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?

Next Chapter: Birds of Prey Estimated time remaining: 28 Hours, 53 Minutes