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…

Next Chapter: Eternal Recurrence Estimated time remaining: 28 Hours, 27 Minutes