The morning slipped past them in a rush about as fast as they flew south-ish in a V formation with the carts in the back and the two male guards bringing up the rear while the others took turns in the positions.

Funny that nobody had ever taught Gilda that, but it seemed natural. She remembered something from flight school about vortices and something, but it came naturally. Most griffons travelled by train or airship. It was only in the inhospitable regions they caravanned like that.

Anyways, instinct was cool. Almost like remembering past lives.

“Alright, listen up, griffons!” Mister Gillian flew overhead. “We’re stopping for a brief lunch!”

He pointed at a grassy clearing hugged by a curving lazy stream in the middle of a not-that- dense coniferous forest.

They had flown quite a bit to the south and the whole area changed within hours, but that was rather common since most weather was magical anyways. The whole area looked a lot more colorful, with lush green trees verdant grass and the small stream, despite the ground still being black under all that. It was a sizeable forest they had been flying over and that clearing made her think that they always used that spot.

The air was much drier and warmer than it was in the immediate area to the border and there was more than enough space for everyone and the carts. Once in the ground, Gilda stretched her wings up with a loud groan and arched her back. Then she cracked her neck but looking to the side she caught Grunhilda stealing a glance at her with an adorable blush and then adjusting her bow across her back when she noticed Gilda looking at her.

Gilda let a mischievous smile show and started on her way to her friend when Mister Gillian hopped on top of one of the carts as his employees unhitched themselves and he cleared his throat before speaking. “Great job, everyone! We made excellent time on this first leg. We’ll have a quick lunch and then we’ll fly until nighttime, and we’ll stop at the mesa.”

Everyone listened to him but didn’t answer as they were all busy making themselves comfortable on the soft grass. Gilda didn’t know what ‘the mesa’ was but she was busy. She went to Grunhilda and smiled. But the smile she gave was a spicy one that made the other griffoness blush some more. She even sat on her haunches as she expected Gilda to inspect her or something. She was nervous, didn’t know for sure how to react and Gilda thought it was just adorable.

“You did great.” Gilda told her, still with the mischievous smile, pulling the bow and the quiver from Grunhilda’s shoulder and laying them in the grass next to them. “How do you feel? You’re not used to long and straining flights, are you?”

“Hum... Thank you, Miss Gilda. I think I’m fine… I’m not tired at all.” Grunhilda kept seated, but she fidgeted with her paws. “Do… Do you need me to do anything?”

Talk about being nervous. Gilda just let herself chortle playfully at that. Maybe she was plain evil, but she decided on torturing her friend some more.

“Nah… Just relax. Here, let me see…” She shuffled to Grunhilda’s side and put her talons on her shoulders, massaging them. It wasn’t really something she knew how to do, but it was probably hard to mess up, especially thinking back to what Grunhilda had done to her, all the way back in the airship. And she was doing it right anyways, because Grunhilda let out a small squeak and her wings flared like she had just used that lightning magic on her.

It drew the other’s attention, but they didn’t bother with more than a glance.

Flight muscles were in the chest, but because of the posture griffons held while flying their shoulder and back muscles usually became sore too. And that was a good thing for courting griffons to remember. The chest muscles usually became uncomfortable after some rest, especially after such long flights. And if their boss was smart, he’d have everyone in the air again before that, but that was just a passing thought in Gilda’s head.

She just couldn’t contain her giddy grin at Grunhilda’s leonine tail quivering and at the low mewling she made as her talons scratched their way down Grunhilda’s back. Then she pressed muscles against bone and the tense fibers practically melted under her touch as Grunhilda let her wings sag a little.

Then Gia walked past her, coming from the parked carts, followed by Geary. “You know your thrall is the one supposed to do that, don’t you?”

It was at that moment that Gilda noticed something about Gia. Yes, there was the fact that she was bitter about what had happened, but also that she was quite naïve. Not very savvy in certain ‘things’ about relationships. Not that Gilda was particularly knowledgeable, or anything, but she knew that just because there was some sort of hierarchy, it didn’t mean that she had to be overbearing or that she couldn’t derive a lot of delight from servicing her friend. Especially with the way Grunhilda reacted.

So, she just smiled at Gia, and she was going to say just that, but that lime colored griffon girl from before brought a bag to them.

“Here you go!” She giggled all happy and produced something wrapped in paper from the bag she carried. Opening it, Gilda found a prench bread and roasted beef sandwich. “Your lunch!”

It didn’t seem like much, especially since it was cold when Gilda grabbed hers, but it smelled like a banquet after all that exercise! Grunhilda didn’t even think. She just teared into it with a happy hum. Following in her example, Gilda noted happily that the thing had pickles and their salty juices went well with the one from the thin slices of cold rare meat. But she managed to keep from humming despite how delicious it was.

Meanwhile the other guards joined in with a few curt nods of acknowledgement as they began unwrapping their food. It was like the small group of guards and there was another group with the caravan workers, and a third with the passengers. But Gia and Geary approached Gilda and so did the damn pony.

Fantastic…

“Do you mind talking while you eat, Lady Gilda?” He bit an apple he produced from his saddlebags and munched at it. But instead of responding, Gilda made the most unfriendly frown she managed and teared into her sandwich again in a way that should have provided the answer in its entirety.

Surprisingly, it was one of the guards, the griffoness that looked like a sibling to another, that spoke to the pony. “You’re the odd one out here, pony. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

The pony stopped mid-bite, raising his eyes to look at the griffon lady and she drew Gilda’s attention too. It was a young and fit griffon lady in her mid-twenties wearing a tight-fitting leather armor reinforced with chainmail. Gilda had to admit it looked badass. She had a longsword on her back and a small crossbow on her side with a quiver full of bolts on the other. Her armor even protected her forelimbs, leaving only her rosy paws exposed.

Her head was very light shade of pink with bright pink eyes and highlights in her feathers and her body was pink too.

The griffon that kept next to her was clearly her brother, probably a bit younger, and where she was pink, he was red against his white head, and his body was wine-colored under his armor.

They ate their sandwiches and drank something from canteens, waiting for the pony to speak. Which he did right away.

“Oh. That makes sense!” He grinned and put a hoof on his chest. “I’m Lost Temple.”

He stood to show the griffons his thigh with his cutie mark, which was certainly an important part of his identity for him to flash his ass at them. It contained a rolled parchment, crossed with a shovel. “I’m an archeologist and historian by destiny!”

Gilda should’ve been annoyed at the pony and his pony-ness, but instead the only thing in her head was the reaction from The Harpy.

Yummy… Long time since I have eaten pony rumsteck.

Gilda near choked with the food in her throat, but fortunately the others didn’t seem to notice, and the pony was speaking again. “I graduated at History in Canterlot University, but then I re-enrolled and then graduated at Archeology too! I felt my talents told me that I was supposed to understand the whole.”

Gilda supposed that was what happened when one had a destiny…

“Although, you would be hard pressed to find archeologists that aren’t interested in history anyways. My family was quite rich, and my parents put up with me for a long time because of my dreams. They allowed me to study and not have to worry about money until I was ready.” He concluded.

“So…” He dug at the ground with a leg for a second. “I’ve been working for Canterlot University exploring ruins and teaching griffon history.”

Gia squinted at him. “Is this serious? There are ponies somewhere teaching griffon history to other ponies?”

“Well, yes.” He blinked. “Respectfully, of course. Why, all our material comes from griffons yourselves.”

Gia grumbled something with the sourest expression in existence and it amused Gilda to no end. She was probably upset about griffons not being taught ‘the right stuff’. It bothered Gilda too, but that was not the time to worry about that. It would come once The Lion was their king. She had wonder, though… She knew Princess Celestia was chill with him becoming their king, but if Lady Gwendolen was to be queen… Some facts about the past would surface and Gilda couldn’t imagine Celestia liking that.

She supposed she would see what would happen.

“Well, that was the reason the university sent me here.” The pony went on and grinned with a lot of pride. “You see, it is quite not well disclosed, but we always knew that the northerner griffons kept the southern land safe from monstrous incursions out of the Frozen North. It’s just information that isn’t all that interesting to ponies.”

“But it interested you?” The pink griffon lady asked curiously. “Because you are a historian?”

“Yes!” The pony pipped. “The northerner griffons jumped to the forefront of history when Lord Gilad Ironfeathers slayed the dracolich in Greenleaf.”

Gilda had no idea what he was talking about and that was probably a bad thing. Not because she didn’t know, but because it wasn’t widely known. In fact, she didn’t even know what was a dracolich. She had read something about that, but she was too busy baking scones at the time.

“Holy potatoes!” The wine-colored griffon cried with huge saucer eyes. “That was for real?!”

“Yes!” The pony grinned and his ears perked up. But then he grimaced. “I mean, I think so… I wasn’t there. Many just don’t believe… The only ones that saw were the citizens of Greenleaf, which is a large rural town, but it is also not densely populated. The Lion’s soldiers were there, but they went back north. And also, the GSA soldiers that were deployed there, but they keep shut about that. And when the Mane Six arrived with the Elements of Harmony and the Royal Guard, it was all over. Only the remains of the dracolich were there.”

“Sounds like bullshit.” The male griffon of the siblings complained while his sister just ate and paid attention.

“It’s not.” One of the other two male guards finally spoke. “I was there.”

“We both were.” The other guy with him added. “We were both with the GSA. 11^th Infantry Division from Fort General Gusto near Girdershade. We went there with the new recruits from fort King Grover, Griffonstone.”

They looked like the typical Griffonstone griffons to Gilda. No armor, just muskets on their backs, a pistol for each and also a halberd for each. They looked like soldiers, yes. Mostly fit and muscular under their brown travelling capes and each carried a backpack beneath it. Both middle-aged, just different shades of tan and white. They looked like they belonged in a line formation of nondescript griffons, but one was a slightly darker shade of tan than the other and he also had honey eyes instead of brown.

“Damn…” Wine-colored guy gasped. “I assumed it was bullshit that the northerners spread to make their dude seem awesome, or something.”

“Wow…” He concluded, finally. “What the heck even is a dracolich?! I mean… I know what a dragon is. And I know what a lich is…”

Gilda’s stare betrayed little faith in him and Grunhilda, right next to her preferred to keep her beak shut. Soon enough Mister Gillian called to them. “Alright! Time to move if we want to reach the camping spot before Princess Luna decides it’s night!”

Fortunately, Gilda had finished her sandwich when the same lime griffon from before brought them a bag with a big smile. “We don’t want to leave our trash behind, right?!”

“Yeah… Right.” She dropped the paper in the bag with a smile.

“Geez. Who cares?” The male with his sister complained but dropped the trash in the bag anyways.

“We educated griffons call it being civilized, you big dummy.” His sister chastised him in a playful tone and also threw in the paper packaging of her sandwich, as also did the others.

Less than a minute after they were in the sky again, flying westward, following the river beneath, soon leaving the forest behind. There was a road too, beaten dirt, it seemed, but it was too sinuous, and Gilda couldn’t imagine an easier target for a group of griffon brigands, swooping down from the sky than a group of non-flying travelers burdened with a heavy load.

Actually…

“Hey… Why is there a road down there?” Gilda raised her head and looked to the right, towards the rest of the caravan and the guards.

One of the griffons pulling a flying cart, a young, but strong-looking gray guy replied. “Because it is in the royal charter. Canterlot obligates the Chancellor’s office to ensure the holds build efficient roads connecting the officially recognized cities.”

“Sometimes…” Mister Gillian said from the lead. “You have to transport something too heavy. Rather than hiring a small army of griffons to fly it, it’s best to grab a few oxen and pull it through the roads and hire some griffons to help guard it.”

“Ah… Cool!” She nodded, satisfied with his explanation. “And what sort of things could that be?”

“Well, when things go south, we’re supposed to transport large amounts of stuff to neighboring cities. The Royal House will offer all sorts of benefits for merchants willing to assist cities in emergencies and the those come down all the way from the Chancellor’s Office to the holds, municipalities, and individual merchants. Everybody benefits a little from helping and most of all, the citizens of the cities that need help.”

“I thought you northerner griffons didn’t like the ponies.” Lost Temple propped himself on the side of his cart and let his forelimbs hang. That dude was too chill for someone flying that high and that had no wings.

“No northerner griffons in this company, Master Temple.” Gillian explained and Gilda just listened. “They usually remain north of the border, precisely because of that reason. They don’t want to mingle with the ponies and the pony lovers.”

“Unless Lady Gilda here is, and I didn’t notice.” He shrugged. “With the stuff that she can do.”

“I’m not. I was born in Griffonstone, but I suppose that it is kind of a pointless detail by now.” Gilda cried from her place in the formation.

“Your thrall looks northerner!” The male griffon that had a sister cried from the other side. What’s up with that?”

“Ask her if you want to know!” Gilda shouted back. “I’m not her mom.”

“Huh?!” Grunhilda startled, pulling up her head while she simultaneously carried her bow, one of the iron arrows and the book in her paws, all while she flew.

“You’re supposed to help us watch for bandits!” Gilda yelled and pointed at her for emphasis. “Put that book down and pay attention!”

“Hum…” Grunhilda turned her eye and hesitated. “My northerner senses allow me to see everything while still reading the book…”

“I’m gonna scratch your northerner ass if you don’t put that down and pay attention to your job!” Gilda yelled back at her with her raspy voice which very effectively communicated in how much trouble Grunhilda would be if she didn’t comply.

So, she did comply.

Grunhilda immediately stashed the book in her backpack and pretended nothing had happened. After that, Gia, sitting in her cart next to Geary and closing her own book gave Gilda a oh-so-sarcastic stare with her feathers fluttering in the wind. “You were saying something about her not being your daughter…?”

“Shut up…” Gilda blushed and looked away.

“So, uh…” Lost Temple raised a leg. “I would like to make it known that the slave thing is rather awkward, considering that is a violation of creature’s rights… I’m just saying.”

“Well, if you’re going to learn about us…” Gia turned to him, talking over the wind. “You ought to know that thralls are not slaves per se.”

“I’m slightly more confused than I was a moment ago.” The pony blinked at her. Gilda had to admit he was rather charming for a pony. And she would never admit it to Gia, but she wanted to know too. Mercifully, Grunhilda seemed to be taking her job seriously after that scolding and wouldn’t see Gilda paying attention.

Why that even worried her eluded Gilda.

Regardless, Gia did explain. “Thralls aren’t property. They are indentured servants. While the difference isn’t exactly apparent, it is there in our culture. We have laws that protect them from abusive masters and a griffon cannot be owned. Only other creatures can be enslaved.”

Then she turned to Geary and smiled at him, her finger tenderly caressing his jaw. “Thralls are very personal assistants and most of the time the master and their thrall will share some connection.”

“That sounds like friendship with extra steps.” The lime griffon girl frowned from her cart. “Or boyfriend with extra steps. You northerners are so edgy!”

Gilda had to agree. And Gia just rolled her eyes. The one that spoke was one of the ex-GSA dudes. “With all due respect, ma’ams. And Master professor. But we should be paying attention to the clouds and the ground below, not distracting ourselves with petty talk.”

He was right and everyone knew it. So, everyone just shut up and the guards kept their eyes open. The time passed and not much happened other than a distant traveler that saluted them or some isolated house that appeared in the sea of grass and black earth which returned to the yellowish green shades.

Not a lot of snow, but a few rapid streams and more frequent rocky outcroppings. Patches of trees and the clouds became sparser. Nothing happened until Gilda saw a pair of griffons on top of a cloud. They wore gray capes, but it was the wrong shade, and she could be proud of her eyes because she picked them off from pretty far away, off to their left.

That looked like an ambush if she ever saw one. It could also be spotters for bandits planning an ambush further ahead since they were so few. She frowned and she was sure they saw her staring at them but made no effort to hide.

The female mercenary approached her and certainly saw them too. “Spotters.”

Gilda just hummed and growled. “I don’t like this.”

“They won’t bother us. They’ll wait for something more vulnerable and with more valuable stuff, such as some rich idiot traveling with too much money and too little protection.” She kept staring by Gilda’s side as they flew.

“That’s not it.” She looked at the other griffon. “I don’t like that these jerks get away with this. The hold’s administration ought to keep the airways and roads safe.”

“Sure.” The other agreed with her. “But I don’t suppose that was much of a priority for the ex-mayor in Thunderpeak or his Lord Protector you make a barbecue out of. Things will take some time to settle again. We shouldn’t even be traveling, to be fair.”

That better change with The Lion. Gilda was led to believe that he was an honorable and dependable dude.

There is a reason I have chosen him, Child.

Yes. There was that too.

I can ensure you that Gilad will not allow the leniency that permits them a presence. We do not suffer the criminal.

Gilda let a small cruel smile in her beak. She couldn’t wait to see certain griffons paying for what they owe her.

Time will come. A little patience is a small price to pay for your revenge. In the meantime, you have much to do and to learn.

That was true. She took one last glance at the griffons somewhat hidden in the cloud, but then returned her gaze to the other side, looking for something that might be a threat. True, she wasn’t knowledgeable in that, but she should understand if something means trouble.

But nothing further happened. She even spared a few glances at Grunhilda, dutifully maintaining her position in the formation and watching the area while holding her bow and one of the iron arrows.

It would probably be a good idea to get her some actual bow training before they went north. Not only would she like that, but it would make her more capable of defending herself. Not to mention that her mother meant to teach her how to fight using that thing. It seemed right.

Decided. Maybe in Wayfarer’s Rest they would find something among the griffons that gather there. There must be caravans leaving frequently and they would attract griffons with such knowledge. Some coins ought to convince them. If anything, griffons were convenient because they could always be bought with some of those.

The day passed calmly with nothing more happening than the boring straight line flying, but Gilda supposed that she should be thankful that nothing happened, and she was surprised when, again, Mister Gillian flew overhead and called everyone, a bit sooner than she expected.

“Alright that’s enough for today! Our haulers need to rest, and our guards need to relax before the night shift! We’re camping there!” He pointed to a mesa. The black dirt and yellow-green grass ground rose softly until a smooth stony plateau made of white rock jutted above.

Cool place. Looks like the sort of spot that would have a name, but she just kept flying with the others as they descended to their new camping place, and they landed on top of the wide mesa. A white dusty cloud rose with the griffons landing in group, but not enough to be a bother.

Grunhilda stood next to Gilda and returned her arrow to the quiver. “Is it okay if I read now, Miss Gilda?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” She waved a paw at her. “Just don’t wander off.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda acknowledged and just laid in the ground, pulling the book out and laying it open in between her forelegs. Gilda sat next to her while the others stretched and relaxed some of the load of their weapons and adjusted their armors.

She was even a little conscious of herself because all she really wore were the tiara, the bracelets and carried Mythical on her back.

She sat next to Grunhilda and…

The last time she hadn’t thought much of it, but the others gravitated towards her again and Mister Gillian’s employees started a fire nearby while others made a barrier with the carts so that the wind wouldn’t bother them too much. Awesome stuff that Gilda wouldn’t have thought of by herself.

Before long they got the fire going and the group had huddled together by the fire. Caravaneers laughed at a story one of them had told. Something about the tuft on someone’s tail catching fire and the subsequent mess that came from that while they camped in that place some years ago. She didn’t pay attention to the story, but it was nice being in the middle of well-disposed griffons for a change.

One of the caravanners shot and killed a deer at the base of the mesa and most of the meat was put away to be preserved, but enough for everyone was put on the fire and they talked around it just as the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon showed up with its silvery glow.

It provided more than enough light in the cloudless and starry sky that the fire was almost unneeded for light. But Grunhilda seemed happy it was there because she used it to read, having laid on her back, holding the book above her face.

“Say, you guys said you saw when The Lion killed the dracolich in Greenleaf?” One of the cart tuggers, yellow, with a brown beanie, asked while the one next to him poked at the meat above the fire.

“Yes.” One of the ex-militaries said. “We were there.”

“So…” The mercenary guy next to his sister started with a frown. “A dracolich is some sort of undead dragon?”

“It is a dragon that has turned into a lich…” Gia sighed, laid next to Geary and to Gilda. “Dragons that become particularly old and powerful may seek to become a dracolich and the easiest way to do that is giving their soul to the Windigos.”

“That sounds dumb.” Gilda grumbled.

“They come to a point where they understand that they may not be able to acquire more richness, power, influence. They do that to overcome that limit.” Gia explained with a few paw gestures.

“Yeah…” Gilda rolled her eyes. “Dumb. It’s not their power. They just became servants of the Windigos.”

“Well, it’s not really ‘giving’ their souls. It’s some weird magic thing that they do. The process changes magic in a way that allows them to ‘cheat’. But, uh… It messes up their souls and they basically become servants to the Windigos and their souls are bound to an artifact they hide somewhere.” Gia grimaced. “And I can guarantee the Windigos aren’t very nice! But I guess dragons think that is not a big deal.”

“That sounds about right. Although I didn’t know that one could contact the Windigos. But then again, dragons aren’t very forthcoming with their knowledge.” The pony, Lost Temple blinked curiously. “Do you northerners know anything about that?”

“Well, we are not very forthcoming with our knowledge either.” Gia gave him a condescending smile so bad Gilda thought he would get angry.

But instead, the pony just went ‘hmmm’ with a hoof on his chin. “Princess Celestia certainly knows many things she’s not forthcoming with. I don’t think it’s bad… It’s just… I came here to understand the northerner griffons. Maybe help others understand you. I’m fascinated by your reclusive culture and your chosen king, but many are afraid of you.”

Maybe they should be, but Gilda wasn’t going to say it.

“Eh…” The mercenary griffon groaned. “All I really know of the Lion is that the dude’s convinced a lot of griffons that he’s got a serious case of blueblood and that he can cast magic with his voice. Or something.”

Grunhilda flipped a page of her book, while Gilda wouldn’t disbelieve after what she’s been through. Even if she never witnessed it, Ghadah had memories of the emperor using that magic like that, although she also knew it was The Harpy’s magic he channeled. It was the same magic Loremasters used, and that she had used, but it manifested in different ways.

Probably simply because The Harpy said so. She liked her Loremasters being all sneaky and bossy while her Swordmaidens were supposed to be alluring and attractive (when they weren’t cutting you into pieces). It seemed that a lot of what the northerners did and was simply because ‘she said so’.

But she had decided she’d be quiet. The one that probably knew the most about that also chose to remain quiet and the others made silence as though no one had the courage to communicate they believed it or not. And in the meantime, the griffons passed around cuts of roasted meat inside some bread and with a minty sauce.

“My dad owns the farm the where the GSA set up the defenses to fight the thing.” The lightly shaded of the ex-militaries spoke, finally. “Damn thing was bigger than the barn.”

“Wait… Did you guys fight the dracolich?” Gilda stopped eating.

“No. We set up defenses.” The griffon explained. “Then the northerners showed up. Our strategy in the GSA is holding the line until the ponies show up with the Elements of Harmony. The monster didn’t wait though. It also didn’t go alone. It had a small army of spirit things… The northerners said they were frostmanes.”

“If the northerners hadn’t arrived, we would’ve been dead, and that thing would likely have destroyed the city and Harmony knows what else.” The other added with a shrug.

“They are some of the Windigos’ favorite toys. The frostmanes.” Gia explained suddenly and heads snapped to her. “Windigos hate the ponies. They hate griffons. They hate everything. And the frostmanes are the souls of ponies that refused to leave or couldn’t escape fast enough when the Windigos first manifested into the world.”

She sighed and made some gestures as she explained. “When a creature dies, their soul is supposed to go to a place called the Pool of Souls where they’re supposed to rest. To replenish vital energy, or something of the sort. But the Windigos messed up the magic that made up their souls and the part that made them go to the Pool, that allowed entrance, or whatever was destroyed. Then the Windigos did their evil thing and bam… Pony ghosts that steal the warmth from your blood and snatch griffon cubs from their mothers and trample them.”

“That sounds specific…” One of the females in the group of haulers cocked an eyebrow. A grayish griffoness of young age and an inquisitive expression.

“It’s a thing that ponies did before we civilized.” Gia explained. “It’s complicated stuff.”

When Gilda noticed after a few seconds of nobody saying anything, the pony was busy taking notes. The female in armor next to her brother urged the griffon to keep going. “So… You guys fought the frostmanes?”

“The northerners did. All we did there was try not to get in their way, no matter how the Public Relations Office tries to hash it.” He explained seriously. “They were unlike anything we had ever faced. They completely ignored our muskets and sabers. They would simply have gone through us if the northerners weren’t there.”

“Then… That thing came...” His companion spoke in turn. “It was… That thing was evil incarnate. I’m sure of it. It flew down from the clouds and it landed in the middle of the field. Its nostrils blew a ghostly white smoke and its eyes… They were a cold light. I never felt so cold in my life. It was the middle of summer too. It was just… Otherworldly.”

“Yeah…” The first spoke again, in a somber tone. “I had seen the Storm King when he showed up. I saw Lord Tirek. I saw the undead ponies that Nightmare Moon brought with her when she came to Griffonia. None of that even came close.”

“There…” He stopped talking and thought before he continued. “There was evil in the Storm King, but the creatures that fought for him where just that. Creatures. There was magic. But not like that undead dragon… It was different. There was a malevolence that didn’t just want to destroy. It wanted to corrupt and…”

“I don’t know how to explain.” He gave up with a frustrated gesture and pawed at the grass, looking away.

“What you felt was the Windigos’ corrupted magic in the dracolich.” Gia explained. “The only reason they exist is to corrupt and destroy. To usher the collapse of life and magic until life ends.”

Gilda frowned at that. Sounded like the Black Sun that the Empress had told Ghadah about. She was sure that the purpose of the Black Sun was to restart creation, or something of the sort. Did the Windigos exist because of it? Or even worse… Was their world on the brink of annihilation and nobody cared about that? Nobody knew about that. Except… Celestia and Aya Harpyia.

“But The Lion killed the dracolich, right?” The female mercenary insisted, interrupting Gilda’s thoughts.

“Yeah.” The ex-soldier confirmed. “He cried something and summoned a spear of lightning from the sky. Straight through its chest bone. They talked for a while, but at the time I didn’t speak High Griffonese and I can’t remember what they said. But thinking of that thing’s voice gives me a headache anyways. All I know is that eventually The Lion cracked its skull with his axe and his griffons finished mopping up the frostmanes.”

Lost Temple nodded. “Yes. That is the story that is told. The Lion is also told to have made a speech about why he wouldn’t take the money from Greenleaf’s mayor or speak to Chancellor Gail.”

“That was something alright.” The ex-soldier chuckled.

“He pretty much said he wouldn’t wallow in our mud and that the money was filthy. He wouldn’t tarnish Lord Griskjal and Lord Graham’s honor by taking it.” The other ex-soldier smirked. “That it was their duty from time immemorial to protect the northerner lands and that the memory of his ancestors was worth more money than the Chancellor could produce, even if ‘his southerner brothers’ had forgotten themselves’.”

“We decided to leave the GSA after that. But we decided to do mercenary work in the border until it came time. We can help The Lion… I mean… We were GSA. You know what I mean.”

“Most of Lord Gilad’s favoritism comes from that event.” Lost Temple added. “Griffons took his refusal to take the money as a sign that his dignity was above that of Chancellor Gail and that the northerners were right. That The Lion was honored and dignified, worthy of ruling Griffonia and that they would deserve a noble king once again if griffons managed to recognize his majesty and rallied under his banner.”

“Not to mention plain cool.” He grinned. “Like… Our princesses. That is exactly the feeling the griffons I spoke to gave me.”

“Do you agree with that?” The female mercenary asked him earnestly enough, as though she trusted his opinion.

And he took that trust seriously. He pondered before he answered, and Gilda appreciated that. “I believe that griffons will benefit from that. Yes… Princess Celestia seems to believe that Lord Gilad is fit to be a king and that griffons have the right to choose their leadership. Honestly, I think that the change in Griffonia’s government is a matter of time. Even without events such as the revolt in Thunderpeak. Chancellor Gail is being removed either way.”

Then the pony frowned and made a bit of an angry expression, rather than worry. “If I am completely honest, the fact that Chancellor Gail is so unpopular and unwilling to leave his position shows that he doesn’t have the best for your species in mind. And The Lion… Well… He sounds like the sort of king that griffons were proud of in the past. Like King Grover.”

What a brilliant deduction. Gilda wondered how many years’ worth of education the pony needed to reach that most exquisite conclusion. But she supposed that she shouldn’t be too judgmental of the pony. If he wasn’t there to track her or something, he was at least trying his best to help. He just didn’t know what she knew. But either way, Gilad was better than Gail, for sure.

And also, on Gilda’s side.

The conversation quieted down too. Everyone looked tired and it was obvious. Gilda wasn’t that tired, neither was Grunhilda, that giggled to herself, reading something in that book. The other guards, the mercenary siblings and the ex-military didn’t seem too tired either.

“So, what’s the story with you, Gilda?” The female sibling asked, more friendly than Gilda expected. Maybe she shouldn’t be so paranoid around everyone.

“It’s a mess…” She whined a little and rolled her eyes. “And you guys won’t believe it anyways.”

“I’m pretty sure I will after the things I’ve heard about you.” One of the griffons that pulled one of the carts said. A young ‘tom’ covered in light tan and white with a huge fanboy smile. “I was home, but I saw the lightning over the town hall. I heard the stories in the bar and some of ‘the guys’ were in the central square and saw everything. I don’t understand what the heck happened, but you made it rain lightning on the chancellor’s loyalists. That was crazy!”

“Yeah…” Gilda turned her eyes away. “Even I think that was crazy. I mean… I did somethings that were impressive, but uh… I’m new to this myself.”

“Wait. What?” The female of the sibling pair blinked at her with a confused frown. “That was true? I mean… You actually did that? Uh… Magic? Like they say that The Lion can do?”

“Well… Uh…” What the hell was she supposed to say? That she was the awesome, badass and incredible Gilda The Swordmaiden of the Shaddani, or whatever it was that Lady Gwendolen called her in the letter?

All she really had was a desire to survive that got her ass out of Griffonstone and into that crazy situation. She had no idea that The Harpy existed. That griffons could do magic. That stuff like Master Galahault’s smithing skills and plain magic like that existed. All she really did was try to survive.

Gifts and their fruits belong to those they are gifted to, My Child. All the skill and power in existence still requires a will. You own everything you have done.

Yet, along the way, she did her best. She proved that had good intentions when she tried to make it work in Griffonstone, but ‘they’ messed it up for her. The game was rigged from the start and there was no expectation that she would even survive.

She was flung into that whole conspiratory mess, and yet she did survive. She rebelled against ‘the system’ and managed to break free. She even defended herself against three thugs. It took a decision that she was not going to allow them to kill her. It was her decision.

She made a conscious decision of leaving Greta and Gary. He kind of pushed her out, but Greta would have stood up for Gilda. She decided not to expose her friend. Those thugs would have done horrible things to them just to get at her.

Then she decided she would free Grunhilda. And that proved to be her salvation plank later, didn’t that? She stole a glance at her friend, still on her back and squinting at some schematic in the book she still held above her face. Such horrible things they would have done to her had Gilda left her to her fate.

And then Grunhilda later saved her life. She really went beyond to save Gilda and Grunhilda liked her in a way that nobody had ever liked her before. Even when she was with Dashie… That pegasus didn’t love anything that wasn’t herself. At least as far as Gilda was concerned.

Heh… Loyalty.

Anyways, Gilda also didn’t hurt her nurse friends. Colleagues… Whatever they were. She really did her best not to bring to harm anyone that didn’t need to be harmed. She could have gotten Han killed for what he tried doing to her, but instead she spared his life, and he would be useful and might learn something out of the whole situation. She even helped the two hookers back in Griffonstone.

And in the end, The Harpy certainly did a lot for her. But she was helping Her too, wasn’t she? She sure was! She supposed it was kind of included in her job by then, and she even won her a town. Could they have done it without her? Gia used her to manipulate their supporters… It seemed that they wouldn’t have done what they did without her.

The griffoness still stared at her, as did the others, except for Grunhilda, entertained with her book. Then Gilda coughed a little. “So… This is weird. And I never did anything like this before… But… Uh… Have you ever heard of our Mother and Savior The Harpy?”

“Say what now?” The griffon lady perked her head up with the most confused frown Gilda had ever received in her life. Or stares… Because everyone around them did the same. Even Grunhilda stopped reading and stared at her with an upside-down frown.

The only one not frowning in helpless confusion was Gia that held her face in both paws and let out an anguished grunt. “For feathers, sake…”

Gilda preferred not to add anything and let Gia speak instead. “I had never imagined it, but I suppose that is a good reason we’re not supposed to mention the Harpy with outsiders.”

“Much less in the presence of grassbreaths… Much less a pokehead...” Gia added with additional irritation.

“I feel singled out!” Lost Temple scowled in that ‘I’m so offended right now’ way that ponies did.

“Whatever…” Gia groaned. “Guess I’m not that great a Loremaster either. And I don’t even do magic and shit…”

Ooooh… Someone was still jealous. But Gilda managed to hide her smirk.

“The Harpy is supposed to be an ancient being that created us griffons.” Gia shrugged. “There is no other way of saying this that doesn’t sound strange, so there… I said it.”

Ironically, the only one that didn’t seem completely befuddled by what she had said was the pony. Instead, of course, he was curious, with a hoof on his chin. “This is odd. I have heard of similar folklore involving Princess Celestia among the Yak and the Buffalos. But never among the griffons, much less of a similar griffon entity. Of course, Princess Celestia says that despite her old age, she had nothing to do with the creation of ponies, yaks or buffalos… Princess Luna will outright prosecute anyone that mentions something similar. Huh… How interesting!”

That was supposed to be a secret, but if Gia was going to say it, Gilda didn’t really feel the need to get herself involved.

“It’s a northerner thing.” Gia explained to the pony and the others. “Princess Celestia will tell this is nonsense and northerners will keep their myths to themselves and we don’t really care what the pony princess will say.”

“What exactly is it that you believe?” Lost Temple asked with a smile. “That this Harpy created griffons? Does she live somewhere?”

“No.” Gia smiled with a bit of cruelty. “I actually don’t believe any of that and I think that Lady Gwendolen made up the whole thing so that griffons will cater more easily to her mate and when he is made king, well, she will be queen.”

“Oh…” The pony’s gaze fell to his hooves. “What a shame. Do you just not believe the story, or are you convinced that Lady Gwendolen made it all up? Do you think that she has nefarious intentions?”

“Think about it. Isn’t it obvious she’s exploiting how discontent some griffons feel about the whole situation with the griffonian government?” Gia argued and Gilda wasn’t sure what she actually believed. It seemed obvious, the way she had previously acted that Gia believed that the Harpy had chosen her. Was that jealousy?

Curiously, no input from the voice in her head. It was almost suspicious. Maybe She wanted to see how Gilda would react?

Was it possible that she had even put Gia up to say those things to see how Gilda would react?

And Grunhilda just got bored with the conversation and turned back to her book. Maybe she had the right idea because Gia suddenly started looking and sounding like a whiny kid. Angry she didn’t have it her way.

“Lady Gwendolen preached to us, in The Harpy’s name, a lot of stuff. Made a lot of promises, and in the end, she decided that I couldn’t take a little of the money the Chancellor stole. It all had to go to her. I don’t know what pisses me off the most. That she wanted cutthroat, ruthless griffons that got stuff done only to pull the rug from under me, or that she took all of the Chancellor’s money for herself!”

“Whoa… Hold up…” The male of the two siblings gave a scowl of disbelief. “Are you seriously complaining that she didn’t let you steal that money?”

“No!” Gia cried. “I didn’t want all of it! Just a little…”

Unfortunately for her, none of the faces around the campfire showed the slightest hint of sympathy. Even Grunhilda stopped reading her book again and righted herself to glare at Gia.

“What?” The green, short beaked griffoness defended herself as though she had been slighted. “You guys are okay with Gail stealing, and with Lady Gwendolen stealing, but not me?!”

“That is not what I heard!” The young lime griffon girl whined. “I heard that Lady Gwendolen took the money to help in the fight against the GSA when they try to retake the city! And that you got caught red-pawed trying to take the money for yourself!”

“Honey, what do you think she’s going to do with that money?” Gia gave her a condescending stare like she was talking to a child. “Do you think that you will see the benefits of that money? It was gone… It belonged to Gail. And now it belongs to Lady Gwendolen.”

“That is not true.” Maybe Gilda should have kept her mouth shut. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought more attention to herself. Maybe she should have remembered that the pony, or the two siblings might have been looking for her.

But, at the same time, Gia really should grow up already! “Lord Gilad is going to use that money to fund the Sky Sentry. They’ll keep monsters away from the south and I also believe that once he is king, he is not going to allow bandits to steal from his subjects. By all rights, that money would be lost to Gail and Grosster. Now it will serve griffons again.”

“Really?” Gia rose a finger. “So, you really believe that The Lion is going to come in and solve all of the problems with Griffonia?”

“Well, no!” Gilda let her voice raise defensively. “But you just heard the story. I mean… Maybe? The dude literally killed an undead dragon and refused the Chancellor’s money!”

Then Gilda shook her head and reorganized her thoughts. “You know what? I think you’re just bitter you didn’t have it your way. And you know what else? That Lady Gwendolen outsmarted you. You thought you were winning, and you got served. Tough luck.”

“I know someone else who thinks she’s winning.” Gia retorted with a mocking grin.

Before Gilda could formulate a response Grunhilda put her paws to her beak. “Boooo!”

And then the others started laughing. Gilda couldn’t hold it either. It was the childish and lighthearted expression of what everyone there thought of Gia’s complaining put into the simplest and most decisive expression a griffon could come up with.

Gia reacted simply putting up an annoyed expression. “Ugh, what have I surrounded myself with? Come, Geary. I’m tired.”

But there was nowhere to go, so she just plopped down on a sleeping bag made of animal fur, turning her back to Gilda and the others while Geary laid down next to her in his own sleeping bag.

The laugher died down quickly and Mister Gillian talked to his workers. “Well, we better get to sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“You heard him, Grunhilda.” Gilda told her friend and she nodded, putting the book back into the safety of her backpack.

“Actually…” The female griffoness with the pink highlights spoke. “We’re on guard duty. How about two shifts of four hours?”

The two ex-soldiers agreed with silent nods and the darker one spoke. “Only one night out, I suppose. Two shifts of three.”

The others agreed and that sounded fair to Gilda. Well, Grunhilda just looked at her, but she would do whatever Gilda told her. The soldier boy offered first. “I’ll stay up the first shift with the two siblings. He’ll stay up with Gilda and her thrall.”

Nobody disagreed, so that sounded great to Gilda too. “Awesome. Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s catch some Z’s.”

Fortunately, Mister Gillian’s caravan offered everything they would need and both Gilda and Grunhilda had their own sleeping bags they retrieved from the carts. Those things smelled clean, made from rabbit skin, or something. They also seemed small though, and it wasn’t that cold, So Gilda dropped down on hers after laying Mythical right next to her. It was fluffy and warm.

Grunhilda laid her own sleeping bag/mattress next to Gilda’s and she turned to see the big girl pushing it to be against Gilda’s. Then she laid on it. That thing looked even smaller under her, but Grunhilda didn’t care. She just snuggled her back against Gilda and exhaled a relaxing sigh.

Gilda’s cheeks blushed and her eyes moved around for a second. Nobody paid them any attention. The two siblings and one of the soldier friends settled near the fire and the other guy laid down on his own sleeping bag. Except he actually fit inside it.

“Good night, Miss Gilda.” Her friend yawned at her.

“Good night, Grunhilda…” She whispered back, putting her foreleg over Grunhilda and snuggling closer.

A soothing warmth came from her back, and she smelled of nothing, except of ‘griffon’, and it was quite relaxing. Sleep came quick.

Next Chapter: First Sight of the North Estimated time remaining: 21 Hours, 56 Minutes