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.

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