Gilda woke suddenly with the noise of splashing and glass shattering. She jumped off the bed with a scream and her room was dark, but the window in the bathroom area allowed enough moonlight to enter that she could see.

She saw Grunhilda sitting in the center of the room, hiding behind a tray and with a puddle of steaming water that smelled of ginger and mint. A glass was broken into pieces on the floor.

“Oh, for crying out loud…” She let herself drop on the bed and covered her eyes while her breathing and her heart returned to normal rates.

“I’m sorry!” Grunhilda squealed. “I just wanted you to have a nice tea!”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.” Gilda sat on the bed and put a paw on her head to try and soothe her headache. “What time is it?”

“Sunrise seems to be a bit late.” Grunhilda piped and spoke so fast Gilda had some trouble making out what she was saying. “I already prepared a bath for you! And I already checked out and prepared our luggage! Mister Gillian has assured me that they have everything we should need, so I should just make sure that our luggage is prepared! And the bath! The bath is ready! But the tea! The tea is all over the floor now. I’m sorry because the tea was for you.”

She stared down at the puddle that was the tea. “I’ll get more tea! Do you want tea? Never mind I’ll get more tea anyway! You’re gonna love the tea!”

“Grunhilda, wait…” Blam! The door closed somewhere between Gilda opening her beak and the first syllables leaving it. “What the?”

Since she was just staring at a door in the dark, and all sleepiness had left her like a flock of scared birds, she shrugged and hopped off the bed. Splayed her fingers and stretched her back, touching her fluffy chest on the floor and putting her rump up in the air. Her tail whipped one side and the other and she yawned the rest of her sleepiness off.

The door opened again and Grunhilda squealed from the corridor as a wooden cup went to the floor with all its contents. The two stared at the other with the white one by the door blushing like her cheeks would catch fire. Not to mention her wings flared and slapped someone in the corridor, judging by the surprised yelp.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you another!” Grunhilda chirped and slammed the door shut again.

“Grunhilda!” Gilda called too late, so she just stood there, silently and somewhat confused.

Finally, she stretched her neck and a hindleg backwards. Then the other. She eyed the door like Grunhilda could burst in at any moment, but she didn’t. Gilda let a scowl creep into her face and sat by the door. She waited and waited like a predator waiting for her prey.

She waited a little longer.

Slam! The door opened and Gilda grabbed both the steaming cup and Grunhilda’s beak.

“Hmmm!” The surprised white griffoness said before she walked into the room when Gilda pulled her.

“What’s gotten into you?” She glared. Gilda also took a sip from the tea because it smelled nice. It tasted delicious of ginger and mint.

“I had a dream with Mother Harpy!” Grunhilda squealed and barely kept her feet in place with excitement.

Gilda’s eyes flew wide. She gasped, the tea went down the wrong tube and she coughed it out, barely managing to form words. “A dream?! What did she do to you?!”

The white griffoness gave her a strange combination of an innocent stare and an excited glare after blinking a few times. “She told me I am doing a great job as your thrall and to keep it up! That I need to learn more and become an even better thrall!”

“Oh…” Gilda breathed a little easier and let out a relieved chuckle. “I thought that she had done something to you.”

“Nuh-uh!” Grunhilda couldn’t sit still, hopping in place like the floor was sizzling hot. Gilda was going to tell her thrall to relax because she was doing a great job. But Big Girl wouldn’t shut up.

“How’s the tea? Did you like the tea? Do you want another tea? I’ll bring you another tea! Wait, did I already bring you another tea? I’ll bring you another tea anyway!” Gilda hadn’t seen a beak move that fast in her life.

“Hey! Hey! Focus!” She snapped her fingers in front of her thrall. “You are doing a great job! If you’re so full of energy, go see if you can help Mister Gillian with anything. Like carrying stuff!”

“Okay!” Blam! The door closed behind Grunhilda.

Gilda stared at the door for a couple of seconds before she took another sip of her tea and walked to the bathtub behind the screen. Whatever was going on, it could wait. The sun wasn’t up yet, and the tub was filled with water. Yes, the world could wait for a few minutes. Coming closer, she saw the tub was full of cold water, but it smelled of roses and even had several vividly red petals floating.

“Oh. Right.” Gilda rolled her eyes. “No hot baths because they would be going out. It is better to let the body get used to the cold. The others are probably waiting for me, but since Grunhilda prepared it, I might as well…”

There was even a small table to leave her cup of tea next to the tub. Trying to avoid too much thinking, she just climbed into the water and ignored the initial shock. The cold was nice after a while. Also, after that dream she had shared with The Harpy. She rested her back against the tub, letting the water soak into her fur and her feathers.

“Ah… This is nice.” She sighed and reached for her tea.

Bang! The door opened forcefully again, slamming against the wall. Gilda yelped and the jerky movement sent her tea into her bathwater. On the other side of the door was her not-quite friendly Loremaster friend Gia, wearing a cloak of black wolfskin. “Will you get that thrall, lover, daughter… Whatever the heck Grunhilda is… Under control?”

In the background, she could hear shattering earthenware and Grunhilda babbling on about something before Gia slammed the door shut. Not even a couple of seconds later the door swung open again with the pink griffonness in chainmail armor that was Gertha looking inside with an alarmed expression. “Boss! There’s a hitch with the carts! You gotta talk to Mister Gillian as soon as possible!”

Of course, Gertha slammed the door shut too, but it didn’t stay closed. Gilda could swear she heard stabbing noises and Gosalynn’s high-pitched voice going on about the right way of cutting ham. At the top of her lungs.

“Gilda! The batpony is missing!” Gil’s voice screamed through the noise, fidgeting nervously by the door.

Still laying against the tub, mostly submerged into the roses, ginger and mint bathwater, Gilda closed her eyes, but the noises didn’t go away. In fact, glass crashed and shattered somewhere before she heard Grunhilda again. “Sorry! I’ll clean it right away!”

Immediately after, the clang and ringing of silverware hitting the floor drilled into her head. It was still dark outside. It would be awesome if someone put order in the hell beyond that door.

Oh, yeah… Gilda was a leader now.

Her eyes rolled to find the plank ceiling. “Any advice since you like me so much?”

No answer from The Harpy. She was probably still sleeping or something…

Gilda sighed again, although in a significantly different way from before. She raised from the water to rinse and pat her fur and feathers down with the towel provided by the inn. Before leaving the room, she donned her red scarf and put Mythical on top of her back. As ridiculous as it sounded, even the sword seemed to sleep snugly inside her scabbard.

She opened the door, and her thoughts were cut short by Grunhilda hissing and a panicked male squealing. “Aaah! I swear I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You don’t get to talk about our Swordmaiden like that!” Guille roared. “Sic’em Grunhilda!”

Despite a deliberate attempt to spend time drying her fur and feathers, whatever was happening didn’t end. More panicked screaming followed with sounds of things getting toppled over as Gilda walked down the stairs to the main hall. There she found one of the pillars was on fire. Grunhilda held a panicked griffon in leather armor above her head, the innkeeper’s sons and daughters yelled at each other. Guille, Gertha, two of Gillian’s workers and a couple of unknown griffons traded punches and insults around the hearth fire. All while Gosalynn screeched at the top of her lungs from the door. The unicorn, Lost Temple, hid behind a bench turned on its side and Gil was on the kitchen’s door making gestures and talking about something Gilda couldn’t hear because of the racket.

In the small table under her room’s balcony, was a small oasis of peace. Gilda found Madam Gelinda calmly enjoying a tea. Her mate, the doctor, was in the fight, though Gilda didn’t know on which side. The same to the couple of ex-soldiers. Gia was yelling commands to Geary while taking cover from behind the bar counter, and her thrall was also engaged in the fight. The innkeeper just sat next to Gia cleaning a series of metallic mugs like nothing was happening.

Gilda sat with Madam Gelinda across from the table, who served her some tea in one of the small metallic mugs. “Good morning, Gilda.”

“Morning. Don’t griffons sleep in the North?” She sat by the table with the Loremaster, trying to ignore the mess.

“They do.” Gelinda told her in between sips. “Sunrise seems to be late. And griffons get antsy before important events, such as a departing caravan to Griffindell. Additionally, Gia told Grunhilda that if she wanted to be a good thrall, she should drink five cups of coffee. And a caravan carrying grape juice from a local vineyard arrived. One of them was angry at Grunhilda’s hyperactivity and said her master is an irresponsible lout. Your subordinates took offense to that, and we have the present situation.”

Gilda blinked and watched as one of the unknown griffons, a big one that was probably used to pulling large carts hit Gertha with the almighty chair. Then was promptly punched by her brother who yelled something about his little sister.

“Shouldn’t you…” Gilda looked back at the Loremaster. “You know… Be doing something? Like Gosalynn?”

Speaking of her, her face took a red tint thanks to her screaming, and she was now hovering above the fight wings flapping so fast Gilda couldn’t see them, with a random piece of boarding wood. At one moment Grunhilda pounced from somewhere at a griffon in the middle of that mess.

“Oh, this is actually quite healthy.” Gelinda took another sip of her tea. “Griffon tempers are an explosive combination of short fuses and strong opinions. As long as nobody is using talons, this is quite common in large northerner households. Normal griffons fight a lot and in the next moment they’re drinking mead together. Although you could make a significant sum with Grunhilda on the fighting rings.”

“That sounds like abuse.” Gilda deadpanned as the innkeeper left a mug of tea for her too.

“Quite the contrary. Grunhilda yearns to be useful. Keeping her occupied with ‘thrall duties’ would be a good idea. It will make her feel important and useful. It should assuage her fears that you will abandon her. She is young and hasn’t been properly educated nor had her confidence fostered. It became your responsibility. You’ll understand these nuances better once your training commences. You have the privilege that is usually due of Loremasters to be educated on the matter of griffons by Lady Gwendolen. Then again, you are also a Loremaster, so I suppose that is only right.”

“I have the feeling that the Mother of Storms has a significant plan for both of you.” Gelinda concluded, watching as some random griffon toppled and punched her mate. She threw her empty mug like a guided magical missile to clonk at the other griffon’s head. Then she turned to Gilda like nothing had happened. “Finally, you still have an additional responsibility in this journey.”

“I do?” Gilda blinked at her.

“Unless you don’t care that Gia is likely to slip into an unsavory path for a Loremaster.” The innkeeper brought her another mug with tea. “You don’t want to know what Lady Gwendolen is bound to do with Gia if she is found to be… Inadequate. She already knows too much to be left to her own designs.”

“Yeah… I missed the part where this is my problem.” The ‘coffee incident’ steered Gilda’s answer and her disinterested deadpan.

“The worst kind of lie a griffon can tell is to themselves, Gilda.” Gelinda’s knowing smile was particularly punchable.

But still, the old griffoness’ words made Gilda look at her group’s Loremaster. Gia had hopped on top of Guille (Geary was too small for that) and provided support with a tactical wooden ladle.

“Fuck…” Gilda bumped her forehead on the solid wood table and held it in her paws. “I do care about her.”

Gilda glared at the old, never wrong loremaster again, her chin on the table. “Shouldn’t you help her?”

“No. She has had teachers. The best.” Gelinda spoke calmly. “What best teaches a griffon like her is necessity, not example. Which is why Lady Gwendolen sends her newly minted Loremasters to distant griffon communities. A griffon can memorize the answer to a theoretical question and answer it correctly a million times, but it is with practical application that knowledge becomes wisdom.”

“Yeah… I get that. Fine.” Gilda shrugged. “Gia is going to turn to a nice friend eventually.”

“What did I just tell you about the worst kind of lie?” Gelinda chuckled.

“I’m trying to convince myself!” Gilda growled and she was finally going to taste some more of that ginger and mint tea. Or she would, if someone hadn’t thrown some random griffon into their table and sent her mug to the floor.

“Will you dweebs knock it off?!” She cried and screamed at the same time and that caused the whole hall to freeze. “I swear the next one that causes trouble is going to end up pulling the heaviest cart I can find!”

“I’m not even in your caravan!” The griffon rising from under her table, a mid-aged charcoal shade of black and white complained.

“I. Don’t. Care!” She banged her fist on the table and a single thunder echoed outside. She was actually as surprised as everyone else but didn’t complain when they started putting the furniture back in its place and split into individual groups.

“Hum…” Gertha started once she was next to Gilda and the innkeeper had brought yet another mug. She raised a finger, sitting next to the table with her crest of blonde feathers in disarray. “There actually is a hitch.”

“I’m going to murder you if this is a joke about carts…” Gilda’s voice came out uncharacteristically low as she glowered at the pink queen.

“What? No!” Gertha wagged her head and frowned. “There really is a problem. You gotta talk to Mister Gillian. He’s outside. In the back.”

“Alright.” Gilda stood, but also took her mug of tea with her.

Madam Gelinda’s mate, the doctor, sat with her and Gelinda petted his ruffled feathers. The others calmed themselves and Grunhilda groaned, rubbing her paw over her head, but she didn’t seem to be injured.

“Help the innkeepers fix anything that is broken and then help them clean this mess.” Gilda talked sternly to the white griffoness. “Once you’re all done, wait for me. And no more coffee.”

“Okay…”

“And you come with me, Gia.” Gilda turned to the green griffon lady sitting next to the bar with Geary straightening out the feathers in her wings.

“Since when do you order me around?” She pouted at Gilda.

“Since I caught you whining to your tomfriend about how evil I am for stopping your plot to make away with the money. While wearing a pink tutu and a princess hat like some sick kink.” Gilda pointed at the door. “Get your hind moving or I’ll pluck your feathers, princess!”

Gia huffed like an angry teenager and started on her way to the door followed by Geary and his poorly disguised campy grin.

Outside, the sky was still dark above the tumultuous clouds, colors were dull, and Gilda silently cursed the princesses’ lazy hindquarters. All the light came from the sconces on the inn’s wall, and in posts in the empty ground. She didn’t even know if sunrise really was late or if those griffons were driving her crazy, but she complained under her breath anyway. The air smelled of the coniferous trees from the region and it was cold, but she was fine with the temperature. There was a breeze, but it was more relaxing than chilly. The cobblestone was stupid cold, though.

The caravan was already assembled in the road area inside the city’s outer walls. It had the rough sketch of a formation, but most griffons seemed to be inside small tents or around the few campfires. So many city griffons from the South that had no idea what they were doing she was thankful nothing caught fire in the night. Not that she would have known what to do in their place, but she felt entitled to some more grouchy mumbling. They seemed cold, though, hugging themselves and huddling together. But, at least, nobody was angry or creating more problems. They seemed to understand their situation.

Gertha seemed cold, but she kept it to herself and took Gilda to Mister Gillian. He was wearing a brown cotton coat and talked to a large gray and white northerner griffon with a straw hat. They were outside an improvised pen with six of the big beasts of burden that were the wooly oxen. It hadn’t snowed much so the pen was full of half-hard mud that stuck to their long and thick hair. As the group stopped to talk to the two males, one of the oxen sneezed a noseful of snot on Gia.

“Apologies.” The large beast sniffled with a deep bass voice.

“Bless you!” Gertha giggled while Gia pretended she wasn’t dying inside.

“Some of our oxen are sick.” Gillian indicated with a gesture in his typical professional demeanor. “The breeder refuses to let us take them.”

“Just pay extra…” Gia growled as she cleaned herself with her wolfskin coat. “He can replace the ones that die, and we can cover his costs.”

“Hah!” The gray griffon scoffed.

“Yeah, not everyone is evil like you, Gia.” Gertha deadpanned.

“Some of them are bound to die anyway.” Gia shrugged. “Even griffons are bound to die. We’re taking old and sick griffons with us. You’re delusional if you think that everyone is going to make it.”

“Actually, the town leadership has agreed to settle the older and sick griffons in the town and surrounding villages.” Gillian turned to Gia, then to Gilda. “There’s a nearby vineyard and their griffons passing through agreed to take them. There seems to be easy and relaxing work for the elderly and frail in there, as well as comfortable homes in their villa.”

“Great!” Gilda grinned. “But I suppose that we still need the oxen?”

Gillian nodded solemnly and Gia rolled her eyes. “We can eat the animals that die… Geez.”

“Then we’d just be stuck with heavy carts we can’t pull in the middle of the wilds, genius.” Gertha squawked. “I thought Loremasters were supposed to be clever.”

Gilda glared at her green ‘friend’ and gestured to the animals in the pen. “I’m not going to take these poor guys to die in a cold place far from home! We’ll distribute the weight again and find volunteers to pull the extra carts.”

“I’ll get our paws working on that, Lady Gilda.” Gillian nodded. “It should only take a couple of extra hours. And a few more Eagles to buy additional light carts and hire helpers. But since we’re not renting some of the animals we planned for, it shouldn’t be too much.”

“Thanks Mister Gillian.” Gilda nodded to him and then turned back to Gia. “And you. Why don’t you try to be more useful?”

“I don’t like you enough to be useful.” Gia said nonchalantly, patting her fluffy chest clean. “In fact, I don’t think I like any of you.”

“Yeah, well, go help Mister Gillian figure out the new numbers and I’ll pay you some Eagles. That way you can have some of the luxuries you’re used to.” Gilda pointed at the griffon that walked with the ox breeder. “I’ll even tell Lady Gwendolen you helped.”

“Fine.” The other rolled her eyes and started on her way, leaving Gilda with Gertha and the oxen.

“Can’t we leave Gia behind?” Gertha grumbled.

“Don’t start it.” Gilda moaned. “Grunhilda is enough of a pawful already. She and Gia are more than enough.”

“Well, I do declare that griffon lady was exceedingly vexatious and bothersome. So uncivilized.” The ox offered a dirty paw. “Me and my associates are most pleased with your thoughtful compassion, ma’am.”

Gertha blinked a few times at the mud-covered ox, and Gilda started walking back to the inn. “Yeah. You guys take care of yourselves. Come on, Gertha. We should probably eat something.”

When she remembered she was holding it, Gilda’s tea was already cooling, but she drank it anyway. The pink griffoness in armor walked next to her and they walked past some of the griffons already waking up and leaving their cramped tents. They would stretch and complain of the cold while the city’s guards would groan or grunt just to acknowledge they had said something. If at all.

Finally, the night changed for the day as Gilda and Gertha reached the inn’s door. They stopped and looked at the sky as the clouds shifted from pure black to gray. Better late than never, she supposed. At least she could see right.

“Finally.” Gertha looked back at Gilda. “Feels like they were late.”

“Yeah… It sure feels like that.” Gilda frowned. “Stupid pony princesses. At least they usually compensate with a longer day when they screw up the timing of the sunrise.”

Inside the inn’s main hall, peace still reigned. Grunhilda had a broom and was busy sweeping away dirt from a broken flower pot. The others either helped or sat in their pillows by the fire without creating problems like well-behaved children. The innkeepers served tea, hot spicy wine, and sausages. The smell filled the room, coming from the kitchen with roasting sausages and other foodstuff. It was impossible not to improve one’s mood and on her way to the hearth fire, Gilda left her mug on the counter.

Gilda sat by the two nameless ex-soldiers, and with Guille and Gil, who held a washing cloth with snow to the side of his head. One of the soldiers, the light tan and white one, spoke to her with a friendly smile and a mug of spiced wine. “You reminded me of the Sarge for a moment back there.”

“Is that good?” She smiled as she washed her paws with the pitcher and towel next to grab one of the sausages in their wooden plate.

The other, the dark tan soldier, chuckled. “The poor Sarge couldn’t even properly intimidate his recruits because Princess Twilight Sparkle put out some regulations when she visited.”

“I kindly bid you esteemed recruits of the Griffonian Standing Army maintain silence or I shall fairly and measurably discipline you within the confines of paragraph twelve, item B of the revised statute of codified disciplinary actions.” The former made air quotes with his empty paw and mimicked a deep voice. “All that while screaming at the top of his lungs. Poor guy. He was great though. Ponies meddling in his job was the problem. I felt like I was back in kindergarten.”

“Ponies and griffons are just different.” Guille nodded as though it was something extremely deep he had just said. But if he was happy, Gilda was happy too.

“Hey, I don’t think I ever caught your names.” She grabbed another sausage, showing a pleasant smile.

“Oh! I’m Gunner.” The dark shaded tan one pointed a thumb to his white chest.

“Yeah…” The other, the one with the lighter shade of tan fur rubbed his crest. “The thing is that I’m Gunner too. He’s Gunner of Griffonstone. And I’m Gunner of Beachhome.”

Gilda Shrugged. “So? There are only so many griffon names. I’m Gilda of Griffonstone. I’m sure there are a few other Gildas around.”

“Yeah. Sure. But… Uh… While we were in the army, I was a left gunner for the Second Artillery Company.” The dark one, Gunner of Griffonstone, offered a paw as he explained. “And he was a right gunner in the same piece.”

Since griffons simply stared at him with mild confusion, Gunner of Griffonstone explained further. “I primed the gun and loaded it with powder. Left gunner is supposed to bring the powder and shoot it at the officer’s command.”

“Yeah…” Gunner of Beachhome deadpanned. “Lieutenant thought it was hilarious.”

Gertha hid her beak behind a paw and chuckled. “At least they didn’t name you after stuff, like some ponies.”

“Speaking of ponies…” Gil growled while still holding the snow to her mate’s temple. “While you were destroying the inn, I was trying to tell you all that the batpony was gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Gilda moaned.

Right on cue, the door to outside swung open and one of Wayfarer’s Rest guards walked in escorting said thestral all the way to Gilda. A large female about Gilda’s age with leather armor over her shiny silver coat and white chest. “Please take care of your pet.”

Moonbow snorted an offended neigh.

The guard didn’t even wait for an answer and left. Gilda squinted at the pony. “What were you up to? Didn’t I tell you not to create problems?”

“I was just seeing the town!” She batted her leathery wings. “As far as I know, that is not a crime!”

“Whatever.” Gilda sighed. “Is your stuff ready? We’ll be, finally, leaving within a couple of hours. As soon as Mister Gillian is done dealing with a problem we had with the oxen. Stay close to Lost Temple.”

“Sure thing!” The pony grinned with all the typical ‘ponyness’ and nodded at her saddlebags. “All I need is right here with me!”

“Good. Now, please stay with Lost Temple and don’t wander off. Or… Do cheeky pony stuff.” Gilda glared at the pony. “You’re not on vacation.”

“Sheesh. Fine.” The thestral rolled her eyes and sighed, sitting and waving her hooves like she was telling a horror story. “I’ll just sit in the corner and try not to ‘pony up’ your air.”

With a final pout the pony went her way and one of the Innkeeper’s daughters came to Gilda and poured some more of the hot spiced wine for her from a jug. “I’ll keep an eye on her for you, Lady Gilda.”

“Thanks.” Gilda raised her mug to the helpful griffoness and took a sip of the warm spiced wine. She finally didn’t feel so tense from all the morning drama. Seconds later, Gia approached with her thrall in tow. Her wolfskin coat was gone.

“Where’s your coat?” Gil asked.

“In a fire.” Gia sat on one of the sitting pillows and Geary did the same, both washing their paws. “So, the issue has been resolved and Mister Gillian said we have an hour or so before we’re ready to get our monster buffet moving.”

Gilda chose to ignore Gia’s quip. “Cool.”

The latter picked one of the sausages for her and Gil beamed while reaching for something behind her sitting pillow. “Oh! This is the time to talk about the banner!”

She pulled a red cloth in front of her with a half-embroidered needlework of a griffon holding a sword made with golden wire. The thing was more like a long pennant, all red with half of the griffon still to be stitched into it.

“The northerners told me that we’re supposed to have a banner!” Gil started with a happy chirp before Gia interrupted her.

“It’s a flag… Banners are fixed in place…” Her voice trailed off with her typical joy-suffocating sarcasm.

“Well, it’s meant to be hung once we reach our destination.” Gil didn’t let the other mar her enthusiasm. “Look! This is you!”

“You are aware…” Gia started before biting a sausage and stopped talking for a few irritating seconds before she continued. “That the color red is meant as a sign of aggression, aren’t you? It's why pirates use the red flag once they’re done waiting for you to surrender… Or why raiding bands use them.”

“Uh…” Gil held the red cloth close to her chest. “Well… I wanted something different from the others. And all the colors were kinda taken.”

“Yes, you idiot.” Gia massaged her temples. “Because no caravan would fly a red flag!”

Gil pouted. “Well, it’s also the color of Gilda’s scarf as a member of the Court of The Harpy, right?”

Gilda finally shrugged. “I don’t think that the monsters will mind. We’ll use Gil’s flag. Nobody is gonna be idiot enough to think we’re raiders, or whatever, with a buttload of refugees trailing behind us.”

“Geez… A couple of ponies, a clueless Swordmaiden, numberless hooflicker refugees, sick animals, and a red flag…” Gia groused behind her mug with the spiced wine. “This is off to a great start.”

“You forgot the incompetent Loremaster…” Gilda smirked at her and couldn’t decide what was the best that followed. Gia’s outraged huff or the murderous stare she gave Geary when he laugh-choked on his spiced wine.

The rest of breakfast proceeded without issues as Grunhilda joined. They even managed to exchange some mindless banter, mostly about the brawl in the inn. Once it was over, it was finally time to depart.

The unexpected drama that is sure to crop up before every trip was dealt with. The sun was in the sky. Above the impenetrable clouds, but still. Griffons had properly awakened and had been fed. All bruises were tended to, and outlying issues dealt with. But before leaving the inn Gilda put her magical tiara on her head and the bracelets in her forelegs. Mythical was already on her back and things moved on their own regarding the caravan. She placed herself by the north gate, sitting on the snow and watching things happen.

The local guards helped organize the whole thing and the caravan slowly started moving like a lumbering beast. Despite all the hitches, it was a small miracle that things worked out in the end. Just the fact that all those griffons made it out of Griffonstone and the Royal Guard hadn’t teleported right at the city’s gates was enough to be thankful for.

She watched as the procession of oxen, several kinds of open and closed carts, and griffons of all ages and colors walked in front of her. Gosalynn and a few of her Sky Sentries moved out ahead to scout the route. Gillian went in the front with the Sky Sentry quartermaster and Gil followed, proudly holding their flag on her shoulder. The rest of the Sky Sentries walled off the procession so that nobody would wander off, but they seemed few and far between. Gilda’s ‘retinue’ would be in the back making sure nobody stayed behind.

She tried measuring the overall morale and it was surprisingly high. Cubs hopped around and ran along the line. A few adults carried bundles or pulled smaller carts with their few personal effects or their families and their extra supplies. Groups of friends talked between themselves and helped each other. It was another small miracle. Griffons were usually independent jerks, but Gilda supposed that they could work together when they must.

Maybe she should feel proud that it was the result of some leadership. Or screaming.

Speaking of miracles, Gilda’s eyes aimed at the stormy clouds above. “Hey… You there?”

No answer came and it caused a knot of apprehension to form in her gut. Gilda supposed that, in the end, there really was nothing that needed to be said anymore and she was to take care of herself and the griffons under her responsibility.

Madam Gelinda approached Gilda and sat with her. “Feeling anxious?”

“Yeah…” Gilda didn’t look at her, instead kept her eyes on the moving mass of griffons and beasts of burden.

“I wonder… She won’t answer you because she is busy.” Gelinda spoke, also eyeing the moving caravan under the cloudy sky. “Things didn’t go smoothly in Griffonstone if what I have been hearing is true. I’m afraid not everyone managed to make it here.”

Gilda looked at the older griffoness that spoke again. “That is likely why she’s not answering. She’s busy tending to our dead.”

It was a bit jarring to think of it like that, but Gilda supposed that she wasn’t the most important griffoness in existence. And even if she was, The Harpy’s attention might be needed elsewhere. It was not like she had shown that she is omniscient or anything. Gilda wondered for a second, after never pondering on the matter, if The Harpy wasn’t somewhere, hiding from Celestia. Maybe she was in Griffindell?

“Well…” Gelinda smiled and interrupted her thoughts. “From a certain point of view, it means she’s confident she can deal with other matters and trust you to take care of Her Children without her supervision.”

The words pulled at the knot in Gilda’s gut, but at the same time, her chest warmed with pride.

The loremaster hummed silently. “She’ll likely reach you soon. But don’t forget that she will not save you if there is trouble. We are supposed to take care of our own problems. And among these griffons, you are the one most powerful.”

“Yeah… I understand.” Gilda nodded mindlessly. The moving mass was almost hypnotizing, with chatting griffons and the noise of the wheels on the cobblestone. “We’re supposed to pull our weight, aren’t we?”

“Sounds fair…” Gilda hummed in conclusion. Especially after all that had happened. In a way she felt like she used to during the finals when she was in school.

She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. Because the lives of griffons wouldn’t be in danger because she got an F on Mathematics.

“Trust your instincts, Gilda.” The venerable loremaster spoke again. Uncanny how they always seemed to read Gilda’s thoughts. “You came where you are with Her help, but there isn’t much She can do if a griffon won’t help themselves. Remember that you are also a Loremaster and your memories from past lives will often contain answers.”

“Also, beware you are going into a land filled with magic and powerful emotions.” Gelinda’s voice took on a lugubrious tone. “You will have visions, dreams… Remember that you are not alone. The hatred of the Windigos will follow you all the way. They hate us, and you are special.”

Gilda didn’t answer. She simply nodded.

Finally, the line of griffons and beasts of burden was over. Their supplies and the bulk of their guards, both Sky Sentries and hired griffons waited outside the gates and fell in line after. Gertha, her brother, the two soldiers, Grunhilda, Gia and Geary, and the two ponies came to her after the last ox had crossed under the gate.

“Everyone is away, boss.” Gertha announced with a happy chirp. She and her brother wore their armor above cotton padding and carried their weapons ready. “We’ll be in the front. That’s where Gil should be with the flag and the big goof here wants to be with her.”

“Sure.” Gilda nodded. “I’ll be right along.”

The two took flight and hurried above the walking column as Gia and Geary approached with the others. She wore her blue satin cape instead of the red scarf and spoke with her best disinterested tone. “Since I’m the Loremaster in this ambulatory monster food carnival, I better make sure no one slows us down. I’ll be moving along the caravan as we travel. I’ll meet you in the front when we stop.”

“Just slap her if she gives you trouble, Gilda.” Gelinda chuckled. “Lady Gwendolen has conditioned the young Loremasters to respond to that.”

Gia stopped and stared at both griffonesses while they kept their faces straight. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? This isn’t funny.”

“Maybe I am.” Gelinda shrugged with a small, amused smile. “Maybe I’m not. I suppose Gilda will find out.”

Gia sighed and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Geary. I can’t stand this place anymore.”

She, along with her thrall also took flight and the ponies just hurried along, but Geary gave Gilda a respectful nod before following his master. The two ex-soldiers nodded at the column. “We’ll be in the back.”

“Okay.” Gilda nodded at them too, but she pointed at them. Their weapons looked different. “Hey, what happened to your muskets?”

“We sold them to a local blacksmith.” The other guy said. “The northerners said firearms won’t do you much good if monsters attack anyways. We swapped them for hunting rifles and had our pikes enchanted.”

With the stragglers closing the rear guard, they walked after them. Grunhilda joined Gilda. She didn’t carry their stuff in her fox pelt backpack. Instead, she wore, and damn well, the armor Gilda had bought for her. The hammer was on her flank and her mother’s bow rested slung over her left shoulder and her back, with the quiver of iron arrows on her side.

“Looking great, Big Girl.” She smiled and Grunhilda did her happy tap-dance, giggling like a kid that got a compliment and clinking armor.

Then, the road that circled the inner palisade of the city was almost empty. Gilda saw a young griffon sitting by the stream that came out of the city and circled around to the east gate. A young dark-tan and white tom sat on the cobblestone with a pair of short firearms hanging from the straps around his neck. He held a small bundle of a little blue griffon fledgling crying low and coarsely. The tired poor thing couldn’t even cry anymore, and the barely adult griffon seemed so tired. There was something poignant in the way he held a toy chicken plushie too and next to him was a similarly young queen with the most beautiful of azure and white colors.

Gilda thought that the couple was particularly pretty. Were they a couple? The tired crying baby looked like it could be theirs. But they had no clothes, no luggage, except for the two firearms the tom carried.

“Hey, aren’t you coming?” Gilda approached them and so did Grunhilda.

Coming closer, Gilda could see they were too similar and concluded they were siblings, and about as young as Grunhilda. She supposed the baby was their younger sister, though she was so young it was hard to see her gender in that dirty bundle of white and blue blankets she was in. The older sister didn’t react at all, and she had an empty stare to the cobblestone that made Gilda frown.

“We’re waiting for our father.” The tom kept staring at nothing like he was lost in his own world. Gilda wasn’t sure the queen even was aware of the world around her.

Something told her their father wouldn’t be coming. Maybe it was the fact that they were alone, and he had not mentioned his mother. The weapons made her curious, but she decided against asking. Instead, she nodded at the north gate.

“Come on, let’s go.” She told him softly.

He gave a soft shake of his head for a second before he replied with the certainty of a lost child. “We… We’re waiting for pappa…”

“I’m not asking.” Gilda pointed at the gates with the stern voice that usually worked on her thrall. “Grunhilda, help him with the guns and the baby.”

“Okay!” Big Girl chirped and took the weapons, hanging them around her neck and taking the bundle with the baby and the toy. The little thing stopped crying and gave Grunhilda a long curious stare with her big cerulean eyes. The large goofy griffon that was Grunhilda giggled and cradled the fledgling, tickling her with her beak. “Hi baby!”

She did a little hop and beat her wings to keep herself aloft while holding the small bundle of now giggling baby and waited.

“Her name is Giza…” He finally stared at Gilda. “I’m Godwin. And she’s Georgia.”

“And I’m Gilda.” She smiled and put a paw on his back.

Next Chapter: When Griffons Go On A Journey Estimated time remaining: 14 Hours, 18 Minutes