First part. The next comes later today, or tomorrow.

The roc -definitely not called Rocky- had comfortably settled in the Aviary. Gleefully chirping and scratching away at the straw on the floor, eventually chattering and flapping his wings in the wide space. Running around with majestic AF bird steps and coming back to make happy cooing sounds to Gilda before starting all over again. Again, and again, until Not-Rocky was satisfied he had comprehensively explored his new space.

Frozenlake’s griffons brought a small cart with a bathtub filled with meat. Made with wood and iron straps, it contained cuts of large raw game meat. Probably one or two deer worth of it. Smelling heavily of blood, its arrival immediately drew the big bird’s attention. To be honest, it attracted every griffon’s attention. But instead of just letting him peck away at the food, they borrowed the smithy’s longest tongs to feed him piece by piece. The eager little guy could peck a griffon's paw away if they weren’t careful. The hunters which had taken care of him along the way said it was best to feed him until they had solidified their bond. In the end, Gilda had found a new relaxing activity in feeding her pet. Grunhilda, Godwin and his sister Georgia helped. Fun all around.

Eventually, Gilda let the huntress and her family to care for the roc. She left with Lady Geena and the others via the side door they had entered the Aviary. The cold air of the griffon city greeted them with a crowd outside. Griffons spied into the building through the thick glass windows, murmuring myths about rocs and Gilda’s outstanding abilities. When they saw her, they cheered, making way for her to walk past the throng.

Gilda would be lying if she said the feeling of being recognized like that didn’t fill her with pride.

Unfortunately, someone waited outside to snatch Lady Geena away. It seemed her mate, Lord Graham, had left for Griffindell and she had her paws full. Lady Geena’s cute, salmon-coated assistant led them around the main keep in her stead. Just a run-off-the-mill medieval tower surrounded with support structures and a yard within the walls. They walked in between the buildings and saw several guards distinct from the Sky Sentry. Some citizens minding their business, and a lot of banners.

All the Harpy’s iconography became almost overbearing. But Gilda had come to a point where she liked it. She expected it. It brought her a sense of security. Anyone who disagreed in that city would probably be smart enough to keep their opinions private too. There probably was a good reason for Lady Geena and her mate to lean so heavily on the Cult of The Harpy. Frozenlake was the first really northerner city. Wayfarer’s Rest was a waypoint and Thunderpeak only recently truly changed sides.

On the other side of the keep the walls had another gate, also open. Past it was a plaza with the makings of a huge festival. Many griffons passed through the gate, excitedly carrying colorful streamers and carts full of festive items, or returning for more.

Gjarma smiled at Gilda and her attentive staring. “They are making the final preparations for the Gathering Storm. There will be games, feasting… Griffons from the smaller cities are sure to come, and many have already arrived.”

“Where are they going to stay?” Gilda turned to her. “With the caravan here, and my griffons taking up rooms…”

“Not to worry! The city has been preparing for their arrival too!”

“Hospitality is big with the northerners, isn’t it?” Gertha trotted up closer to them.

“That is actually a good question!” Gjarma stopped and turned to them with a grin. “Wealth is concentrated in the larger cities. In situations such as the crisis at Griffonstone, or festivities as the Gathering Storm, griffons will come to us. Most villages and hamlets are within a day’s travel, and griffons often know each other. When we go to them, during trips, we stay at their homes, thus it is only reasonable we welcome them when they come to us. This is as Mother Harpy taught us.”

Gjarma made a sweeping gesture at the gate. “It’s often a cub’s first contact with the Allmother. Other than what their parents have taught them. So, we must keep parents and cubs entertained. That is why we have copious amounts of food and drinks, games… Carnival. It’s meant to be fun for all involved, while they wait to hear the Lady of the City and her words about the Mother of Storms.”

After explaining, instead of resuming the walk, Gjarma directed their attention to a building built against the wall. Stone, as much as everything that wasn’t supposed to be cheap. Finely cut and expertly fitted together blocks and mortar. Glass windows with iron fittings and grand double doors made of thick, rustic planks, tarnished by time and weather. It was a thin structure at the top, although wide along the lower floors, and it raised taller than the wall. Several windows spoke of several rooms, the perfect place to stash your guests. If you had a military installation for home, that is.

The Manor had the northerner charm Gilda had come to like. Old stone with vines creeping along the lower floors and flowing banners along the upper floors. Wooden shingles made ceilings as the building climbed the wall and became thinner. Landing balconies dotted the floors. The main entrance protruded from the structure on the ground level and gave the whole thing a stately air of northerner nobility.

“Nice.” Gilda grinned while Gjarma put effort into pulling the heavy doors open for them.

The hall made Gilda grin even wider. Not as spacious as the Aviary, but definitely fancier. Wood planks for floor and an arched ceiling made of the same. A regal red carpet stretched between stone columns. Windows on the arched ceiling provided light, along with a giant candelabra and fancy iron torches on the pillars. A deep hall, for no other reason than that it made it more awesome, with ample space right at the entrance. Further down, a pair of long tables flanked a lengthy hearth with a low fire. Gilda expected something roasting above it, but such was not the case.

A wall of wide planks served as a back wall with the city’s coat of arms above a wooden throne with its own table. Passages by the side walls allowed access deeper into the Manor and a small band played the rustic northerner musical instruments. Just four griffons, discreetly by the side of the main hall.

Gilda took a deep breath and reminded herself the place wasn’t really hers. She was just staying there for a couple of days. Her grin kept growing, regardless. “Can I get something like this in Griffindell?”

Gjarma giggled, hiding her beak behind her paw. “Lady Gilda, this is nothing compared to some of the mansions you can acquire in the capital.”

A young tom hovered around the candelabra, lighting the candles, while a team of griffons quickly gathered in front of Gilda and Gjarma. All heads held proudly while an older griffon took the front, presenting himself with a paw to his chest. “Greetings, Lady Gilda. I am Grayden.”

Smaller than Gilda, with a metallic sheen on his cyan coat and pristine white feathers, he wore a blue jacket reminiscent of a tuxedo. The iron chain bracelet worn by the thralls was easy to see on his yellow wrist. But he spoke with a clear voice and stuffy sophistication. “The housekeeper, I should add. May I welcome you and your cohort to the Manor?”

“Cohort?” Gertha gave a confused frown, but Gilda mostly ignored her.

“Thanks, uh… Grayden.” Gilda coughed and Gjarma smiled at her, putting herself next to the male.

“I will leave you with Grayden. You should be in good paws. I’ll direct your friends here to the Manor as they are available.”

After spending a second watching her walk out the doors, Gilda turned to Grayden when he cleared his throat in a particularly intrusive way. “As a guest of Lord Graham and Lady Geena, you are temporarily granted the title of Ladyship of this property. Thus, you are also a vassal to the Lord and Lady of this town. Therefore, you are the direct liege of the Manor’s servants.”

Gilda blinked a couple of times and stared at the lined griffons in front of her. Their expressions ranged from concerned frowns to excited grins, and even a few excited hops among queens and toms of varying ages. Hopefully, her grin wasn’t too goofy. Surely it would be alright… All she had to do was remain cool and remember the Manor isn’t really hers.

She filled her lungs. “Let’s throw a party!”

Grayden coughed. “In reality, you are expected to host a dinner for Lady Geena. I believe this ought to suffice as a ‘party’.”

“Uh… I guess so.” Gilda scratched the feathers behind her head and sat on the soft red carpet while Grayden shushed the Manor’s servants into getting busy. “I suppose we should go see our rooms?”

Then her eyes fell on the chair at the end of the main hall. Made of wood, shining with a varnish that gave the clear wood a caramel appearance. Within seconds she sat her hind on the comfortable, velvety, white pillow.

“This is really nice.” Gertha chuckled, coming closer, but not so much as climbing the steps on top of which the chair and table were. Grunhilda giggled, standing close to the pink griffoness. “Just don’t let it get to your head?”

“I don’t know.” Gilda polished her talons with the fluffy feathers on her chest. “You all look like ants from here.”

Grayden cleared his throat again and got an angry glare from Gilda. He ignored it. “I will make sure your personal belongings are transferred to your rooms.”

“Yeah. Sure. Can you get involved, Big Girl?” Gilda turned to Grunhilda, who immediately lit up with a grin and an excited little dance before she left with Grayden.

Godwin and his sisters followed them, leaving Gertha with Gilda, and the pink griffoness gave her a goofy, half-serious grin. “I suppose I’m in charge of your personal security?”

“I guess so.” Gilda chuckled back at her. “Seriously, though. Make sure you and Guille get some good rooms. And make sure he’s alright. He seemed much better, but you never know.”

“Will do!” Gertha agreed with a nod and her usual enthusiasm before walking past the wall behind the chair.

The mansion’s servants busied themselves before Gilda on her throne. Setting the tables, both next to the fire and before her with porcelain dishes and crystal cups. No cheap glass or wooden bowls. The smell of food came from a side door, and so did the noises of a kitchen working full steam. A lot of banter too, as though they loved their jobs. Or maybe they were just excited for the change in rhythm. Most of the time, the Manor must remain closed.

Stretching her neck to see the city’s coat of arms above and behind her, a thought about how her own one should look made her smile. Maybe something like Gil’s banner for the caravan would work? It should definitely have Gilda’s profile on it. Maybe not red, though. Tan and white, with some golden details. Maybe frills around the banner? Nah… Frills looked like pony nonsense. More like… Huh… Turns out Gilda didn’t know a whole lot about banners. Gia could probably help. She clicked a talon on her beak a few times. Gia would probably make fun of her for asking, though.

A pair of guards outside opened the heavy doors to let Garnet in and interrupted Gilda’s thoughts. The light tan queen fumed and stared daggers at Gilda all the way from the doors, around the tables, until she stood at the base of the stairs. “You!”

Gilda walked around the table and sat at the top of the steps. “If we’re going to start like that, let me get my sword first.”

“This is not funny!” At least, the annoying hen didn’t climb the steps closer to Gilda. “These barbarians mean to abandon us at the mercy of the wilderness!”

“You are being dramatic.” Gilda wagged her finger. “They will help you settle the wilderness. Or what? Did you just expect them to build you a nice home while you sat by the fire with a glass of warmed wine? Besides, they’re sending experienced northerner rangers with the settlers. You are not being abandoned. All they need is some griffons that aren’t lazy and entitled.”

Gilda let a petulant grin pull the corners of her beak. “I suppose those are things you are not. Are you?”

Garnet would’ve burst in flames if she could. She pointed a talon at Gilda again and growled as furiously as a city bureaucrat could growl. “I want a job that is befitting my skills and my experience! I need an office with servants and paperwork! Not dirty, muddy snow and murderous monsters!”

“Go ask Lady Geena!” Gilda’s talon shot towards the still open door. The guards figured Garnet wouldn’t be staying long. “You are not my problem anymore. In fact, you were nothing but problems during the trip. Or… Maybe, you could suck it up, work a little, show some actual leadership and get to be mayor on your new settlement? Instead of trying to dupe a bunch of griffonesses into giving you a leadership position they didn’t need.”

“How dare you?! I was a leader to those young hens! Even if they were so ungrateful.” Garnet shook her fist in the air. “It’s your own fault you didn’t notice how much I could have helped. You‘re such a privileged-”

“Shut up, Garnet.” Gilda interrupted her with a conversation-ending gesture. “You don’t get to call other griffons privileged when you spent your whole life living off them. Stealing from them! The northerners need real griffons with real grit. If you meant to pretend you were working and make dumb griffons do everything for you, you should have stayed in the south! In fact, there is a caravan leaving for Wayfarer’s Rest. I’m not going to stop you! You can go back all the way to Griffonstone and complain to the Chancellor.”

Gilda pulled at her own crest and yelled, letting her wings flare and flap once. “I thought our conversation had served something! You learned nothing from that mess that landed you and Geldar in jail. I’m not even sure why I’m talking to you!”

Garnet stormed up the stairs with such impetus Gilda backpedaled a step, and her eyes grew wide when Garnet poked a talon between her fluffy feathers. “Listen to me, girl. And listen well. You are not the hot cake you think you are. You are a useful idiot that cunt up there in Griffindell is sponsoring. Nobody puts so much money into another griffon unless they mean to cash in on it. Sooner or later. So put down these feathers.”

Gilda frowned and let a silent gasp escape. Garnet wasn’t done yet, and poked her chest again, channeling all her inner bitch. Or molly, Gilda supposed. Either way, she kept tittering on a fine line between amusing and infuriating. It made Gilda tense her whole body. “I know who you are. You are the loser that sold scones at Grover’s Plaza. Judge Gracey was not the only one whose paws your file passed through. You see, I have actual power. I have friends. I have contacts. Unlike you…”

Garnet came closer. So close her beak almost touched Gilda’s and her hot breath wafted on her. Her fingers closed on Gilda’s chest feathers and pulled them painfully. “A griffon like me doesn’t vanish into thin air. My friends will ask questions, and they will learn I came to the North. And since I know all the skeletons they have in their closets, they’ll be eager to help me. And if I open my beak about you helping all these dissident traitors, I will get a reduced sentence, if at all. My friends won’t let me rot in prison. You will be hunted. The Mare Herself would love to hear what I have been hearing. She is going to sic the Royal Guard on you.”

The light tan griffoness took a step back with a smug grin, petting Gilda’s disheveled feathers. “Open your eyes, sweetie. You are not some northerner hero… You are a novelty. You are nobody. A scone-baking loser from Griffonstone that happened to be useful, for some reason. Do you think the mercenary siblings are loyal? The two deserters from the army? They are not going to stick their necks out for you, they only want money. Money you don’t have. Even further, if you become a liability to Lady Gwendolen and The Lion, you’ll end up fending for yourself. Alone. In this frozen hell.”

“So, I suggest you use your…” Garnet shook her head, widening her mocking grin, full of mirth in her eyes staring at Gilda. “Gravitas. And get me a nice place to stay. Before I decide to join the caravan south. And an apology would be nice too.”

“Did that hen just try to blackmail me?” Gilda sat her haunches on the wood floor and closed her beak once she realized it was hanging open. The two guards by the open door looked at her, waiting for what she would do or say while Garnet sauntered her punk ass away.

Maybe a draft found its way into the hall through the open doors. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was Gilda’s metaphorically boiling blood. The room grew colder. A couple of maids hid behind the stone pillars. The guards grew uneasy, shuffling their feet beneath them. They saw the ferocious scowl Gilda’s perplexed stare shifted into.

Through a flurry of thoughts and fiery emotions, Ghadah’s shared memories told Gilda she would have split Garnet open on the spot. Ancient remembrance from loremasters of the past filled her head with images and speeches about proper punishment. They ranged between different kinds of lashing and physical punishment because some griffons only understood strength.

A funny thought, because Garnet’s idea of strength was different from the idea The Harpy preached through her loremasters. For Garnet, money was strength. For Gilda’s quickly learning self, it was a combination of clout from honor and the fact that might makes right. The Children of The Harpy expected their leaders to not abuse their power and thus lent them their own strength. At the same time, their leaders dealt swiftly with upstart assholes that thought they could stomp all over their turf. It was the base of the Emperor’s power.

I could smash you like a bug, but I won’t, because we respect each other. I’m not a jerk, you’re not a jerk, we both win.

But what if someone was a jerk? ‘What would The Harpy do?’ Because the catch in such a balance of power was that it came from a very primal and ancestral understanding between griffons. One of those things Her Mother had ingrained in them from the first breath the first griffons drew.

You don’t fuck with a griffon larger than you who could present your intestines to your face!

Gilda’s screech filled the hall as she pounced across half its length. A powerful jump powered by her mighty wings. Garnet barely had time to react, to turn her head and look over her shoulder. Surprised, the light tan griffoness screamed, but it turned into a broken squawk, like a terrified rubber duckie, buckling under Gilda’s weight.

“Reality check, Miss Very. Important. Griffon!” Gilda held her crest and slowly said word after word close to her ear before she screamed. “You are not in Griffonstone anymore!”

Garnet tried to flee, but her talons slipped with no purchase on the velvety red carpet. Talons piercing the skin under fur and feathers filled Gilda’s nares with the smell of blood. She stood to throw the other griffoness against the wall beyond the stone pillars and hurled her. Garnet lost her balance and tumbled across the floor, rolling in a mess of griffon limbs to stop by the wall. She let a croaking whine escape and screamed with Gilda already on top of her. One paw to her chest, Gilda held Garnet pinned, unable to move more than her panicked, flailing limbs.

Larger and stronger, forcing the air out of Garnet, Gilda pressed her against the floor and the wall with a cruel scowl. The smaller griffoness whined breathlessly and scratched Gilda’s shoulders to little effect other than irritating her.

“Stop it!” Gilda yelled at Garnet’s face. It caused the light tan griffoness to sob and stare at her with huge, teary eyes, trying to protect her face with her paws.

“Murder and assault are crimes even in Snow Mountains, you brute!” Garnet screeched again, but her voice broke with a sob. For once showing some fear rather than arrogant indignation.

“I suggest you go running to your friends in the south.” Gilda hissed at her before throwing her again. Garnet’s limbs flayed beneath her, and she ended with her face on the floor. A pair of young maids ran from her immediate area and Gilda pointed at the door. “If I ever have to see you again…”

Finally, Gilda sat on the floor into a more comfortable position than standing on her hindlegs and watched Garnet retreat out the doors. Wings sagging, back bloodied and sobbing. Compared to what Gilda had suffered, she didn’t have much more than a bruised ego. Gilda could have been much more ‘emphatic’. The annoying hen should be happy she got to learn that lesson from her. Some griffons Gilda had to deal with would not be so nice.

“You know she learned nothing.” The familiar voice reached Gilda’s ears instead of intruding on her thoughts. Her steps sounded muffled on the carpet and her warmth drew close. The smell of lightning invaded Gilda’s nares and made her feathers and fur stand. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

The great, white and black griffoness sat at her side, but Gilda didn’t look at her. Instead, she kept watching Garnet running away past the door. “What, instead of dreams and mindfucking griffons, you go full hallucination on them now?”

Her blood still hot, Gilda could have chosen more respectful words. The Harpy smiled and made a grand gesture. “Our connection grows stronger.”

“So, what am I supposed to do about Garnet?” Gilda turned to her.

“If I told griffons how to solve their problems, they would never learn anything.” Mother stared down at Gilda with a mildly interested stare which shifted into an amused smile when the tan griffoness rolled her eyes. “I am very good at pointing talons and accusing griffons of the ways they have disappointed me, though.”

Gilda’s paw held her feathers on her chest. “I have not!”

Harpyia’s talon poked at Gilda’s beak and made her cross her eyes. “You still do not fully trust me.”

Gilda opened her beak to answer, but no words came out. Her beak clacked shut, and speech failed her again. Where did that come from? Gilda couldn’t think of a single instance where she had doubted. After the fight with the rocs, the accusation seemed to come from nowhere. At the same time, Mother Harpy was not angry. Instead, she held an amused smile.

But before Gilda could say anything, griffon steps patted on the wooden floor again. Grunhilda came out a door behind the lord’s chair. Quickly trotting towards Gilda with Grayden in tow. The Harpy had vanished with all her hail of noises and smells. The guards mindlessly closed the heavy doors outside, and the maids resumed whatever activity Gilda’s heart-to-heart with Garnet interrupted. As though Gilda never talked to Mother Harpy.

“We got everyone their rooms, but I’m not sure what to do with the fish the mayor gave you.” Grunhilda plopped her ass on the floor, showing her usual confused frown of indecision.

Gilda listened but turned to the majordomo. “I suggest roasting it with chervil, chives, dill, and parsley. While it is still fresh.”

“I thought it was some sort of souvenir.” Gilda tilted her head slightly. “You know… A gift for visiting griffons.”

“That is the intention. Yes. However, nobody really likes it, and it is a fish. They rot, given time. And the Frozenlake trout are quite tasty.”

“Great.” Gilda chuckled. “Get the thing to the kitchen then. I wasn’t looking forward to keeping a framed fish anyway.”

After Grayden excused himself, Gilda spent a couple of seconds smiling at Grunhilda. It was a good thing Big Girl didn’t catch her conversation with Garnet. Gilda didn’t want to stress her over that idiot. She meant to go with Grunhilda to the kitchen and see how things were working there, but the massive doors opened again. A cart had stopped outside. Their two pony guests hopped off next to Gia and Geary, and also Gilda’s secretary, Gisele. The green loremaster seemed so tired Gilda would’ve imagined she had to work in a mine if she didn’t know better.

“Don’t get yourselves in trouble!” One of the guards hitched to the cart growled at the ponies and caused the blue thestral to turn around.

“Have a good evening to you too!” She yelled back at the griffon with a sarcastic wave of her hoof. The male unicorn dragged her by the fluffy scarf to enter before she angered anyone.

Fortunately, the two guards by the doors spared Gilda further drama simply by closing them. Gilda approached the ponies in the meanwhile. “Please, try not to create any problems. Things are going nicely enough, and I would hate it if my pony guests messed things up.”

“Don’t worry! Those griffons were just angry I wanted to see the lake.” Moonbow smiled at Gilda. “Say, this is a nice place.”

“Then don’t try to go see the lake again.” Gilda deadpanned at the pony, ignoring her comment about the Manor.

While Lost Temple simply nodded, agreeing with her, Gilda pointed to the back with a thumb. “Get to your rooms and make yourselves comfortable. I have dinner to attend soon.”

Almost on cue, griffons started arriving with their personal belongings, entering the hall by another door other than the main entrance. Griffons hauling boxes, chests, bundles, wasting little time with pleasantries and going straight to the back of the hall.

“If your ladyship has no objections,” Gia started with an annoying bitchy tone that almost made Gilda deny her just because of it. To be honest, Gilda didn’t truly know what made her put up with Gia. Maybe she had learned to tolerate Gia’s personality or recognized the green loremaster would be useful in the near future. Ultimately, Gilda liked to think Gia tolerated her short fuse, and she tolerated Gia’s bitchiness for a balanced friendship. A proper one, The Harpy might add. “I will be checking my quarters with my thrall.”

“Just be back by the time the dinner starts.” Gilda shrugged. “I want you nearby when I have to deal with Lady Geena again.”

“Ah, don’t worry.” The green loremaster waved a dismissive gesture at Gilda. “You have no idea of the hassle this whole thing is going to be for me.”

“Really?” Gilda sat on the floor again with a contained smile. Gia thought herself so unpleasant, but Gilda knew a trick. “What is the deal with this dinner anyway? I mean… They give me the place and I’m supposed to host a dinner with their stuff? Their employees?”

“First of all, they’re not employees. They’re servants. Griffons are bound to the land and are expected to serve under their lord until they must leave. Then, they’re supposed to serve their new lords.” Gia stopped walking and turned around with an annoyed, tired frown. Speaking as though Gilda was stupid and in urgent need of tutoring, despite how so-very tired Gia was. “They’re very loyal to Lord Graham and Lady Geena, helping you because that helps Lady Geena. And being transferred to you so you can do the dinner and enjoy Lady Geena’s hospitality is how they do it.”

“Think of it like this… You know how the males make dick measuring contests?”

“Excuse me?” Geary cocked an eyebrow, but both ignored them.

“I… Wasn’t aware they did that.” Gilda raised her own eyebrow and gave the other a perplexed frown. “But okay. Go on.”

“You’re the new thing in town, and Lady Geena has to remind everyone that she’s still the top cat. So, she gives you everything, according to The Harpy’s law of hospitality, and you’re supposed to honor her with a nice celebration. If you put in some extra effort, then you make more points. And since griffons know she’s the top cat, she gets prestige too, because her guest is so ‘honorable’. Does it make sense?”

Gilda scratched her head, faking a curious expression turned around into a confused frown. “If someone ends up staying in another griffon’s home, are they supposed to make dinner?”

“No. That is the thing.” Gia explained while gesturing. She had reached the point she forgot she was supposed to be a ‘molly’ and started enjoying explaining. Always fun to see. “Normal griffons don’t do this. If you’re someone’s guest under the Law of Hospitality, you just thank them and do everything not to be a bother. It’s the Court of The Harpy nobility that does this.”

“And because I’m a loremaster, specifically one beneath Lady Geena, I’m supposed to do everything she says. Thus, I have to be at the dinner and at the Court of The Harpy meeting during the Gathering Storm.”

After a small pause, Gia let out a small laugh. “At least Gelinda is too.”

Gilda hummed, holding a talon to her beak. “Huh. I suppose this stuff really is important.”

“Quite, Ma’am’.” Gilda’s majordomo, or rather, the Manor’s majordomo returned when she wasn’t looking and added with a tired, yet still stuffy tone. “I would appreciate it if you considered a particular minutia of the situation your Loremaster friend has neglected.”

The smug bastard stopped talking for a second and made sure Gilda was paying attention. “Whatever competition there is within the Court of The Harpy is for the betterment of the Children of The Harpy. Not for questionable taste in analogies.”

While Gia did her best to ignore the snark, Gilda allowed herself a small chuckle. “Therefore, I would encourage her ladyship to prepare herself for dinner. She can expect not only Lady Geena and her immediate entourage, but several of the city’s members of the Court of The Harpy to attend.”

“Right… Right.” Gilda gave a pensive nod. “I suppose I should.”

“I’ll take you to our… I mean, your room, Miss Gilda!” Grunhilda hopped, wings flaring, and again doing an excited tap dance.

The tan griffoness, watching Big Girl’s antics, allowed herself a small smile. Anyone else, she would have thought that irritating at best. But not Grunhilda. Big Girl had permission to be silly around her.

“Come on then. Let’s get ourselves ready for the fancy dinner with your aunt.”

The pair made their way to the back of the main hall. Nothing more than a thin wall of slender planks separated the hall from a cozy and rustic amalgam of meeting room, living room and office. It had the typical northerner decoration of shields, and weapons.

Stony stairs took them to the floor above and into a more personal living space with a balcony. The view from the open doors was the inside of the keep’s yard. Not a great view. A Sky Sentry greeted the pair from the doors. A pair of corridors opened both ways, each with a stairwell before the rows of rooms. At the top, both led into a spacious living room and office. A double glass door opened into a balcony and the room had its own fireplace, bookstands, weapon, and armor stands and a couple of works of art.

Chief among them was a painting of Lady Geena sitting on a red pillow with another griffon next to her. A large, black griffon with a light shade of gray in his feathers. As tall as Geena was and actually bulkier. She wore the fabled cyan cape with swan feathers, and he wore armor. A set of armor that looked like he meant business. Dark steel with scratch marks which reminded Gilda of the rocs. The sort of damage only magical monsters could do. Above them a wall held the city’s coat of arms.

The painting hanging from the wall invoked the same kinds of images the legend Grunhilda had mentioned in Grahan’s airship. Funny coincidence, by the way. Big, mean griffons fighting even meaner monsters under the mean weather of Snow Mountains… All so the mean griffons in the South could live in peace.

“That Lord Graham?”

“Yes!” Grunhilda chirped. “I remember thinking he was scary when I was a really small fledgling.”

“Well, he looks scary.” Gilda chuckled before turning to the rest of the living room.

Nothing outstanding other than the rustic luxury of the North she came to appreciate, so she turned to the doors which led into the actual bedroom. The thoughts of what sort of bed she would sleep, and do other things on, gave her a bubbly excitement she wasn’t too used to.

Grunhilda anticipated her and jumped at the doors, pushing them open with ease. A lithe and cute griffon lady wearing a maid headdress murmured a song while she adjusted Mythical into a wooden support. Her tail waved a duster at a set of crystal cups and colorful bottles on a small table.

Grunhilda’s forefeet landed on the wood floor, and she stared dumbly at the maid with a loud, bordering on the comical, gasp.

Gilda thought the maid was cute. Delicate frame and white body, the tips of her also white feathers seemed tinted with a different, glossy white. They looked like they were made of ice. The maid even blinked her faint blue eyes at them with a smile as the doors opened. Cute, very cute.

Grunhilda wanted to murder her. Feathers raising so much she almost doubled in size, Big Girl stormed into the room like a train about to run over the poor maid. Yelling about as loudly as a train too. “Stay away from Miss Gilda’s sword!”

Gilda lost any chance of reacting fast enough as Grunhilda barreled towards the maid. The poor young queen screamed and covered her face with her wings and got hurled toward the doors. She slammed against the floor, on her back and curled into a ball of panicked griffon.

“Grunhilda! What the heck?!” Gilda hurried to the maid’s side and thankfully, she wasn’t injured.

The small griffon lady jumped to her feet and screeched at Grunhilda, also flaring her wings, and ruffling her feathers like an angry bird about to murder someone. “Do you want a piece of me, you… You…”

The maid screeched and flapped her wings, cocking her head, so angry she was. “You thrall! What do you think you are?! Do you have any idea who I am?!”

Grunhilda flapped her wings too, just as angrily, but kept her head low in a fighting stance. “Nobody cleans Miss Gilda’s sword but me!”

Gilda stared at one and the other, letting her irritation get to her voice. “Grunhilda…”

“Are you crazy?! It’s my job to clean the manor and its occupant’s belongings!”

Gilda raised her voice. “Hey!”

Both ignored Gilda, stomping closer to each other with bloody murder in their eyes. Glaring into each other, they started circling around. The plumage on their backs stood and their tails fluffed up, the tips wiggling back and forth. Wings at the ready to provide impulse.

“Not Miss Gilda’s magical sword!”

“Grunhilda!” Gilda yelled. “You never polished Mythical before…”

“Yes, I did!” Big Girl turned to her, with very offended lidded eyes. “You just never saw it.”

“I don’t know if this is creepy, funny, or just weird. Stop fighting over something so dumb. She’s just doing her job!”

“No!” Grunhilda glared at Gilda and slammed a paw on the floor. “It’s my job!”

Finally, the maid scoffed obnoxiously loud. “Can you, please, educate your thrall, ma’am? She’s not behaving very well next to a member of the Court of The Harpy.”

“And you don’t talk about her like that. Grunhilda is my friend.” Gilda turned to the snotty maid.

“Actually…” The maid retorted. “That is the problem. Thralls get too full of themselves if you don’t treat them with some distance.”

Before Gilda could remind her, she is actually just a maid in someone else’s house, Grunhilda screeched and jumped at the maid. Grunhilda had size and bulk, but the maid knew what she was doing and pushed Grunhilda’s weight to the side following with a pounce. They rolled on the floor, ignoring Gilda’s orders to stop and sending white feathers everywhere. Finally, after a lot of swearing, screeching, and yelling, Gilda was done rubbing away her headache.

“Will you stop before someone gets hurt?! I said stop!”

Gilda went ignored. Reaching and holding one of them would only make it easier for the angry scratching to actually hurt someone. Instead, she went with her instincts. Out of nowhere, her paw discharged magical lightning on both. Did she know how exactly she did it, other than she was pissed off? No. But it worked. The angry hens squealed and jumped from each other with some scorching and a few broken feathers.

“I’m supposed to be a noble lady, not the responsible adult in the room!” Gilda yelled at both before she turned to Grunhilda and then to the maid. “You go sit in that corner. And you go tell the… Whoever is your boss that you got in a fight with my thrall and that I am pissed!”

“Well, technically, you are my boss…” The white maid grumbled while Grunhilda dragged her wings to a corner by the bed. “I’m the daughter of Lady Gissa and Lord Govin. Not some lowlife servant, though. I will not have a thrall treat me like that!”

“I’m already angry at her too. Go tell your mom I said you can’t fight with my thrall, or I will...” Gilda raised her paws, inches from strangling the maid.

The young northerner raised her beak with a most undignified huff and grabbed the duster with her beak. Getting her panting breath under control, Gilda watched the maid strutting her way out like a light shined on her. Staring at her fingers, then at the maid’s cute, but annoying butt, Gilda snapped her fingers. It resulted in a bang, sparks, and the maid running off with a squeak.

After a fleeting grin at her fingers, Gilda turned to Grunhilda. Big Girl literally sat in the corner, staring at it. Her wings jumped off her backs every now and then, and her feathers still flickered with barely contained anger. A very childish anger Gilda meant to scold her for, but she supposed it was just Grunhilda being her immature and loyal self. The tan griffoness ended just sighing and shaking her head in silence.

The moment allowed Gilda to survey her room. A large, luxurious one. The bed, for starters, was as tall as a griffon’s height, made of heavy wood and covered in glossy silk sheets. Heavy wool blankets waited, rolled up by the feet. A pair of partitioning walls, made of iron rods in a flower pattern divided the room in two environments. The bed dominated the furthest part, even with the fancy curtains before the window. Gilda supposed the door opposite to the bed would lead to a toilet. The window showed the city past the keep’s walls, under the failing daylight. She could see all the way over the frozen lake to the thick white mist beyond. The thick glass would protect the room from the cold, though not much. The cold was pervasive in the North. An iron candelabra held many candles above the partitioning walls and provided good light.

The living area had some sitting furniture, a vanity, and a fancy wooden tub for bathing, already filled with hot water. Small tables provided bathing aids such as soaps and shampoos. Across an empty walking space, the area had a small table with some beverages and fruits. An armor stand had been set up with Grunhilda’s armor next to another stand with her bow, arrows, and new spear. Mythical stood nearby and Gilda’s white cape too, both on their own stands.

Lots of wardrobe space, a large fireplace already burning ash wood, and a bear skin rug, white and fluffy, made the room complete.

A really nice place overall, even with Mother Harpy on her belly on one of the laying pillows and staring at Gilda, waving her tail one way and the other.

“What?” Gilda glared. “Are you going to tell me about how I should have punished the maid?”

“You have a tendency of perpetuating bad behavior if it goes unpunished.” Harpyia calmly watched Gilda approach her from the pillow. “It is part of the systems which generate motivation for you.”

“Do you know how edgy you sound when you say things like that?”

“You liked hearing about why the griffon penis has small protuberances.” The white and black griffoness chuckled. “You did a disservice to that queen by allowing her to walk away unpunished.”

Gilda sat on her haunches and crossed her forelegs with a frown. “If you came here expecting to see something spicy…”

The Harpy let a throaty chuckle rattle her shoulders. “You are simultaneously exciting and pedestrian in your endearing lack of polish, Gilda. Whenever I had some new servant sworn to me, I would make sure to let them anticipate my summons until the end of the day. Or I would wait for them to take the sacrifice into my sanctum.”

The memory shot a lightning bolt through Gilda, and she squirmed before her cheeks warmed with a red tint. “I would offer good wine and food, before thoroughly exploring every inch of their body. Then I would decide if they were better at receiving my ministrations or providing them to me.”

Gilda groaned at her teasing words, annoyed at the warm feelings the memories and words brought to her nethers and into her chest. “That actually sounds like harassment…”

“Only if they do not consent.” The larger griffoness tilted her head with an entertained smile. “Remember what I told you on the matters of love in your race. It is a game of dominance. In the North, it is also of social standing. You will find that griffons are much more honest, which is something the hooflickers confuse with barbarity.”

Gilda blinked at her. “Am I the giving or the receiving kind?”

The black and white griffoness laughed with more spunk she had any right for a hallucination. She stood and walked to the little table with the beverages. “You must dazzle them and lean on your power, for no other reason than that you can. Put them in their place, beneath you.”

Gilda frowned when The Harpy served herself a glass of amber, strong-smelling drink. Uncorking the glass bottle and pouring it into a short glass. Like she was actually there. “Unless you must, do not hold your cards to your chest. Make them feel threatened, amazed. Submissive.”

“The meeting of the Court, for example. Griffons go to explore such feelings in a safe environment. You will see what I mean. It is one of the reasons it is so ritualized for the youth. It actually is important.” She sat to stare at Gilda, like a teacher describing something. “Play the game of dominance, or they will play it with you. Control them, or they will control you. Only commoners have the option to not play it. And pay attention to your servants who are open to your advances. And make them your little lovebirds. Or they may conclude you are not so impressive after all. The meek has never ruled anything.”

“Eh?”

“Gia, for example. And your mercenary friend, Gertha.” The Harpy waved her paw at Gilda and made the liquid in the cup dance inside while grinning deviously.

“Eh?!” Gilda cocked her head. “Gertha?! For real?”

Gilda’s reaction made the other laugh. “Sometimes the tough, big griffons too prefer to feel safe and protected… Serving their lieges. Not all griffons are fit to lead, Gilda. It is a dynamic game, a delightfully rewarding one if you can read other griffons. Especially the ones who need you to be something. If you fail, they will find another.”

“Wait…” Gilda winced and waved her paws with a slight blush. “What in the world are you telling me to do?!”

“I believe I already told you griffons would not learn anything if I kept telling them what to do.” She gave Gilda a tired stare. “You are perfectly capable of figuring it out.”

Gilda watched with a frustrated frown while The Harpy downed the drink she had served herself before waving the empty glass at her. “I believe I have told you to enjoy yourself multiple times. Add to that your social standing among the members of the Court. Why would a griffon looking for success follow another who fails to reap the rewards of their work? You were right not to allow Garnet to talk to you as she did, and your wrath was noted. Griffons will remember that. Moreover, you should take every opportunity to strengthen your body and your mind. In the few days you are to spend in Frozenlake, you should seek Geena’s assistance to become better at your job. Griskjal is not likely to take you seriously if you fail to impress him. In such a case, you are unlikely to make it to Griffindell and I will be most disappointed.”

“I’m starting to think I want to make it just so I can make you eat the fish they gave me here…” Gilda let out a sigh and glared at the larger griffoness, who laughed at her bite.

“Now, that is more like it. I cannot wait to see you in the flesh, my beloved champion.”

With a flourish, Mother Harpy held the short, wide glass pinching it with her talons and deposited it on Gilda’s paw. It had warmth. It had weight. It held a residue of the strong alcoholic beverage saturating Gilda’s nares with its burning aroma.

Gasping, Gilda looked at the larger griffoness, but she wasn’t there anymore. Then she looked at her paw, and the cup was not there either. Gilda’s tan fur and feathers stood on her back, and her eyes snapped to the bar where the bottle and little cups stood undisturbed. A shiver climbed her spine.

Finally, another sigh escaped Gilda and she turned to Grunhilda. Big Girl still faced the corner, but her wings sagged to the floor and her head disappeared behind her shoulders. Gilda rolled her eyes. “Come on, Big Girl. Let’s get ourselves ready for dinner. Thrall or not, you’re my lover as far as I’m concerned, and I want you as presentable as I.”