda’s passing by. Stopping their rummaging or putting down their mugs and plates for a second. Oh, gosh… Some of the younger ones bowed to her, but Gilda hid her awkwardness under a façade of calm. She hoped.

“Oh! I almost forgot. They also sent a flyer to Brokenhorn to let Lord Griskjal know to expect our caravan,” Gertha said, catching up to her. “You know, our actual caravan to Griffindell.”

Gilda nodded in silence, and Gertha excused herself to mind the preparations. That was one name she knew, and she expected him to be trouble since she left Canterlot.

And, speaking of trouble, Gilda’s griffons had finally found the smarmy white dweeb. They tied his wings, muzzled his beak, collared and held him by two poles chained to the collar, and he still thrashed about. He pulled, reared, and screamed inside of his muzzle. Two rugged, bulky northerners, veterans of many battles, struggled to control him. The sheer desperation in his thrashing gave him strength beyond his wasted muscles.

While Grunhilda led a less-than-savory life in the South, she grew up protected and relatively well-fed. Goving’s less-than-elegant lack of muscle mass showed that his northerner master had been much less graceful in his treatment. The Loremaster inside Gilda could see all the similarities of his shared heritage with Grunhilda. Not to mention all the ways Gavingkal had failed to nourish and educate him, even if they were not so apparent.

Even among the southerner griffons and the ponies, some noble, very rich families would assign tutors to their youth. The point was to acknowledge that someone else might do a better job and put their education above the parents’ ego. Gilda’s instincts told her that was not the case with Goving.

Gavingkal’s pathetic speech came back to Gilda, and by his own logic, he had failed to see the obvious. Had he been raised and groomed properly, Goving could be as loyal a servant as Grunhilda, and even more physically powerful. The little Loremaster inside Gilda’s head tsked at the waste. What an absolute fool Gavingkal turned out to be.

“Please don’t hurt him, misters!” Grunhilda rushed ahead in an uncharacteristic bout of initiative.

Now Goving was Gilda’s problem. Barely, but an adult. Angry, frustrated. Every instinct in her screamed that he was a liability. She didn’t know the details, but his father did away with him, and his mother would rather see him dead. However, Gilda could understand the reasons why Grunhilda had infatuated herself with him. It seemed like the kind of naivety that could kill.

On top of all that, if Gavingkal were right about the inbreeding issue, Mother Harpy would like to know about it. And that brought another curious thought to Gilda. If Goving was Grunhilda’s cousin, son of Lady Geena, whose sister already showed signs of inbreeding… How odd that Lady Geena never reported it to the Harpy.

Goving’s muffled screeching, scratching talons, and rattling chains tore Gilda from her musing.

“Dude! Chill out! You’re acting like a damn feral!” she yelled at the white tom and earned a furious stare from behind his muzzle and huffing like a bull. She backhanded him but didn’t even hurt more than his ego. “Stare at me like that again, and I’m gonna put you down like one!”

Gilda heard Grunhilda’s hushed moan. She wanted to say something but restrained herself thus, Gilda ignored her. “Now, I’m taking this thing out, and you’re gonna behave like a civilized griffon, and we’re gonna talk. And you better tell me what I want to know, or Grunhilda is gonna be cross with me for putting you out of your misery. Understand?”

The white griffon reluctantly relaxed, and Grunhilda backed away, giving Gilda and Goving each a worried stare. The two warriors holding the rods let go a relieved sigh and a swear. Goving’s stare barely changed, even if he gave his thrashing a rest and let escape a long, impatient huff inside the muzzle. Gilda supposed she could compromise. Her paws inched to the black leather muzzle like she feared he might bite her. Which she actually did, but tried her best to hide it behind a stone-cold façade.

Rough feathers brushed at her paws where those should have been soft, and he tensed like the contact bore painful memories. Gilda reached and undid the iron and leather buckle behind his head. He jolted back, but Gilda had read his eyes before he even tried and held his feathers.

“Hey! Behave!” Gilda yelled at him and yanked at his feathers so hard it made him wince. “I’m not your mom to suffer your hissy fit!”

“It’s okay, Goving!” Grunhilda shuffled her feet. “Miss Gilda is not gonna hurt you. Erm, more.”

Finally, with minimal finagling, Gilda pulled the muzzle from his face. His expression held the simmering contempt of a cub about to throw a tantrum but didn’t because mom was angry. Gilda glared back at him while she tossed the muzzle away. Whether or not he liked it, his face was ill-suited for anger and proper seething like a true northerner griffon’s. Instead of a fierce predator, he looked like a bratty cub.

Much like Grunhilda, he had that goofy, non-threatening stare many griffons in the south shared, the traits of the Saddani lineage. The marks of the Nartani were strong in him, though. It was a bit of a contradiction that made Gilda wonder because the Nartani were probably the griffons who remained the purest in the present time. Then again, that was the issue. At least to Gilda’s laygriffon’s mind, peppered with ancient memories of past lives, that lent a lot of credibility to Gavingkal’s claims. But that was not the immediate problem.

“I’m pretty sure I remember seeing Grunhilda bashing your skull in.” She growled at the strange griffon. “How come you look pretty as a tom in their first meeting?”

“It is black sorcery from his Windigo masters!” One of the warrior griffons holding the restraining poles yelled. “Put this cur under an axe already!”

“Shut your beak, Godar.” The other interjected. “Lady Gilda knows of these things more than you know of drinking ale.”

Likely to be untrue, but Gilda appreciated the trust. The chains rattled, and the griffon poked Goving in the neck with his pole. “And she asked you a question, freak.”

“I don’t know!” Goving shrieked, a combination of a whine and a cry. “I just woke in the fucking ruins, alright?”

“And then skulked around like a thief, looking for a way into the longhouse, you scum.” The griffon yanked the pole and the chain so hard he almost toppled Goving.

Grunhilda shrieked, begging him not to hurt the white griffon, and then shot Gilda a pleading stare. Again, Gilda had to convince herself that leaving the smarmy little bastard alive was not a terrible idea.

‘Know what? I’m not dealing with this. His parents gotta deal with him.’ Gilda told herself, squinting at the tom.

“It’s alright. You can let him go. Goving is not going to do anything stupid.” She glared at the sniveling white tom. “Is he?”

He gasped at first, and only then he shuffled his feet, in the same dumb way that Grunhilda did. “No, ma’am!”

Gilda huffed, watching as the griffons, one of them begrudgingly, undid the restraints on Goving. After some rough dealing with the clasps and straps, the constraints dropped to the floor. He spread his wings and shook off the tenseness in his body, following it up with a pouting glare at Gilda.

“Come on. Let’s eat before you say something you might regret.” Gilda growled at him, and Grunhilda took the hint, swiftly using her shoulder and flank to nudge Goving toward the door. Gilda saw his confused blush but said nothing, satisfied that he just moved and went into the longhouse.

Now that Gilda didn’t feel pressured to babysit a hundred griffons, she took a second to appreciate the main hall. It was what one could expect if they had had some contact with the northerners. Gia had told Gilda it was supposed to be an upside-down boat. Once Gilda told her it made no sense, she insisted it was a tradition from the time when the Astrani sailed up and down the rivers from the lake at the base of the Stormy Eyrie. Gilda rolled her eyes and told Gia to go mind their injured warriors. Now, looking at it again, the high ceiling and long keel-like ridge and the way the ceiling fell on both ends and along the sides made her reconsider. Not that she would admit to Gia, though. More importantly, the food was still on display and steaming hot.

Chicken, sausages, cuts of deer, some sauces, and a few fruits as before. It had remained untouched from when she first saw it. Most of which probably came from Gavingkal’s pantry. But nothing like some meals she’s had. Gilda wouldn’t complain, of course. Supplies, while not scarce, were not exactly plentiful, and the others had to eat too. Her griffons had tried their best to give her a lush breakfast that she could finally enjoy. A smile crept through her stern expression.

The white cousins joined Gilda, with Grunhilda gingerly sitting next to her at the table. Goving just stared sheepishly at them like he needed their permission to join. She sighed.

“Listen, I don’t want to hear any sad sob story about how poorly Gavingkal treated you. I can imagine and I don’t care. He is dead, and I’m going to treat you like a guest as long as you don’t become a problem. I’m gonna take you to Frozenlake, and from there, you can do whatever you want. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as sheepishly as before, all his childish bravado was gone.

“Cool. Now sit down here and eat without making any drama.”

He hesitated, repeating himself and walking with slow and uncertain steps. Trying to shrink into the background. Eventually, he found his place next to Grunhilda. Gevorg, arriving while the other dragged himself along, kept his eyes on the griffon all the way but said nothing. Gilda just wanted to eat in peace, and the cool-headed Gevorg understood that. While he picked his place, the steaming spiced sausages kept trying to pull Gilda’s nares. Pinching a reasonably sized one in her fingers, she took it to her beak and tore a juicy part of it.

Then she heard Grunhilda whispering. It lasted just enough for her to hear it, and then it stopped before she could stare. It was fine. Gilda just let it go. No need to bicker with Grunhilda or be paranoid about her cousin. She happily tore another piece of her sausage, focusing instead on the spicy, fatty pork.

Godwin entered the main hall, and the first thing he did was glare at Goving. “I thought he was one of the bad guys.”

Goving glared right back at him. Gilda sighed and relinquished the stub of sausage to her plate. “Yeah. But he is Grunhilda’s cousin. And Grunhilda begged me not to kill him on sight. And I am dumb. Make nothing off it. Siddown and eat.”

“I would hardly describe mercy as ‘being dumb’,” Gevorg said absentmindedly. One paw rested on the table while he ripped the leg out of a roasted chicken with the other and scanned the table for something else. “I’d say it is actually a very laudable and honorable quality in a leader.”

What was worse? The awkward silence that followed or the blush that seared into Gilda’s cheeks? She resigned herself to staring at the floor rather than meeting anyone else’s eyes. When the moment passed, Goving had built a veritable mountain of chicken, sausages, steaks, and a few fish on his plate. And once he was sitting in his place again, he stretched over the table and dragged to him a plate full of figs and a teapot filled with honey and balsamic vinegar. All the while maintaining eye contact with the others, one at a time.

“Dude, just eat like normal. You don’t have to drag the whole breakfast to you!” Godwin growled at him.

Goving’s response was that he tore a chunk from a chicken’s leg, still watching the others with his bug-eyed expression.

“Just let him be, Godwin.” Gilda coughed and then smiled at the tom. “We should move on soon. Fill up and get ready for work because we’ll be taking these messed-up griffons to Frozenlake. I’m gonna need my fighters at the ready to keep them from creating trouble.”

“You can count on me, Miss Gilda!” The tom cheered but immediately reverted to a stoic, ‘it’s nothing’ stare and sat himself at the table to eat.

With the drama mostly ignored and stomachs empty no more, the breakfast ended without additional shenanigans. Gilda missed Gertha and her brother, as well as Gia and her tomfriend, but not enough that she’d go looking. The place was reasonably safe for adults to mind their own business. She missed Gunner, though. The one that had remained, but she supposed he would rather be alone. A sigh escaped her, while she made sure Grunhilda and herself were ready for the return trip to her aunt’s city.

All that aside, everyone was ready to go as soon as breakfast was over. Gertha and Gevorg had organized a simile of an order-keeping force to ensure none of the captured griffons tried anything. It felt more like an escort; most of the prisoners acted like they had been rescued. Gilda could understand. The presence of the guards seemed like a formality and a protection. Good, the less drama, the better, she thought.

Less than an hour after breakfast, they were already walking out of what remained of Feathertip. The carts, while fancy because of the magic they bore, and thus subtly shiny to Gilda’s eyes, were nowhere near as fancy as the pony-made ones. They were simple carts, made with wood. The kind someone would use to haul cargo to places but also happened to fly with their drivers.

While the formal entrance to the town was much less lugubrious than creeping through the forest, sickened trees flanked both sides of the wide dirt path. The tumultuous clouds that Gilda never thought she’d find reassuring kept the sun from shining directly, and no creepy shadows fell from the trees. While they still moaned and groaned, it was the natural straining of trunks and branches in the same wind that caused feathers to bend. It was reassuring, if anything.

As they took flight, Gilda already felt like it had all been a nightmare fading from memory. That relief couldn’t have come sooner because she already had another bomb on her paws. Fortunately, she never had to tell Grunhilda anything, as the white griffoness was already by her side, at the front of the group. Others minded the ‘rescued prisoners’, with Gunner way at the back. The important thing was that Grunhilda was not with Goving, who had seen it proper to travel among the prisoners—rescued griffons from Feathertip.

The cold was noticeable, but it barely bothered Gilda. Mythical’sweight on her back reminded her of who she was, and that she had it all under control. Their flight was fast and let her focus on the fact that they would soon arrive at Frozenlake. And that could be a problem. It had been rather convenient that Goving had ‘died’ inside the inner sanctum of the traitorous Loremaster and her filthy masters. Somehow, Goving survived and followed Gilda back to Frozenlake, to his mother, who had asked her to end his misery. And not even Grunhilda would be so naïve as to think that the Windigos had nothing to do with his survival.

At the same time, it would be simply convenient to the respectable Lady of Frozenlake if her son died in a battle with the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani. If something was so disgracing about her son, him dying in battle against a worthy adversary could mean the salvation of his name. And given Gavingkal’s speech, Gilda had a good idea of what that could be. It was appallingly barbaric but also perfectly fitting. The poor cat probably only got under Gavingkal because of a mess he had no blame for.

Maybe killing him would have been a mercy to both. All because of a detail that their fliers had relayed: Lord Graham was back home at Frozenlake. It meant little to Gilda, but the uneventful flight made her think. Maybe she was imagining things and putting words in Lady Geena’s mouth, but that he was not there during the Gathering Storm might have been more telling than Gilda had thought. She needed to figure out what she was going to do before they arrived.

She could just lop his head off. It would be simple, and nobody would question it. But… Grunhilda…

A frown crept into Gilda’s brow. She was responsible for Grunhilda, for Godwin and his sisters, for all the griffons in her caravan. For Goving, not so much. All that when the original intention was getting Grunhilda’s and her own asses to Griffindell. She already compromised too much; she could not afford to help Goving. He was too much of a liability.

A backward glance showed the white griffoness keeping formation with her, dutifully scanning the distance. Godwin did the same, although he was among the guards of the sick griffons. Creepy Goving was behaving, staying within the confines of the escort, his face unreadable.

A sudden realization hit her like a bolt of Mother Harpy’s magic: she could not afford such a liability with Tempest Shadow around. Almost on cue, her stomach grumbled to remind her that the Mother of Storms had made griffons so that they needed to eat occasionally. She groaned and growled to herself.

The overcast sky made judging the position of the sun almost impossible, and she had already changed positions with Godwin at the front. Breaking formation to confirm the time was a bad idea. It didn’t matter, anyway. With that dangerous mare around, she wanted to get to a safe place as soon as possible. It was absurd, and she knew it: it was not like the mare could fly. But magic could do weird things.

Gilda kept pushing her wings to fly. Her eagle eyes scanned the whites, yellows, and blacks of the terrain. She watched the quick streams where the unicorn might try to find some drinkable water. She eyed with distrust a small herd of caribou crossing the stream like they’d be in cahoots with their hoofed friend.

“They can’t keep up like this, Boss.” Gertha’s shout came over the wind and startled Gilda and Godwin to stop.

Blinking in surprise, she stopped in a high-altitude hover—particularly harsh on the muscles—and spun around to look back at her griffons. The trained warriors and monster hunters kept up and hovered effortlessly. At worst, one or two, wearing heavier armor, breathed through their mouths. Gilda’s own wings reminded her she did not have a lifetime of physical excellence to keep her going, but the inhabitants of Feathertip fared even worse. They tried, but Gilda was seeing helpless frowns and erratic wing beats. Most of them had trouble keeping their altitude while hovering.

Gilda winced. The pain in her muscles was gone the moment she remembered that the more she dallied and distracted herself, the bigger the chance she’d come across the vengeful purple unicorn. Gilda couldn’t forget that she and Grunhilda were wanted in the South. She had killed an important griffon in Thunderpeak. She had taken part in an open rebellion. The actual government of the griffon nation was after her. Some agent of ‘The Mare’ might catch up to her.

“Damnit,” she muttered under her own labored breath before she raised her paw so they would pay attention. “We’re stopping for lunch. Just to swallow some food, but don’t get comfy! We are moving again before long!”

Gilda’s patience thinned by the second, but she reminded herself she was likely the only one who had had a decent breakfast. For better or worse, they followed her orders. Lunch for her was a single raw chicken filet and a drink of water. She was already pacing in the snow. Back and forth, impatiently giving the sick griffons some respite, even under her intense glaring. Images of the dangerous unicorn haunted every thought at every step and overshadowed the pleading stares they gave her. At the same time, she was sure they wouldn’t want to happen across the mare either.

Soon, after a short time that she couldn’t quantify in her frantic pacing, her patience ran out. “Let’s go! We’re making it to Frozenlake before nightfall. I don’t want to spend the night in the wild. I’m pretty sure nobody wants that, either! If you can’t fly, someone has to carry you. Or just hop onto one of the carts. Up! On your feet! Now!”

Just as she said it, she realized they didn’t have enough carts. The wounded already occupied those, but what she said was said. And she would be lying if she also said she expected all of them to obey without missing a beat, but they did. The sight closed her throat, but she kept her wince and frown under her fierce grimace. They obeyed her with many heavy brows and sagging wings, but all of them obeyed. Hopped, and their wings took them to follow her up.

They resumed cruise flight in sequence with Godwin still at the lead. Her frown remained as she scanned the ground below for any dash of purple in the snow’s white. Any flashes of metal in the thickets and groves. She looked backward, just in case. There was Gevorg, Godwin, Grunhilda, and the rose-toned siblings. Also, their awkward guests among their escort of armed griffons. Nobody showed any signs of distress other than a tired frown. Satisfied, Gilda maintained the pace and resumed her vigil.

They kept flying, and Gilda’s eyes jumped from one attention-grabbing detail to another in search of any hint of purple. Gertha came to her again, crying above the wind’s whooshing and her feathers’ flapping. “They can’t keep up, Gilda.”

Godwin looked back at her, but Gilda’s wings didn’t miss a beat. She threw her voice back over her shoulder, sharp and cold as the wind in the North. “Keep up, or you’re getting left to die in the snow!”

As all that her words entailed hit herself, and before Gilda turned her gaze forward again, a green-and-brown splotched griffoness among the ‘prisoners’ started losing altitude. Her desperate wince soon turned to a desperate, panicked wail. Her beautiful shaddani colors had lost their shine to the wasting sickness that permeated her home, and her ribs pressed against her pelt. Patches of missing fur and disheveled feathers, too, testified to that. The most worrying were her wings. Her mistreated feathers struggled to work their magic of flight. Her faltering muscles sent them flapping erratically, losing the battle against gravity. She tilted to the side before dipping below the formation.

Gilda stopped, and with no orders, the formation stopped, too. One of her fellow villagers tried to hold her, but their combined weight dragged both down. In another situation, Gilda might even have found it funny.

“Fuck!” Gilda snapped. The words came to her throat, but she didn’t have the heart to tell the others to keep moving. Instead, she yelled at Goving. “Don’t just stand there! Help her.”

“But—But she’s dirty and icky!” he recoiled with a wince.

“Do what I say before—” Gilda snapped again but reigned her choice words in as Grunhilda swooped in to hold the distressed griffoness and relieve her friend.

“I got you!” The white griffoness effortlessly held the other aloft with one of her goofy grins.

After a second, Gilda addressed her griffons-at-arms. “We’ll rotate positions in the formation. We’ll take turns carrying them. But we are not stopping! Not for snacks and not for resting. We eat while we fly, and we only stop when we get to Frozenlake. I trust nobody is going to be a problem because of that. Move!”

She resumed flying faster than she was flying before. Even Godwin, at the lead, had to adjust to keep up. Not a dozen seconds passed. She slowed down and shut her eyes tight. She told her heart to calm down. It was not like the mare could fly. And it is not like she should be so nervous because of the unicorns’ spells. She had broken through their spell, after all. She had saved the entire group. Almost the entire group.

She halted her flight and spun in the air to face the others. “Fine, we’re stopping. But it’s only for an hour. And I want volunteers standing watch.”

They landed quickly, with no fancy flying other than Gilda, who found herself a small mound to stand on. They spiraled down to the patches of snow on the yellow grassy field. Gilda resisted stretching her wings after the exercise, and simply folded them to her flanks, waiting for the healthy griffon-at-arms to muster before her.

“They can rest,” Gilda pointed at the group of sick griffons. “The rest of you can’t. I want everygriff watching the perimeter, and I want to know of anything out of the ordinary!”

Her words were sufficient. While the armed griffons spread out to watch the surroundings, the others rested on the snow. They either gently laid down or simply plopped down like the snow would take their pain away. Friends and families stayed together and helped each other. Some showed sad frowns, others smiled with relief, rubbing snow on their chests and necks. Gilda stood at the top of her mound, watching griffons clinging to life as much as the sickly grass in the cold, snow, and blasts of wind. She restrained the creeping wince that tried to pull at the corners of her beak. Under the light of day, even in the overcast North, those griffons were a grim sight.

She never relaxed. Sitting there, waiting for Tempest Shadow to pop out of thin air, gave her anxious steps one way and the other. The bubbling anxiety crushed any sympathy for the injured griffons, and she kicked herself for that. Justification came immediately. They would be in trouble too. She looked one way and another over the resting griffons and small, improvised teams of sentries keeping watch. Beyond them, the wind launched eddies of fine snow into the air, but no flashes of magic revealed themselves.

“I’m not scared. There is nothing to be scared about,” she whispered to herself because there was nobody to convince of that other than herself. And she knew it. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. Mythical’s weight on her back reminded her she’d cut the mare open next time.

When she looked again, Grunhilda and Godwin had sat before her, both staring with frustrated frowns and pursed beaks.

“What?” she snapped at them and pointed a talon-tipped finger at the ‘prisoners’. “Go make yourselves useful!”

While Grunhilda squeaked and immediately turned to follow orders, Godwin never broke eye contact with Gilda and held the white griffoness’s wing.

Before Gilda could screech at them, Gevorg walked closer and gave her the same stare, but he actually said something. “Do not make threats you are not sure you can follow on, Gilda.”

He spoke as discreetly as he could above the moan of the wind. “Griffons like you because you are different from nobles like Gavingkal. They like you because you represent the best things about the Harpy and her favorite griffonesses. Like Lady Geena and heroes like Gaharjet. Like the swordmaidens of the legends.”

“I’m sure they made their mistakes, and those didn’t make it into the legends, and you are kind of clueless.” He shrugged, and Gilda thought he was lucky he was such a hunky hot guy and that she liked him. “Griffons are only going to talk about your deeds of greater importance. Don’t sully your legacy by letting them think you’d mistreat surrendered griffons or fly your unhealthy brethren to death because of fear.”

She looked away from him but could feel the frown upon her as much as she could hear the disappointment in his tone. It felt like listening to her mom, and she almost told him so. She only held her tongue because of how much his opinion mattered to her. “Also, don’t pretend you’re not scared. Instead, trust them. Trust yourself. Do what you feel must be done, but don’t give in to fear. They know how it fools griffons into making dumb decisions. It will sap their trust in you. Your griffons are your tools. Use them the same way you use Mythical. With trust and respect.”

A dozen excuses came to her, but she kept her beak shut, and he concluded. “You can trust me. Believe me when I say I’m no more excited by the prospect of crossing paths with that mare again. Don’t treat Godwin like he is a helpless cub. He is an adult and a member of the Court of the Harpy. And don’t treat Grunhilda like she’s clueless. You gave Goving another chance because you trusted her. The worst thing you can do is go back and forth on showing how much you trust your wards.”

Her ego hurt, but she reminded herself it was not Gevorg’s fault. She swallowed her pride and nodded at him with a deep sigh. “Get some griffons with good eyes on the edges of the formation when we move out. Tell them I want them to keep an eye out for anything trailing us. On the ground or in the sky.”

“Will do,” he told her with a satisfied nod and that calm smile with gentle purple eyes from when they first met.

Funny how that quick pep talk put her anxiety to rest. It probably said more about her experience than she would like to admit. She looked at Godwin and Grunhilda, still staring at her. “What do you want from me? I already said I—Ugh! Fine! Keep your eyes on Goving. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Fortunately, they didn’t insist, both satisfied with Gevorg’s words to her. Or scolding. But Gilda preferred to call it ‘advising.’ And so, after Gevorg’s expert advice, she kept watch over her griffons while trusting the sentries to make sure no mare was going to pop up out of nowhere to kill her.

The windy grass and snow field, for better or worse, was vast. The open space meant safety, as unicorns couldn’t teleport great distances. If she tried anything, they would see Tempest Shadow. Satisfied, Gilda sat at the top of her little mound and watched the comings and goings of their impromptu camp. There was no fire and no comforts other than the cold snow and the ugly, hard grass, but it was an opportunity for their Loremaster to review their wounded griffons. Gia moved some of the exhausted griffons to the carts, and soon enough, though not as soon as Gilda liked, they took off again.

The day passed as quickly as the terrain below. Tiny, foamy streams cut the yellow grass, and black soil scrolled beneath them whenever the snow let it appear. The night came and stole away their references in the terrain. Gilda retook the lead with Gevorg by her. She was confident in her navigation, and he simply followed. After a couple of hours into the dark, the dim light of the city gleamed in the distance. Gilda ordered them to push into a final sprint.

The dark made her misjudge the distance, but soon she made out the light of the prisoner camp with the military. The lights from the city’s lone stone gate soon followed. Watchtowers emerged from the gleam, as did the torches at the top of the castle’s walls. The cold of the night and the wind chilled the edges of her wings, but they were so close.

As they approached, lights gathered by the gate along with a colorful mass of griffons, and a line of city guards keenly watched the dark beyond the island of luminescence. Lightning crossed the clouds above and lit the city for a heartbeat.

And so, my chosen daughter has returned from the wilds. I wonder what manner of lessons she has learned.

Gilda frowned at Mother Harpy’s words echoing inside her head. Were they not among her thoughts, the noise from the crowd would have drowned them out. How many griffons lived in Frozenlake? Gilda had only a slight idea, but it appeared all of them had come out to meet her warband. Cheering spouses and cubs of all ages braved the cold to meet their significant others, or at least to hear of how they died. The excited cheering muffled anything that might not be celebrations.

Landing before the assembled noblegriffons, Gilda took a quick glance at the others. The local guards immediately started receiving the ‘rescued prisoners’ and talking to Gilda’s warriors. Since Gevorg, Gertha, and her brother already minded those, Gilda kept her attention on Lady Geena and her companion. Their court stood a step behind them, staring at Gilda, waiting their turn to talk to her while one of Geena’s Loremasters suggested they meet somewhere more comfortable. Gilda refused dryly.

Lady Geena, all white and wearing her cyan cape with swan feathers, stood next to one of the largest males Gilda had ever seen. His almost black, dark-gray stone-like pelt and granite feathers made him look like a living statue. Big, bulky, a match for Geena’s feminine elegance and power. They were like a picture of a couple from an epic fantasy. The black bear’s pelt cape and collar of pointy teeth made him look impressive and rugged. Even more so, as he had no problem talking in the dark and cold. If anything, Gilda appreciated the lack of additional fuss.

He could only be Lord Graham, whom Grunhilda had mentioned way back in the airship. And he either was one of those griffons with a stick up their ass, or he was unhappy about something. Gilda had an inkling what that may be. As she stepped before him with an equal-to-equal nod, the big male sized her up with a neutral stare. “Lady Gilda. It is a pleasure. The news from your expedition was grim, but I am satisfied you have dealt with the situation swiftly and favorably.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “In fact, were my mate’s abilities not outstanding, I would question some things that were reported.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged. “I’m not the most knowledgeable griffon around in matters of northerner politics, but it turns out I’m pretty gifted in swinging a sword and getting so pissed off I broke a pony mind-control spell.”

“Is everything taken care of, then?” Lady Geena asked with a touch of poignancy that went a notch above normal curiosity. Even above that of an employer wishing to ensure the job they paid for was done well. It was the weight of a guilty conscience trying to ensure their mess was cleared.

In retrospect, Gilda kicked herself. She should have briefed Grunhilda and the others on how to deal with that meeting. No use crying over spilled milk as Gilda’s kittyfriend and Goving walked closer. From the corner of her eyes, Gilda could see her leading him on with her tail wrapped around his foreleg. A hard expression to read on her face, but certainly one that didn’t match the excited griffons that surrounded them. At least until those started noticing Goving’s presence. They shut their beaks, and most took a few steps back like they feared what might happen.

“What is he doing here?” Lord Graham addressed Gilda, barely sparing the white griffons a glance. Gilda noted that whatever had happened was a poorly kept secret.

Rude and curt. Even Gilda’s old self could have seen the loathing beneath his words. Lady Geena’s silence spoke volumes louder. Her impeccable façade of the perfect Loremaster crumbled for an instant. Her subtly parted beak, the shine in her eyes. They betrayed her inner turmoil.

“Well, Goving survived.” Gilda shrugged. “So, I brought him along with the other survivors. Gavingkal told me some interesting things. Things that might explain why some minor lordling with delusions of power enthralled your son.”

Gilda, of course, knew who else was watching, and Her silence was as curious, maybe as telling, as Graham’s rage. But she had gotten used both to dancing with danger and pushing her privileged position.

“Silence!” He roared. “You know nothing of what you speak, southerner!”

“First of all, watch your tone!” Gilda screeched at him, flaring her wings and drawing a wave of shocked gasps from the nearby griffons, nobles and commoners alike. “I didn’t survive that cursed place to be yelled at by some asshole that couldn’t be bothered to fix the mess in his lands or his family! Second, fuck you. I’m not gonna do it for you! At least have the balls to pick that big axe on your back and kill your own son.”

His simmering anger became a restrained scowl. His nares billowed white mist in the cold like a steam engine rearing to go. He never did. A harsh stare at the cowering white griffon and his sheepish cousin by his side was the worst the intimidating griffon in armor did. His beak ground with a low rasp, and his eyes turned back to Gilda. He still said nothing, but she could read in between his lines. All his wrath curtained the pit that opened in his throat. Conflicting emotions etched themselves on his face, from sorrow to unbridled rage, and the poor griffon went with the easier one.

“I have killed griffons for less,” he growled.

“Bring it on, dude! At least you can lash out at the griffon calling your bullshit since you can’t deal with the actual problem.” On a side note, Gilda herself was taken a little aback by how well her newfound Loremaster powers of perception and persuasion meshed with her snarky tongue.

Her words crumbled his confidence, but composure won. He decided it was not worth it, and Gilda saved him from making an ass of himself in front of his subjects. He left her with a parting shot. “Fine. Deal with him however you two wish. I tire of games better left for the Mother of Storms and her coterie.”

Maybe she was unfair. Gilda knew she couldn’t truly understand what had happened and what they felt when they decided on Goving’s fate in the past. Graham turned on himself and stormed in between a pair of city guards, desperately trying to look like they had heard nothing at all.

Lady Geena stayed, and she gave Gilda a distraught stare. “You have a most peculiar way of using the gifts of the Loremasters, Lady Gilda. We should talk in private.”

At least she agreed with Gilda, and still, her answer wouldn’t change because of that. “No. There is no need for us to talk about anything. I got rid of Gavingkal, and I dealt with the brigands. I scouted out what happened, fixed it as best as I could, and I almost got myself killed by a damn pony mercenary and nearly became a plaything of the Windigos. There is more. I’m taking whatever griffons I must to the north to help you, and I’m getting the hippogriffs off your paws. I am done here, and my caravan is leaving tomorrow morning, tops. You get to help these sick griffons. They are your problem now. Not mine. All of them.”

“And I will, Gilda,” Geena assured her before shifting into a softer, restrained tone. “I will have trouble protecting some of them, though. And I would hate to see them suffer any more than they already did.”

Gilda shook her head. “I already have way too many problems of my own. Not to mention I’m not sure he is not going to try something stupid.”

While Gilda’s tone lowered to a deep growl, Geena’s became a secretive plea. “If he does, then that is on him. You, however, can deal with your problems well enough, as demonstrated. And you can afford to be owed a favor.”

“Yeah…” Gilda glared at the taller griffoness for a second, a harsh glare against her pleading eyes. Goving refused to stare at either of them. Grunhilda just stood there. Waiting. Like she trusted Gilda. Finally, the latter turned to the well-dressed griffoness. “I’ll be collecting it someday. And it ain’t gonna be cheap.”

“We have gotten used to trading already, Gilda. Have we not? Like many things we females deal with, the first time is the hardest.” The oh-so-dignified Lady Geena gave Gilda a discreet bow and cast a last stare at the white tom. His stare at her was pure hatred, but that barely inconvenienced her. Geena turned with not a word more and hurried after her mate, leaving Gilda wondering why she kept putting herself in those situations.

Hum… Curious.

“Yeah, right? We’re gonna talk about that later.” Gilda told the voice in her head, turning around to see the other griffons around her.

Unsure, well-dressed griffons cast worried glances and stares of consternation at Gilda. Beyond that, families and friends still greeted their returning warriors. Godwin and Gevorg organized the transfer of the prisoners and Gia talked to a local Loremaster, identified by the silken blue cape. Gertha and Guille were busy with excited conversations among the returning adventurers and their families. Meanwhile, Godwin’s alluring mate waited patiently to greet him along with their two friends and his sisters.

Gilda spent some time talking to the nobles, mostly accepting their gratitude and explaining some details about what had happened. Others offered their undying gratitude to her for saving some sick griffon or some business interest in the hamlet. Some literally thanked her for removing Gavingkal from the realm of the living. Others still asked for clarifications on what had happened, disbelieving the reports they had received. Maybe she was tired, but Gilda patiently put up with them.

Among the flux of griffons that wanted to talk to her were the charcoal twins, the blacksmiths. Gilda smiled. She was definitely going to get that fancy armor for Godwin, whether or not he liked it, after the scare at Feathertip. And as she smiled, she was already mentally rehearsing all the mentions to Lady Gwendolen’s name she was going to do.

In the middle of all that, another griffoness walked from the crowd. She pushed the female sibling, Groffi, into her brother and boisterously greeted Gilda with a huge grin and a wave of her wing of shiny turquoise feathers.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with the stupidity or the guts to tell Lord Graham to fuck off like that!” the excited griffoness said, approaching with lively steps. “Maybe you’re just lucky Lady Geena knows the right buttons to push and get you out of here alive!”

The griffoness stopped before Gilda with a growing grin, slightly taller. “I like you!”

“Who are you?” Godwin raised an eyebrow at her and her two companions.

“I’m Gwineth!” She inflated her chest, poking her thumb at her fluffy feathers. “I work for Lady Gwendolen, killed the Equestrian Prince-Consort in Griffonstone, freed Master Gabriel, and made sure the dumb Southerners knew who’s boss. Oh, and I kicked Princess Celestia’s pony butt myself to keep her out of our operations in the capital.”

Grunhilda gasped, and her eyes shone like a lighthouse. “You fought Princess Celestia?”

Gwineth waved to the two griffons with her, ignoring Grunhilda. “These are Pigeon and Gallus. Lady Gwendolen asked me to take them to Griffindell with you!”

“My name is Gabby…” the one under a mountain of winter clothes grumbled. Barely anything other than her beak was visible under the three gray hoods she was wearing. The blue one she had called Gallus was too annoyed to say anything. Dressed like a northern noble, with a fancy snow lynx pelt and an unfriendly glare.

Gilda barely paid attention to any of that. The griffoness called Gwineth held her stare and made her jaw hang open, but Gilda barely heard whatever she was talking about. She was one of those ridiculously beautiful griffonesses. Feminine, young, and attractive, covered by toned muscles under a velvety feline pelt of steel-blue fur. Rugged, northerner-looking feathers covered her chest and her head like quicksilver. Her blue highlights gave her blue eyes an alluring appearance, especially when she grinned like a million Bits.

And she carried a sword on her back.

A magical dancing sword brimming with lightning.

Behind Invisible Silver Bars Nowhere

Griffonstone's weather team often graced her citizens with a near constant and predictable weather. Hot as all heck unless they had planned for rain. In such a scenario, the weather became hot and wet. The other alternative was during winter or when they slacked off. Griffonstonians could then expect wet and cold. It usually happened when the ponies pulled out of their flanks they needed some rain.

Griffons preferred neither and all left them in a bad mood anyways.

Not that Gilda had the privilege of being bothered by the weather. She had no choice to begin with because the scones wouldn’t sell themselves.

She had a nice little raw wood stand in the square with the hospital, some state-owned buildings and King Grover’s statue. Polished, but not varnished, yet she made sure the nails became nice details, polished and shiny. The square seemed like a good place to sell her scones, since a lot of griffons worked there. Not only because of griffons, but ponies too, as many worked at the hospital and sweets had a tendency of selling rather well wherever ponies went.

She competed over the plaza with other stands and some stores by the streets surrounding the plaza. Thankfully, most buildings within ranged housed different trades. Such as the hospital itself, a blacksmith, the woodworker that had built Gilda’s stand.

Regardless of what other griffons said, her business was serious too. She had trouble remembering sometimes, though. She liked baking the damn things, not spending the whole feathering day sitting her ass in the heat. Staring at the asshole in the statue and trying to get griffons to buy her scones.

One Bit for one, three Bits for five. Not bad a deal. Surely, they tasted fine because they did sell. At least enough to sustain her, but not much more. During those annoying times of chancellors being removed and kings being crowned. It seemed like an eternity since the last drama which took over griffon society and she was too young to remember.

The heat made for a slow day, but she managed to sell several scones. Mostly to ponies and griffons who worked at the hospital and the mayor’s office. Even to some soldiers standing guard by the Chancellor’s Palace, which held a collection of offices rather. More like a big state building out of Manehattan than a palace like the one in Canterlot.

She hatted sitting there. She could be doing something fun, or productive like more scones to sell, but if she left the stand alone, griffons would steal her product. She didn’t live in Ponyville, where one could go somewhere else, and costumers would pay for what they took.

“Hiya, Gilda!” Suddenly, a friendly face and a greeting.

“Hey, Greta. What’s up?” She waved back with a smile.

“Oh, nothing much!” The green-faced griffon hen sat next to her and sniffed at the small pile of scones. “One of our suppliers simply stopped talking to us. My boss asked me to see what was going on and I just came back from Longbeach. Turns out the guy left his mate and cubs and just went North. Can you believe?”

“Wow. What a dick." Gilda frowned. "I mean, I’m not one for marriage and stuff, but it seems like a real dick move to up and leave out of the blue.”

“Tell me about it!” Greta left a pair of Bits on the stand and scooped up two of the sweets. What a relief Greta always paid full and didn’t ask for a discount or something. Gilda didn’t think she’d be able to say no, and she couldn’t afford it. Besides, Greta looked like she had a comfortable life.

“We lost a lot of costumers because of that.” Gilda’s friend went on after a bite at a scone. “We just couldn’t meet the demand! Not to mention that prices are soaring, and nobody really needs perfume.”

Gilda listened while she picked up the Bits and threw them inside the small leather pouch across her chest.

“Yeah, I feel you guys. It seems I can buy less and less with the profit from the scones every week. Everything is too expensive right now.” Gilda shook her head.

Greta nodded emphatically while she bit at the scone again. “How are you holding up though? I mean… I know you don’t really make a lot from the scones.”

“Well, it’s not great.” Gilda shrugged. Good thing it was Greta and not Rainbow Dash. She would never have managed to admit struggling. “I can survive, but it’s not fun anymore since they docked my income.”

“This is awful! I hear that griffon representatives in Canterlot are wasting a lot of time debating The Lion all the while griffon holds are splitting to one side or the other and major cities are going nuts. And the Chancellor does things like ending basic income. They even say there’s going to be a war! I wish Princess Celestia would get this sorted already.”

“Yeah… Not only they took my money, but I can’t sell past nighttime because the damn curfew. These things sold better at night when griffons and ponies from the hospital came and bought them by the boxes for the night shift.”

“Hum… I would offer you a place at my job…” Greta said softlly, touching her fingers together, and staring at the cobblestone. “But, you remember, right?”

“Yeah…” Gilda’s paw brushed the crest of feathers on her head. “It wasn’t your fault. Your boss and my personality didn’t work out.”

“Will you be okay, though?” Greta looked back at Gilda. “I can help, you know.”

“Geez, Greta!” Gilda winced. “It’s not like I’m going broke or something. I can live by myself!”

“Okay, alright.” Her friend waved her paws. “I just want you to know that if you need, I’m here for you. Alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Gilda did her best not to show, but she had the impression that Greta saw right through her tough exterior. Thank goodness it wasn’t Rainbow Dash.

She waved and turned for a second to see her friend off. On the following one she turned back to her stand and some skinny dipshit eating two of her scones at once. Piss-yellow fur and brown feathers on his white head, he looked like a bratty kid with his smug smirk at getting caught.

“That’s two Bits, dude.” She clicked her talon at the table.

“Ech…” He put out his tongue. “They aren’t worth half of that!”

“You just ate two of them, jackass!” She snarled and leaned on her stand. “Two Bits or the next thing you’ll eat is your beak!”

“No!” He stared. “I’ll pay one if you add another. These things are disgusting.”

In her defense she didn’t say the things she thought of saying to the griffon. She did punch his face though. With a satisfying yelp and crunchy sound. He reeled and held his face, which brought her some measure of satisfaction until she saw the blood. Then she realized actually making griffons swallow their beaks was not a good idea.

“Crap.” She grimaced and tried to touch him, but he pulled back and cried some more. “That! That was your fault!”

Then someone approached her. “Ma’am, did you just punch him?”

A black and white griffon wearing the Griffonstone Local Militia leather barding, complete with a wheellock pistol and a magical stun baton. Next to him, a tan and white female of the same institution. Fortunately, Gilda restrained her first impulse of swearing. “He… He didn’t want to pay! He’s stealing from me!”

“That is for the judge to decide, ma’am. You have to come with me.” Said the female while the other went to calm and examine the ‘victim’.

“But the stand! I can’t leave it alone!” Gilda cried and waved at it. “The! The scones!”

“Not my problem, ma’am." The female officer still showed no sympathy. "My partner is gonna take him to the hospital and write down his testimony. You come with me and don’t make this any harder than it has to be. You may be restituted for your losses, but again, that is with the judge.”

Arguing seemed a bad idea likely to put her into more trouble, so she relented and walked with the griffoness. At least the officer didn’t tie her wings or something. All that racket, with so many eyes on them. Her business would be suffering from it in the coming days.

***

Gilda hated the idea of spending the rest of the day in prison, to say the least, but silently thanked the guards when they put her in a separated cell. The very tough Gilda wouldn’t like, at all, to spend the night with the individuals she saw in the other cells.

They took ages asking her stuff like her age and other more private questions, then another female militiagriffon shoved her into a cell. It had cots on the wall with pillows and blankets and a couple of adult hens for company.

“Behave.” The griffon growled while she closed the bars with a loud clank.

Gilda sat and looked at the others. One was about her age with purple plumage on her face and the other had more years and with yellow feathers. Both tan-colored, though and the first laid on her back on her cot, looking bored while the other sat on the floor, looking back at Gilda.

“Uh…” She started uncertain, bulging eyes and fidgeting.

“Shut your beak, new blood.” Purple said curtly. “Nobody cares.”

The other giggled and signaled for Gilda to come closer. “Don’t mind her. She’s just angry she didn’t get to keep the stuff she stole.”

“So, uh… Come here often?” Gilda mumbled coming closer with an awkward grin. What was wrong with her? What a dumbass thing to say! Fortunately, the other just giggled again.

“First time in the slammer?” She asked with a smug grin.

“Yeah… Uh… I’m Gilda.” She grinned.

“I’m Gertrude.” The other grinned warmly with a paw on her chest. “Moody one over there is Grizelda.”

“Hi.” Gilda didn’t know what to do with her paws, so they kept shuffling one over the other while she sat, and her eyes shifted from one to the other as though they might jump at her any second.

Gertrude waved a paw at Gilda as though she could read her mind. “Don’t worry. They’ll keep you here while they prepare a folder with your case and sent it to the judge. If you were really in trouble, you’d be with the others.”

“So…” Gilda said slowly, trying to pick up her thoughts.

“I know dearie.” Gertrude grinned again. “You wanna ask the question everyone sees in the books and theaters and that no one asks in real life. Go right ahead. Get that out of your system.”

Way to get her feeling like a damn child. Gilda chuckled and asked anyway. “What are you in for?”

Gertrude giggled like she Gilda had five years. “We’re prostitutes, honey. Well, she’s in for stealing… I’m here just because the Chancellor decided that prostitution was a ‘moral crime’. Whatever that means.”

“That is not a crime, though… As far as I know.” Gilda’s eyebrow rose.

“It’s not.” Gertrude shrugged. “But my politically savvy friends tell me the Chancellor is trying to pretend he has some moral high-ground with all the support he lost.”

“Yeah…” Grizelda chuckled from her cot. “Let me steal from the people and then pretend I’m the good guy by putting them in the jail. Fucking dumbass. The only reason I’m doing this is because he shoved my pay under his tail.”

Before Gilda could ask, Gertrude explained with little gestures. “We’re actresses… But uh… It’s been hard finding a job since we had a small troupe… Nothing like the big theaters in Manehattan or Canterlot. We dissolved because no one was going to our show, bills started pilling up and we were kinda left without an option when they shot down the basic income... A friend of mine introduced me to the… Uh… Community.”

Gilda took too long to notice her beak hanged from her mouth. Gertrude seemed nice, but Gilda soon realized the same could happen to her. It horrified the feathers out of her. Just the notion of some random guy like the asshole in the square, touching her and pretending she liked almost made her lunch spill lunch.

Fortunately, Grizelda didn’t pay attention and Gertrude didn’t take any offense. It made it even worse because Gilda could easily imagine she had gone through the same mental process.

“So, what do you do for a living, Gilda?” Gertrude asked with such a sweet smile.

Gilda hesitated at first. Her first reaction would’ve been to push the griffoness and tell her she’s not going the same path. Like, ever! But she contained herself. “I bake. Scones. I sell them near the hospital.”

“Oh! That sounds great!” Gertrude held her paws with a happy chirp.

“Hey! I think I know you!” Grizelda suddenly sat at her cot. “I ate your scones once. They tasted good enough.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“What? I said they were good.” She shrugged. “How did selling scones get you here? Did they come up with a license or some shit?”

“I punched a guy because he didn’t want to pay.”

“Feh.” She came closer to Gilda and Gertrude. “Such a pony thing. You can’t even defend your own stuff. Sometimes I wish we weren’t together.”

Gilda agreed and for some stupid reason the younger griffon’s acceptance made her feel a little bit better. Gertrude pushed the other’s shoulder. “You sound like one of those griffons from the north that you hate.”

“Heck no!” Grizenda shook her head violently. “I wouldn’t bite that hook if it came with a nice beach home and some dumbass to pay for my expensive tastes.”

The other sighed. “I don’t know. My ex went there and hasn’t come back.”

“Maybe he died…” Grizelda deadpanned.

“No… He is tough!” Gertrude’s dreamy eyes aimed at the plastered ceiling. “Maybe everything would’ve been different if I followed him.”

“Yeah, sure…” Grizelda sat and crossed her forelimbs. “I can definitively imagine those boors treating nicely a pair of hookers from the ‘degenerate south’.”

“Well, we weren’t back then.” Gertrude’s gaze fell. “I hope he is okay. I mean… It is a long distance.”

“Nah. You wish he would come back to rescue you…” The other scowled.

“Huh… It seems as though everyone knows someone that made the trip to the North.” Gilda mused. “Why didn’t you go with your guy?”

“I was scared and had my job. I tried talking to them later, but they weren’t interested in helping me." Gertrude kept her gaze downward. "I guess I’m not good enough…”

“What even is up there? Some sort of lost griffon paradise?” Gilda opened her forelegs.

“Something like that!” Gertrude grinned and held her paws together with excited shaking. “It’s where the future king of the griffons lives. It’s gotta be a paradise! Must be such an awesome dude too! All badass northerner griffon. Maybe he’s the tough silent type! I mean… They call him ‘The Lion’! How cool is that? Or maybe he has a surprisingly easy going, suave thing going on!”

“Most likely a dick with too high an opinion of himself and about as corrupt as Silkfeathers." Grizelda rolled her eyes. "For real, hen? We know enough guys to know that the ‘king’ you’re imagining doesn’t exist!”

“You’re just bitter you never found one for yourself!” The former accused, poking the younger one with a talon.

“Yeah… Because you did. He just left you behind…” Grizelda shot back a sarcastic grin.

Gilda sighed as quietly as she managed while the two argued. It was going to be a long wait.

***

She spent the night with the two hookers and for some reason she didn’t really understand they called her first. The same griffon militia lady who brought her in took her to an office where a big griffon lady waited. All white and dark gray with sharp green eyes, she sat behind a large and exquisitely carved wooden table. All sorts of diplomas and such hung from the wall behind her, and she even had a small pair of glasses to make her seen more stern.

“Gilda?” The judge asked and she took a second to reply. The eyes behind glasses rose from the paper she held and almost froze Gilda’s gut.

“Yes! Sorry!” Gilda quickly held her paws together.

“You’ve been charged with aggravated assault of a minor. Witnessed by two officers of the local militia. You see, I have your file here with me. Unicorn efficiency at its finest. So, tell me what happened and don’t try to spin me a sad story.” The big griffon on the other side of the table gave her a dry stare.

Wait! Fuck! Minor?! How old was he? Seventeen? What a joke!

“He didn’t want to pay the two Bits for the scones he ate!” Gilda immediately blurted out without thinking.

“You assaulted and injured a minor over two Bits?” Gilda’s innards turned with the scowl the judge aimed at her.

Fuck! She took a step back and spoke too loudly. “I didn’t know he was a minor! He’s way too tall!”

“Punching griffons in the face is never a good idea, unless you want to visit me.” The other hen kept her intimidating calm, stating the obvious dryly.

“I!” Gilda breathed once and held her tendency to snap back at others. “Yes. You’re right, ma’am. Your honor.”

“The mother wanted to press charges against you, but I talked to them and convinced his father it wouldn’t make a difference. I told them you are in enough trouble with me.”

Gilda really didn’t know if she should be thankful, but kept her beak shut despite her shivering.

“Now, by Royal Law you will attend to an anger management course. Additionally, you have three options: a two-thousand Bits fine, one month in a correctional facility or two months of community service. I believe your choice should be obvious, but the law obligates me to inform you that you do have the right to appeal to the Royal Court.”

“Chances are you’ll be sent to the Mid-Day Court. Princess Celestia is likely to repay you your two Bits and send you to Shatteredrock, because that is what she does to ‘dangerous’ griffons. If your case is sent to Princess Twilight Sparkle, considering you are who you are and who you are friends with, you may end up starting a war already. So, you see, your choice should indeed be obvious.”

It sure was, Gilda just didn’t like it! She didn’t have the money to pay, nor could she get it. She simply wouldn’t spend a month in a freaking jail! And she loathed of doing community service, but she had no choice.

“I’ll be honest with you Gilda.” The judge removed her glasses and her stare made Gilda shrink as small as she could. “I am only doing this for you because I have never seen you here, and you strike me as a good griffon, merely one in need of guidance. I understand that you are struggling in the current situation.”

Yikes. Though Gilda could imagine the sort of trouble she’d be in if the parents insisted on pressing charges against her. She just didn’t feel very helped, though.

The judge picked up the paper and squinted at it for a bit before staring at Gilda again. “Yes, it seems to me that you are trying your best, unlike certain other griffons. If that wasn’t the case, I would send you to prison. Assaulting a minor is a grisly crime anywhere.”

The white griffoness put her glasses back on. “Understand that you are under probation, and in your current situation you cannot take loans or acquire any sort of new property. You can expect that any legal procedure will take longer than expected until you have fulfilled your period under supervision. A young griffon in your situation ought to keep to themselves and avoid trouble at every opportunity.”

Finally, she wrote something on the paper she was holding with a quill and handed Gilda a small paper. “You may go, now. Stay out of trouble and behave in your community service. You are expected in the city hall in the first hour tomorrow to choose your position.”

She simply turned her attention to the next paper in the pile on her table.

Had Gilda just been incredibly lucky? She had no real choice. She thought of asking a restitution for the money she lost with the abandoned stand, but fear put out the idea.

She didn’t think for very long either because the griffon officer dragged her out of the room and out the local militia headquarters.

“Seriously, stay out of trouble. We got enough as it is.” She closed the door and Gilda found herself in the not quite rich, but also not really poor part of the city. A few houses flanked the street and a few griffons walking around, minded their own business or stared at her. Fortunately, no one she knew. At least they gave back her pouch which Gilda slung over her neck and then stored the folder the judge had given her. Also, Greta’s money remained.

She smiled awkwardly to the passersby and flew away, towards the plaza with King Grover’s statue and her stand. Hopefully it would still be there. She didn’t dare hope the scones or any money would, however.

A short flight took her over the buildings, and she found her stand on King Grover’s plazza. She also saw a fat dark-brown and yellow albatross of a griffoness next to her stand. She tapped her forepaw on the cobblestone, impatiently looking around. Right next to her stood the damn ‘minor’ who she ‘assaulted’ with an ugly dressing over his beak.

Landing next to the stand, she by summarily ignored the other two griffons relatively easily. Not finding the scones she had left and not a single Bit hurt quite a bit. She started folding the stand, but the griffoness’s paw tapping the ground pissed her off.

“What?!” She snapped.

“Do you, young lady even understand the damage you caused to my little boy?” The fat griffon's petulant voice almost hurt her ears.

‘Yes, you fat fuck! I caved his beak in! He deserved it.’ The thoughts remained unsaid. The dipshit was so big he couldn’t be that young. How old was he? Certainly, big enough to steal, the piece of shit. She sighed, giving her best smile. “Yes, ma’am. I am sorry. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I really needed the money from those scones he took.”

“Well, I will bet you do!” She huffed, ruffling her feathers so much she might explode. Her screeching so grating, and so unpleasant Gilda took a step back. “Judge Gracey told us the sort of vagrant you are!”

Probably the worse name for the judge. Also, what the hell? But the fat hen wheezed angrily on before Gilda gathered her wits. “You are one of these good for nothing ‘basic income types’ that want nothing good to do with life! You should be ashamed!”

Gilda resigned to listening. It should be over soon.

“I hope you remember what you did. Just because my mate didn’t want to put you in your place, it doesn’t mean that I am not going to destroy your life!” She wheeze-screamed at Gilda like a deranged lunatic.

“Yeah! Destroy your shitty life.” The ‘minor’ added.

She managed to hold her temper, despite how hard the griffones made it, and soon enough the fat jerk took off with her ‘little boy’. The anger and helplessness remained, though. Her throat closed and her eyes stung, and she didn’t want to cry in the middle of street. Instead she let it out.

“Just… What the hell?!” She roared and punched her stand hard enough to make it topple over and then cried before pulling it up again. Fortunately, it wasn’t damaged.

“You okay there, ma’am?” The militia griffon from last day, the male one, came near her, from where she didn’t even know. She hadn’t noticed he was watching1

“What?!” She snapped. “Am I under arrest now for punching my stand?”

She immediately regretted. Fortunately, the worst she got were the weird stares from the passersby and the griffon serenely waiting for her to calm herself. “Sorry. Rough day.”

“I’ll bet.” He frowned and spoke with a sympathetic tone. “I didn’t like what I did… It was obvious the kid was in the wrong… But… You know. The judge is my mom and… ‘This job grows character'.”

Huh… Maybe he is the griffon that should be trying harder. Yikes. “Yeah. I know. Thanks anyway.”

“It’s Gilda, right?” He watched while she finished folding her stand.

“Yeah.”

“You should move to another city.” He spoke plainly, and she blinked at him. “You don’t know who those were, do you?”

She shook her head, still staring at him.

“Those are the mayor’s wife and their kid. Mom washed her paws of your troubles and left you to fend for yourself.”

Just great. What should her even say to that?

“Be careful.” The tom said and moved away.

Move out of town? Easier said than done. She didn’t even have the money for a small vacation within Griffonstone. Crap! He made her feel paranoid.

Alright, Gilda. Chill. She took a deep breath and let her heart slow.

She didn’t feel in the zone to think about such stuff. Better to just go home and figure things out with a clearer head. It probably wouldn’t be so bad anyway. What would they do? She didn’t have much they could take.

And uneventful walk took her home, and Gilda calmed her nerves by the time she reached her door. The neighborhood surrounded her with its typical self soon after nightfall. Indoor lights turned on, a pawful of friends outside spoke to each other in the cooler air. A few acquaintances waved at her and she responded in kind. Some kids ran from one side of the street to the other and she passed a tired griffon pulling a cart full of metal stuff. She nodded respectfully and both kept to their own.

Her home agreed with the neighrbood. A simple sitting room by the entrance with a round window to the ‘front porch’, a strip of pointless dirt with a small stone path to the door. At least the door remained locked when she came in. She locked it again from the inside. Good practice in that part of Griffonstone. Every now and then one heard of a mugging a little too close for comfort. Still, she had never been a victim herself.

Inside, she left the stand by the door, took a glass of water from a jar and looked for something to eat. Her pantry had some dried fish, looking wilted. Eh… Some tomato sauce made it good enough for her mood. She could afford a cold room in her house to better preserve her food, much less a magical refrigerator. But at least she lit a small fire in her oven to heat it a little and make it somewhat tasty. Better than the soybean hamburgers crap ponies pushed as meat substitute for griffons. Or the kirin cheese.

Finally, in between forkfuls of questionable fish and acid tomato sauce she paid some attention to the paper the judge had given her. A glorified pamphlet about the works available for community service with an overdesigned list of jobs and short descriptions. They included cleaning public walkways, which struck as straightforward. Picking up trash other griffons threw on the street. Pass.

Cleaning the gutters which also seemed straightforward, but also disgusting. One would think the damn griffons would’ve built a decent sewer system. Griffons being so fussy about their coats and their feathers as the pegasi. But no… Putting money on something which would actually make the lives of their citizens better was unthinkable. Yeah, whatever. Gilda was not going to clean gutters either.

Next came hospital service, which included bathing and caring for patients in the city’s hospital. Griffonstone housed a rather good hospital, others told her.

The job wich did interest her was cloud duty. Moving clouds certainly seemed cleaner than public walkways and gutters. Not to mention the pegasus weather team would bother her less than anything at the hospital.

Decided. Now to bake some scones. She could take them for selling in the morning after her appointment at the city hall. She would preferably wake earlier and bake the scones so they would be fresher, but it also worked since she would be busy for a while in the morning.

With her work done, Gilda went upstairs. She didn’t feel like a bath or anything, so tired she was. At the same time, after the night in jail she decided her coat accumulated too much dirt and sweat. Bath wouldn’t be a luxury, rather a necessity. Fortunately, she didn’t need much. Simply pouring the water and some soap on the tub satisfied her. Caring for her feathers and brushing her fur too.

Maybe she should get into contact with Rainbow Dash and her princess friend. Princess Twilight Sparkle wouldn’t appreciate it if she tried to make use of her friendship, but what the heck? She was Rainbow’s friend! And her need was legitimate if the mayor’s wife really meant to do something to her.

Before sleep she wrote a letter to Rainbow Dash and would drop it off on her way to the city hall.

But rather than feeling better, laying on her bed invited more thoughts rather than sleep. What happened to Grizelda and Gertrude? One of them was accused of thievery and Gilda had the impression she could be done for. She would probably be sent to some prison. But the other… It didn’t even make sense they arrested Gertrude trying to survive. Did the idiots in charge realize they forced her?

Again, Gilda’s fur stood on her back at the idea of herself being forced down such a path. In the dark of her bedroom, she hugged herself and did her best to steer her thoughts in another direction.

The whole mess with the Chancellor under accusations of all sorts of improper use of his office and the whole thing about the new griffon king confused her. A little scary. King? When did the griffons decide they didn’t want their elected leader? That some northerner griffon everyone seemed scared of should be their king? Heck, she barely even remembered from school the northerner hold even existed… They said he wanted to change the entire governing system and that Princess Celestia was perfectly fine with it.

She sighed and turned to the other side on her bed. Chancellor, king… Whatever. It would still be Celestia’s face on the money and just another jerk to listen to. With the same excuses and bullshit about why her life sucked. She would still worry about baking and selling her scones if the big-awesome-badass future king of the griffons didn’t get the holds to reinstate the basic income.

Once the whole mess blew past, Chancellor Gail would reinstate the damn thing anyway. She would just have to survive, like everyone else.

Thriving in Adversity, Pt. 01

Gilda wouldn’t even have noticed she had been teleported across half of the world if it wasn’t for the bang and flash followed by a slight tingling. It almost made her worried something had gone wrong. Some unicorns teleported trivially, and she couldn’t grasp how they managed the sudden wave of nausea that followed. It was her first time, though. Maybe they got used. It also washed away in less than a second and as she simply stared at another pony. Another unicorn, though a female, pink and blonde, wearing the company’s uniform and significantly cheerier than the one on Griffonstone. Smiling and waving, but also wearing a similar wristband of iron links.

A simple room housed the platform. White marble floor and masonry walls, artificial magical lights. Nothing remotely as impressive as the rooms in Griffonstone, but not bad either. It looked clean.

Next to the unicorn mare by the desk sat a griffon guy, tan and soft cyan, with blue eyes, also waving, although less enthusiastic. Normal-like, not as a pony trying too hard.

“Miss Gilda. Welcome to Baltimare. Wild north TP thanks you for your patronage! Come back whenever you need our services.” He grinned as Gilda walked off the platform and Grunhilda followed.

“I feel tingly!” Her companion giggled, but Gilda paid attention to the male griffon.

“Hey. How do I get to Haybale?” She stopped next to the griffon while the pony fiddled with her desk. No doubt readying the teleporter for the next job.

“Ah. Airship!” He raised a finger. “It is a bit far off to the south. You could fly, and find it easily… It’s a small city in the middle of a sea of corn and wheat. Can’t really miss it… With the large red barn they use for bar. Although I don’t recommend pawing or winging it there. Unless you are an experienced wayfarer, with adequate supplies.”

“Awesome… So, airship then.” Gilda nodded. “Could get expensive…”

“We don’t have money, Miss Gilda!” Grunhilda walked to her side and Gilda nodded. She thought of sarcastically thanking her for the reminder, but she surely Grunhilda didn’t mean ill.

“No money?” The griffon guy rose an eyebrow. Then coughed into his fist. Douche.

The male griffon wasn’t impressed. “Anyways, the airdocks are outside of the city. You know… Better not to crash your expensive airship into someone’s expensive building.”

He thought for a second rubbing his jaw. “It’s a big town, Gilda, but you can walk, or fly, all the way to the airdocks… And they have nice prices on some of the simpler models… You know… Lots of simple farm folk need to travel around to a city like Haybale. There should be an airship leaving every two hours. So, getting there should be easy if you got some money.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Gilda gestured for Grunhilda, unworried. “Come on, Grunhilda. We’re gonna figure something out on the way.”

“Okay.” The other followed and they left the teleporter’s room after the griffon guy opened the door for them.

Baltimare’s teleporter facility had little of the luxury from Griffonstone. No corridor with creepy statues, just a door leading into the shared open space of the building. Not even a fancy sitting area. It did have the glass stand plaque with the logo and name of the company though.

She guessed the teleporter in a pony town wasn’t so hot with the ‘cool griffons’. Or maybe it they wanted to avoid attention. Eh… Fair enough. They just wanted a presence there to support their operations, she supposed.

A lot more movement with the other companies, however. Ponies going everywhere, cute and colorful signs and even some cutesy music coming from a kiosk in front of one of the entrances to the actual teleporters. A group of mares all dressed the same and with similar colors playing live.

Grunhilda squinted at the sight and whined. “I think I’m going cross-eyed at all these colors moving everywhere! It’s giving me a headache!”

Gilda chuckled. Not likely the poor girl had spent a lot of time in a pony city. “Chill. You’re gonna get used to it. Come on.”

“Okay.” She followed Gilda out and, much like the teleporter facility on Griffonstone the one on Baltimare sat next to a large plaza. But the pony plaza had its differences.A festive atmosphere, none of the homeless, nothing of the grime, and a lot more color. Ponies coming and going everywhere outside too, pegasi flying low over the plaza surrounded by tall buildings and streets where ponies pulled carts in a mostly organized manner. Kiosks selling ice cream, cotton candy, fruits, some magazines and newspapers.

A band of colorful ponies played a cheerful song in a bandstand in the center, next to a fountain and birds ate popcorn the foals threw for them.

Giggling all around, happy ponies talking. Squeaking and squealing. Music. Many trees and decorative gardens around the plaza. Clean and fancy storefronts, a large hotel tower and several yellow and black coaches. Most definitively, a pony city, and an earth pony one.

Gilda groaned, not in the mood. Grunhilda didn’t look too happy either.

A couple of ponies in leather barding with the city’s emblem patrolled around the plaza, not very worried with anything. Still, they carried magical batons and wheellock pistols too. But those didn’t seem to disturb Grunhilda as she simply looked around with a frown.

Gilda grimaced. Big girl could rip one of those apart if she acted up, and she seemed to be a bit overwhelmed, but not like she wanted to create trouble. Better not to tempt fate, though.

Gilda poked a nearby pony walking by. A dark-orange and blonde earth pony stallion with a brown suit and top hat, an umbrella for cutie mark. He turned around, all cheery. “Hello there, ma’am! Can I help?”

“Yeah. Which way to the airdocks?” She asked as directly as she could and Grunhilda just stared curiously at the pony.

“Oh! It’s simple enough!” He pointed a hoof to a wide street with two lanes both ways and a central line of trees. “That way! Just follow the signs and they’ll tell you the right crossing to take, then it’s straight ahead again! It’s a bit of a walk, though. Put those wings of yours to work! Or hire a cab! They can take you anywhere! Are you and your friend visiting?”

“Nah. We’re just going through.” She cut the conversation but did it politely. Ponies were usually nice as a rule, at least. No need to make a scene just because the guy tried to strike a little chat. “Thanks! Come on, Grunhilda.”

She took flight and the other followed. “Bye, Mister Pony!”

Pony cities differed from griffon cities. They were better cared for in general and in the sense of winds and flight safety. Under clear skies they were much safer to fly around, and their weather departments took closer care of the air currents. Gilda didn’t know why. Maybe Baltimare was a larger city than Griffonstone and needed that sort of thing? It allowed them to traverse quickly without worrying a draft would smack them against one of the tall buildings.

They flew above the street and had to be mindful of the other fliers, mostly pegasi. An unspoken rule stated one should fly in the same direction as the street below went. Grunhilda just followed her and stayed out of trouble.

Gilda kept looking for the signs indicating the direction to important places, such as city hall, some international class theater, and eventually the airdocks. She flew a little higher and turned left, following the street below. Another unspoken rule. You flew predictably, kept your distance so you didn’t crash into the others and if you had to take a turn, you flew above.

Pony parents taught such things to their kids and Gilda only understood because she spent so much time living with ponies. Fortunately, Grunhilda mimicked her.

Gilda supposed someone who knew the city could just fly above the buildings and just get straight to where they wanted, as they did on Griffonstone.

Anyways, they arrived at their destination. Much like the teleporter facility in both cities, the airdocks had a plaza in front of it. The building itself looked a lot like a train station’s front, with a large door, a giant clock and one wing on each side. Not a lot of security and from the air she could easily see the berths where the airships docked into.

The flying magical machines approached flying low over the shorter buildings of the area. Skimming the flat ground around the ‘station’ and fit themselves into place. Different sizes and styles of berths for blimps, zeppelins, converted seafaring ships with the modern magical engines adapted into them. Several of the modern airships followed in the style despite being built from scratch. The ponies loved those, with all sorts of cute adornments and stylish ornaments.

Closer to the main building docked the passenger crafts and to the far end, the cargo bearers. Gilda had to admit… It was rather impressive and awe-inspiring. Grunhilda seemed to agree, given the way she stared with her jaw hanging when they landed in the middle of the plaza.

Gilda also took note of the signs urging all creatures not to fly in that area.

The plaza itself made Gilda remember the one by the teleporter facility. Stands sold several wares everywhere, and ponies went into or out of the building, mingling about the plaza.

Gilda sighed when Grunhilda stopped close to her. “We’re gonna need money. I doubt we can just keep expecting to get help out of nowhere.”

The other simply whined nervously.

“Don’t worry… We’ll figure something out.” Saying so, she started towards the building and Grunhilda followed obediently.

“Okay.”

Inside it reminded Gilda of a train station. In the end, the idea remained the same, anyway. The floor had a brown, black-spotted granite which looked quite nice. The walls had some sort of sandstone of similar colors. A high-arched ceiling showed decorative masonry and large candelabra of enchanted crystals giving off internal light in addition to several windows. It also had the typical pony decoration with hearts and such, a couple of statues of important ponies Gilda didn’t care for.

Still the main area had a cavernous lobby with a few stores, a bank, a cafeteria, a gift shop, newspaper stand. And a really shady-looking loan shark. How did she know it was shady? It was a griffon inside the little shop called ‘Quick Cash’. The companies had small rooms of varied sizes according to their prices along those. Mostly the building’s wings with the accesses to the airship berths housed cafes, restaurants, small snack stores. Gilda supposed it came from the different needs of the different companies and their airdocks. They needed a lot of space for more practical reasons than catering to costumers’ whims. More importantly, just to be sure, Gilda looked for a ‘Wild North Airships’, or something, but no luck.

But she put the cart in front of the pony. First order of business demanded finding a cheap company with a line to Haybale and figure out their price. She mntally slapped herself for not asking the guy in the teleporter the name of the company, but his douchery at her having no money annoyed her too much. Yeah, definitively his fault. Decided.

The problem remained. She sighed again. “Come on, Grunhilda.”

The pair of griffons walked around the among the mass of creatures, mostly ponies, as she looked for signs and plaques of company names or prices. She supposed the company with the lowest prizes would advertise them right in the patronage’s face and she had it right.

Among the little kiosks of different sizes and number of employees, not to mention decoration, there was one with the Royal House’s crest for decoration. A winged shield painted in blue and white with Celestia’s and Luna’s cutie marks, with a pair of horned barding under their crowns and under a freaking phoenix with her wings wide open. Because why not put Celestia’s damn pet in their house’s crest?

Beneath it, the prices. A neat list of prices next to the pony glyphs for each city. Practical and still with all sorts of sprucing up with cute hearts and stars. Even if Gilda’s knowledge of pony glyphs stopped at daily needs, a rectangle and bunch of hay could only be the name of the city she wanted. The list said twenty-five Bits. Indeed, a very low price, but too much for her. But she knew how to get the money.

“Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s get us the money.” She told the other, grabbing Grunhilda’s attention from all the ponies and noises. A little distracted, Grunhilda took a second before she caught up with Gilda but walked close to her.

“Let me do the talking.” Gilda reminded Grunhilda and the other simply nodded and acquiesced.

“Okay. Are we gonna steal from somepony?” She grinned a little too much.

“No!” Gilda did her best not to cry at the other. “We’re gonna loan it. We can’t steal just because we need it! We’d draw too much attention, not to mention it is wrong to just take from some pony that has nothing to do with our problems!”

“Okay.” At least she accepted whenever Gilda told her to do anything.

A quick walk took them back to the main lobby and Gilda went straight to the kiosk named ‘Quick Cash’, knowing full well she would likely regret it. Still, no other options. The big banks would ask too many questions.

She walked into a small room with a desk behind which sat a smarmy tan griffon. Long neck and no plumage on his head other than a black ‘hair’ and thick eyebrows. Proper curved beak of a vulture. Yeah… Regret.

But she couldn’t see the two goons by the door from outside. Big and mean griffons with ‘security’ caps. Probably a couple of thugs the vulture had taken off the streets rather than trained security. Probably cheaper, or something.

Grunhilda was larger, though, and she glared at them like she was Gilda’s own security. Cute, but Gilda worried more about the guy on the other side of the desk.

“Greetings!” He grinned. “How can I help you ladies?”

She sat on the floor across the desk from him. “I need thirty Bits to travel to Haybale.”

Shit... She shouldn’t have mentioned the actual name of the city… She barely kept from wincing at her own stupidity.

The griffon hummed at her and stared malevolently. “You know, missy. Two things make me distrustful of a client. When they ask for too much money, and when they ask for too little money. That is when I ask questions.”

He quieted, waiting for her to explain and she thought it a better strategy not to create problems. “It’s a bit of an emergency. I need to wait for the money from my house’s insurance to come through. Meanwhile I’m going to stay at my friend’s home.”

“And your friend?” He pointed at Grunhilda and didn’t seem too convinced.

Crap! “She’s her sister. Came to help me.”

“And brought no money?” He definitively didn’t believe her.

“Listen dude.” She let her temper get the best of her again and kicked herself. She never gained any prizes for her patience, though. “I’m asking for some money. You make a living off lending creatures money. I don’t see why this is a problem.”

“Allow me to explain then.” He joined his paws above the desk, staring at her like he talked to a stupid five-years old. “Two griffons, out of nowhere, just appeared in my little establishment asking for money after a group of griffons hijacked the freight teleporter. They brought in a military airship and departed in the direction you want to go. Do you see the problem already or do I need to draw the sort of trouble this could turn out be for me?”

“It’s not my fault!” Not very clever, but the best she thought on the fly. It should’ve been easy! Get in, get money, travel. “All I need is some money for the travel, and you get whatever profit you will have. Come on! Help a gal out!”

“From a thirty Bits loan? It’s not worth the trouble.” He said simply.

“Awesome. I can ask for more if you want.” She grinned sarcastically at him, but it didn’t amuse him at all. “How about one hundred Bits?”

“Fine.” He finally relented. “But I’ll take your names and if anything is out of the ordinary, I will call the local militia. In fact, I will be checking your names and your identification numbers. Which are?”

“Gilda.” She said with a less than friendly voice. “Two-four-five, five-nine-five, thirty-nine dash four. Griffonstone.”

He quickly noted it down and stared at Grunhilda.

“Hum…” She started with a helpless frown. Fuck… “I’m Grunhilda…”

“Yes, and your ID number?” He insisted.

“I don’t know…” She admitted sheepishly.

“Get out.” The griffon on the other side of the growled and pointed at the door.

Gilda huffed and walked out, followed by a dejected Grunhilda. “I’m sorry, Miss Gilda.”

“It’s alright.” She sighed and sat in the middle of the lobby, rubbing her beak. “We’ll figure something out.”

They had nowhere to spend the night. It was still rather early in the day, but getting money without getting into trouble would be a problem. She started wondering if just taking from some pony loser wasn’t just easier.

She wandered around the place, and Grunhilda followed dutifully. Unsurprisingly, the accesses to the airship berths were under close watch and she saw no way they could sneak onboard one of the airships. Maybe if she had slept at night and wasn’t so tired, she could have thought of something, but the solution eluded her.

Then she saw one of the loan guy’s thugs pointing at her, flanked by two ponies wearing the Baltimare’s local militia barding. “Fuck… Shouldn’t have stayed around.”

One beige earth pony with a brown mane male and a female unicorn with a short blue mane and a cyan coat. Not only both used the militia’s tan barding with the city’s blazon, but also had the magical stun batons and the same wheellock pistols she’d seen earlier. Probably standard issue all over the confederation.

“Miss Gilda…” Grunhilda didn’t seem scared as she had been with the locals in Griffonstone and it worried Gilda more than the other way around.

“Don’t do anything. We should try to avoid violence in the middle of a crowded place.” She whispered to the other.

“Okay.” Grunhilda focused on the two militiaponies.

The unicorn mare approached them, and the earth pony kept a little behind. She greeted them, but not in the friendliest greeting Gilda had ever seen. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Gilda smiled. Hopefully, it was convincing enough.

“Ma’am. You two need to come with us for questioning. We have reasons to believe you may have been involved in the terrorist attack to the freight teleporter.” She spoke clearly and directly. “Please, don’t resist.”

“I didn’t know travelling somewhere was a crime.” Gilda complained.

“In my district it is, if you are a griffon trying to get money to travel to where a warship your kind flew to, especially after being teleported here by hijacking a teleporter.” The unicorn scowled at them. “Don’t make me beat you two senseless with this thing.”

She drew her stun baton and waved it at Gilda and Grunhilda. “You come with me and spare me the headache, we sort this quickly, and you two can be on your way. How about that?”

Grunhilda tensed up and Gilda thanked whatever the heck was the voice in her head and her dreams the ponies didn’t notice. Speaking of which, it had been curiously silent.

Part of her wanted to see Grunhilda ripping that jerk in a few pieces, remembering what she could have done with the much bigger and stronger griffon militia back in Griffonstone. Griffons, in general, were larger than the typical pony, and Grunhilda was larger than a typical griffon. But then again, it would put them in a really, really bad situation from which it would be a lot more complicated to come out of. Even if she could ‘summon up’ her skills again, she doubted she and Grunhilda could get away with fighting the whole Baltimare local militia.

“Let’s go, Grunhilda. We gotta go with the ponies.” She decided to play nice for the time being.

“Okay.” Grunhilda relaxed and spoke calmly, following Gilda as she followed the pony.

They led the pair out of the airdocks building and took a left, avoiding most of the plaza and towards one of the streets that came into it, into a suburban area of the city. Down the street and past the first crossing, down the next left, and then right, they came to a parallel to the street which went to the plaza. Much to Gilda’s surprise, a group of mean-looking griffons came out of the next transversal, which seemed like a less used way.

Suddenly things seemed a lot less friendly in the nice pony town, and ponies coming the same way turned tail before they even started talking. Trouble was in the air.

“Hi there, guards. What do you have there? A pair of griffons under arrest?” Said a skinny-looking griffon, dark-tan and white plumage with yellow eyes. “I suppose they really did something really bad, did they?”

“Walk away, Grimm.” The unicorn warned and the other guard drew his wheellock pistol. Gilda thought it a dumb idea, she counted five griffons. “This is serious. We’re taking them to HQ for questioning. They might be implicated in the terrorist attack, and you really don’t want to get involved.”

“Oh. So that is how it is?” The griffon seemed like the kind of griffons who would ambush a lone female on a dark street. He had a mocking tone Gilda would be pissed had he used it with her, but since he directed it at the pony, she considered it amusing. Once again, it came down to taking sides. “Some griffon appears to be doing something that seems ‘improper’ to you and then, suddenly, they’re a terrorist?”

“Don’t start it, Grimm.” The unicorn frowned at him. “I’m just doing my job. And my job includes arresting anycreature doing something suspicious.”

“What were they doing, Street Wise? They looked like griffons too much?” The griffon sat and crossed his forelimbs. “Beat it, local. Or the Boss is gonna have a conversation with the Lord Protector again. And this time, your name is gonna show up. Unless, of course, you have any real proof that they were doing something wrong…”

“Well, we were going to take them to HQ to check on that.” The earth pony almost sounded like he needed defending himself. “Come on, Grimm. If we believe the suspect is trying to flee our jurisdiction, we’re supposed to take them in.”

“Dude, we’re traveling to see my friend. You guys literally believed some shady loan shark who only decided to ‘denounce’ us because we didn’t want to loan a large quantity.”

The griffon they called Grimm put out his paws. “Doesn’t sound like you have a very reasonable motive to bother these two ladies… Do I have to write a letter to the Boss? You know the magical parchment is expensive.”

“Fine!” Street Wise, the unicorn, hoofed at the paving stone. “But I’m checking on these chicks and I swear if their names are dirty, I’m getting the Royal Guard on your ass! It’s gonna spill on ‘The Boss’ too. Come on!”

She cried and stormed off with her partner. Only when they were a fair distance away Gilda spoke to the griffons. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart.” Grimm frowned. “I only got my feathers involved because your big gal friend looks like a northerner. Now, can you hear the storm?”

“Yeah.” Gilda grinned. “I can hear her cry.”

Actually, she could more than any of them, she believed. Still, they grinned and nodded at her knowing the password.

“Good call, chief.” One of the griffons nodded at Grimm. “Good thing we were keeping an eye on the airdocks too.”

“Ponies never assume there is going to be trouble. They just don’t prepare, for example, to safely escort a pair of prisoners to their neighborhood quarters.” He chuckled. “Guess the Lord Protector is finally getting an opportunity to push for that local HQ next to the airdocks now.”

“What’s up, though?” Grimm talked to her again. “We’re hearing some strange stuff from Thunderpeak, and some chatter about the Royals raiding the museum and arresting Master Gabriel and his daughter. The fuck is going on? Usual line’s gone silent.”

“Princess Luna took the Royal Guard to attack the museum.” Gilda did her best to seem like she was ‘in’. “She didn’t simply arrest him, though. I was working at the Griffonstone hospital where they took the injured locals and the prisoners. She messed up his paws.”

“Dude! The balls!” One of his griffons cried like he took personal offense.

“Man, Lady Gwendolen is gonna spit fire when she hears of this.” Grimm shook his head. “What about you two?”

“I’m going to Haybale to check on his daughter.” She didn’t even have to lie. Gladys asked her to. “But… Stuff happened, and I don’t have a Bit. I’m gonna need some help getting there.”

“Not an issue.” Grimm offered. “We can get you there, no problem.”

“Better do it quick, boss.” One of his ‘guys’ said. “Guards are gonna be a problem if we don’t hurry. If things are like that, we gotta disappear and lay low.”

He agreed. “Let’s get moving.”

She didn’t know the deal with those guys. Maybe some street thugs who ‘were in’ enough they would be useful. Maybe the northerners promissed something. Or maybe their bosses and they were just the muscle.

Whatever. It worked in her benefit.

They rushed to a nearby warehouse next to an apartment complex. It seemed to be some sort of griffon neighborhood since she saw many cubs and several adults working on whatever went on in the place. She decided not to ask and, fortunately, Grunhilda had taken to heart Gilda’s request that she let her speak.

It didn’t take too long, and they came up with money for a trip to Haybale with a reasonable level of comfort. Gilda didn’t care for the details, and they didn’t bother her with them. A pair of their ‘muscle’ escorted her and Grunhilda back to the airdocks and kept watchful eyes while she took care of buying the tickets from one of the kiosks. The one they had contacts in and should keep things hush-hush. An inconspicuous, pony-owned company keeping a few of the daily two-way lines to haybale.

They had gotten her enough money for the trip to Haybale only, but it shouldn’t be an issue since she would talk to Gabriel’s daughter, and they had some food with them.

They stayed with Gilda and Grunhilda until the time to board came but couldn’t pass the gate with them. Fortunately, nothing went wrong, and Gilda happily boarded as the ponies didn’t want to waste time either. If the two local militias did check on her name, they would find some ‘dirt’ on her. She even wished Grimm and the others would be okay. They were on her side, after all.

Boarding the airship required they went a few flights of stairs up to the airship’s berth and she was a beautiful thing. Couldn’t compare to the larger and more luxurious one on the next berth, but it would suffice. One of the modern ones, built from scratch rather than a converted seafaring ship, she still had the hull of a ‘seaship’ and a building-like superstructure. It looked like a small flying hotel. Had a white structure above deck and the hull had been painted navy blue, with her name painted in red ‘Cloudchaser’, next to the letters and numbers of its registration.

Boarding happened quickly through a wide ramp which swung off its side to rest on the dock. Officers, ponies in the company’s blue uniform and wearing cute caps, herded the passengers aboard. Some thirty ponies, mostly earth ponies with no clothes, but saddlebags.

Past the ramp they arrived on a welcoming area which led them to the main lobby past a few stairs. Nowhere near as refined or fancy as Wild North’s lobby in Griffonstone, but certainly more than anything Gilda had the habit of partaking. It really felt like a hotel.

It had a nice royal red carpet with hearts, the walls were covered with a beige wallpaper she could do without, but she supposed she didn’t care about the decoration. Doors led to the airship’s amenities, but Gilda followed the sign indicating the cabins with the typical pony glyphs.

Grunhilda followed her, and she, as many of the passengers made their way to one of the numbered corridors and soon found their cabin. Not first class, but free, and it brought her closer to figuring out what exactly was going on with her. Maybe, getting some revenge.

It had a table between two cushioned benches. Red on the dark varnished wood with golden finish, and flowery details. Also, a window showed the berth outside, with a simple but beautiful curtain, not to mention hearts and typical pony motifs everywhere. Not big or excessively fancy at all, but good enough she relaxed as soon as she entered and Grunhilda closed the door.

She sat on a comfortable bench, and it reminded Gilda of just how tired she felt. She yawned into her fist and stared at Grunhilda, sitting next to her, like she expected a command or something.

“Gotta lie down for a while. You can look around if you want.” She supposed the big gal would be curious. She was, after all, but more tired. “Just remember we don’t have any money, don’t trust anyone and don’t get yourself into trouble.”

“Don’t you want me to stay with you?” The other mewled at her, rather than going with her usual ‘okay’ and caught Gilda a little by surprise.

“Nah. I’m cool.” Gilda frowned a little. “Just don’t get into trouble.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda said all obedient if a bit disappointed. She took off her backpack, left over the table and went out, carefully closing the door, as though to not disturb Gilda.

Geez, she was so weird. And she got so clingy in days. What was up with her? Maybe she really liked her, and she was so grateful she had gotten her out of getting sent to Shatteredrock? Did she like Gilda? Like ‘that’? Did she think she was in her debt, or something? Gladys had implied something like that, hadn’t she?

She yawned again and thoughts became too damn confused inside her head, which ached like… Well, like she had a whole night of skipped sleep to catch up with. She simply laid on the bench, content to let sleep take her.

First Sight of the North

The night shift was easier than Gilda had expected. She just stood there, trying not to sleep, with the other soldier dude. Grunhilda sat there too. Awkwardly bending to the side next to her. Sleeping with her head on Gilda’s shoulder that was lower than her own. But that didn’t seem to bother the Big Girl.

The soldier guy didn’t even mention it. They mostly held hushed and short conversations with periods of silence. Mostly to pay attention to anything they might hear in the night. Gilda’s mind immediately jumped to those bandits hiding in the cloud, but nothing ever happened. The soldier dude told her that they might have scouted out their camp in the cover of night, though.

Which was kind of dumb… Griffons couldn’t see much better than most creatures in the dark, but with the moon and the stars providing light, they could see for miles beyond the borders of the mesa.

But she supposed that if they were smart, they wouldn’t be bandits.

Before she knew it, the sun appeared on the horizon, but they kept watching until the first started waking up. It happened, eventually. Lazily, the camp became active. Someone dropped a pan that clanged loudly in the stone and that startled awake everyone.

Grunhilda startled awake too. With a gasp, and she stood straight as a pole, “No! That’s not true! I was just resting my eyes!”

“Good morning, Grunhilda.” Gilda chuckled and the other didn’t answer, but Grunhilda cast her eyes downwards uncomfortably while her cheeks turned to an adorable shade of red.

“I’ve seen worse in the army.” Their nightly companion laughed curtly, but Gilda didn’t think he meant it in a bad way.

Breakfast would follow and then they would take to the sky again, but the others took care of it. Gia and Geary woke up too, and her mood had improved. “Hi, Gilda. Peaceful watch?”

“Yeah.” Gilda smiled a little at Gia’s attempt at small talk. Reading her was a bit of a challenge though. Last night she was jealous, but in the morning she was friendly. Maybe Gia herself was having trouble dealing with her own situation. Anyways, the small talk was nice. “So, the journey up north is supposed to be difficult?”

Gia nodded calmly and grinned. “Yes, but it’s not impossible. If it was, then Lady Gwendolen wouldn’t be getting her precious little followers now, would she?”

Gilda chuckled. “I guess not. Do you know her?”

“Yes…” Gia sighed and frowned. “I was pretty much in love with her for a while.”

Her eyes shifted to the side for a moment. “In all the worst ways possible… I suppose her speeches about how great The Harpy is, and all the rewards she had for me got to my younger self… Also, just how beautiful and powerful she is.”

“But… Maybe…” Gia went on, a little saddened, with her eyes turned down and a small sigh. “Maybe, if The Harpy had chosen to reveal herself to me, I would have been a better trooper.”

Gilda thought for a second. That was a part of what had gotten her involved too, but it was mostly the fact that she didn’t really have a choice. From the start, she was flung into it by other griffons being asses to her. She wasn’t going to complain, though. She liked having a place at the top, for once.

That said, Gilda also didn’t try to steal money from Lady Gwendolen. Money that was ultimately meant to help griffons.

Maybe she was naïve, but Gilda believed that The Harpy was the best for griffons. She might have a biased view on that, but from her perspective it was clear. And doing the same as ‘the enemy’ was not helpful.

At the same time, she didn’t fully condemn Gia. Lady Gwendolen didn’t either. It seemed that in Gia’s eyes, she hadn’t really done anything wrong. At least she didn’t steal from the common population, and she meant to advance their side’s goals along the way. That was probably why Lady Gwendolen didn’t have her murdered, or something.

At the same time, some of the stuff that she had noticed poked at the back of Gilda’s mind. Stuff like the pony she saw in Griffonstone… He likely wasn’t there on his own will. And some of the things that The Harpy liked were not particularly nice. But she supposed that she couldn’t help it. She was stuck with the northerners. She hoped the kinks would eventually work themselves out.

Better not to think too much about it because the alternative was just too scary to contemplate.

Then the lime colored, young griffonness approached them. “Good morning! We’ll be having breakfast in a jiffy! Uh… Bathroom is on the other side of the carts…” She pointed with an awkward grin. “Boys to the right and girls to the left.”

Yeah… Bathroom was a good idea after all that coffee and a whole night.

After taking care of that Gilda rejoined the others. As did Grunhilda, but the Big Girl had her book with her while Gilda was more interested in engaging in conversation. She approached the female sibling of the pair as she let out a giant yawn behind her rosy colored paw.

“Hey.” They greeted each other with friendly smiles. “I never got your name. Did I?”

“Oh!” The other let her eyes go wide. “I’m Gertha. My brother is Guile”

Cool. Gilda supposed Gertha knew who she and Grunhilda were and just laid in the stony ground with her. They waited for breakfast that came soon after not only her brother and the pony joined them along with Gia and Geary, but also all the others. It seemed that they were all a happy group of traveling griffons, and pony, now.

Humors were high and conversations bubbled up naturally with a few chuckles and laughs here and there while the lime-colored griffon girl brought them breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausages, and slices of ham to eat in wood plates and some more coffee. They ate with simple iron forks and knives, and it wasn’t fancy, but it sure was tasty and festive.

Everything seemed perfectly fine until she noticed the pony awkwardly avoided staring at anyone. He laid quietly on his spot and didn’t talk, or really do anything other than take a small bit of his green sandwich every now and then. He just looked generally uncomfortable with something, and it made Gilda uncomfortable too. Her initial fears reared their head again.

“You okay, pony?” It was Guile that spoke.

He caused the pony to look up with a startle and shifty eyes. “Oh… It’s nothing.”

“Yeah…” Guile didn’t believe him, letting go of his fork and knife with a glare. “Nothing doesn’t make a normally cheery and easy-going dude mope after a night of sleep. Spill it out, pony. If something is bothering my travelling companions, I need to know.”

That Guile dude made a good argument, and spared Gilda having to ask the pony. She paid attention, though.

“I wasn’t entirely honest about why I’m here.” He mumbled and Gilda tensed up to jump at his throat, but then he spoke further. “There’s something about griffon history that doesn’t add up.”

She did her best not to show how hearing that relaxed her, but she let escape an involuntary sigh. At the same time, it was curious, because that was just how she felt about ‘griffon history’.

“A good few years ago I went with Miss Daring Do on an expedition to the Saddle Arabian desert…” The pony started. “Do you know her?”

“Yeah, duh…” Gertha rolled her eyes and the others grunted positively. “Everyone knows Daring Do.”

“You said the Saddle Arabian desert?” Gilda asked with a frown. The Hader.

“Yes…” He hoofed nervously at the rocky ground. “We found the ruins of a city under the sands. I calculated it had been there, untouched, since before the Age of The Sun.”

“What is the Age of the Sun?” Guile turned to his sister.

“The time between Nightmare Moon being banished to the moon and the present age when Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends started using the Elements of Harmony.”

“Oh…” He turned back to the pony. “Somewhere past a millennia ago?”

“Yes,” Lost Temple nodded sheepishly. “But I couldn’t decide on a clearer date. Anyways, the important thing is that it seemed to be a griffon city that wasn’t on the records.”

“I feel like I’m ponysplaining…” He scratched the back of his neck with a hoof. “There shouldn’t be a griffon city in the Saddle Arabian desert, so it was quite a discovery. Anyways, while she went back to Canterlot to register our find, she left me in charge of the excavation team. We mapped the whole thing, and we found evidence of a sophisticated irrigation system, housings and several buildings such as public baths and something like an amphitheater, a market and even a mailing office.”

“And it was strange…” He concluded with a frown.

“Why?” Mister Gillian asked. “What’s so strange about a city with a mailing office? Every city is supposed to have one.”

“Yes… Today.” The pony agreed with a serious, professorial expression. “But that is because we live in a unified federation of nations with well-defined regulations. That city was from a time where griffons were divided into independent feudal states. There were no regulated institutions such as a postal service. If you needed communication sent somewhere, you would have your own servant take it, pay a messenger, or leave it with a carter.”

Gia remained quiet, pretending she wasn’t listening, and Gilda decided she’d do the same.

“What you’re saying is that there was something off in the ruins.” Gertha asked, gesturing excitedly and curiously. “Go on!”

“Yeah. That pointed towards the city being part of a larger kingdom, or something. One that was capable of organizing such a service.” Lost Temple went on with a bite on his grass (or whatever it was) sandwich. “We got excited. It appeared we were on to something new and started scouring the place for anything.”

“We found engraved stones in what I now know was High Griffonese. Someone found a set of enchanted steel surgical instruments in what looked like an operating room. There was a sort of sacrificial chamber that we identified thanks to one of our Diamond Dog colleagues. It correlated to his race’s own history.” The pony added. “From it all we surmised that the griffons in that area held some sort of sacrificial ceremonies. It’s just something that had never been heard of.”

“Doesn’t that bother you ponies?” One of the cart pullers raised an eyebrow. “I mean… Uh… I’m not sure what I think of it myself.”

“I don’t like that sort of thing.” The pony frowned and cocked his head, leaving his sandwich on his plate. “No. But that is not how one deals with History. You’re supposed to be impartial and not argue with facts. Those griffons shouldn’t be there, but they were. They also did things that weren’t common practice among their kind. There is no changing that, and it’s intriguing.”

“But I suppose that something went wrong?” The lime-colored griffon girl urged him on with a gesture.

“It did.” The pony frowned further, letting frustration through. “Daring Do returned with a squad of Royal Guards and a Justiciar. They confiscated all the artifacts and we had to leave.”

“I’m pretty sure this is an abuse of power.” Another griffon grimaced.

“Not really…” Gia interjected calmly. “Princess Celestia has a royal prerogative that allows her emergency powers above the Hall of Friendship. She can invoke it whenever she feels there is a threat that supersedes subject powers. Most importantly, nobody ever questions it.”

Since griffons and pony, Gilda included just stared at her with unmitigated confusion, she went on, rolling her eyes and sighing arrogantly. “There is this agreement called the Alicorn Concordat. It originally forbade Princess Celestia and Princess Luna from using their magical powers to intervene in warfare. You know, considering they could end life as we know if they wanted. They used it to force Princess Celestia to deal with her sister when she became Nightmare Moon. Later the concordat included forbidding the Princesses from meddling with the internal political affairs of the individual nations. Recently, it included Princesses Cadance and Twilight Sparkle.”

“But paragraph Zeroth of the accord states that Princess Celestia is allowed to act against it, if she decides there is enough of a threat to the Equestrian Federation that she can solve by herself.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingers and groaned. “It’s the sort of thing that makes me doubt that creatures have any sort of intelligence whatsoever… The agreement that was supposed to limit her powers literally gives her limitless powers.”

Gilda couldn’t decide if that was funny or tragic.

It is an example of just how cunning and dangerous she is.

Yeah… That too, probably. Although that never kept Chancellor Gail from doing all his bullshit. What the hell? What if Celestia was in? Getting a piece of his money for turning a blind eye? It was possible, even if most ponies wouldn’t ever dream of questioning her decisions.

“Alright. We understand.” Gertha urged the pony on again. “What happened after that?”

“Princess Celestia ordered the whole thing shut down. Canterlot and the university wouldn’t touch it with a ten-hoof pole.” He scowled and hoofed forcefully at the ground. “That was going to be the discovery of a lifetime! For me! For Miss Do and for everycreature involved!”

Take this pony, unharmed, to Griffindel.

What? How the heck was she going to do that? She thought it was going to be enough drama getting herself and Grunhilda there!

My Children thrive in adversity. You will find a way. Explore the resources you have access to and do not fail.

What resources? All Gilda had was Mythical and Grunhilda!

She almost lost her composure and allowed her frustration to manifest outwardly. But with a second of inner thoughts, she realized she did have access to many resources. Her eyes scanned the griffons gathered around her. Mercenaries, ex-military looking for a way in. The brother and sister. A company of travel-hardened griffons whose profession was getting stuff across the wild.

Her grin did escape her control and she stood on her fours, pointing a talon at the pony. “Dude, I’m taking you to see Lady Gwendolen.”

“I think she’s likely to make a barbecue out of him.” Gia deadpanned.

For fuck’s sake, shut your beak… Gilda simply glared at her. “You’re wrong. She’ll be interested in his findings.” Then she turned to the pony with a gleeful grin. “Once she’s queen, she’ll challenge Celestia’s decision and get you access to the place.”

“Hum… Thanks…” He fidgeted with his hooves. “But… Uh… Saddle Arabia is outside of Griffonia’s kingdom. I would need the Saddle Arabian Sultan to support me.”

That was a sound argument, but Gilda knew something he didn’t! That the whole of Equestria didn’t know. But that Lady Gwendolen did, and so did all the northerners!

“Nope!” She shook her head exaggeratedly and grinned at him. “With The Lion, Griffonia has a claim on the Saddle Arabian desert because it used to be part of the Holy Griffon Empire. We will have the right to explore archeological sites. At the least.”

“Wait! What?” Lost Temple almost lost his mind too.

“Whoa, whoa!” Gia stood in a panic. “Shut your beak! This is too much!”

“You shut yours, Gia.” Gilda snapped back with a fierce scowl that scared the other into submission. Then she turned back to the pony and the other griffons. “Princess Celestia and King Grover lied about our past. We were not divided, small kingdoms. The griffons had a sprawling empire that went all the way from the Frozen North to the south. East to the Strait of Dove, and all the way west of the far shores of Saddle Arabian desert.”

“This is insane!” The pony gasped and stood so fast his sandwich flew all over from his magical telekinesis. “Are you sure of all that?! How do you even know that?!”

Gilda just grinned at him. “Dude, let’s go to Griffindell.”

“I’m not taking a pony with me through the Whitescape.” Gia whined. “The Windigos will go nuts! Like dragging a chain of sausages in the middle of rabid dogs! He’ll slow us down! They’ll dig up our bodies, frozen solid, from under five cubits of snow!”

“You know…” Gilda decided to try some ‘griffon psychology’ with Gia. “You don’t have to go. But then, what would Lady Gwendolen think?”

Gia sat with a petulant scowl and crossed her forelegs. “Do you even know the way? Do you really think it’s as simple as ‘go to Frozenlake, then Brokenhorn and then north all the way to Griffindell’?”

Gilda didn’t let that intimidate her and she just gave her a superior smile. “I won’t be alone. The Harpy will help me through, not only because I’m Her chosen, but because she hates Princess Celestia. And this pony knows of stuff that she would want Lady Gwendolen to use against the princess.”

Lost Temple startled at the mention of him under those terms and sat quickly. He opened his mouth but said nothing. His scared equine eyes told Gilda everything, though. She pointed a talon at him and spoke seriously. “You are going, aren’t you?”

“I… Uh…” He mumbled.

“You sure are!” She gave him an encouraging, and at the same time threatening grin while walking to his side and putting a leg around his shoulders. A talon poking his chest for emphasis. “You’ll set right that whole mess that Princess Celestia made ruining Miss Do’s expedition and your work, won’t you dude?”

“Yeah. Sure… Uh… Yes, but…” He still mumbled.

“Awesome!” She let go and punched his shoulder. “Me and Grunhilda will take care of you. I just need some days in there to get someone to train Grunhilda in how to use that thing properly.”

The others around her were silent. Maybe they recognized that the pony wasn’t really given an option. Maybe it was not the sort of cheery conversation they expected for breakfast. Or maybe it was the mention that Grunhilda didn’t really know how to use her bow.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Gia shrieked and put up her paws. “She can’t learn archery, much less with an ancient legendary weapon, in a couple of days! You’re dragging them to their doom! The frostmanes and the draugr are gonna eat you alive!”

“Gee…” Gilda approached her and put a paw on her shoulder. “Sounds like we need a guide. You know, someone that knows stuff.”

“Not gonna happen.” Gia shoved her paw away. “I’m not putting my cute ass on the line so that you can be the big hero.”

“Come on, Gia!” Gilda whined. “You’re seeing this the wrong way. I mean… Come on… Do you seriously want to show up in Griffindell after that stunt you tried to pull and then tell Lady Gwendolen you didn’t want to help me get there with the pony? I thought we were friends. Now we’re all friends here!”

“None of you are my friends.” Gia was not impressed.

“Well, certainly not with that attitude.” Gilda grinned at her. “I’m just saying that Lady Gwendolen is bound to reward handsomely someone helping me get there with this pony.”

Then Gilda made a serious expression to cover her actually giddy mood. “And you kinda need it. Just saying…”

Finally, Gia relented and closed her eyes, giving off a lough and frustrated sigh, pressing her lores with her fingers. “Fine. Fine!”

She stared back at Gilda. “I suppose that I might as well help, since I’m going the same way and I don’t know what Lady Gwendolen is bound to do with me… I guess I should make myself useful…”

Mister Gillian finally hummed loudly, stood, and cleared his throat. “We should be moving soon. Our destination is still a day’s worth of flying and I would rather reach Wayfarer’s Rest before nightfall.”

Assembled griffons simply agreed silently with nods, grunts, or simply standing up to get things done. Gilda believed that she had managed to reach her goal of putting an idea inside their heads. She supposed she would be sure later.

In the meanwhile, griffons quickly grabbed all the trash and camping stuff, stashed it away in the carts and they were off to the next leg of their journey.

***

The morning flight proceeded without incident or lurking bandits. They covered a lot of ground as the vegetation slowly shifted back to the stubby bushes. They flew high above a yellower shade of green for grass and black dirt ground underneath it. Rocky outcroppings became more numerous, and a respectable mountain range greeted them from the horizon. Black, rocky, and covered in snow after an endless procession of rolling hills.

That stream where they had lunch the previous day was below them, but from the height they flew she could see all the tributaries that joined in forming it closer to the mountains. Fast and shallow streams that came from the mountains and surrounding areas, braving the rocks and carving an intricate pathway in the landscape.

She wasn’t big on geography. But following the waterways with her eyes to the south, she supposed they would eventually join with other rivers and converge into the river that flowed around Griffonstone.

A more poetic or mindful griffon might find a meaning in that. Much like the river, griffons had come from the north. Something, something… Returning to their source of life… Yadda, yadda…

Keeping her eyes on possible threats concerned her more, but the meaning of it all didn’t fully elude her. She didn’t have the time or interest to fully analyze it though. It was sufficient that she had recognized it, and The Harpy was pleased with her. She could feel it in a similar way, her mind shared in Her thoughts.

Soon after they landed for lunch again, the lime-colored griffon lady offered their pre-packaged lunches in the form of more roasted beef and pickles sandwiches. Once she was done with hers, Gilda went to the stream that rushed nearby.

It was fast and noisy for such a small stream above a rocky bed. Clear to the eyes and cold to the touch, its waters flowed with magic. She could feel it in that subjective way she had learned.

Truly, it was everywhere. Gilda’s quickly sharpening magical senses could feel the magic permeating all around her. In the air she breathed. In the cold of the chilly breeze. In the warm sunlight. But it was particularly noticeable in the fast-running stream.

She dipped her beak in the water and gulped in as much as she could, then shook off the wetness. The water was cold, and it felt like it was full of life. Whatever that meant, it sated her thirst from several hours of flight. The feeling that washed over her was deeper, though. She closed her eyes and savored it for a moment. She let the breeze that came from the north wash over her and flutter her feathers.

It was like inspiration, or maybe a simple realization. But it dawned on her.

Didn’t that tale Grunhilda spouted at Grahan, in his airship, mention that everything ended in Griffindell’s walls?

The Windigos had tried to destroy her race when they took over the Stormy Eyrie. Griffons survived, though. In a similar way, Celestia tried to destroy the Empire and it had survived in the northerner griffons that refused to give in. Nightmare Moon attacked it, and so did Discord. None of them made it past the city’s walls.

She didn’t know the details, and she supposed she would learn in time. But… That place was the last stand once again. It was the place where the unbridled hate of the Windigos met pause and it was where Celestia’s Battlehorns stopped. That city she has headed to was supposed to be the place griffons went to because of the storms that messed with their heads. It was the place where the pony culture that assaulted her kind failed.

Maybe a more literacy-oriented griffon might come up with a better word, but to her it was ‘griffon-ness’ the word that defined it. It flowed in the air with the breeze that came from the mountains. It flowed in that water, and it was in the air she breathed.

There was something special in that land. Something she couldn’t quite put a talon on, but it was there. It survived the Windigos’ hold on their land and it thrived. As did the Children of The Harpy. It was right there, beyond that first taste of the Snow Mountains hold.

She felt like she was coming home for the first time in her life, even though she had returned home countless times before. And it was rejuvenating.

She turned to see the other griffons milling about in their hastily assembled camp. Did they feel that too? Maybe she was impressionable because of all the things that happened to her. Or maybe ‘impressionable’ was the wrong word. Rather, she was open to it.

“You know… It’s not really safe to drink straight from the stream like that…” The pink griffoness in leather and ringmail armor approached her with the jingling of the chainmail links and an awkward grimace. “You’re supposed to boil it first.”

Griffons have civilized themselves too much. They forgot their souls and their bodies became lame. This water will not harm you. It is the proximity with the equines that will.

The voice in her head grumbled with annoyance. But despite what She said, Gilda’s first thought was how cool the griffoness looked with her gear. Maybe Gilda should find something of the sort for her. Or, better yet, Grunhilda could make her something like that, once she’s good enough!

Anyway, that griffoness had told her a thing. “Yeah… Uh… I guess it shows it’s my first time doing something like this.”

“So… Uh…” Gertha started but stopped talking before pretending she hadn’t and proceeded to fill a canteen with water. Which Gilda hoped she would boil later. What the heck? When had she become one of those griffons others had trouble talking to?

“Hey, spit it out!” Gilda barked at the other with a scowl.

“Sorry! It’s awkward.” Gertha squeaked wide eyed, in a most uncharacteristic way for a griffon of her kind. Then she belted her canteen. “I mean… Is this Harpy of yours interested in non-northerner griffons? Uh… Besides the monetary rewards that Lady Gwendolen might be offering us? I’m kinda looking for some stability… And I’m not that interested in working for the future king, but there seems to be something else going on in the north. You know?”

That was a good question. And Gilda felt like talking about one of those things she didn’t usually talk about. Not to mention talking on behalf of someone else, but she supposed that she had come to a point it was actually her job to do so. “It’s not about northerners… Every griffon should side with The Lion. Because siding with him is siding with The Harpy.”

She gave Gertha an earnest stare. Probably because she liked her and wanted her to be okay in the coming years. Because it didn’t take a particularly smart griffon to see a few things cresting the horizon. “Things are going to change. And smart griffons will want to be on the right side of those changes.”

“Right…” Gertha squinted a little and frowned. “I would really appreciate it if there was a place for a brother and a sister in your happy little whatever you have going on with the Big Boss Lady of Griffindell and her future king…”

“Trust me…” Gilda flashed her a knowing grin. “By what I know of her, and who her actual boss is, she will always have some use for skilled griffons willing to lend a paw. If you guys want to stick with me, we can work something out.”

“Awesome.” Gertha grinned and winked. “So, I guess we are going to Griffindell. See you later, boss.”

‘Boss’. Another word Gilda liked to be associated with her name other than ‘Lady’.

***

That stop didn’t last and they soon took off again. Mister Gillian stood at the front of the formation, like a leader should. Gilda knew a thing or two about flying and surmised he probably navigated by the terrain, as she would. And that was why joining the caravan paid off. She would be lost. Their destination was deceptively far, and the reason they were soon to arrive was Mister Gillian’s knowledge of the air currents and how good his guys were. Experienced flyers, all of them.

She could only imagine the drama if it had been only her and Grunhilda because the best she could have done was to navigate by the sun. It could be done, but they would likely miss their destination if she failed to see it from a distance. And Grunhilda wasn’t a particularly good flyer.

Soon enough they shifted further towards the northwest and they flew faster still, following in a strong current. They flew and they flew way into the afternoon before something happened.

“Hey! We got flyers!” One of the soldiers bringing up the rear, to the left, cried. “Flying low from the north!”

Gilda knew where the north was and promptly set her eyes in the direction, losing a little altitude to see under the carts. It was a formation of some ten griffons in heavy armor. How in the ever-loving world they managed to fly with those things she had no idea. White and mint with the black plates of their armors, all of them with the same red scarves that Gilda also wore.

“Sky sentry.” Gia shouted from the cart she was riding. “From Wayfarer’s Rest.”

Gilda had thought it was just a small inn along the way. Anyways, as the griffons drew closer she could see that they wore the same armor as Gandolf and the other Sky Sentries that had shwon up in Thunderpeak. The same weapons too, including that fancy firearm they all carried.

The group of (she had the time to count them) twelve griffons approached and Gillian called for a halt with a raised fist. Griffons just stood there, hovering, and waiting.

“Hail, travelers.” The one leading the armored griffons called with a raised paw. “What is your business in the area?”

“We’re hauling foodstuffs, arms and armors to Wayfarer’s Rest, sire.” Gillian explained as the armored griffons spread and inspected the carts and griffons. “We also have three passengers.”

“Lieutenant!” One of the armored griffons flew a wingbeat back and pointed at the cart Lost Temple sat on with a hopeless expression.

At that their leader flew to the cart and his armored paws on the railing clinked against it. “You’re far from home, pokehead.”

“I am a researcher with the University of Canterlot.” He did his best to remain calm, Gilda noted. “I am here to study the northerner griffon culture.”

“We don’t like your kind here, equine.” The lieutenant’s wings kept beating to keep him hovering. “We’ll escort you back to Thunderpeak if you wish. I can’t guarantee your safety here.”

‘Nor do we really care’, he left unsaid. But, before the pony could answer, Gilda lunged forward. Tense reactions from the armored griffons told her aggressive move was only tolerated because she had a red scarf wrapped around her neck.

“No way.” She said calmly, despite the way her forelegs trembled out of nervousness. “I’m taking him to Griffindell on behalf of Lady Gwendolen.”

The lieutenant dude took a good look at her scarf with gray eyes from inside his helmet. “I apologize, ma’am. I didn’t notice you were a member of the Court before. It was my mistake. Do you wish to declare anything regarding this pony?”

Names… They opened doors.

“Nah.” She shook her head. “He’s just a cool pony I found when I joined the caravan. He knows stuff that Lady Gwendolen is interested in learning. So, he’s gotta get to Griffindell with me.”

One of his grunts approached and said something to his ear. The Lieutenant nodded once and talked to Gilda again. “Are you Lady Gilda? The one from Griffonstone and from Thunderpeak?”

“Yeah.” She spoke in the most natural and bland way she managed, but inside her chest warmed with pride. “I am the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani.”

She was sure Gia rolled her eyes, or something, but she was too busy enjoying the amazed stares she got from the soldiers. It was when the Lieutenant removed his helmet to reveal a light gray head with young, but rough, features, such as a stern stare in his gray eyes and a large, sturdy aquiline beak.

What was it with the northerner dudes looking so freaking hunky?! She hoped to The Harpy that her feelings didn’t externalize, but her tail tucked itself in between her legs and The Harpy only knew how bright her blush was!

He didn’t react, however. Instead, he talked normally with her. “I see. I have had a few caravans harassed by a particularly sizable and cantankerous roc. We will escort your company to Wayfarer’s Rest. If that is acceptable.”

“Yes.” Gilda donned her best ‘expensive bitch’ pose. “That is acceptable.”

With that the lieutenant barked some orders and his griffons fell in formation with the others and to Gilda’s surprise Gia hopped off her cart and flew next to her.

“Nice show, rising star…” She grinned with a pro-class ‘expensive bitch’ stare that made Gilda ashamed of her own. “You just forgot to stop working for Mister Gillian.”

Gilda cocked her head with a petulant huff and lidded eyes. “Well, I am simply not lazy.”

Gia simply snickered and body-bumped Gilda playfully. But next thing Gilda knew, Grunhilda flew next to them and shoved Gia away with so much force she almost sent the other flying off course. While Gia reacted with a squawk and huge eyes, Grunhilda stood next to Gilda.

“You are distracting Miss Gilda from her flying!” Big Girl complained with a jealousy-ridden ramble.

While Gilda needed a moment to get her bearings over what had just happened around her, Gia laughed heartily and spoke with pure mirth. “You should discipline that thrall of yours, Gilda. Pretty soon it’s gonna be her owning you!”

***

Part of Gilda was sad the roc never showed up. She had never seen a roc before nor the Sky Sentry fighting a monster. Not to mention the handsome lieutenant fighting! What she got instead was a great view of Wayfarer’s Rest and the mountains against the setting sun.

The best way she found to describe that place was a ‘piece of the north that spilled into the south’. The whole border thing really made it a curious affair. There was a soft transition, but it was very clear. The snow mostly ended north of the border, shifting into the wet grass and dark ground with many small streams. The place was wet and cold because of that, and the mountains nestled the small city in a valley. It was open to the south and in between the mountains to the north, complete with streams that cut the city in two and joined the others to the south.

That was a border if there ever was one. And Gilda liked it. It looked like a transition and just staring at it, thinking of crossing it felt like leaving something behind in a good way.

The clouds were even more interesting. If the transition between snow and wet ground was soft, the clouds marked the borders quite clearly. At least until the point they came from the north and covered the city and the mountains, ending abruptly with rolling edges.

The city was tiny compared to Gilda’s main reference of city sizes, Griffonstone. At the same time, it also seemed much cleaner and comfy. Little stone houses inside a palisade with a gate that allowed for the water from the mountains to leave the city. A few watchtowers made of wood, but sturdy and well maintained.

The surrounding area had a few small farms and a large building across the cobblestone road from the city. It looked like a large hotel. Or rather, an inn. It even had a wide-open area nested by the road that came from the east with several carts parked. The small stream followed the road and the space in between held a market.

An extension of the walls embraced all that with thick protection and more watchtowers. It was an unobstructed area between the market, farms, inn and lumps of houses that allowed a passage from the easterly gate around the city to the north gate and into the passage between the mountains.

And it was cold. It took Gilda some time to realize amid the exertions of flight, but the air was cold. Colder than it ever was in Thunderpeak.

But before she could gather her thoughts on that they started descending. She didn’t ask though. It was the pony. “Uh… Aren’t we going to land in the city?”

“We’re gonna land nearby.” The griffon pulling his cart turned his head back to speak. “In the northerner cities, flying inside the city or too close to the walls will get you shot.”

“Why?!” The shocked pony gasped.

“Because northerners are actually jerks.” The lime-colored lady grumbled. “Or at least their guards are.”

Gia rolled her eyes. “It’s because they gotta keep the city clear of monsters. Since the walls will keep the crawling or walking ones out, the flyers are a problem. At some point, someone decided that allowing citizens to fly around leisurely was not worth the risk of some roc flying in, grabbing someone, and flying off. Orders are to shoot flyers on sight.”

“You can fly…” Gia added. “Just not above the buildings.”

“Most of the time, if you’re on the outside, they’ll order you to land. Once.” The cart-puller added.

“Yeah…” The griffon lady agreed sarcastically with rolling eyes. “Plus, newcomers gotta see the displayed executed criminals in the entrance.”

“Ma’am.” One of the armored griffons took offense. “Do you have a problem with removing evil for our community?”

“She doesn’t.” Gillian shut the conversation down with a glare to the younger griffoness.

Yeah… Gilda doubted she would be worrying about a thug or two being hanged by the entrance of town.

Big Bird Eat Small Bird, Pt. I

Gilda woke slowly and calmly to the sounds of griffons talking outside her tent. She expected a trumpet call, or something similar. But it was just a few griffons conversing politely. A pleasant way to end a pleasant night. No upstarts. No weird dreams, trips into her own mind, the past or meetings with ancient goddesses. Just a quick romp with her friend, a relaxing slumber and the dim light coming from the campfire outside with the sounds of griffons starting the day early. The air inside the tent was slightly warm thanks to the magical heater, and the reddish wolfskin blanket had slipped from them as she and Grunhilda slept. It was bundled next to their hindlegs, as they kicked it in their sleep.

She hummed contently and stretched the sleep out of her muscles. Her eyes found the blue cloth that made the low roof of their tent and the tense wooden rods that kept steady the dome structure. She closed her eyes again and lazily stretched her limbs too, before turning to her side to sit with a long and satisfying yawn. No space to stretch her wings, but she wasn’t bothered.

Finally, she stretched her neck and groaned softly. Their bed of animal furs occupied about half of their tent’s useful space and the rest Grunhilda had used to organize their stuff. Her armor, bow, quiver, and hammer. Gilda’s Mythical, and her magical jewelry gifted by Lady Gwendolen all rested there. Gilda’s red scarf of the Court of the Harpy sat neatly folded and tucked in its own corner. Grunhilda’s fox backpack was there too, as was a cylindrical wooden container that held all the camping essentials they might need. Provided by the caravan. Which was hers. So, Gilda supposed she provided it.

Grunhilda occupied the other half of the bed. On her back and with her limbs all over it as though she owned it. Well, technically, she did, but neither would admit to that. More important than her limbs were her immorally exposed belly and her powerful and elegant physique. Gilda found herself basking at the glory that were Grunhilda’s stout muscles and her feminine traits under the sparse white fur covering her belly.

Gilda had to summon exactly half of her available willpower to resist the urge of squeezing Grunhilda’s teats like a pervert. The other half she spent to stop herself from waking Grunhilda up by tossing a cupful of water in her face. She settled with smiling and pressing her paw over her friend’s fluffy white chest. She softly shook the big griffoness awake. “Hey. Big Girl. Griffons are doing stuff outside. We should get up and get ready to move soon.”

“Yes, Miss Gilda.” Grunhilda whined softly, turning to her side and sitting with a terribly sleepy expression to the point where her crest was flat and floppy. The Big Girl complained, still whiny. She even rubbed her eyes while she yawned. “It’s still dark.”

“Hey, Gillian and the Sky Sentry guy said we’d get up early.” Gilda held Grunhilda’s shoulders, and her paws slipped to her white friend’s chest, feeling the strong muscles with a smile. Then she reached and pecked Grunhilda’s cheek with a small griffon kiss.

The other giggled and wrapped her forelegs around Gilda, taking her time to caress the tan feathers and fur covering her back. Her smell stirred all sorts of sensations and Gilda’s beak fit with Grunhilda’s. She pressed her body against Grunhilda’s and her paw held the other’s nape, despite Grunhilda’s taller height. Gilda just propped herself up with her hindlegs a little.

Satisfied, Gilda backed away slowly and with a smile she found mimicked on her friend’s beak. “Get things ready to move. We don’t want to slow the caravan down.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda chirped and immediately set out to work, starting by retrieving the blankets and sleeping furs they had used during the night.

Gilda let her do her work, and it made Grunhilda pleased as punch. Meanwhile, she sat by the entrance, and the cold seeped against her back. But it didn’t bother her while she poured some water for her. They had a large canteen and a couple of metallic cups among their things provided by the caravan.

Satisfied, both with the water and the sight of her friend, she let the cup back with Grunhilda’s and the canteen before undoing the strings which held the flap closed. Two things immediately caught her attention: bone chilling cold, and a smooth white blanket covering everything not taller than three fingers.

“Snow!” She cawed. “Awesome! Wild, pure, and untouched snow!”

The night was still cold and dark, but the light from the nearby fire let her see well enough. The pair or sentries who kept watch during the night stared at her, each with a mug of something steaming. Nonetheless, she took a pawful of white from the ground and stared at the cold flakes with starry eyes. Slowly her smile diminished and vanished before she dropped the cold and wet thing back to the ground. “Well, it got boring in a hurry. It’s kinda nice, though. It looks much nicer than the cold mud on the street.”

“Lady Gilda.” Mister Gillian came to her wearing a black animal skin cloak, and he stopped for a second before he spoke to her with a confused frown. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Eh. It’s cold, but I’m cool.” She shrugged, but then chuckled and winked at him. Inside she cringed at her own joke, but she admitted the good Grunhilda did for her mood.

“Well, I’m glad you are in such a good mood.” He chuckled too and took the package from his back to offer it to her. “I was going to offer you an animal skin to wear.”

He showed her a square box wrapped with thin leather with strands of the same material. “In fact, it was meant to be a gift.”

“Really?!” She sat and took the package. “Why? I mean, I don’t want to look a gifted pony in the mouth, but…”

“It was Gil’s idea. We noticed you had nothing to wear in the cold.” He explained with a smile, watching as Gilda undid the wrapping. “She meant to give it to you, and I was holding it for her, but… Well… Last night happened with the kids and I thought it would be better to approach you in the morning.”

Around them other griffons prepared additional fires as the activity drew more and more out of their tents, despite the cold and the dark of night. Everyone was slow and quiet, though. Even so, Gilda opened her gift with enthusiasm, and it was a gorgeous cloak. She had no idea how it was made, but it looked like fluffy rabbit skin with the primary flight feathers of white owls stitched into it. The result was a winter cloak made of white feathers with thin black stripes. It even reminded her a little of Allmother when she opened her wings at full display. It emanated a subtle smell of talc, of something used to keep such fancy garments fresh while in storage. They probably bought it before they left Wayfarer’s Rest.

Just gorgeous, surely to come in welcome when they reached the colder portions of their journey. She draped it over her back and closed the leather loop around a button to hold it in place with its warm and soft embrace. Gilda never wanted for a mirror so much in her life.

“I don’t even know what to say.” Gilda beamed and did her best not to show the flurry of fuzzy emotions swirling inside her. What a way to notice she wasn’t used to getting gifts. “Thanks a lot, I guess.”

“You are quite welcome, Lady Gilda.” Gillian gave a throaty and earnest chuckle. “Just remember to thank Gil. It was her idea.”

“I will! Thanks again.” She still beamed at him as he excused himself with a nod.

As he walked away, Gilda happily patted the portion of the cloak that covered her chest while Gosalynn approached with a wide yawn, wearing a white gambeson. “Morning… Nice cloak.”

“Thanks!” Gilda piped as the other sat by the fire and she followed. Since she was up, she might as well eat something.

One of her subordinates had set up a triangular rack to hold a closed pot over the fire. It started smelling of wine as soon as Gilda approached Gosalynn to sit with her. “So, how much longer till Frozenlake?”

Gosalynn sniffled. “Oh, a couple of days. One more, maybe. We made much farther than we should have yesterday. I suppose it is a good thing so long as Gillian pays attention and doesn’t get us lost. Ugh. I hate sitting on the snow.”

As though they had heard a command, one of her Sky Sentries promptly brought a set of bovine leather rugs for them to sit by the fire. Gilda obliged. But before she could reply, and just as Gosalynn poured them some of the hot wine, a mountain of blankets approached them. There seemed to be a pony or two beneath it, with a horn poking out.

“Don’t you barbarians know about coffee?” Moonbow’s irritated voice came out of it.

“No.” Gosalynn took a long sip of her drink. “We drink spiced wine in the morning. It helps with the cold.”

“I’m siding with the pony.” Gertha came from behind, also wrapped with a blanket over the fluffy stuff she usually wore under her chainmail.

“Just drink this thing, you dummies.” Gosalynn groaned. “We live in this cold hell, and you don’t. Alcohol gives you a false sense of warmth when it actually makes you lose heat to the air. I don’t understand how, ask a Loremaster. All I know is that boiling this thing takes most of the alcohol away and it still makes you feel warm, without harming you. And the spices are meant to wake you up.”

“Then what is the difference between coffee and this stupid thing?” Gertha growled with an affronted scowl.

“Hot. Spiced. Wine!” Gosalynn cried too. “I’m not going to make coffee for your hooflicking hinds when I barely feel like being up myself!”

Gilda didn’t get involved. It was a bad idea as everyone seemed to be in a bad mood. Except Gil. She came out of her tent with a happy spring, wearing a cotton cape and bringing a coffee pot and a sieve hanging from her beak. Grinning and singing. About as well as one can sing holding things with their beak, but it was the thought that counted. “No need to fight! I’ll make some coffee for you!”

“Oh, hey!” Gil stopped by Gilda. “Dad gave you the thing! It looks great on you! And right in time too, right?”

Gilda chuckled and smiled. Her good mood was contagious. “Thanks Gil. I really appreciate it.”

Out of the same tent also came Guille, with a less enthusiastic expression and wearing the same kind of armor undergarment as his sister. Gilda waved him a greeting, as did the others. It seemed he and Gil would be the only ones in a good mood besides Gilda. Curious that the new couple decided to just stay together. After a second thought, it was reasonable precisely because they were a couple. Shouldn’t there have been some sort of ceremony? Maybe they decided to wait and make it official at a proper place. Frozenlake for example. Northerners ought to have a notary office, or something of the sort that recognized stuff.

Then Gilda realized she knew nothing of Frozenlake. Or any northerner city, for that matter. Much less about their customs. She soon let the thought away with a shrug. She would learn with time and didn’t need to hurry. Lady Gwendolen would teach her everything.

Eventually the kids, Godwin and his sisters joined them, and all seemed much better. Even their baby sister pranced around much happier to be allowed to walk instead of being a blanket wrapped griffon burrito. She was adorable, running around and begging her older sister to feed her the strips of the dried meat they had for breakfast, but Gilda didn’t want one. It brought memories of the whole drama of being expected to mother cubs for The Emperor, but she didn’t have to deal with that in a while. Eventually Grunhilda joined them too to eat and later Gilda left her to take care of their tent and load up their cargo.

She went to the designated ‘female’ area to empty her bladder, and despite her memories of past lives with commonplace communal bathrooms, it was just awkward. Fortunately, most griffons agreed, and none came too close or stared. Of course, she removed her nifty new cloak so it wouldn’t get dirty.

Relieved, Gilda went on a jog by the side of the camping ground as the caravan reorganized. Done with her breakfast, and confident Grunhilda could take care of their stuff by herself, she could meet some griffons around the caravan. And show off her nifty new cloak. It was probably bad for her ego griffons recognized her and her station without the red scarf.

She probably wouldn’t be remembering most of their names, but they were happy she met them. It felt like she had accomplished something. Families and groups of friends waved at her. The Sky Sentries nodded acknowledgement. Individual groups had breakfast too and prepared to move on, sparing her a moment of adulation when she approached.

Most of the tents were sized according to the number of members in a family or of friends traveling together. Griffons without families had a wide tent for multiple individuals and they worked together to disassemble and prepare it for transportation along with their stuff.

They seemed to be more friendly and helpful than normal. Maybe it was the sense of adventure. There was an identity, or something, all seemed to share.

“They’re in. Deep as can get.” Gia spoke next to her, coming out of nowhere and Gilda gasped with a scared hop. The green loremaster queen raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Do you usually go around scaring griffons out of their mind?!” Gilda’s paw resting on her white fluffy chest could feel her heart thumping.

“Sorry.” Gia giggled maliciously, as the jerk she was. “Didn’t think little me could surprise the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani.”

Gilda turned to her, matching her bitchy grin. “You know, I really need to teach you a lesson one of these days. What did you say, again?”

Gia sighed and made a dismissing gesture to the working griffons. “It’s the uniting effect of the Cult of the Harpy. Everyone is Her Child. Everyone is a brother and a sister. Especially during difficult times.”

What Gia had described was everything griffons lacked. A unifying force, like the stupid pony princesses were to the ponies. But Gilda left those thoughts inside her head. Instead, Gia spoke again, but with a malcontent groan. “Yeah… Everyone must help each other, or The Harpy will get you.”

“Hey, if it works…” Gilda shrugged. “Where’s Madam Gelinda? I feel like she should be slapping you right now.”

Gia pointed. “Hasn’t left her tent yet.”

Gilda’s eyes followed her green talon to find a spartan tent among the others, although it seemed larger than needed for a single griffoness.

Gilda took the lead walking; sure Gia would follow. “She may need something.”

Once they reached the tent, Gilda sat and scraped the thick cloth flap with her talons. “Madam Gelinda?”

“Yes.” Her raspy voice came from inside while she undid the loops holding the flap closed. “Do come in.”

Both young griffonesses did, and the inside mimicked the tent Gilda shared with Grunhilda. It lacked personal belongings, but it made the tent look even larger. It had the ‘camping kit’ but little else. A folding table made of birch that held a small photo stand, a burning incense, and a glass cup with tea. They filled the air with a mixture of lavender and chamomile.

“Sorry if we’re bothering you.” Gilda walked in, curious about the stuff on the table. “We were worried you hadn’t gotten up yet.”

“I was up before you were. But I was busy with a few morning rituals.” Gelinda sat before the table and didn’t object to Gilda staring at it.

Nothing too fancy, other than the glass cup. The thickness and clearness showed its quality, and it held an amber tea. The incense holder was of varnished wood and made so the stick would burn, and its ashes would fall to its tray-like stand. And the photo was…

“Wait… What the…” Gilda grabbed it for examination with a confused grimace.

Made with black ivory, the frame held a portrait of a griffoness showing her profile. Gilda felt as though she might be going insane for a second, but unless her eyes deceived her, it was The Harpy in that photo. Mostly white and silvery in her facial plumage, with a black beak and a crest of black feathers but pulled back and made into a ‘mane’. Or a cowl. The fluffy feathers in her neck shone with their glossy black against the lighting, turning white over her accentuated chest plumage. Closed black wings, though mostly cropped out of the image. Gilda recognized her fierce facial traits from her dreams with The Harpy. But in the picture, she wore a goddamn pair of glasses that made her look like a nerd! And she held an upward stare, holding her black paws next to her chest, as though she was wishful. It looked like she was begging, even though her talons remained sharp and polished.

What the heck?

“Ugh… I hated it when she made that stare and said, ‘I must commune with Our Mother’.” Gia put out her tongue with an almost childish grimace of disgust.

Gilda turned the photo on its side. Was it a coincidence? A black and white photo could fool the eyes. Especially the high-quality ones. Yet, no. It wasn’t. Colorful buildings showed in the background. It was the Chancellor’s Palace with its reds and bronze. Gilda could see the green of the soldiers standing guard. Her head tilted on its side with the picture. “But this… She’s…”

“This is Lady Gwendolen.” Gelinda interrupted her. “She is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I always thought she was hiding something.” Gia groused.

Gilda cocked an eyebrow at the picture. Unreal. Of course. Most griffons never saw The Harpy, how would they know? She ought to wear a disguise whenever she appeared in public, it was reasonable. But it was ridiculous. Anyone who knew The Harpy would see past that particular disguise. She looked exactly the same as she looked during Ghadah’s time.

Then her beak shifted into a devilish grin. Except for Celestia and Luna, no one remained from that time, and it was way too circumstantial. Especially when Celestia never directly met The Harpy. Maybe in former versions of the world? That form must mean something important to the Allmother.

And yet… She looked way too young for a griffoness that had trained Madam Gelinda. It added a mysterious twang to her persona. She was damn hot too, but that was Gilda being horny again.

It almost looked like Her Mother made fun of whoever would see her in that picture. She’s been there in Griffonstone. Most griffons wouldn’t ever bother with her age, or that she went there. Most griffons wouldn’t even know how Lady Gwendolen of Griffindel was supposed to look, but it sent a powerful message to anyone capable of understanding it.

Funny… Gilda never imagined her goddess would be… Physical. But if Celestia lived with the mortals, why not The Harpy? It even made sense with all the things she’d been told about the whole cycle of creation and recreation. How the ponies had called their goddesses to the realm of the mortals, so did the griffons.

Except griffons didn’t have it easy as the ponies. The Harpy’s brutality and mercilessness demanded they become better; they become stronger. Strong enough they may yet challenge Celestia and her hegemony? They would see in due time.

Gilda put the frame back onto the table, but said nothing, retaining her thoughtful stare from before. Just when she had started to become really close to The Harpy such an important detail was revealed to her. True, she might have figured it out on her own if she had tried, but that wasn’t the point.

Was she already as close as Ghadah used to be? She supposed it didn’t matter. Gee… She had sex with her. And Gilda was on the Harpy’s hometeam. Pulling out of her thoughts, she found Gia wearing a disinterested and pedantic, bored stare. And supposed she had to drag Gia along for the ride in some way. She turned to Madam Gelinda, before her silence became too obvious. “Do you need anything? To get your tent ready for the trip?”

“No.” The older griffoness gave her a knowing smile. “The Sky Sentries will take care of it for me.

“Then I guess we should get ready to move.” Gilda put a paw on Gia’s shoulder. “Hey. Go see if the guys in the back need anything. I’ll be with Mister Gillian and Gosalynn.”

“Yes, ma’am…” The green loremaster replied ‘oh-so-tired’ and bowed sarcastically. But she did as Gilda asked when they walked out, leaving the older loremaster and Gilda alone.

“Has she talked to you?” Gelinda asked as Gilda watched Gia walking away. Gilda didn’t turn, nor speak. She just shook her head slowly and heard Gelinda’s worried hum. “Take heart, Swordmaiden. The Mother of Storms never was one to overprotect her Children. We will move forward until action must be taken, if at all.”

“Do you think…” Gilda turned on her haunches to look at the older griffoness. “Do you think she’s busy because a lot of griffons died?”

“Quite possibly.” Gelinda shrugged. “One can only guess. Unless she later chooses to reveal the events to you. I would imagine the situation is precarious and requires her undivided attention. I suppose you understand. She is… Diminished.”

“Yeah. I should get busy. Make sure Grunhilda has packed our things and that Gia isn’t doing anything stupid.” Gilda gave her a grin before she waved the older griffoness a goodbye.

However, Grunhilda had everything set up correctly and kept Gilda’s things in reach. Gilda donned her tiara, her bracelets, and her red scarf, keeping Mythical on her back, without her scabbard. Soon enough the caravan resumed its journey, like a lumbering beast, taking its time with each step.

They soon walked at their best speed again. As the day before, nobody flew, griffons kept a steady pace along with the huge oxen pulling the heavy and laden carts. The prevailing sound was the crunchy snow under the carts and their squeaky wheels. Fortunately, the snow wasn’t deep, and the oxen could negotiate it easily enough, but Gilda imagined they would be tired next night.

The exercise made her feel hot under her new cloak and she eventually asked Grunhilda to stash it with the rest of their things. The snow had arrived to stay, and around lunchtime it started snowing again. Soft and sparse, but it provided some entertainment for the cubs chasing the flakes as they fell. Never flying, though.

A quick meal and respite replenished their energies and the caravan moved again. Although to Gilda’s untrained eyes it seemed to have taken a while before it broke the inertia, and they gained some speed.

Hours blended into a long and boring vigil. Talking friends silenced. The droning sound of the wheels and squeaky suspensions remained. No wind blew, no distant thunder rang. Only the soft sound of griffon paws against the snow accompanied the carts and the clinking of armor.

Gilda walked next to Grunhilda and the clinking of her armor had become one with the squeaking of a nearby cart. She could barely keep her eyes open as they walked, and her mind wandered to Madam Gelinda’s story about what happened to dead griffons.

How did it work with the pony tales of the great river of magic which flowed back to the source? The sun… Did The Harpy pluck all their souls and drop them where they could reach the Stormy Eyrie? Did the Windigos interfere with her magic? If The Harpy lived at Griffindell, as Lady Gwendolen, did it mean she left the Stormy Eyrie, but could return? How did all that work? One of the problems was that the Pony Goddesses couldn’t return to their ‘place’ outside of the realm of the living. Things didn’t seem to add up.

Wait… She mated Lord Gilad, did that make him some sort of god too? Was that just part of her grand disguise? Did she like him? Like she told Gilda she liked The Emperor? Did he bone her too? What kind of question was that?! Anyway, it was also a way for her to connect with griffons, right? How would they react when she finally revealed her true self? There was some cleverness and sass in her disguise, but others may not appreciate the idea.

Gilda exhausted her thoughts on the matter and the sun seemed to not have moved at all, especially with the storm clouds. She did her best not to complain or outwardly display her boredom, but everyone in the caravan likely was as bored as she was.

She walked right behind Gillian, Gosalynn and the Sky Sentry Quartermaster, as well as a couple of their Sky Sentries. They carried muskets and halberds. Didn’t they say firearms performed poorly against the monsters along the way? Whatever. Those guys were professionals, and they knew better..

Grunhilda walked next to her, also bored out of her mind, but keeping it under a guise of focus. She carried the hammer and the training bow. Gertha had told her not to use the Thunderbow yet, and diligent Grunhilda obeyed. Godwin and Georgia walked next to them, with their baby sister sleeping peacefully on the queen’s back, and under a blue blankie. Clutching her cute chicken plush toy without a care in the world.

Behind them, one of the oxen cows followed with her handler who walked alongside and held the reins with his beak.

With the cold air, the snow didn’t melt, but it had stopped snowing. Fewer trees dotted the landscape, and their path flanked around the Phalanx. It was a small mountain range far to their left. Five peaks, almost perfectly lined side by side, but it was unremarkable. Just mountains with snowed peaks gently transforming into the hills surrounding them. To the caravans’s left a meager, yet wide grove with the colors of winter, obstructed their view.

Rangers didn’t leave the caravan to hunt, and nobody left to return with a full load of honey.

Poor Grunhilda, at a second glance, looked like a zombie walking by Gilda’s side. She was half-tempted to excuse Gilda so she might lay on top of a cart and study some more, but she imagined Big Girl would like to be useful too. Even if there was nothing to do.

Maybe the earlier start, or the less comfortable slumber in the wild could take the blame, but morale seemed to have dropped a little. Yet if Gillian and Gosalynn didn’t worry, Gilda wouldn’t worry either.

“Look out!” Someone’s cry from behind pierced the droning boredom. “Monsters coming from above!”

“What?” The first thought in Gilda’s head was that some kid decided to test ‘the system’ and spooked one of the guards. As ridiculous as it sounded. She turned her head over her shoulder to see, but a large shadow flew past her. She screamed and dropped to the snow, making herself as small as possible.

Eyes wide, she saw it as it flapped its wings above a creek in front of them and banked right. It turned alarmingly fast for its size, to the sound of screaming and disordered shooting. It looked like a hawk. In shades of brown and caramel dots on its white chest, but black on its head. Its neck seemed uncannily long and missed plumage, replaced with scales. The wings probably spanned as wide as the hospital back at Griffonstone and the whole thing made Gilda think a snake had had a cursed threesome with a hawk and a vulture.

“Get the harpoons! Get the spikes!” Gosalynn screeched at the top of her lungs, flared wings and frantic eyes.

“Get the carts between the trees!” Gillian ran past Gilda in a frenzy, and she turned to see it in time when another of those things swooped down from behind the trees, using them as cover. Even larger than the other, it tried to land on a cart, or the ox pulling it, but missed and landed awkwardly on the ground. Caravanners scampered off in every direction and the ox panicked, slamming their muzzle against the cart ahead of them.

“Don’t wander off!” One of the armored griffons yelled as the armed guards shot without much effect or charged with long weapons.

The giant bird attacked the cart as though it was part of the animal, ripping the tarp with its large beak. It became a mess of screaming bird, panicked griffons, crying soldiers and desperately mooing ox.

Without ceremony the roc beat its wings to hop onto the cart and closed its long black talons on it. Snapping wood sounded louder than the racket and the thing started beating its wings to lift off, taking the cart and a dangling ox with it.

“Stop that thing!” Someone cried amid the chaos and several arrows flew at it. They glanced off the contour feathers as though they were the scales on a dragon. The soldiers thrusting their halberds at its underside greatly inconvenienced the monster, though. From the other side of the line of carts, Gertha hovered above and let fly a bolt from her crossbow.

The crossbow bolt pierced the base of the monster’s neck and stuck. It also enraged the beast and it cried so loud Gilda’s ears rang while she saw the monster flap its wings. The blast of wind threw Sky Sentries everywhere and Gertha against a tree. It turned the cart on its side and broke the traces that held it to the ox, causing the panicked creature to moo and run, dragging their handler along.

Finally, Gilda stood and pulled Mythical out of her scabbard, leaving the leather sheath behind. Nearly at the same time the first of the rocs returned and grabbed another cart halfway retreated into the woods. Landing true, it immediately tried to make away with the cart, thinking it was a living creature. It gained half a dozen cubits in altitude before griffons grabbed every rope and dangling bit they could to try and stop the beast. Without much success, so strong that cursed monster was.

“I do declare, this is a most precarious circumstance!” The cow cried, flaying her legs in the air.

“For Mother’s Love!” Gosalynn screeched, laying low flat against the snow. “Where are the harpoons?!”

No one answered in the madness, but Gilda jumped into a leaping take-off and flapped her wings with her sword in her paw. She flew straight to the beast, too concerned with her prey and griffons poking at it with spears to notice her. Similarity to the zu birds Ghadah used to hunt, surfaced recollection with the strategy that grounding the monster must be priority number one. Zooming past the beast’s back, Gilda unleashed her sword with a passing cut aimed at the tendons that pulled the wings up around the shoulder.

She hit the monster, but her cut was too shallow. The roc let go of the cart and gained altitude in a blind panic, trying to see what had attacked it and slashing talons aimlessly at the empty air. A quick glance showed Gilda the Sky Sentries pushed the other bird off the cart, but the ox vanished into the woodland. Both Sky Sentries and other griffons shot guns and arrows at the monster as it created some distance, hovering up and screeching furiously. Gilda saw Gertha and Grunhilda with the others circling the monster to shoot at it while the griffons armed with spears and halberds made a line to protect the cart.

When her instincts told her she’d been watching too long, she spun in the air to see the other roc coming at her with its talons first.

“Piss off, you glorified chicken!” She twirled out of the way and swung Mythical at its feet. An arc of blood followed the blade and one of the monster’s talons lopped off.

Even with the bloody wound, the roc pirouetted and launched another attack, but instead of following through, it suddenly gave a mighty flap of its wings. The sudden gust stole the lift from Gilda’s wings, and she spun out of control with a frightened scream. The sword flew from her paw in the scare and the hilt drifted away. Her wings flapped out of control and her limbs tried to grab at anything that wasn’t there.

But Gilda knew how to recover from strong winds stealing away her lift. Her wings flared and stopped her from tumbling through the air, and she reoriented herself. The fact that her paw closed around Mythical surprised her. As though it had somehow found its way back to her.

Right in time too, as the roc flew at her, swooping down to strike with its talons. Gilda closed her wings and let herself lose altitude as she swung upward and Mythical bit deep at the monster’s leg. Another arc of blood followed, and the roc screeched, losing control of its flight, and crashing against the ground by the gentle slope of the hills.

Gilda turned to see the other roc clawing at the line of defenders, stupidly determined to grab the cart. She flapped her wings and hurled herself at the giant bird before it could notice her. Taken by a sudden hatred and lust for blood, she thrust Mythical point first as she hurled herself downward at the roc with a fearsome primal scream.

The sword pierced through the magically armored feathers as it did with armored plates back at Thunderpeak. Past flesh and scraping against bone with a coarse vibration. The force of her impact brought the monster to land on its chest against the snow and screech while griffons dispersed. Something stung Gilda, but she didn’t care, pulling back the blade clean off and hacking at the back of the monster’s neck. Blood flew with broken feathers, but it didn’t go limp as she expected. Instead, it dropped onto its side and almost rolled over her. It would have, if she hadn’t hopped off from it to land with a flurry of legs, wings, and screeching, with her face straight to the snow.

“Kill it! Kill it!” Gosalynn zoomed over Gilda wielding a rapier in her paw, with murderous intent towards the giant bird.

Other griffons with spears and pole weapons attacked the roc from almost every side, and they hurt it as Gilda recovered her senses. Several streaks of blood stained its clear plumage, but it had already gotten back up. It dusted at the assailants with its mighty wings. The gust from it almost toppled Gilda too.

It pecked at one of the hunters who had landed too close and vulnerable to it. Its beak tore the griffon in half, and it immediately attacked another, a Sky Sentry it flung to the side with a bloody gash in his armor.

Gilda reeled as the griffon in armor landed next to her. That monster’s talons had torn open a steel cuirass and bent the edges into the griffon wearing it. He screamed in pain, but Gilda reached for Mythical just in time as the damned monster literally took a jumping kick at her. Not only the gust from its wings almost threw her off balance when she stood to use the sword, but she barely managed to defend herself. Nothing more than sheer reflexes and her past self’s extensive training allowed her to deflect the monster’s talons.

Next it jumped at her with both talon-tipped paws ready to close on her. Each a curved sword aiming to trespass her, she dodged out of the way, throwing herself to the ground. One of the Sky Sentries charged the creature with a long-bladed spear and a wing-powered pounce. The metal pierced the monster’s external defenses and it screeched, flapping wings in panic, but not before Guille too attacked it. The wine-colored griffon brought his heavy greatsword to the roc’s neck, but it bounced off the bronze scales as though he had attacked stone.

The monster’s beak narrowly missed him as he ducked, and the roc followed with a jump, landing onto one of the Sky Sentries. His spear snapped in two and the monster’s weight crushed him with nauseating snaps and the shriek of bent metal.

Gilda screamed again, reaching for her sword, and hurled herself at the monster again, but Grunhilda held her. Her armor made it uncomfortable, but Big Girl pounced and held her with the strength of a bear.

“Miss Gilda, you’re hurt!” Her horrified cry snapped Gilda out of her righteous wrath.

She watched from under Grunhilda as the roc body slammed the cart with the broken trace like it was one of the creatures attacking it. Beneath hid a terrified male griffon. No weapon, no armor, nothing but his cyan and white fur and feathers. He screamed when his cover dropped to the side and left him exposed.

Kew! Kew-kewkewkew! Came the scared cry of the other roc as it soared again, quickly gaining altitude despite the bloody gash through one of its legs letting blood.

“No!” Gilda cried under Grunhilda, reaching with a paw while the other beast didn’t think twice and grabbed the cyan griffon in his paw.

“Oh no! Help!” The horrified griffon squealed, trapped within the sharp talons. He shrieked with pain as the monster hopped to flight. “Help me! Please!”

One of the older hunters even jumped to the monster’s back as it took off and tried to injure it with a hunting knife, but he fell. Several shots rang and arrows flew, but fast as the attack had begun, both rocs flew into the sky towards the peaks.

“No! No way!” Gilda threw Grunhilda off and, for a second, she opened her wings to fly, but she turned to the others. “Come on! We gotta save that guy!”

“Did you notice you have a crossbow bolt stuck in your chest?” Gia pulled Gilda’s wing and stopped her.

Looking down, Gilda squawked when she saw the black peg out of her chest. Most of it stuck outside, as it hadn’t gone all the way into her, much as the bullets during the fight at Thunderpeak.

Gelinda pulled the thing out with a twang of pain that caused Gilda to yelp. Then she showed the bloody tip, fortunately with no barbs, just a losangular blade. “Are you out of your mind?”

Much to Gia’s enjoyment, she slapped Gilda. And she was right, those slaps hurt the ego more than the flesh. “You dove into an enemy your allies were shooting arrows and bullets at!”

Gilda didn’t have an answer. She blushed and looked away. She could have died. And then she would have disappointed everyone. The harpy. She would have left Grunhilda alone. But Gosalynn distracted others from her as she practically jumped at one of her Sky Sentries. The large, armored griffon sat on his haunches, and she held him by the gorget of his armor.

“Where are the harpoons and the throwing spears?!” She screeched so high and loud it would be funny in any other situation.

“I’m sorry ma’am…” The griffon looked at her through the helm’s opening and with his gray beak poking out. “They were misplaced in the wrong cart.”

“What do you mean ‘misplaced’?” She cried nervously, flaring her beautifully colored wings.

“Because they had to rearrange the load into different carts before we left Wayfarer’s Rest…” He spoke sadly. “The weapons were loaded into separate carts because the hired paws didn’t know they were weapons we might need during the trip. And with the carts fleeing into the woods, we couldn’t find them.”

“Curse it!” Gosalynn screeched and jumped, pounded her fist into the mud. “For feather’s sake! Graah!”

Gilda grabbed her sword and put her to rest on her back. “We’re gonna save him.”

“Yes…” Gosalynn calmed down a notch before she turned to her soldiers. “Help the injured and have a report ready for when we’re back. Find the feathering weapons. We’ll leave as soon as they’re ready.”

“Stupid southerner.” One of the female Sky Sentries complained, standing among the others. Her tone and apprehensive posture transmitted a feeling of powerlessness rather than contempt. “He’s probably already dead.”

“It was not his fault.” Gelinda walked to the middle and spoke loud enough all would hear. “He is not used to monster attacks, and in his situation, hiding must have been the only idea in his head.”

“Madam Loremaster’s right.” The Sky Sentry next to the other nodded as scared griffons started coming out of the woods. “It’s our job to kill those things and to protect griffons.”

“Did anyone know him?” Gosalynn asked, walking to the middle of the congregated griffons as the others tentatively returned from the woods. Sky Sentries helped the injured while Mister Gillian and the beastmaster checked the carts and oxen. It seemed as though they may have had a cart too damaged to use, and they still looked for the oxen that escaped, but no beasts of burden sustained injuries. Quite a few of their defenders were, though. Gilda’s friends gathered too and one of the non-combatant southerner griffons spoke to Gosalynn.

A lime-green, unremarkable guy approached the group, still a little shaken. “Uh. I don’t know his name, ma’am. But he’s just a lone guy coming from Griffonstone. No family, and nobody knew him. Really nice, though.”

One of the northerner hunters approached. “Yes. Lonely, but friendly and hard-working. I don’t know how such a pleasant griffon ends up alone.”

“I don’t care what he’s like!” Gilda groaned, sitting on the snow while Gia made some dressing for her wound, glaring impatiently while Grunhilda remained glued to Gilda as a bodyguard. “We’re gonna save him and the longer we take before we go, the smaller the chance he’ll be alive!”

“He’s good as dead already.” The Green loremaster complained of Gilda moving under her breath.

“Sorry, Gilda.” Gosalynn sighed. “We’ll go as soon as they have found the proper weapons… But she’s probably right. Those rocs were hunting. We’re lucky they didn’t understand that the carts aren’t food.”

A Sky Sentry next to her nodded. “Stupid birds are probably very young.”

“They were large, though.” An armored female next to him replied and he simply shrugged.

Gilda fumed but didn’t say anything. The abducted griffon could be alive, and they would take that chance. Additionally, she wanted to kill those things. Get revenge for the griffons they killed and injured.

As time passed, she only became angrier and more anxious while things happened around her. Gia moved on to deal with other injured griffons and she was left alone with Grunhilda and her anger. An eternity passed as the group occupied itself with helping whoever needed. For better or worse, Gillian’s griffons concluded they could repair the cart the roc damaged, and it could still be used. But only one thing would bring the morale back up and Gilda had decided to see it through.

Those weapons better be phenomenal for all the time they wasted finding the cursed feathering things.

When the Sky Sentries finally found the crates with the fabled weapons, Gilda understood why Gosalynn was so angry they weren’t used.

Oversized crossbows which bolts were hefty rods with backwards facing dents, also with ropes attached to them was the first. They would have helped keep those monsters in place for the spears to attack. The ‘spikes’ really made Gilda think of just how ready the northerners were to deal with that sort of threat. Short throwing spears with some kind of explosive attached to them. Gilda could imagine some maniac inventor had had enough of the oversized beasts creating problems.

“Damn…” Gertha grinned like she was herself a maniac, holding one such spear. “You guys aren’t kidding around! Let’s hunt some big birds!”

They had short fuses glued to the shafts, and Gilda supposed they had to be lit before throwing. “These things look ridiculously dangerous, Gertha. You’re not using them without training. Leave them to the Sky Sentries.”

Gosalynn took something similar to a wooden spoon, or a ladle, and showed Gertha how the spear went with the bottom into it. For extra leverage when throwing. “These are less effective than true magical weaponry, but they should cause some damage to those monsters. The bombs are made with magically infused shrapnel, so it’s a good idea to keep a distance. I’ve lost more than one recruit during training.”

The quartermaster was there too. “Each one in the hunting group grab a thrower and three spikes. At least three of you take the harpoons instead. The rest mount up a defense. Mind the ward with the injured. The magical heaters are bound to attract something if we’re not careful. And do get the cart repaired while we’re away.”

“You stay here, Gony.” Gosalynn told the older quartermaster griffon. “Keep them in line for me. Gillian is gonna need help. As for the hunting team, get ready. We’re leaving within a couple of minutes.”

Gilda simply watched again as the others did things around her. Gia had wrapped a dressing over her wound with a bandage around her torso in an awkward way, but it remained in place. Grunhilda sat next to her, patiently waiting for any command until she started fidgeting.

“Shouldn’t I take my thunderbow?” She asked, half-wondering, half-hopeful.

Gild grunted, watching as griffons dragged sealed crates and shook her head. They had tied themselves to the crates and pulled, dragging the things from the carts they were stored. But Gilda’s attention turned to Grunhilda. “I don’t want you shooting deadly magical arrows in the middle of a chaotic battle without proper training. I’m of half a mind to leave you here, to be honest because your bow may not even help a whole lot if the Sky Sentry has explosive javelins.”

“As if she had all that much training with her magical sword.” Grunhilda pouted and mumbled under her breath.

“What did you say?” Gilda squinted at her.

“Nothing…” Her thrall mumbled and looked away. “Nothing.”

If Grunhilda acting up wasn’t enough, Godwin came to her with a rifle on his back. He politely sat on the snow to talk to Gilda, but she spoke first. “You are most certainly not coming. I’m not going to have you end up dead by a stupid bird. I may not know a lot about northerner traditions, but I know you’re not to be treated as an adult yet. Your place is with your sister, helping her take care of Giza. If you want to help, help fix the carts and take care of the wounded.”

Oh, he fumed, but he nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am…”

That authority thing was kinda fun.

Finally, Gosalynn put a crossbow on her back after donning a quiver, securing it. “Let’s show those big birdbrains not to mess with us. Scouts, take point. The rest, follow me.”

“We’ll be here helping them protect the caravan, Lady Gilda.” One of the two Gunner guys saluted Gilda, and she nodded back to him while Gosalynn took off calmly. Gilda followed, with Grunhilda, Guille, Gertha, Gia and Geary hovering close.

“You’re coming too?” Gilda flapped her wings to stay airborne. The loremaster seemed naked with no more than her blue satin cape and a leather backpack when even Geary wore leather armor.

Gia huffed and pouted. “Madam Gelinda ordered me. You’ll probably need me there to help you deal with any injured and with the tom they abducted.”

The Sky Sentries hovered above ground too, waiting for Gosalynn’s command. A small group of hunters, identified by their assorted leather and cloth armors, longbows and practical short swords, took off straight towards the five peaks of the mountains.

Their destination was close, less than two hours’ worth of flight. Gilda hoped they’d be back before dark, but such also meant the rocs would probably just see them coming under the light of day. Given how the previous fight went, it could get ugly.

Once the scouts had a small advantage, Gosalynn led the others after them without much of a hurry. The sun was still up in the sky above the dark storm clouds and Gilda, flying close to the Sky Sentry Captain, imagined they had a good chance of returning before dark if nothing went wrong. What could go wrong? They had explosive spears to throw at beasts so dumb they attacked a cart thinking it was a living creature.

The Aftermath, pt. III

To tell the truth, Gilda almost sent Grunhilda to the smiths on her own. She would rather stay in the Manor and show Gevorg to their room for the night. But he would be busy until evening, so Gilda took Grunhilda to the market and Godwin went along.

The tom carried a firearm hanging from his neck. The short kind that Gilda saw with the restaurant’s guards back in Canterlot. It was intriguingly different from the muskets and rifles to be seen everywhere, and she knew little other than that it was a northerner-only weapon. But instead of inquiring about it, she just welcomed her young friend on their walk, noting his pouch of coins also hanging from his neck.

Well past noon, the market had recovered from the festivities of the Gathering Storm and was back to business as usual. Without all the tents, the wide road out of the keep was a lot less cramped and chaotic. It looked more like markets in most cities. A set of streets with stores, homes, and two-story buildings which were both stores and homes. Most of the platforms were gone, leaving only the sidewalk planks and plenty of space for the carts that might need to go through.

Several of the shops never opened, though. All the partying left some griffons tired. Or maybe the profits made them think they deserved a rest.

A few directions set them on the right path, and they heard the siblings’ shop before they saw it. The banging of hammers and the queen’s laughter guided them better than any direction anyone could give. Gilda saw it across the street just as she walked around the corner. A large home and shop taking an entire chunk of the city block, with a plaque that confirmed it was the place. ‘Grotti and Groffi’, it said multiple times, with the names inverted back and forth and scrawled over until only the original carving, painted in red on the clear wood, remained. Both black and dark-gray siblings were there, hard at work, and with dozens of customers and employees.

Gilda and her companions walked all the way to the middle of the block not to step on the cold mud, but eventually made it to the smithy. It was an open shop resting against the side of what Gilda assumed was their home. Surrounded by wood beams and the side wall of their stone house. They kept the walkway around it clean, and the rails held exposed examples of their work, from tools to weapons and plates of armor. The house might as well be called a mansion. The forge looked like it could deal with demand from the entire region, including other griffons working for them around the place. From assistants, a janitor and a couple of security, at least a dozen griffons worked for them.

‘Blacksmith stuff’ filled the place. Things Grunhilda was probably better educated to appreciate, evidenced by Big Girl’s grin growing larger with every step. From a searing forge with a chimney through the ceramic roof and three additional, smaller ones to all sorts of tool sets, worktables and two grinding stones. Things Gilda barely even understood the function of.

Among the clients were griffons from Gilda’s caravan, and chief among them were the two ‘Gunner Guys’ and Gertha. The two males talked to the pink mercenary while they waited for the male ebony sibling to work the rings in a ringmail shirt with a focused frown. His sister was further back, fussing with a metal plate and hammering a round-tipped tool at it. A frown over her eyes and her tongue sticking out the side of her beak showed her focus. Other griffons waited and talked to their employees, showing them the stuff that needed work. Others paid with satisfied smiles. The smell of oils and burning stuff reminded Gilda of old Galahault’s forge, but larger and noisier.

“Hello, Miss Gilda.” One of the two Gunner guys greeted her with a wave. The other mimicked, and so did Grotti. Although the black griffon mostly focused on his job of pulling and poking with metal tools to set the rings right.

“May we help you, Lady Gilda?” The blacksmith stopped fiddling with the metallic rings and looked at her with a welcoming and excited grin. “We’re giving requests from your griffons priority.”

Gilda stepped onto the wooden deck with Grunhilda and Godwin next to her as the other patrons gave them space and offered deferential bows. Gilda smiled and gestured to Big Girl with a wing. “Grunhilda needs you to check the spear and shield she got from the ruins we came across.”

The charcoal-black queen squealed from across the forge and made grabbing gestures with her paws. “Ooh! Astrani artifacts! Gimme!”

Grunhilda obeyed, trotting closer to deliver the spear and the shield she carried on her back while Godwin patiently sat next to Gilda. The male sibling rested the chain mail on the table and beckoned the tom closer. Gilda went with him while eyeing the stringent work with precise tools. She thanked the Harpy she didn’t have to do that sort of thing. Meanwhile, the ex-soldier griffons and the male blacksmith sibling watched Godwin remove the gun from his neck.

Both tan griffons seemed interested in the firearm, as connoisseurs would, but the ex-soldier with the darker tan looked at her with a respectful, ‘soldier-like’ stare instead. “I respect what you are doing for the hippogriffs, Lady Gilda. They need help… I don’t want to judge the Harpy, or the northerners, but I still have opinions, and it feels right. Helping them however we can. Since… You know. We can.”

Gilda nodded and gave him a hint of a smile as Godwin set the weapon on the table.

“I don’t know if this will be useful here in Snow Mountains. I have another of the same model, and I feel out of place with two of them in the caravan. Georgia just doesn’t want hers.” The younger tom said. “I suppose I could give it to the caravan guards, but…”

“Bullshit, Godwin.” Gilda said. “It’s yours, and you can do with it whatever you feel like.”

“Ah… Shooty-shoots are useful anywhere.” The blacksmith grinned, examining the gun, looking down at it. “I can see what you mean, though. You gotta worry more about monsters than griffons around these parts, and a good, enchanted melee weapon can be more useful.”

“This is some good stuff. It’s from Stormvalley. It’s worth quite a bit. Yes. What would you like? Do you want to sell it? There is not much I can do for them.” The blacksmith griffon smiled at Godwin, looking up from the gun.

“When we went to save our guy from the rocs, I picked up a sword and a shield that felt really nice. My primary training was with guns, but I got one at the festival and I’d like a sword and a shield, too. Since firearms don’t seem to help a lot with monsters, this one gotta go so I can afford them.”

“Well, I can buy it off you. I know a griffon in town who will want it.”

“Did your parents teach you to fight, Godwin?” The dark-shaded Gunner asked, sitting next to him at the table and laying a paw on his back.

“Mom taught me to fight with sword, shield, and spear. She used to say every tom should learn those. Dad taught me how to shoot. When we visited Frozenlake, before it all started, they taught me a lot of stuff. Using these weapons and explosives. Setting up the large machine guns. Sniping. Ah… How to tell other griffons what to do, how to secure places, what to do in an emergency…”

“They were training you to lead, Godwin.” The other, the lighter shaded tan, Gunner said. And from a young age, Gilda would have added, but she supposed that would break the mood.

“Well, I guess it makes sense.” Godwin let his words hang in the air, looking at nothing in particular.

“Come on. Let’s see if we find something you like.” The blacksmith griffon walked him over to a stand with a dozen swords of various sizes and makes, waiting for a buyer.

While they talked and the blacksmith showed Godwin his wares, Gilda noticed she really had nothing to do there other than waste their time. But she wanted to be there with Grunhilda and Godwin. Her attention turned to the former, talking to the female sibling.

She held the metallic spear, standing about a head shorter than Grunhilda while holding it. That thing looked heavy, being all metallic, in a dark shade of gray. But not so much in the way Groffi moved it. The tip was metallic, and the shaft too, showing complex carvings, like vines engraved into the shaft. The heel of the spear showed a closed griffon fist. It was simple, practical and ornate at the same time.

Groffi’s gray eyes kept going up and down the weapon, critically appraising it. She got as far as sniffing at the metal and licking it. Finally, she sat and grinned at Grunhilda. “Yeah. This is Astrani steel. Old too. It’s true as the day it was forged, even if it is a bit short for you. The problem is that it won’t accept reforging. I could make an adaptation, but that would be disrespectfully shoddy work and prone to breaking. Not to mention that it would ruin the butt. You ought to learn to use it the way it is.”

She left the spear on the table and picked up the shield. Gave it a happy nod, holding it in her paws, turning it around, and smiling. “This thing though… I can adjust the fittings! That oughta do it!”

The shield was three concentric hexagonal plates of black-stained clear steel with an image of a stern griffon on his profile. It showed some dents, which Gilda thought added authenticity to the thing. Behind the steel it was plywood with a steel handle and an old leather loop. The thing was so old the leather had degraded, even with its infused magic. Or maybe it was because of the Windigos’ magic? The important thing was that Groffi could fix it for Grunhilda.

“Great!” Grunhilda gave a happy little hop. “Please do it, Miss Blacksmith!”

Gilda let Grunhilda take care of that. Seeing Big Girl taking care of her things and taking the initiative always made her happy. Meanwhile, Gilda turned again to Godwin and the male sibling. They still talked about the swords and shields on the racks as she walked closer to Godwin.

“Not that I want to take away revenue from our friendly blacksmiths here, but… Why don’t you take one of those Astrani weapons we got from the mine? I’m sure Lady Geena wouldn’t oppose it. Or Gosalynn, for that matter.” Gilda looked at him and then at the weapons. Not bad weapons, as far as she could see, but not ‘legendary tier’ ancient relics. She smiled at the tom. “We’ll tell her I want to give it to you as a mating gift.”

Godwin’s eyes kept drifting over the swords strewn over the table and hanging from the rack. “I feel like I’m not good enough, and it would be a waste to put something like that in my paws.”

He frowned at her. “I’m not some chosen one with supernatural skills and abilities to use weapons like that.”

“Are you kidding me?” Gilda glared down at him. “You are going to be the next big bad griffon sitting at the top of the mountain after the Lion moves to Griffonstone to become the Griffon King. Lady Geena will be your subject. As are all the griffons who live in Snow Mountains. Including these two.”

Makes one wonder if that wasn’t the plan right from the start. Meanwhile, Gertha, the two Gunner guys, Grunhilda, the two black and gray siblings stopped what they were doing. Every single griffon shopper or employee of the siblings just stood there. All of them looked dumb while they processed Gilda’s words.

Finally, Gertha spoke, wide-eyed. “Holy carp! That’s actually right!”

Then she threw a foxy smile at Godwin. “I’d offer to mate you, Godwin. But I think you already got a younger and cuter mate.”

“Drat.” Gertha went on while the others laughed at Godwin’s panicked expression. “My quest to find a rich guy to marry continues.”

“You’d die of boredom within a week, Gertha.” The light tan one of the tan ex-soldiers laughed.

“That’s probably true.” Gertha laughed too. “Anyway, the point remains that you oughta get yourself some nice weapons, Godwin.”

“Not only because they’re nice and show your status, but they’re better for killing things. They make it easier for you and we don’t want you dying. Especially with you going on the mission to deal with the bandits. I’m pretty sure Lady Gwendolen too would prefer it if you didn’t die. Not to mention that if I can just take a sweet Astrani crossbow from the undead griffons, I’m pretty sure you can nab a couple of things, too.”

Gilda simply nodded at Gertha’s words, as did the two ex-soldier mercenaries. The light tan one spoke. “Right. You were there, fighting too. Legitimate loot if I ever saw it.”

The surrounding griffons voiced similar opinions or simply agreed in silence. The way the young tom stared into the empty air told Gilda he considered what Gertha had just told him. Gilda took the opportunity to act on the situation, because for feather’s sake, she liked the lucky, cute young tom and his sisters. It may be because of the way she met them, or because Godwin had grown on her, but whatever. The important thing was that he was lucky enough she liked him.

“Yeah. Let’s get something cool out of our bounty for you.” Gilda decided and then turned to Grotti, the male sibling. “Meanwhile, how about you get Godwin something nice too? Something special. Come on. I bet my feathers you have something in here.”

“I don’t know…” The male blacksmith sibling stroked the feathers behind his neck. “I think that what we have is kind of expensive and… Uh… Unique. No offense Godwin, but I gotta look for our business and this gun is nice, but it is mass produced. Not like an Astrani relic out of an untamed ruin.”

The first thing that dawned on Gilda was the silence. Not total silence, as the noises of the market still came from the street. The deafening silence came from the griffons around them because of the glare Groffi directed at her brother.

“Grotti…” She used that unique tone from mothers when they were not angry. Yet.

“Don’t start it, Groffi!” The male promptly defended himself, but she simply stared harder, and he winced. “No! Just no!”

“How can you say that!?” She opened her forelegs and raised her voice in abject shock at his posture. “We’re like family, almost!”

“No, we’re not. Godwin is a customer.” Her brother returned to his resolute posture, frowned, and groused at her. Like a battle of wills, he was quickly losing under her glare.

Godwin was going to say something, but one of the Gunner guys, the dark tan one, interrupted him speaking with a paw on his shoulder and a hushed tone. “Never interrupt an enemy when they are making a mistake… Or a vendor when they are about to give you a discount!”

Gilda simply sat and watched the situation develop around her. Any interference might break the magic.

“We were all fucking together last night!” Groffi insisted, glaring at her brother.

“That is not… I mean… It’s…” Grotti stumbled on the words and blushed.

“You were staring at Gilda’s ass the whole time!”

“I was not! I was! Fine! Fine! I’ll get the stupid armor!” Her brother screeched before he stormed into their home.

Groffi smiled warmly at Godwin with her large gray eyes. A dozen seconds of raging complaining passed. Angry thrashing, and noises of throwing things around came from inside the house. Finally, the brother pushed outside a griffon mannequin hidden under a coarse cotton cloth.

“You better be ready to cough up some good money for this, though! Because this thing is definitely not your entry-level adventurer gear!”

“There is no such thing as entry level gear, Grotti! For Mother’s sake!” His sister interrupted him. “Godwin is going to be your liege, birdbrain!”

“Can I just borrow it, or something?” Godwin rolled his eyes. He gave Gilda the impression he just wanted to be done with the mess more than buying the thing. “I’ll pay when I actually have the money.”

His posture changed as soon as Grotti pulled the cloth from the mannequin. It was an ordinary mannequin made of wood chips and an aggregating glue, shaped to resemble the basic body shape of a male griffon. It was even complete with a pair of open wings and details like eyes and a fierce expression. Nothing unexpected, but it held a full set of armor.

A clear steel cuirass, decorated with fancy, twirly lines over a tunic of clear and shiny ringmail. Bracelets with gauntlets, made with fine metal scales, fitting perfectly over the fingers. It had a curious, bladed, whip-like weapon on the tail, also made with thin scales and ending on a thin, sharp blade. A stylish helmet, imitating the feathers on a griffon, blown back during flight. Extending wingblades, made so the momentum would spin the free parts with the right movement. It looked rather flimsy and light, with the clearest shine to the metal, which meant…

“Some spelunker guy gave it to us to pay for repairs on his gear. He took it from a ruin but didn’t have the money to repair it and lost interest. Remaking it was a personal project of ours and it was sheer luck we had access to proper pieces of Astrani steel that fit. Working with it was a pain!” Grotti explained as he kept dusting the thing with the tuft at the tip of his black tail.

“So, it’s gonna be a five thousand Eagles.” Groffi walked next to it, smiling at Godwin and almost killing her brother.

“What the? No!” Grotti squawked, taken aback as though her words had physically hurt him. “That is far less than we would charge for a normal, complete set of armor!”

“Yes, but Godwin is special.” Groffi turned around and glared at him.

“He can pay the full price of seventy-five grand if he’s so special!” The male barked back at her.

Godwin tried saying something, but the female sibling talked over him with angry gestures. “He doesn’t have the money right now!”

The sum made Gilda’s head spin. She could pay the entire trip from Wayfarer’s Rest to Griffindell with how much that thing cost. Grotti yelling at his sister, growling, and flaring his wings drew Gilda’s attention again. “He can buy the armor once he has the money, and after he actually becomes the Lord of the Black Gate!”

Gilda’s first impulse was to just say she would pay for it and pile it on her growing debt to Lady Gwendolen. The whole thing was such a formality by now, even if seventy-five thousand was ridiculous. It was Lady Gwendolen who said that wealth is meant to serve a need. Although, ultimately, Godwin might not want someone making such expenses in his name. Thus, she kept her beak shut. If Godwin asked it of her, she’d get it for him.

Godwin never asked, though. He waved his paws and made the twins stop arguing. “I’m very thankful. But I am not prepared to make this sort of, uh… Investment.”

“See?” Grotti glared at his sister. “The tom is reasonable!”

Groffi sat and flared her wings, pouting like a slighted cub. “What if he dies in the fight because he didn’t have a good, well-fitted armor?”

Gilda raised an eyebrow at that comment, and Godwin just frowned. “I’ll do my best not to die, Miss Groffi. I’ll also take on Miss Gilda’s advice and grab something from our loot.”

Groffi gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Then, at least let us work on it. Bring it here and we’ll make sure they’re usable and refitted for you. And we’ll pay the difference on the gun.”

“Sounds fair!” Godwin said with a smile.

Next to the female blacksmith sibling, Grunhilda glared at him like she was his angry mother. “You should have told them you wanted the armor; you dummy!”

There were many ways they could have solved the issue of the price. But if that was Godwin’s decision, then that was Godwin’s decision. With the drama resolved, and a quick talk with Lady Geena sorted the plan of the loot too. Turned out it was all secured at the keep’s barracks, under Gevorg’s care.

Unfortunately, none of the suits of armor they found would fit Godwin, and the guard’s blacksmith didn’t think possible to adapt one in practical time. Unlike the piece the twins had, those were heavier and that made fitting harder.

Godwin’s beak held a giant smile, and his eyes glowed, though. They found a nifty arming sword with a guard styled as a screaming griffon with the sword coming out of its beak. The shield was plywood, reinforced with Astrani steel, the same as Grunhilda’s. Perfectly preserved, painted with sky-blue and a white mountain instead of the griffon’s visage protruding from it.

The sword reminded Gilda of all the rumors about Lord Gilad. That the Lion could cast magic with his words. The shield probably belonged to some soldier, thousands of years ago, that died protecting the mines from the Windigos, certainly. Could it be that the sword belonged to some important griffon, though? One related to Lord Gilad? A griffon that could, much like the Emperor in the past and the Lion in the present, use magic with their words? Either way, the important thing was that Godwin was happy. That was what mattered to Gilda.

Gevorg complained that his main weapon should be something like a lance or a pike, or any polearm. Or even a mace or hammer. An ax perhaps. But that would probably be fine, since Godwin had a nice gun. And those weren’t any run-off-the-mill sword and shield either. Maybe Gilda knew nothing of it, but she could see a badass griffon armed with sword and shield being just as effective as a polearm yielding soldier. Gilda just let Godwin deal with it and, while he listened to Gevorg, he had made up his mind.

With the day soon drawing to dusk, they returned to the blacksmith twins. It hurt Gilda a little that she couldn’t get him a good set of armor and that he was so happy with a sword and a shield. Truth be told, those were incredibly valued artifacts. They would serve him well, but she couldn’t help feeling for his humbleness and just how easily he dealt with what he had. Nevertheless, Grotti made sure the sword and shield were perfect for Godwin and paid him for the firearm.

Meanwhile, Groffi got Gilda to let her have a look at Mythical. Apparently, even legendary magical weapons made in present times needed maintenance. She would spend almost an hour fitting Mythical’s guard and pommel in their place, then re-wrapping the string around its handle.

Usually, Gilda would stay and watch the whole thing, but she decided letting Grunhilda learn from Groffi was a better idea. Her mind wandered to the roc and carried her feet in a bout of responsible guardianship. She had simply stashed it away in the Aviary and didn’t have a lot of time to be with it. Grunhilda would take care of Mythical while she was away.

The keep being such a landmark, Gilda found her way back to it and passed the gates in no time. With the Aviary in sight, something immediately seemed wrong. The young roc was making a racket inside and it didn’t sound like the happy chirping and excited cawing from when he first arrived. The guards had left their post and the side door was open. Gilda’s calm, smile and easygoing gait turned to a grimace and a gallop.

Coming in from the side entrance, she found wooden tubs filled with snow and fresh meat cuts. The roc screeched and wings flapped in the main room beyond. A pair of scared griffons hid behind the corner, and someone screamed on the other side. Gilda pounced ahead with a flap of her wings and skidded on the straw-covered floor.

The two guards stood before her Beastmaster’s father while he held down a thrashing griffon. Red stained his dark blue pelt and the straw on the floor. The pair of armed griffons held their spears and shields between them and the roc. It towered over them, even as they stood on their hindlegs. Flapping his wings and scratching the floor with tentative lunges. Both guards kept yelling at it to stop but had no effect.

The gray huntress reclined on the hay, a couple of wingspans from the commotion, holding her bloody shoulder. “This is not working! Stop yelling at him! You’re just making him more anxious!”

Gilda flared her wings and shouted at them to stop, but it availed to nothing. The roc’s beak struck the shield like a boulder. He pierced through the plywood, sending the splintered shield one way and the griffon to the other as he tried to dodge and deflect. The other guard thrust his spear at the large bird’s neck, but the steel tip glanced away harmlessly. It failed to pierce the magical shielding of his shiny caramel feathers, and now the roc poised to kick at the downed guard.

Gilda jumped in front of the roc, shoving the standing guard aside and wings flaring before the roc could attack again. “Cut it out!”

The roc infant jumped back and screeched. In the following split-second, Gilda remembered she didn’t have her sword and that thing probably could tear her apart. But he seemed to recognize her. From lunging and screeching, he flapped his wings with distressful caws, stomping his feet on the floor.

“Chill, little guy! I get it! You’re angry!” She sat and put forward her paws. The roc lowered himself to the floor with a frustrated caw.

He let Gilda touch his face, and she did it slowly, but firmly. Much faster than before, she found her focus and her mind touched with the roc’s. Her presence drew away the bird’s impetus at defending himself, as there was no threat anymore. Gilda shushed him with soft chirps before she smiled and pulled away. “It’s gonna be okay. Nobody is gonna hurt you.”

When she finally turned to the others, Gilda found one of their helpers from the city, a deep blue, medium-sized griffon, clutching his forepaw. A gnarly gash ran the length of his leg from wrist to elbow. There was blood everywhere, but he was awake. Clearly in pain, despite his silent wince, but fortunately awake. The guard who the roc attacked laid on the straw, also holding his foreleg, but there was no external injury.

“Are you guys gonna be okay?” Gilda looked back at the roc. Ensuring he was still calm, and found him lying on the floor, but watching with jerky, shifting eyes.

Ignoring a bloody hole on her gray cloak, the beastmaster held the bloodied griffon. “He needs urgent help!”

Her father and her mate came rushing and made the roc tense his body and raise his plumage, but Gilda’s shushing made him accept their presence. He reacted with only a couple of anxious, fidgeting upstarts and a distressed chirp. The two dragged the two injured griffons away while Gilda waved the other guard away. She remained alone with the roc and the huntress.

“What happened, Glena?” She asked the gray griffoness. The infant roc remained on the floor, eyes shifting between the two like a cub whose parents discussed their misbehavior.

“I’m not sure.” The huntress shrugged. “He’s been nervous, but he seemed happy. I had my back to them, checking the meat shipment. To see if it was alright. Then I heard a scream and the roc screeching. When I turned around, he kicked that griffon on the floor. My Pa and mate saw nothing either. Then the two guards came in.”

Gilda winced. The roc gave a long, pleading chirp at her and Gilda shushed him again. She spoke as softly as her snappy voice would allow. “It’s okay, little dude. Just chill. Just let me see what happened. Alright?”

She approached him again, extending her hind leg. He pulled back his head with an inquisitive chirp and swung his head from side to side.

“Careful.” The huntress told Gilda from behind. “He looks scared.”

His beak hung slightly open, but he was still lying on the floor. Almost pulling his neck and drawing away from her touch, like he was a turtle. His eyes kept shifting around, and Gilda spoke as softly as she could again. “Come on, buddy. I thought we were over this.”

Gilda was not as confident as Lady Geena, but she was assertive and knew what she was doing. The little roc chirped and fidgeted with his bird-like jerky movements before Gilda finally touched the side of his head. Just behind his eye.

Anxiety and fear flooded her, but it worked. Like her body knew what it was doing better than she did herself. Whatever magic connected them provided the answers. Like watching events unfold from the other side of a foggy glass, she saw a griffon approach as though she was the young roc.

Fear prevailed. Anxiety. Much like the first time Gilda touched the creature’s mind, it was afraid of anyone that approached it. Even her. Even the huntress and her family. The indigo griffon was no exception and he approached too fast. In his attempt to help, he forgot the roc was a wild magical beast. He ignored a distressed warning chirp and failed to notice the puffed-up plumage. When he tried to pet the roc, he crossed a line, and the bird panicked. It was a horrible feeling that sent Gilda back to the alley in Griffonstone.

The roc kicked and threw the griffon in the air, and then kicked again, almost ripping off his hind leg. Finally, Gilda pulled her paw away slowly and let go a soft sigh. No reason to make the roc chick go through that again. The oversized bird chirped and bent his head curiously.

Gilda calmly caressed his bill’s culmen. “I guess it’s not your fault. You’re too young and you’ve been through a lot already, haven’t you?”

His sad chirp barely came out while he came short of deflating on the floor.

“We’ll work this out, alright?” She stroked his beak again, a bit more vigorously, reassuringly and smiling.

The bird hopped to his feet and sang a cheerful note. His flapping wings sent straw everywhere, and Gilda took a couple of steps back, smiling. Even as an infant, his shiny feathers in bronze, caramel, gold and white were a glorious display. Even more so with his excited dancing.

The huntress approached. “You’re supposed to discourage inappropriate behavior.”

“Yeah, I know. But he understands he did something wrong. He’s just too scared.”

“This doesn’t bode well.”

“Wasn’t there a northerner lord that had a pet roc?”

“Lord Giranor.” The huntress nodded. “His roc was called Slipstream.”

“That sounds like a good name for him.” The huntress simply nodded at Gilda’s words. “Talk to the injured griffons for me. See about compensation for his injuries. And yours.”

“The fact you were born in the south is the only reason I am not offended.” The large, gray griffoness huffed. Her voice came out sharp, but she said nothing further. She paused as both watched the oversized bird expressing his happiness by running around and flapping wings. “The dangers of the job are understood along with the rewards.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to aggravate your honor or something.” Thankfully, the griffoness chuckled along as Gilda rolled her eyes. They watched the roc scampering around its coop. “But give the injured griffons the opportunity to accept compensation.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hey! Can I help you feed him? I feel kinda bad I stashed him here and went to take care of other stuff. I could use some time to think, too.”

“Absolutely!” The large gray huntress smiled and started on her way to their meat storage, almost like a kitchen by the entrance. In her place, Gilda would want someone to have a looksee at her wound, but the Beastmaster didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, she disappeared into the other room.

Gilda distracted herself watching the roc pecking at the wooden floor and throwing straw around. An innocent child exploring his small world. A small chick that could kill adult griffons and Gilda didn’t even want to think of the damage he could do to the hippogriffs. But the situation allowed for few alternatives.

Her thoughtful stare at the bird turned into a concerned, aimless stare while he scratched at the floor and ran off after something. Soon enough, Beastmaster Glena returned, pulling a rope with her beak, dragging along a small wooden board. A wooden plate held a red, juicy pile of meat along with a pair of iron tongs. Tools probably used by blacksmiths rather than cooks, the pincers would keep a safe distance between Gilda’s fingers and the roc’s beak.

The smell of blood kicked Gilda’s head harder than a double cup of coffee and the roc immediately dashed next to them. He hopped and flapped his wings with excited screeches like an excited pet.

Gilda couldn’t help but laugh. “He sure likes this stuff!”

“My Pa and Gorath went to the market to get some beef for him, but the vendor offered them fresh game meat. It’s probably better for him, anyway. He’s certainly feeling stronger after a couple of good meals.” She offered Gilda one of the elongated tools. “Enough to defend himself, for sure.”

The tan griffoness opened a wide smile, holding the tool and grabbing a piece of meat. Not letting go of the meat while he pecked and pulled at it. Eventually, the meat slipped from the pincers under his assault. He shook his head and chirped victoriously after swallowing his prize. It had probably gone cold, but the bird didn’t seem to mind. He immediately attacked another bite that the huntress offered.

“Do you figure Slipstream is a good name?” Gilda asked, as she grabbed another piece of meat. The roc still pulled and jerked at the piece of meat Glena offered. With admirable determination and focus, threatening to drag the beastmaster along the floor.

“It sure beats Rocky!” Glena squawked while the bird almost lifted her out of the floor before she let go of the meat for him. “Although I am sure Slipstream was a formel.”

Gilda blinked at the word but refrained from asking about its meaning. She decided to learn something new and pretended she already knew it meant ‘female’. Finally, the bird ripped the juicy red meat from the teeth-like pincers. They’d have to clear the even bloodier straw, but all three were having fun.

She chuckled and fed Slipstream another piece. “You hear that? You’re Slipstream now!”

It was impossible to know if he understood or even heard her while the meat seemed to be his priority. But that mattered little. Her happy thoughts couldn’t drown the images of hippogriffs in the places of those griffons. Of bloody gashes and lost limbs because of a scared animal. She could just take the hippogriffs, let them be and not care about any griffon getting in her case about it. But she wasn’t afraid of regular griffons. And once again, she concluded she had no choice after getting herself involved. Because the idea of abandoning those hippogriffs hurt almost as much as being abandoned by the Harpy.

“Can you do me a favor?” She asked Glena, relinquishing the last piece of meat to the newly named roc.

“Don’t worry.” Glena said as she laid her tongs on the bloody, empty platter. “I’ll ask Lady Gia to look at my shoulder.”

“That is not it.” Slipstream kept jerking his head. Looking at the plate and at the tongs Gilda held. “Educate the hippogriffs about feeding and caring for the roc. And uh… Be patient. They’re not happy and I'd rather not have too many issues.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am… I understand the situation. When you return from the raid with the others, everything will be fine.”