Gilda walked in the front of the caravan with Mister Gillian, and Grunhilda followed close behind her. Her mood wasn’t as good as it should be, though. The road was beaten dirt. Wet, it turned to mud that clung to her paws, fur, and feathers. But as they drew closer to the city it, became more civilized. It turned to cobblestone, but still wet and slippery with slime in between the individual stones.

At least, there were some nice yellow flower patches here and there. And she would rather walk there than get shot. She had previously decided not to test if the guards would shoot at someone wearing the red scarf.

It was a soft incline towards the city, flanked by green bushes and short grass. It smelled of wet dirt and berries. A cold breeze came from over the city and brought with the smells of living griffons. The sky was taken by the angry gray clouds, and occasionally the wind would blow stronger and colder.

Then she stopped in her tracks when the sight dragged her eyes forward.

Reaching the top of the incline, the gate into town was clear to see. Half-open, made of reinforced wood, much as the palisades themselves. A clear and sturdy wood. But what drew her eyes was the scene in front of the gates. A group of griffons congregated in the middle of the street before a section of the walls on both sides which funneled towards the gates.

There were griffons in the guard towers and the ones on the street wore leather armor. They carried curved swords and crossbows, as well as shields on their backs.

Hanging poles stood by the sides of the road. Simple things made of the same wood and stuck to the ground for leverage. A few griffons occupied the road, waiting. They wore nothing at all, or capes and cloaks of varied colors. They seemed to be normal citizens, most of them.

A griffon hung limp from one of the poles. A garrote around his neck supporting his weight to the pole. Black fur and feathers covered his body with fluffy dark gray on his chest. His head was covered in a black sack and urine stained his hindlegs. The smell confirmed it when the guards ordered the bystanders to make way for the caravan.

Gilda’s first worry was Grunhilda. She had huge curious eyes over everything. At least she wasn’t shocked, even if Gilda thought that she did understand what happened there. In fact, Grunhilda was more interested in the guardtowers.

The pony stared for a few seconds before deciding not to say anything. He just sat back against the covered cargo in his cart and kept his eyes down. But the lime, young griffoness stared for quite a few seconds more.

“Barbarians…” She muttered loud enough that Gilda heard it and Gillian didn’t like it. He immediately chastised her with a harsh shushing.

“Keep it to yourself, Gil.” He ordered her in a low voice. “We are the only caravan with access to the city. And now that Thunderpeak is loyal to The Lion, you will do better to remember you are a northerner too.”

She didn’t respond, but the look on the lime griffoness was not a happy one.

Gilda turned her attention to the griffons on the road, now by the sides. An older, white, and gray female with a pair of small glasses and gray eyes held a younger version of herself. The younger one stared with a contemptuous frown at the dead griffon. Gilda might have imagined it, but she could swear she saw a small smile in the younger one’s face. She had fresh cuts in her face and in her neck. Clear talon marks also in her shoulders and nape. While those might be common among overeager lovers. Those cuts in her face told Gilda very clearly that violent coercion had happened.

Maybe it was Ghadah’s memories and the effect they had on Gilda. Maybe it was her encounter with those griffons in the dark and dirty alleyway in Griffonstone. But the next thought in her head was that she was glad the northerners wouldn’t suffer such a scumbag to live. If it was back in Griffonstone he would be under protective arrest pending judgement, and then he would go to Shatteredrock.

But he was the kind of jerk that would endure in that place. Maybe even thrive. Come out in a few years and then do it again.

Just the thought twisted her stomach, and she tried to distance her mind from that. Next to the two was another griffoness. Older than the youngest, but also blue and white, staring at the dead griffon with stoic hardness. She was harder to read and Gilda didn’t know what to think of her.

The only noise came from the moaning wind and the wheels of the caravan.

But nobody paid attention to them. Especially when a Loremaster approached the lone griffoness. She looked at the Loremaster but didn’t say anything.

“Watch your cub, Greni.” The older and grave looking griffoness with the blue cape admonished with a deepening frown. “The fruit does not fall far from the tree. I do not wish to see him hanging from that pole too. Educate him better than his father.”

The other kept her stoic hardness and moved only to further her frown, but the former didn’t stay there anyways. The Loremaster stole a glance at Gilda and moved on to speak to the pair of females. But Gilda couldn’t hear what she said when she spoke to the younger one. Except, form a distance, Gilda could see that she examined the young one’s injuries.

Once they were past the small crowd, the Sky Sentry lieutenant approached Gilda and spoke softly. “Not the best introduction to town…”

How should she respond? Should she respond? She had thoughts on the sight, but not everyone might agree with her. Well, screw it. If they didn’t like it, she didn’t care. That scarf in her neck should give her the right to say whatever she wanted.

It was easy for her to put herself in the place of that young griffon lady, about her age, with the talon marks in her.

“I am not going to feel bad for a griffon that got what they deserved here any more than I wouldn’t feel for one in Griffonstone.” She said, finally, with a grim tone to her voice.

The soldier just nodded in understanding, but Gilda could practically feel the younger lime-colored Gil boring holes in the back of her skull with her eyes. If she wanted to say something, she could, but Gilda wouldn’t be going after her to hear her whining. Specially because she could imagine it was about how such a thing wasn’t allowed in the ‘civilized’ south.

Gilda didn’t care. She would praise the northerners on putting down a griffon like that.

Yeah. If griffons didn’t want to die, all they had to do was not deserve death. Come to think of it, she was glad they had the guts to do that. Stupid ponies and their leniency were the problem with Griffonia. The stupid princess that just let Gail do whatever he wanted. The same lame pony princess that also allowed griffon politicians to screw up her life for a petty reason.

Oh, her blood boiled. She almost regretted not accepting Gladys invitation to see them hang that piece of shit back in Griffonstone.

Gil might not like it. The soldier could be anxious that wasn’t a good greeting to their home. But as far as Gilda was concerned, it was good enough to know they didn’t allow scum like that to live.

Once they were past the gates things improved. The cobblestone road was much cleaner and nicer. A stream to the left gave off some good vibes and there was a parking area for the carts to the right. At least four griffons in leather armor took care of it and all the carts in there. The actual inn was right on the other side of it. ‘Wayfarer’s Rest’, according to the sign hanging from a post where a small stone pathway led from the road to the entrance.

Large, closed doors, despite the sign that said ‘open’ at the end of the stone path.

While Mister Gillian coordinated with his griffons to stop the carts in an orderly fashion, several griffons came from the market area to help. On the other side of the stream the market seemed lively enough. Rather big, too. With several arching bridges made of varnished wood over the stream.

A griffon in leather armor came from the bridges with… Was that a freaking dog?! A winged dog?!

A fluffy, black monster of a dog, about the size of a pegasus, with red eyes and literal liquid fire dripping off its mouth following his handler side-by-side and with black feathery wings on its flanks. It followed its handler with a long leash the griffon held in his paw, even as he walked.

“That is a big doggie!” Grunhilda giggled by Gilda’s side.

It took a second, but memories came. That was a simargl. A magical winged beast from the desert that the Haderani had domesticated. But Ghadah’s memories told her that they had been extinct, as they were used as beasts of war. They also were a lot different. The ones she remembered were dark, but instead of fluffy they were short haired and shiny. Their ears were shorter and perkier. They had longer and thinner snouts, with leathery wings. Runners, as well as flyers.

They were great for hounding pegasi. Particularly the panicky ones that tried to fly away. The dogs had a thing for mauling wings. Heh heh heh.

Gilda Grimaced at herself for finding that funny. It was a surprise. She didn’t really think about it and then, bam! It got a smirk out of her. It’s not like she approved of the whole slave and sacrifices thing that happened in the empire. And, come to think of it, she had full intentions of dissuading The Harpy from that sort of thing in the present.

Wait… Could She hear her?

She stopped and her eyes moved from one side to the other as she tried to hear anything. But no foreign words came to her mind.

She was distracted, however, when the griffon took his winged dog to her caravan and the griffons made way for them. The dog started sniffing around in the carts as another griffon came to Gillian. A female, blue-tinted white head with white body under her armor and piercing blue eyes carrying a heater shield and crossbow on her back, as well as a curved sword on her side.

“Hello, Gillian.” She remained professional but spoke with a pleasant smile at him. “Anything to declare?”

“No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “Just the typical stuff to be sold in the market. We got some passengers though. And a few escorts.”

That was when Gia waved a paw at the guard and approached with Geary. Gilda thought it was a good idea to do the same. Grunhilda followed her and the other guards converged. The griffon guard lady nodded and grabbed a clipboard and a pencil from under her wing.

“Right… The usual workers, Miss Gil, the two ex-GSA, the merc brothers…” She started writing stuff with beautiful paw-writing until she turned to Gilda and Grunhilda next to her. “Who are you? And your thrall?”

“I’m Gilda of Griffonstone.” She pointed a thumb to her fluffy chest. After that was silence. The gruardsgriffoness cocked an eyebrow and Gilda just stared. First at her, then at Grunhilda. The big northerner just stared with that clueless dumb expression she made whenever she didn’t know what to do. Gilda just stared at her until Grunhilda finally sat on her haunches and fidgeted with her fingers. Her wings opened and closed nervously too.

“I’m not supposed to talk to others…” She explained sheepishly. “And they are not supposed to address me if they can talk to you…”

“Yeah… But we don’t do that.” Gilda gave the other her best annoyed and disappointed stare before she pointed a finger at the griffoness with the clipboard. “You talk to her like a normal griffon, right now!”

Grunhilda squeaked and flapped her wings once. “I’m Grunhilda of Frozenlake!”

“Thank you…” The griffoness of the law gave them a weird stare and then shook her head before moving on to check on the others.

“Why do you have to be so awkward about this?” Gia approached her with a disapproving glare. “Just do whatever you want with her privately and follow the traditional norms when you have griffons around.”

Then she raised her voice and leaned against Gilda. “Especially authorities!”

Gilda sat and grimaced at Gia’s outburst. “Chill! I mean, she’s my thrall. She’s supposed to do what I want!”

“Yes! But!” Gia stumbled on the words out of frustration as she made angry gestures. “Yes! But do you understand the concept of tradition?!”

“Fine! Fine!” Gilda waved a paw at the other. “I’ll be more mindful… You happy?”

The commotion they created drew the Loremasters Gilda had seen outside. The old one, and she approached them, but before she could say something (and by the look on her face she had a lot to say) another commotion drew their attention.

Apparently, the simargl had found something in the parked carts and it signaled by snarling and sitting with his wings flared.

As they approached, a pair of griffons in leather armor proceeded to searching the stuff under the cow leather covering. They pushed aside a lot of farm produce and some processed stuff, like flour. Then one of them picked up and showed a large, dark bottle. He opened the cork and sniffed it with a disgusted expression.

“Corn syrup.” He told the griffoness with the clipboard before he and the other proceeded to grab more bottles of the stuff from the cart.

The griffoness in question frowned and turned to Mister Gillian. “You know this stuff is forbidden.”

“Wait!” Gilda frowned. “Wait, wait… Corn syrup?!”

Gia groaned at her side and rolled her eyes. “This stuff is vile. It ruins our bodies and gives us the ‘Wasting Thirst’. It’s like a weaponized food! It’s a slow death sentence! Griffons die decades earlier than they should! Angina, strokes, blindness… Some even become demented.”

Gilda blinked twice. “For real?! Ponies eat this stuff like crazy in their soft drinks!”

“You don’t know of our timeless knowledge, transmitted to us by our Mother Harpy.” The older Loremaster glared a Gilda. “You do not respect our customs and you are not aware of the tenets of our traditions.”

Then she frowned. “You must have some outstanding abilities for the Mother of Storms to gift you so.”

“Eeeeh…” Gilda offered an open paw, seeking her brain for a proper answer, but she ended up shrugging without one. What was she supposed to say? That old griffoness had just described her to a tee!

“Eh.” Gilda concluded and shrugged again. Grunhilda just giggled behind her while the griffons in the city’s guard dumped the forbidden cargo into the stream. The water carried it outside the drain in the wall even before it had fully diluted.

While Gia covered her eyes with a paw and shook her head, the older Loremaster rose a finger, ready to unleash a righteous scolding upon Gilda. But the lime-colored griffoness stopped them. “What is wrong with you?”

To say that she wasn’t happy was an insult. She was livid. She screamed and her wings flared. She shook and her whole body tensed like a rope holding too much. Her eyes glistened and her expression was point-blank furious. “You killed a griffon outside, and you’re concerned about corn syrup and her not fitting in with your private club!”

Gilda was furious at her defending that waste of griffon hanging from the pole outside the gate, and she was going tell her just that. But she was also glad the attention wasn’t on her anymore. And Gia rolled her eyes and seemed ready to say something witty and sarcastic. But the older Loremaster proved to be more patient.

“Young lady. You are Gil, Mister Gillian’s daughter. Are you not?” She wasn’t impressed at all with Gil’s wrath.

More concerning, perhaps, was that instead of controlling her, Mister Gillian was busy trying to figure out who had brought those things and under the eyes of the clipboard lady and the guy with the simargl.

Gil took a second before she replied and blinked twice. Then she let her eyes drift to the side. “Nooooooo… Nope. That’s not me. Nuh-uh.”

“Fifteen lashes for lying, youngling.” The Loremaster spoke seriously. “And couple of days wearing the scold’s bridle for your tempestuous interruption. You are not a cub anymore, and you may cost you father his agreement with the city’s leadership if you do not contain yourself.”

Not what Gilda would have said, but good enough. Yet the old Loremaster wasn’t done. She arrogantly waved a finger before Gil in a way that would’ve pissed Gilda off a few days back. Heck… It would still piss her off. “You would do well to remember, young lady, that if you are to remain in our lands you will do as the Mother of Storms commands.”

Then the Loremaster crossed her forelegs and scowled at Gil. “You are an unskilled and unprepared adult who lived your entire cubhood as though there was not tomorrow. What use are you to community?”

Ouch! That hit way too close to home for Gilda. A few days ago, it would have hit dead center. She supposed even from that the Harpy had saved her. Not to mention her predicament with the law and the corrupt griffons.

But come on. She wasn’t the same as Gil, was she?

Of course, you are not, my dearest child. This gentile would choose the ways of the hooved ones over ours.

Gilda frowned at the griffoness with the lime feathers and fur. She wasn’t that beautiful. She sure had a nice fluffy chest with white, frothy feathers ended in that lime-colored tint. Yeah, sure! But! But she looked sloppy!

Gilda’s thoughts notwithstanding, the old Loremaster went on railing at Gil. “You cannot survive on your own and no male will mate you. What will you do with yourself at an old age? Incapable, useless. With no male to age with you and no cubs to care for your failing body and mind?”

“Uh…” Gil just stared blankly at the old griffoness and Gilda was glad she wasn’t the one talking to her.

“Learn useful skills and become a part of community. Change while you still can. While they will still give you a chance.” The Loremaster let her voice raise a little. “Time is limited, and it is inexorable. There is no pleading with it. No complaining, and no second chances.”

“Yes ma’am!” Gil took a step back and nodded vigorously.

That satisfied the older griffoness and she left with a hard stare at Gia and Gilda. Gia mostly ignored her, and so did Gilda. Although, inside, Gilda almost feared she would rant at her too. But then again, why would she, right? Gilda was doing much better.

When the older one was gone, Gil groaned and frowned. “I’m leaving is what I’m doing. Moving to Ponyville or something. Griffonia is going to the shitter.”

“This is childish.” Gia said and Gilda wasn’t sure why she cared. Maybe it was something about her duties as Loremaster? “You are being selfish. Your actions will reflect on your father’s reputation.”

Gilda liked to think she didn’t really care, but that kinda sucked.

“No!” Gil pointed at them and did her best not to scream too loud. “You guys are the problem! You are the ones with the death sentences and physical punishments. And you are the freaks who think corn syrup is evil while, at the same time, defending the murder of a prisoner! You guys want to start a war over Griffonia leaving the Equestrian Federation! When the best things in our country were brought by the ponies!”

Maybe Gilda actually had learned something, after all. Because instead of lashing out at Gil the way she wanted to, she just frowned and let Gia do the talking. “You are naïve, Gil. Do you know what his crime was?”

“I know that now he is dead he can’t change!” Gil growled back, with righteous anger in her grimace and scowl. “And I hope to Celestia you freaks didn’t botch his judgement. If he even had one!”

Ironically, Gia’s shocked gasp was directed more at her mention of the princess rather than questioning that scum’s trial. That whole thing grew tiring in a hurry, so Gilda just turned away and let the two bickering about that. It was black and white for Gilda and she didn’t care for either of their opinions.

She just hoped that Gil wouldn’t mess things up too bad. Then she stopped on her tracks and looked back at the griffoness arguing with Gia. Grunhilda stopped next to her. If Gia really wanted, Gilda supposed, she could pull that Loremaster rank of hers, even with all that mess in Thunderpeak and really screw Gil up.

Then Gilda groaned and scowled at the scene of the two arguing, making Grunhilda look back and forth between her and the two. There were good reasons to worry. If Gil messed everything up, the whole caravan would get messed up. And if the caravan got messed up, she would have to find another to help her travel to Griffindell with the pony. And since The Harpy wanted her to take the pony…

The point being, Gil needed to shut the fuck up and Gia needed to stop making a damn scene!

So, Gilda started on her way back to the two with heavy, angry steps, and Grunhilda dutifully followed.

“Will you two dweebs shut your beaks?” She roared and the two snapped to her with scared hanging jaws. “You’re making a scene, and you’re being annoying! I need to get that pony to Griffindell and I would appreciate if Mister Gillian’s caravan didn’t end hanging because his daughter is too dense to understand she’s not in Griffonstone and she can’t go mouthing off like that!”

Then she glared at Gia. “And you, for feather’s sake, don’t draw attention to her!”

Gia deadpanned at her. “Do you realize you are making a scene?”

But right after she sat on her haunches and raised a paw, leaning back, so intimidated she was when Gilda gave her a particularly pissed off stare. Then she coughed into her closed fist. “Well, since you ask so nicely…”

Gil didn’t say anything. She just frowned like she was about to throw a tantrum and looked the other way.

“Thank you!” Gilda let out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Grunhilda. Let’s grab something to eat. I’m starving!”

“Okay.” She giggled and followed.

But on her way to the inn’s door Gertha came over to her and didn’t even wait to see if she could talk to her. “Hey. So, they’re getting the carts unloaded now that the creepy winged dog is done with them. Me and Guile, with the two soldier dudes, are gonna stay around and see if everything keeps on the tracks. Then we’ll get inside with the caravan workers since it gets damn cold when the sun is down. The Sky Sentry guy talked to the manager, and they got our griffons their own rooms and the city is paying for our lodging. Cool?”

“Yeah.” Gilda stopped and spoke with her. When did she become the leader that needed to put out fires and get reports?!

“Awesome. See you later, Boss.” Gertha grinned and hopped off back to the working griffons.

Oh. Right. She liked being called the boss. She would have to get used to it.

Griffons are drawn to strength, Child. They found it in you, thus they will follow you. It brings them safety and stability. It will bring you responsibilities, but also benefits and rewards. If you can use your position and their abilities to your gain.

Well, Gilda supposed she shouldn’t complain. Turning to Grunhilda, who stood next to her, she nodded towards the door to the inn and resumed her way. She supposed she would talk to Gillian later about traveling to Griffindell.

It was a gray, stony building of artistically carved stone and dark-green tiles in the slanted roof. Griffon motifs made up the carvings in the stone. A departure from the modern architecture of symmetrical buildings such as the hospital in Griffonstone that had a central structure and a pair of wings.

The inn was much more the sort of thing one would find in drawings of ancient buildings. It looked rustic. Less planned, more natural. If that even made sense because all buildings were planned before they were built, obviously. The point was that they seemed less artificial.

It took her several seconds of standing on the path to the door and staring at the structure before she realized what was that feeling. That place looked like one of the many buildings Ghadah was used to. Buildings in the empire and in the north had a tendency of being much more contained and of enveloping themselves, rather than spreading out into wings. Rooms that fit with each other.

She smiled to herself and pushed one half of the door to enter. Warm air, that reminded her of just how cold it was outside, welcomed her. The smell of roasted meats and fats immediately watered her mouth much as the live music that reminded her of the restaurant in Canterlot. Eerie instruments that sounded like the wind and a powerful male voice singing about some old lord.

The interior was much different than the restaurant, though. No fancy marble or granite stone, but ‘stone’ stone. Sturdy and girthy logs for columns. The light fixtures on the walls were horns of some animal filled with something that burned and generated light as would torches. In the center of the room was a fire pit with a burning pile of logs and several sitting pillows around it. Many griffons enjoying each other’s company and some drink.

Above the center area was a sort of wood scaffolding up to a wall in the floor above. A griffon artist worked at a painting of The Lion. Mostly on the right side and she supposed there would be someone else with him in the painting. Probably his mate, Lady Gwendolen. It was pretty cool seeing the griffon work, though.

Many tables on the other side and a secluded area where a few ‘adventurer’ type griffons, with cloaks and discreet, practical leather armor and weapons shared a meal. And speaking of meals, for some reason the owner used food for decoration. Pieces of smoked ham, cheese wheels and braids, seasoning herbs.

The general atmosphere of the place just fit the rugged, wild north with a surprising sense of hospitality. Griffons looked at them and nodded with recognition. It appeared word of her had traveled faster than she did. But griffons didn’t bother them. They went back to their conversations or food.

Pleased with the atmosphere, she made her way to the right. There was a bulky and sturdy wood counter. The front had a nice-looking knot design and a golden finish on the edges. A slightly fat and not-quite-so-young anymore griffoness smiled at her from behind. Her coat was light gray and her head and chest white with a silvery tint to her feathers and her eyes. Even her beak had a silvery color. There were more ham and foodstuffs hanging behind her, and a small round window that let in some sunlight.

“Greetings!” She greeted with a friendly smile. “Welcome to Wayfarer’s rest, Lady Gilda! I was waiting for you!”

“Thanks!” She smiled back, sitting at one of the pillows before the counter. Grunhilda sat behind her, but she decided to let Big Girl do whatever she was more comfortable with. “Best customer service ever!”

The griffoness laugh-snorted pulling her head back. “I was going to offer you a nice meal, but you’ve been traveling the whole day! Would you like a bath in our bathhouse? We even have servants for the distinguished customers!”

She had been to one of those in Canterlot with Rainbow Dash. Of course, they didn’t have servants for customers of her paying grade, even in the company of one of the two most famous pegasus in the world. She also had Ghadah’s memories inside her head and the public baths in the empire were meant for two things: hygiene and socialization. Different levels of socialization. And that made the whole thing titillating.

It suddenly hit her that griffons were kinda horny.

We need better cubs. Do not judge me.

She could feel Grunhilda’s nervous fidgeting behind her, though. Gilda would appreciate it if the damn griffoness would speak her mind instead of expecting Gilda to read her thoughts too.

“I’m gonna take you up on your offer.” Gilda winked at the owner.

“Oh! Great!” The innkeeper smiled radiantly before winking at Gilda. “Boys or girls?”

“Oh!” The tip of Gilda’s tail twitched excitedly. “Boys!”

“Great!” The innkeeper grinned. Then she tweeted. It was weird because most griffons Gilda knew didn’t do that.

Regardless, a couple of young and comely griffons that shared in her facial features promptly arrived from a door behind the counter. They stood at attention, with puffed out fluffy chests and raised beaks. The two soldier dudes from Gilda’s company would have been proud.

They also took on their… Mother’s colors? They might be younger brothers, but they really looked like her. One was a soft cyan with white and the other was a soft orange. Both were quite young and clearly worked on those muscles. Pristine fur and feathers to go with livid and enthusiastic stares on their deep blue and brown eyes.

Gilda also knew the stare of a dude that is too happy with his job.

“Please escort the two ladies to the bath.” The owner told them, pointing in the direction. “And be mindful of your manners.”

The two nodded with huge grins and the cyan one grinned even wider at Grunhilda, complete with excited flaring wings. “Right this way, ma’am!”

“Ma’am…” The other told Gilda with a similar gesture.

She gave him a smile and nodded to Grunhilda, just to make sure she would follow. That was when she realized why the white griffoness was so nervous and it brought a mischievous grin to Gilda’s beak. Because Grunhilda had a furious blush in her cheeks and her eyes insisted on aiming downward.

“Come on, Grunhilda.” Gilda playfully poked her flank with a talon. “Let’s relax for a bit before dinner.”

“Okay.” She murmured timidly and followed with quick steps.

They followed the two ‘toms’, as she supposed she should call them like the northerners do. She also had to admit that following them she had a nice view.

They went past the main hall into a small corridor with a few closed doors to a double door in the end. Cyan opened the doors for them and Gilda softly shoved Grunhilda inside with her body, still with that mischievous smile. She just encouraged her, really.

Beyond the door the dominant smells were those of water and aromatic salts. The walls were covered in white mortar with a few colorful paintings of the knot designs and lines. It was a small foyer with a brick-red and tan griffon waiting behind a counter and the wall behind him had more of the painted decoration. The side walls had each an open door.

As soon as they entered, the griffon righted himself up from his slouching, bored, stance and walked around the counter. That was then Gilda saw his iron bracelet.

“Get their things to Lady Gilda’s room.” The cyan one said, pointing at them. “They’re going to use the bath.”

The griffon nodded and presented a long platter with a white silk cloth in it. He waited while Gilda removed her bracelets and diadem and while Grunhilda gave him her stuff too.

“Careful with the sword and bow, please.” Gilda said and the thrall nodded obediently.

“Don’t worry, ma’am.” The other brother gestured calmly. “Govar is very careful and dedicated.”

When he had everything organized in a stable way, he rested the platter on his back and left. Cyan gestured to a side door. “This way, please.”

They walked past a small corridor with walls made of concrete and stone until they reached a bathing area. It was a bit dark and humid, with stone columns. It was a washing area before the pool with hot water. Several urns littered the place, with smaller jars and spatulas. It was a warm room too. Most of the heat and moisture in the air came from the next room. The floor was covered in colorful tiles and the walls in glossy cyan ones. The roof was round and covered in white mortar, with a small vent. The center area was surrounded with thin drains dug into the floor that led below.

“What is your name, ma’am?” Cyan asked Grunhilda with a grin and she replied with a barely audible murmur. He laughed friendlily, though.

Meanwhile, Orange waited for Gilda to sit in the tiled floor and promptly reached for her shoulder. Unlike Grunhilda earlier, he actually knew what he was doing. She closed her eyes and let out a luxurious moan as soon as he started pressing into her muscles and working out that tension from the flying posture.

She stole a quick glance at Grunhilda, opening one eye. Just to be sure she was alright. She was also sat on the tiled floor and the cyan guy had a huge smile on his beak, pouring a clear oil on her back. Grunhilda squirmed a little though, and it was a bit funny.

“We use rose oil for massaging and scrubbing off the grime.” Her assistant told her in a mellow, soft voice as he proceeded to rub that thick and rose-smelling oil into the feathers on her back. She could swear she started melting away under his touch and with the soothing substance reaching into her skin.

“Open up your wings, ma’am.” Her assistant warbled at her, and she obliged, putting them on full display.

Oh, so relaxing. So delicious that guy might get lucky that evening, after all.

Just as she let out a content sigh, she heard the other guy, the cyan dude, chuckling with a derisive tone. “Gee, did you ever set these feathers? Your wings are a wreck.”

What the fuck? The smile vanished from her beak, and she turned to see Grunhilda trying to be as small as she could. She was hunched over herself with the cyan guy holding her wing open by the tip and her voice was about to break into crying. “I’m sorry my wings aren’t very pretty. I’m not good at preening…”

“I mean… How does one not know how to get their feathers straight?” He made a grimace and that pushed Grunhilda too far.

Her head hanged a little and she forcefully closed her eyes with a whine. Gilda turned to glare at the cyan griffon. “Dude, get out!”

“But I…” He let go of Grunhilda’s wing and gave Gilda a scared stare. “I’m…”

She stood on her fours and glared at him. “Get lost! Now! Leave us alone!”

He sat on his haunches with a scared and confused look, putting up his paws defensively. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…”

His brother grabbed him by the feathers in his head and literally pulled him to leave, while Gilda went to Grunhilda and it was awkward as all hell, but Big Girl bent herself in a way she could rest her face against Gilda’s fluffy chest and started bawling like a child.

Gilda petted Grunhilda’s head with soothing hushes and the two left the room. On their way out, the orange one slapped his brother in the back of his head with a wing and belted him with angry hushed words. Good. Gilda waited for them to leave before she looked down at Grunhilda and cooed some more soothing words at her.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Grunhilda. He’s gone.” Gilda caressed her feathers softly, letting her fingers in between the feathers in the way she remembered her mother doing to her.

Grunhilda stood a few fingers taller than Gilda again. Huh… Gilda could swear that Grunhilda was taller. And bulkier. But that wasn’t the time for those thoughts, as Grunhilda sniffled and looked at Gilda as though she had done something wrong.

“I’m sorry, miss Gilda.” She sniffled again. “I ruined everything.”

“No… No, you didn’t.” She kept stroking Grunhilda’s feathers, albeit a little higher, and wiped the tears from her plumage. “It was his fault. What was that all about?”

Instead of replying, Grunhilda whined and winced. Fortunately, Gilda had already gotten used to her quirks and learned that sometimes Grunhilda needed a stern talking to, but other times she needed to feel safe and protected. She wrapped her forelegs around her friend, drawing her gently closer and still spoke soothingly. “You saved my life once. We done lots of things together. Things that I wouldn’t have done otherwise.”

“And I am pretty sure that both of us have crossed a line from where we can’t go back to our old lives.” Gilda laid on the warm floor. On her side, with her elbows to the floor and Grunhilda laid with her, resting her head on Gilda’s forelegs and against her chest. Gilda let out a small sigh, while one of her paws straightened the other’s feathers on her head. “Would you want to go back, though?”

“No…” Grunhilda said softly I the fluff in her chest, laying there and letting Gilda pet her. “I don’t want to leave you. And I hated Griffonstone.”

Gilda didn’t love her life in Griffonstone, but she didn’t hate it either. She even had a friend there. Greta was a great friend, and knowing she was safe let Gilda breathe a little easier. But given what she’s been through, Gilda didn’t want to go back just yet. Even if she could. After what she’s done, learned and what she had earned for herself, her place was with The Harpy.

And Grunhilda had been with her through most of it. Funny how she kept thinking of Big Girl. She didn’t want to leave Grunhilda, and neither of them could ever return. It was so incredibly lucky of them that they would find a place with the northerner griffons. Thanks to The Harpy.

“The point is that you’re more than a slave to me. Even more than a friend. And I care about you. Are you feeling better now?” Gilda picked softly at Grunhilda’s nape, never stopping her soft caresses that reached down into her back.

“I think so…” Grunhilda settled her head on Gilda’s chest a little more.

“Do you wanna tell me what was that all about then?” Gilda smiled at her, stroking the side of her head, all the way down to her back and then up again.

“My wings aren’t very pretty… And I didn’t like the things he said.” Grunhilda grumbled, not looking up at her. Gilda could imagine her pout, though.

“I wouldn’t have liked it either.” Gilda told her honestly. “Let me see. I never noticed anything wrong with your wings.”

Grunhilda whined at her and winced again, holding her wings tight against her body. It wasn’t amusing and Gilda grabbed her wing by the metacarpals. “You’re acting like a baby. Stop that.”

“Okay…” The other grumbled and let Gilda pull her wing open.

And it was bad, but that guy was a jerk anyways. Her feathers were a mess. Instead of smooth and connected, her secondaries were a bit of a tangle of bunched up vanes. Her primaries, which were the feathers most griffons often saw since they’re larger and more distinct, also didn’t fare much better. Not the kind of mess from a day’s worth of flying too.

Well, no wonder Grunhilda’s flying abilities weren’t very impressive. She really didn’t seem to take a lot of care of her wings. That and her lack of experience… Easy to understand she had almost killed both of them back in Canterlot. That dude had exaggerated, but she could see why he had mentioned it. Her wings were severely lacking in the proper self-care it needed to work appropriately.

Funny that she would think back to that stupid book she had to learn for the hospital job that almost worked out for her. It was the sort of thing that you would find in depressed griffons when they stopped caring for their health and personal hygiene. That wasn’t Grunhilda’s case, though.

“Do you know how to care for your feathers, Grunhilda?” She asked in the most natural and not judging way she could, looking down at her friend with a concerned frown.

Grunhilda just mumbled something. Only after that Gilda realized just how stupid her question was. She sighed. “Your mother died when you were too young. You never learned how to do it properly.”

Grunhilda didn’t respond. Just pressed her body closer to Gilda’s. The latter covered her with a wing and softly beaked at the top of her head. It mildly infuriated her though, that Grunhilda knew things like who was some northerner lord and who was Lord Gilad’s father. Or even how thralls were supposed to behave… But never learned how to take care of her flight feathers. And no one in the damn orphanage even bothered to teach her. Great job, Griffonstone. That is why you deserve The Harpy.

A short fantasy unfurled inside her head of herself returning to Griffonstone and delivering judgement in the name of The Harpy. But she was more worried about Grunhilda.

“Eh… It’s no biggie.” She let go of Grunhilda’s wing. “We still need a bath before we do anything about that, though. And a dinner too. Come on. It’s gonna be fun. Sit with your back to me.”

“Okay.” Grunhilda sounded bummed out and didn’t really hurry to do as Gilda asked. But patience was a virtue in that situation.

That was when a commotion coming from the small corridor disturbed them. Someone got hit with a rod, or something of the sort, and the result was a masculine yelp followed by Gertha’s angry screaming. “No, you freak! You can’t come to the female’s pool just because you’re my brother!”

A few seconds later Gertha and Gia came into the room. They stopped upon seeing Gilda and Grunhilda and the pink one gave then a concerned stare. “Hey, is everything okay?”

Her cute pink covering looked really nice without her armor, and Gia’s green looked pretty nice too. They approached the two with curious stares and happy steps tip-tapping in the floor from the pink one.

“One of the guys told Grunhilda some tasteless things and she got upset.” Gilda explained, petting Grunilda’s head.

“Oh. Sucks. Grunhilda seems so nice.” Gertha frowned. “What a douchebag!”

But then the pink one giggled and Gia chuckled with a knowing grin. “That explains the angry females behind the counter. I suppose his sisters didn’t appreciate it either.”

At that Gertha approached them a step. “Hey, do you mind if we join? I mean… All that flying…”

“Not at all!” Gilda grinned back at them. “Do you, Grunhilda?”

The white one shook her head, less upset than she was before, and that made Gilda happy. A nice bath and some friendly banter would be great. Maybe she could get Gia to talk about the local customs so that Gilda wouldn’t piss anyone off for the duration of their stay.

Next Chapter: Venom of Venus Pt. 1 Estimated time remaining: 21 Hours