Not having real metrics or experience to judge properly, Gilda chose to call the dinner a success. After all, nobody complained. Lady Geena didn’t complain either, and had a dance with Grunhilda, Godwin and Georgia too. Gilda didn’t dance out of fear of imploding under the weight of her insecurity. Fortunately, nobody asked her to dance. None of them felt like they had the right standing, Gia explained. Had anyone asked, Gilda would have said she didn’t want to show any favoritism. Yes, she went as far as having a Plan B.

Instead, Gilda spent the dinner talking to the important griffons of Frozenlake and of Wayfarer’s Rest. All of them politely avoided any sensitive topics, though. The highlight of such conversations was Captain Gosalynn. The short griffoness, while high as a pegasus cloud mansion, told Gilda the local captain wanted to meet her, but ‘he was up to his dumb hind in work because of all these catbirds in town’. But Gosalynn promised she’d take him to meet her the next day.

As things winded down, griffons took their time to excuse themselves with Gilda. Mostly quick affairs with some wishes of success in Gilda’s journey in the coming days. Most griffons also included her coming career as a Swordmaiden. A couple of the noblegriffons noted their desire of watching her dance during the Court of The Harpy meeting.

Right… She was a Swordmaiden. Swordmaidens were supposed to split things open and dance sensuously with their swords. Well, she’d see how that goes. Gilda had the looks, but that probably would probably not happen too soon. Even if she felt confident in her ability to feel and remember her way through it. Still, she avoided saying anything too on the nose.

Other than that, Gilda allowed the majordomo to welcome some griffons to the many guest rooms of the Manor. The town had run out of accommodations as more griffons than expected had come to meet the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani. Thus, several griffons graciously ceded their accommodations at the city’s luxurious inn to more prestigious noblegriffons. Gilda had come to understand it as a gesture of respect. Since the Manor’s guest rooms weren’t that fancy, it seemed reasonable for them to stay. Even if she could deny them a comfortable place to stay, she supposed the hospitality laws, as esoteric as they were, should be minded. Letting such griffons stay at the Manor would be her pleasure. If for no other reason, because Gilda didn’t want to turn into Garnet.

Although some of the prominent noblegriffons who asked to stay at the Manor wanted to shake the sheets with Gilda. How did she know? The stares. The smells. Griffons aren’t as sneaky as they liked to think. Especially males when they wanted to get unter some cute tail. They would get another chance at ‘The Meeting’. Gilda’s unofficial mate came first and foremost. Also, drunk Grunhilda, all flustered up and horny at her experience dancing with a dude proved too much to pass up.

However, more griffons staying at the Manor made alarms blare inside Gilda’s head. Godwin and Georgia ended up sleeping in the same room with little Giza. Behind a locked door as well as a locked window and sharing the same bed. If there was any way a griffon could climb his way up the toilet’s chute, Gilda would have found a way of closing that too. Even if it actually went to a septic tank instead of a moat. Anyway, Gilda posted a pair of guards at their door. Just to be sure.

Curiously the guards, one dude and a lady, chuckled. Turned out it was kind of a joke. Parents posting guards to their older kids’ doors during the days surrounding the festival. Gilda nodded and smiled. All was right.

The night lasted for a while after she closed her door, but Gilda woke up rested and happy in the morning. Hiding under the wolfskins they had for blankets, Gilda woke to herself snuggled up against Grunhilda’s back. Some soreness, aching muscles and sluggish thoughts vanished with a languish cat-stretch. A teasing peck at Grunhilda’s chin, pulling her feathers ever so slightly caused Big Girl to mumble a sleepy complaint.

The bright light entering through the window spoke of how late she had awakened. Gilda didn’t mind it and decided to leave Grunhilda asleep if that's what she wanted. It was a holiday, after all. Maybe the northerners didn’t do the ‘no working during holidays’ thing, but Gilda was cool with Grunhilda resting for a while longer.

Only some embers remained in the fireplace and after relieving herself, Gilda took a quick bath. The cold water didn’t bother her as much as it would have in the past. Afterwards, she wore her cape and her jewels. She also took Mythical with her, the sword being her ‘badge of office’. Her weight felt comforting against Gilda’s back. It also seemed like a ‘northerner lady’ thing to be roaming around with her weapon.

Finally, Gilda walked outside. Crossing paths with some of the maids who minded the Manor’s day-to-day maintenance and exchanging greetings. Gilda also walked by some of the guards and politely acknowledged their nods and no-nonsense bows. Making her way to the main hall, she found Gertha and the three siblings sitting at one of the tables. All four of them gobbling down fish filets and light, spicy mead for breakfast. Gilda could tell because of the smells and light colors.

Before Gilda could even say anything one of the maids arrived from the kitchen. She carried a plate with her wing. It contained the same spiced fish filets, and a bottle of the clear mead. One of the cute maids. Delicate frame and white body, with a glossy white at the tip of her feathers.

The maid rushed to the table atop of the steps. The one by the high seat of the Manor’s lady. But Gilda didn’t sit at that table, walking past. She wanted to sit with Gertha and the kids. The maid glared and rushed past her to set her food on the other table, across the fire from the other griffons. But Gilda walked past her instead of sitting there either. It caused the maid to hum indignantly and angrily set the tray with the stuff on the table across, not next to Gilda’s friends.

“What is wrong with you?” Gilda turned around and stared at the maid. “Wait! I know you.”

The maid cocked her head. “Your thrall attacked me!”

Then she pointed at the table at the top of the stairs, with a bratty snarl. “And you are supposed to sit there!”

Gilda made a confused frown. “But I want to eat with my friends!”

“You are eating together if you are in the same room!” The maid pouted. Indeed really, really cute. Also annoying.

“I want to talk to them!” Gilda frowned and let her voice raise and the others stopped eating to watch their shouting match. “I don’t want to yell across the table, you dweeb!”

“You are in the North, you have to do things like the northerners!” The maid insisted with an angry glare.

“Put the food here or I am going to get emphatically involved with your education!” Gilda yelled at the maid and poked the table with a talon.

The maid answered with an ardent huff before she stormed her way next to Gertha and dropped the tray on the table. With all the malevolent compliance a griffon could summon. Thankfully the mead was corked and didn’t spill all over the food when the bottle turned on its side. Gilda called her following that, but the young maid simply ignored her, whipping her tail on her way.

Gilda spent a couple of seconds watching the maid walk out the hall with furious, heavy stomping steps. Flared wings and raised feathers, mumbling something Gilda didn’t understand. Suddenly the tan griffoness found herself resisting the urge to pounce at the youngling. Maybe giving her some of the same treatment she had given Garnet.

In the end, Gilda just shrugged. “I suppose she’s angry I didn’t punish Grunhilda over fighting with her yesterday.”

“Grunhilda got into a fight?” Somehow, Gilda’s explanation seemed to confuse the pink Gertha even further than she already was.

“Yeah.” Gilda sat next to Georgia and washed her paws. “When we arrived, we saw the maid cleaning my sword and Grunhilda got angry. She was kind of jealous.”

Georgia put her cup on the table and glared with a sarcastic tone. “That is not weird at all!”

Gertha chuckled. “Grunhilda is a bit dependent on Gilda. Kinda like a puppy.”

“I’m not sure I like that analogy…” Gilda picked one of the filets but stopped to talk.

Gertha chuckled again. “Sorry boss. Say. Ah… I talked to that griffon you wanted me to see during dinner… And… Ah… It’s pretty bad.”

“What is it?” Gilda gave the pink griffoness her full attention, but Gertha didn’t talk further. Instead, the mercenary indicated the three siblings with her eyes.

“You know we can hear you, don’t you?” Georgia deadpanned behind Gertha leaning into the table to stare at Gilda from behind the pink griffoness. Godwin tried to pretend he never noticed anything, and Giza just wanted more fish.

“Yeah.” Gilda told her. “But we’re gonna use our ‘adult prerogative’ and not have to tell you anything. Come on, Gertha. Let’s talk in my room.”

Gilda stood from the sitting pillow and took her plate with her while Gertha did the same. Fortunately, the three siblings didn’t follow, and the Manor’s maids didn’t bother them on the way up. Reaching the living room before the actual room, where Grunhilda slept, Gilda told the two guards to take a hike and they did obediently. Alone, the two queens sat at a meeting table near the corner, far from the windows and balcony.

“So, they have an army here, right? Prisoners from the Griffonian Standing Army, sent to spearhead an invasion.” Gertha started and Gilda nodded, while both enjoyed the chicken filets. “So, there were not only griffons with that army, but also hippogriffs.”

Oh, shit. There was only one thing that could be going on and Gilda hated it.

“When they arrived,” Gertha went on. “They got separated and examined by the Loremasters. There is talk of one guy Lady Geena took to Griffindell, but what really worried me were the hippogriffs. The northerners have them in an isolated bunch of hovels and are not feeding them properly, nor treating diseases or injuries. They’re not even properly protected from the cold. Some twenty hippogriffs, and there is a guy that has asthma and he’s going to die without help.”

“The… You know…” Gertha made quotes with her fingers. “The ‘half-bloods’ are getting help from the city’s resident Saddani and a few others. But they can’t stay here… The problem… Well…”

“They are prisoners.” Gilda sighed. “They can’t just go. And if they happened to disappear, the Saddani taking care of them would be in trouble.”

The griffoness massaged her brow while Gertha waited expectantly for Gilda to say something. It would be so much easier. Immensely easier to just ignore the problem. Getting involved was going to do nothing more for Gilda than mudding her relationship with the Allmother. She stood to gain nothing from getting involved after things had finally started going her way. No.

No. Screw those hippogriffs. When Gilda needed help, she had to fend for herself. Only the northerners helped her. Only Mother Harpy helped her. It almost felt like betrayal, helping the hippogriffs. It was just easier to fall in line and accept the hippogriffs for the filthy half-pony abominations they were.

Then she rested her elbows on the table and covered her eyes with her paws. An audible groan escaped her.

She couldn’t do it.

It was beyond Gilda to just accept that those hippogriffs deserved to suffer. That they were inferior just because their parents mated with ponies in the past. Ghadah screamed at her from the depths of her soul to just let it go. One thousand loremasters Gilda lived as insisted on how bad an idea that was. But Gilda couldn’t convince herself to let go. Something inside prevented her from simply accommodating into her comfortable position. Part of it was how much she actually feared that course of action would lead them into another death spiral, like the empire in the past. Even if The Harpy disagreed, coexistence made itself necessary.

Gilda finally sighed and looked at Gertha again. “What would you do in my place?”

“Thank whoever that I am not in your place?” Gertha shrugged. Gilda was sure she could strangle her if she tried hard enough, but Gertha was actually trying to help. Despite her smartass answer. “Ah, Boss… I…”

Gertha grimaced and scratched the ruffled feathers behind her neck. “I mean... I made a living by fighting griffons and low-tier monsters. I once got called for a job about some dude that wanted another kidnapped and stashed in a house away from town. Yeah… I just told the local militia about it and never talked to that fixer again.”

“But, uh… If you feel like you can’t get involved, I’m not going to judge you. I’m not naïve enough to think that you could afford to help them and not get yourself screwed.” Gertha spoke plainly, staring Gilda in the eyes, and with as blank an expression as she could. “I’m not judging. I really am not, boss. Do you think The Harpy can take away your powers? Take away your dreams? That sort of thing?”

“I think she can.” Gilda drummed her fingers. “She’s probably listening to us right now…”

Gilda even looked around the room, expecting to see the big black and white griffoness lounging about on some comfortable couch or pillow. Judging her. The Harpy was nowhere to be seen, though. Still, Gilda just couldn’t rid herself of the anxious feeling The Harpy hid right behind her eyes.

Gertha just shrugged. It took almost a whole minute of mental anguish before Gilda finally accepted she couldn’t just abandon the hippogriffs. She threw her yellow paws and cawed. “I have to do something. I’m not sure what yet, but I gotta do something!”

“I just…” Gilda started with a helpless frown. “I want to help the hippogriffs. I do. Because they don’t deserve to suffer, and I feel like we can’t push it too far like this. Hating the hippogriffs will bring everyone against us. I have memories of the fall of the Empire. It was all because griffons pushed too hard. She, Mother Harpy pushed too hard. And she didn’t take it very well when things fell apart. She wants to kill Celestia and we, griffons, are going to help her. But I can’t help feeling like we’re marching straight to doom. And I… I don’t want Her to die. I want all of us to have a nice life. Maybe we can even fight the ponies, but… Not like this. Not to this extreme where we can't win.”

“You’re not making a lot of sense, boss.” Gertha did her best not to smirk, Gilda could see. But Gilda’s rambling was too much even for herself. “You like The Harpy… I guess I like her too, and I understand enough, I guess. I’ve had friends that wanted to do stupid things too.”

“How did you deal with it?” Gilda stared at her expectantly, nervously tapping her talons at the table.

Gertha grimaced. “I didn’t. They wouldn't listen, so I kinda ditched them before they got me arrested.”

Well, it was not like their problem was so easily fixed anyway. Gilda didn’t know what to say, but the doors to the balcony opened. Georgia walked in, followed by her brother and their little sister. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“We? Ah, nevermind… I am open to suggestions!” Gilda threw up her paws with frustration. Was there even a point in getting angry they had snooped? “Or did you just come here to listen in on our conversation?”

“Well, if you managed to get them to leave with the caravan, I could take care of them. I’m not good with guns, but I’m a good healer.” Georgia smiled widely. She was probably telling the truth. Gelinda had recruited her to help after the rocs attacked, after all.

“I’ll think about it.” Gilda finally shook her head. “I’m not going to leave them behind. I’m gonna find a way to get Lady Geena to let me help them. I just don’t know what I’m going to do yet! All I know is that we gotta go to the Gathering Storm festival or she’s gonna be cross with me.”

“It’s supposed to start at lunch.” Georgia frowned. “How am I supposed to enjoy a feast knowing they are basically torturing hippogriffs? Just because they’re not ‘full griffon’!”

“‘Torturing’ is a strong word, Georgia.” Godwin added calmly, making air quotes. “Maybe the secret is making them our problem, to get them off Lady Geena's paws.”

“Talking like this makes you really sound like… I don’t even know. King Godwin, The Terrible.” Georgia groaned.

“I’m being pragmatic.” He defended himself by raising his beak and putting a paw on his chest.

Gilda waved a paw at them. “Chill. We’re doing this together. I’ll think of something. Just don’t make any noise about it. I’ll… I’ll think of something. I promise.”

And so, the morning passed. Gilda sat behind the desk in her living room and thought about the situation. Gertha went on to take care of her own business. Eventually Grunhilda woke up and joined Gilda, doing nothing. Once she became bored, Big Girl got her smithing book and settled down to read. Georgia and Godwin too picked up books to read. Giza spent the morning destroying a plushie rabbit Gilda had no idea where had come from. What mattered was that the little griffon cub was entertained. It was a cute plushie, but Gilda supposed that Giza had gotten into the spirit of the northerner griffons.

Lunchtime came too soon, and Gilda still had no idea how to deal with the hippogriff situation. She shelved those thoughts for a while, or she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the celebration. Georgia had a point, but Gilda’s chances of helping those hippogriffs would improve if she participated in the thing. So, nothing wrong with her enjoying it a bit, right? Right.

Gilda made sure Big Girl and the three siblings were ready and walked out the Manor with them. The day was relatively hot, and she decided against wearing anything. Supposedly, she was early, and the rest of her companions would soon join them, but that was fine. Gilda needed some urgent down time after racking her brain (unsuccessfully) to find a viable solution. She was also starving after her light breakfast. The others decided against wearing anything too, but Grunhilda donned her fox pelt backpack before leaving. Gilda supposed it was good forethought as they were bound to need some money. Georgia was still miffed about the situation, but she didn’t say anything.

Supposedly, Frozenlake’s griffons had spent the whole morning getting ready for the festival. Gilda wanted to see what they had prepared, and Harpy above, did they deliver. The festival spread over an entire section of the city. Fireworks banged occasionally and music came from outside the keep’s gates. Secluded inside ‘her’ mansion, Gilda never noticed it, but the calm and collected griffon city transformed into a noisy, festive city to rival the pony cities.

The heart of the festivities stood right outside the gates of Lady Geena’s keep. Like the walkways around the city, the plaza had been covered with planks, making a raised platform spanning the entire open area. Covered with more noisy griffons than Gilda had ever seen in one place. Even considering the angry mob before the Chancellor’s Palace, back in Griffonstone. A lot happier, though. Spontaneous demonstrations of happiness like singing chirps and caws, excited little dances, and flapping wings happened all the time amid conversations. Every now and then a cub ran past them with a toy or another.

Groups of griffons congregated around colorful tents and stands, each owned by a griffon or two. They sold everything. Local produce, such as strawberries, carrots, seasonings, and stuff Gilda had no idea how was made to grow in that place. Other stands offered more understandable things like cheeses, cured leather, eggs, and rolls of wool and spun fabrics.

Unholy amounts of food sat on the stands, with tables ready for comfortable consumption. Things Gilda had not seen yet, such as several kinds of pies and fritters filled with different fruit jams. And meat. So much meat! Cooked, smoked, roasted. Broths, filets, or strips, soaked with sauces or dipped in seasonings. Beverages too. Ranging from colorful juices to different flavors of mead and wines with varied spices. Special note to the spiced wines meant to be drank hot and the wooden boxes filled with ice and the northerner version of fruity ice yogurt. Along with the fritters, probably as close as the northerners would get to sweets. More than enough for Gilda.

Something curious was that Gilda had internalized the idea that the northerners were rustic. She was right, but wrong, at the same time. Their products lacked none of the sophistication of the rich products to be found in a big city like Griffonstone. The stands and tents at the festival left nothing to be desired when compared to the rich Griffonstone’s commercial district. Farther from the gates, the stands offered more and better. Toys, for example. From adorable griffon dolls and cutesy animal plushies to beautifully crafted play sets, complete with little monster and hunter figurines. Little castles and little soldiers, with more monsters and even what looked like an artist’s depiction of an undead Battlehorn. Skiing boots, sleds, and snowboards. Doll houses, complete with little griffon doll sets. Beautiful seafaring ship and airship toys. A couple of trains, and plenty of wooden figurines of griffon and oxen pulled carts.

Even wooden weapons could be found among the toys. Childish replicas of the real things for the very young cubs like Giza or older cubs. Those who could still get away with whacking the others with a stick. But not only toy weapons. Infantile, exaggerated tools made of wood for the tiny griffons to pretend they helped their parents with their tasks.

Almost with a perfect transition, the stands started displaying better quality practice weapons. Wooden swords with dulled edges, shields, and spears with round tips. Bows and arrows with blunt tips and one of the vendors even had a junior armor set, with steel plates, chainmail, and animal skins. Of course, toy guns too, which fired blanks or spring action ones.

“Hey, Godwin.” Grunhilda showed a snide grin and elbowed his shoulder. “Do you want one?”

Instead of telling her where to shove it, he gracefully gave her a tired glare. Like the ones Gilda was used to seeing in Gia.

“Hey… We could buy something nice. We could eat something nice too.” Gilda chuckled at their jest and smiled. After all, most of the money she had invested was in the form of credit. “Did you bring our money, Grunhilda?”

“I did!” Big Girl gasped and flared her wings open, smacking a pair of nearby griffons in the face. She even did a few excited hops. Grinning like a happy kid that got the right answer. “I knew I should!”

Gilda chuckled again. “Good job, Big Girl.”

Godwin complained though. “If you buy me a toy, I’m leaving as soon as they decide that I am finally an adult.”

“Chill, dude. She’s just teasing you.” Gilda chuckled.

While many stands offered stuff meant for cubs, the majority minded adult interests. Starting with clothing and jewelry. Exquisite gold, silver and even steel jewels. Some of them advertised magical effects. Almost all had beautiful gemstones and intricate patterns with thin lines. Others showed noble animals from the region, such as a flying roc and a skipping gazelle. They filled Gilda’s eyes as much as the toys filled little Giza’s.

But that was only the beginning. There were also tools for all uses. From knife sets to workshop tools and day-to-day working or householding tools. All professions covered. Instruments which were mostly made with combinations of wood or bone and metal. Different levels of craftsmanship and styles for everyone, but all of them meticulously made. Animal horns too, and most were veritable works of art.

Other stands showed uncommon objects like powders, scales or feathers from magical beasts, different leaves and roots, and small flasks with liquids. Things Gilda could swear meant to supply a witch’s pantry. Or however would they call their supply of magical items. It was weird stuff to see but given how magic seemed to be everywhere and in everything, it didn’t surprise her on a second thought. Vague memories spoke of different potions, teas and infusions which could be made with those.

And of course, weapons. Certainly, weapons and armors wouldn’t be missing from their markets. The northerners seemed to need weapons to either fight off monsters or go out on hunts. Swords, shields, spears, maces, pikes, halberds, more shields, short swords, long swords. Steel tools for monster hunting or creature killing. Crossbows seemed to be popular amongst the monster hunters while bows seemed preferred by the game hunters. One or two muskets or fancy rifles could be seen too. Curiously, those didn’t seem popular against monsters, but some made it to the stands and Gilda saw at least one of the hunters from Wayfarer’s Rest buy one.

“Mamma once said that firearms can’t hold magic quite like melee weapons.” Georgia offered, looking over the revolving muskets.

“Which is why the local militias in the south use crystal balls with their muzzleloaders.” The griffon sitting on the other side of the stand spoke, drawing Gilda’s attention from the weapons. She supposed the vendor had pegged her for a southerner, or something.

Which she was, actually. But it offended her, nonetheless.

“Some metals are just bad for holding magic. Like iron or lead.” One of those particularly savage-looking northerner griffons, with an off-white head and chest, not as fluffy as most griffons. His musculature spoke of a griffon used to physical labor and some pedigree if Gilda had understood the whole purity thing. No clothes over his deep gray body, only a couple of adornments in the form of bone and teeth collars. His rustic self fit well with the deep voice and no-nonsense tone. “On the other paw, there is gold, silver, bronze, and some crystals which conduct magic. And this is why airship engines have components of all those materials and they are often used for spell components. Then there are different steel alloys which hold magic. Like your dancing sword, made of Astrani steel.”

Oh well, at least he recognized Gilda.

“Ah…” Georgia frowned at him. “Is that why the Royal Guards use gold?”

“Ponies will be ponies.” The griffon shrugged. “They associate gold with the sun. Princess Luna’s guards use silver, for example. They are easy-to-work metals and will serve as vessels for any spell they might need. In the past, Battlehorns used good, strong steel. Solar Steel they called it, because of the arcane forging. But even then, their armor had golden components to facilitate their armor’s magical functions. And Solar Steel included gold in its alloy.”

“The exception is the iron from the Stormy Eyrie and the Roost. It works perfectly with griffon magic. You can see it in many Astrani artifacts and in some things the remaining Astrani will forge. Lord Gilad’s armor, for example. It is also a major component in Astrani steel.” The vendor concluded and shrugged. “I don’t know if it works as well with pony magic. I hope not… That would be silly.”

Speaking of silly, Gilda wanted to buy something off him just because he was so welcoming and forward with information. But with a surprising bout of free-will, Grunhilda chirped excitedly at him. “Master Goovar also says that modern firearms are bad for magical retention!”

Gilda and the three siblings looked at Grunhilda when she spoke. Nobody expected her to speak openly like that, given her insistence on respecting her thrall status. Then at the older griffon behind the stand when he responded. “And why would that be?”

“Because they use lead for ammunition and iron, or normal steel, for parts! Even further, all magical weapons and armor will feed from the user’s inherent magic.” Grunhilda puffed her chest and raised her beak as the four griffons looked back at her. Gilda was just glad the old griffon didn’t mind talking to a thrall or something. “Fighting with a melee weapon is seen as more personal and skill-focused. It reinforces the magic and makes it stronger. According to Master Goovar, that is.”

“I’m pretty sure firearms require skills too.” Godwin complained.

“That is correct young master. But those are different skills that will not necessarily connect that well with the way our magic works.” The griffon nodded at him before turning to Grunhilda. He showed a small, contained, but very pleased smile. “Are you reading his book? If I may ask.”

“I am!” Grunhilda piped. “Miss Gilda bought it for me!”

“Well, if you are following the steps of Master Goovar, I think you should have something.” The griffon smiled and presented a sizable bundle wrapped inside leather. “Some smithing tools. Different hammers, tongs, vices, and clamps. Knife sharpening tools, wood, and leather working tools. Rune carving tools and even some stone carving tools and bone working tools. Things you will need along your whole career. After you get yourself a forge, anvil and worktables, of course. I’d also suggest a grindstone and tempering oil tubes. Unfortunately, I can’t sell you those, since you’ll be moving out to Griffindell. If you would stay, I would teach you to build a forge and sell you everything. Well, I can tell you to see Master Gilbert in the capital. Just tell him Gonviard sent you and he will help you.”

“Thanks, mister! I will!” Grunhilda beamed with an enviable happiness at the griffon and his serene smile.

“So, how much for the whole kit?” Gilda finally asked.

“One thousand Eagles!” He declared proudly. “I can guarantee, it has quality on par with my own tools. I made them myself.”

“But…” Georgia gave him a smartass, side-eyed stare of a kid who thought too highly of her bargaining skills. “Did you know that Grunhilda is the daughter of Lady Gaharjet and Master Gembert?”

“Well, that sounds like Miss Grunhilda’s master, the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani, sponsor of epic caravans can afford fifteen hundred Eagles then.” He returned her a smartass grin of his own.

Gilda didn’t even get angry. “Pay him up, Grunhilda. I’m gonna buy it for you before Georgia gets the price higher.”

After she was done with her happy tap dance and squealing, Grunhilda picked up the purse with the coins and gave the old griffon the appropriate coins. After a quick check, while Grunhilda grabbed the bundle, the old griffon smiled at Georgia and her grumbling pout. “Don’t be angry at me, kitten. I taught you a lesson for free. I know who Grunhilda and her parents are. I know who her aunt is. If I could afford it, I would have given her the tools. If for no other reason, to be part of whatever great deeds the future has in store for her. But I must pay for my own subsistence.”

Gilda chuckled as she herded the group from the tent so that other griffons could have their turn with him. A line had formed already. “Thanks a lot, mister.”

Grunhilda balanced the bundle on her back and the two siblings followed Gilda with Giza on Georgia’s back. Gilda stopped after a few steps, though. Thoughtfully took a talon to her beak. “I suppose I should buy you guys something.”

Godwin stuttered an answer. “You don’t really have to, Lady Gilda.”

“Don’t worry, you doofus. I’m not going to buy you a toy.” Gilda chuckled at him.

“I want a pretty collar!” Georgia started jumping up and down as they walked and Giza did the same, although Gilda couldn’t understand her baby-like chirps and hisses. “Giza wants a war scythe!”

Gilda looked at the excited little cub and then at Georgia. “You understand what she’s saying? What in the feather is a war scythe?! You know what? I’m not even gonna question that. Here’s what we’re doing: Big Girl, give me the money. Then you four go around the market and find what you want. I’ll get us something to eat and then we’ll do some shopping. One item for each. Alright?”

“Wait, wait!” Georgia waved her paw at Grunhilda and glared at Gilda. “How come she can get two things, but we can only get one each?”

“For starters, it’s because I can do things to her that I can’t to any of you three.” After Georgia was done getting red as a beet, Gilda pointed at a tall pole griffons tried to climb for a prize. “Move your butts. I’ll find us some nice food. And we’ll meet near that thing.”

Grunhilda gave Gilda the pouch with their coins, which Gilda wore around her neck. A dangerous thing to do, was she in Griffonstone. The knee jerk reaction gave her an instant of pause. She was not in Griffonstone though and she would like to see anyone try and steal from her.

Her friends immediately turned and scattered, leaving Gilda to figure out their food. A short tour around the food stalls was enough to make her salivate. Her stomach aggressively reminded her she was hungry, and she accepted a few samples griffons offered the passersby.

Not long after, she found something everyone was bound to like. Strips of fried caribou meat with cheese and spicy seasonings. It looked much fattier than the usual northerner meal, but that day they should be allowed to indulge. A small family cared for the tent. Tending the fire, the meat, and the cheesy sauce the meat was dipped after deep-fried. They served the meaty strips skewered with wooden spits and sprinkled with grated cheese.

They gave Gilda a thick paper tray to hold the meal and helped her find a table near their meeting point. A high turnover, thanks to griffons not wanting to be in only one place too long, gifted her a suitable place. But she also decided she wanted some fritters for dessert, and she procured some too. With help from a nice young lady, she also acquired juices and mead they both transported to the table. Gilda even paid her helper an extra.

Done, all Gilda had to do was wait for the others to return. She found it easy to just stop for a while and watch griffons having a good time. She watched nothing in particular, resting her head on her paw and her elbow on the table. Without paying attention, she had a hard time spotting the southerners from the northerners. In the middle of the general population, the size difference didn’t evidence itself so much. Even the Saddani could be seen, having fun along the others. It was ultimately a good thing but reminded her of the hippogriffs. She would have to find some time to talk to Lady Geena once she was not so busy because of the celebration.

The conversation at the neighboring table drew Gilda’s attention: a pair of cubs with messy light gray coats and white feathers who seemed like siblings sat there. They talked to a properly preened and brushed blue cub taking notes with a notepad and a pencil. All over a nice meal of banana fritters and grape juice.

“So, basically you can do whatever you want, but you need to be aware of certain things.” One of them, slightly darker than the other said raising his finger. Speaking with such certainty even Gilda was convinced.

“You can still get yourself hurt and then the adults will go ‘I told you so’.” Lighter gray took a sip of his grape juice with a serious frown. “Nobody likes that, and the older cubs will laugh at you.”

Blue jolted down notes on his notepad as the first spoke again. “Also, be careful with the Loremasters. They know black magic that can really ruin your day.”

“I swear they can read your mind! And most of the cubs and adults won’t believe you, but I saw that they really can shoot lightning from their paws!” The lighter cub frowned like a war veteran that had seen some shit. “Don’t mess with them. Instead accuse the older cubs of doing something wrong. They will usually side with you. Especially if the older cubs are bothering you.”

“Like what?” Blue stared up from his notes with a worried little gasp.

“Oh, just say they’ve been staring too long at another.” The darker gray cub shrugged, after taking a bite off his fritter. “I don’t know why it works, but it makes the Loremasters really lean on them. It’s feathering funny too.”

While the pair shared some more tips of cub survival with the newcomer, Gertha’s voice drew Gilda away from their meeting. Although not as much as her boisterous slapping her paw on the table, sitting across from Gilda. She had the bright blushes of quite a few flagons of alcoholic beverages on her too. Hey, Gilda wouldn’t judge. Gertha was an adult that could take care of herself. Instead, Gilda smiled at her mercenary friend as her brother and Gil approached. The latter looked particularly pleased with a large necklace hanging in front of her lime chest.

“Having fun, Gertha?” Gilda smiled as the others too sat at the table.

“I love this place!” Gertha laughed. “The guards only get angry at you if you actually do something wrong when you’re drunk!”

“Can you please not yell so loud, Gertha?” Her brother glared at her, but Gertha responded with a dismissive gesture.

“You’re just frustrated Gil vetoed you going to the meeting!” The pink griffoness clamored.

“I already told you I was not interested to begin with.” Guille glared at her while Gil herself was too enamored with her collar to bother with their conversation. “We are getting mated, and it is not the time to be doing that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, right. Local and caravan queens most disheartened. I’ll be having fun tonight!” Gertha returned him a lewd grin, but it immediately turned to an excited childish gasp. “Ohmygosh! Fire jugglers!”

Less than a second later she was off, and her brother rushed after her, crying for his sister to wait. After a couple of seconds, Gil said her goodbyes to Gilda, mindlessly following them, still too enamored with her necklace. They vanished among the mass of griffons going every which way or talking and eating some of the abundant food. After that, Gilda noticed Captain Gosalynn approaching her table.

The short and colorful griffoness had her usual lively way of moving and hopped to sit at the table across Gilda with a cheerful greeting. Gilda responded immediately. “Hi!”

Next to Gosalynn, came a big griffon. A bulky male, about as massive as Gilda herself, but in the ‘male way’, like Gertha’s brother. Brushed black fur and shiny gray feathers, smelling of oak and smiling confidently. The dude was like a walking stereotype of the noble savage, but Gilda had to admit sometimes the simplicity was welcome. Especially when she had become used to younger griffons trying too hard to be something they were not.

Gosalynn spoke as Gilda nodded a greeting to the tom. “So, I thought I should introduce you to Captain Gevorg! He’s going to be accompanying you with his own Sky Sentries during the next leg of your trip. You know, to Brokenhorn.”

“Oh! Geez! I saw you talking to Gosalynn when we arrived! I was kind of busy…” Gilda gasped. “I’m sorry! I didn’t even recognize you without your armor!”

“Well, that is the point of uniformization, isn’t it?” He smiled all confidence and good humor.

Gilda chuckled at him, and Gosalynn spoke again. “Since you’ll both be shaking metal sticks at monsters and brigands in the near future, I thought you should talk. Anyway… I also wanted to give you farewell. Gilda, it’s been fun. Especially with the rocs and jolly caravan business. I’ll be leaving back home tomorrow morning, but if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

“For example, hit me up when you’re ready to clear a certain Astrani ruin.” Goslynn winked, but then became serious. “And don’t forget, we were being followed.”

Aww… Gosalynn saying goodbye dampened Gilda’s mood, but she supposed Wayfarer’s Rest needed her. The short griffoness shook Gilda’s paw when she reached over the table. “Well, it was fun. Thanks a bunch for your help, Gosalynn. I don’t know if we could have dealt with the rocs and the draugar without you and your cats. And don’t worry… I’ll keep my eyes open.”

Gosalynn laughed a single exclamation of amusement. “Says she after telling a feathering Windigo to fuck off. I don’t know if you’re humble or just oblivious. Anyway, I gotta see some griffons in the caravan. You two get to know each other. Excuse me.”

Just as quickly as she had arrived, Gosalynn left. Gilda was left with the endearing male staring at her with a friendly chuckle. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever met a griffon that earned such praise from Gosalynn. She usually says that griffons aren’t doing more than they’re supposed to. But she told me you carried them to fight against an actual Windigo. I didn’t think that was possible. I always thought of them as gods… Or… I don’t know.”

Holy Mother’s Feathers… Gilda barely listened to a word he said. Did Gosalynn just wingman that dude into talking to her?!

“A lot of griffons talk about you, anyway.” Gevorg spoke on since Gilda was still stuck processing her thoughts, fidgeting with her fingers. Her brain returned a fuzzy feeling at the end of the panicked realization. The local captain did look handsome and confident. “But meeting you is much better than listening to a second paw account.”

Gilda chuckled like a doofus again and had to resist the urge to slap herself into talking like a civilized griffon. For fuck’s sake! What in the Harpy cursed world would a griffon ask another in that situation? Was she supposed to ask him his preferred sword grasping style? She chuckled internally. Maybe she should ask him about the size of his sword…

“What are you doing?” The Harpy startled Gilda as She walked from the corner of Gilda’s eyes, carrying with her thunder-seasoned air and distant rumbling. Her beak bent with an amused smile, and She leaned into Gevorg. His posture yielded slightly to her weight. What the feather. Every time She showed up Gilda wasn’t sure she was awake or dreaming anymore. What was She even doing there? Gilda was just having a conversation with a guy! The tom just stared at Gilda, though. Contradictorily oblivious to the griffoness resting her body against his, despite the way he gave to her weight.

“Beautiful catch you have here, Child.” Her black talons glided with their curves against his soft dark plumage as she caressed his cheek. He blinked, as though he expected Gilda to say something. He remained like so, no matter how long Gilda stared at him, or at The Harpy. “You know very well what he is asking for and what he can offer. Don’t make him wait too long, he’s bound to respect any distance you would create with your silence. Given the delightful experience to come from this, would that not be a shame?”

Gilda chuckled. “I thought the northerners were supposed to be braver. More assertive.”

“Once again your endearing lack of polish betrays your inexperience, despite your delightful confidence.” Her black paw twisted with a flourish, and she cupped his face, still stroking his soft feathers while he stared at Gilda. His thoughts, unreadable, if they were even there. “He wishes to draw carnal enjoyment out of you. He fancies you, and as per the rules of the Game of Griffons, he offers you the same. But the Sky Sentry Captain of Frozenlake approaches you from a position of subservience. Come now, Child. You are not so unsophisticated not to understand. You are powerful now.”

“I’m powerful…” Of course, she was. How dull would one have to be to not see it? Gilda herself had acknowledged it many times and even reaped the benefits. At the same time, the words rolled off her tongue like sweet, fruity mead.

Languishly closing Her eyes, smiling, The Harpy let Her facial plumage smoosh against his. “Are you not enthralled by his sincere, almost naïve, surrender? He sees you both as equal to approach you, and at the same time, as the gatekeeper. Of course, the point of being in your position is that you can afford to comply or deny at no cost of prestige or standing. Make demands, shift stakes at your pleasure. Will you demand his dedication during your coming trip? Maybe you will demand more of his subordinate warriors to accompany your caravan. Maybe you will deny him and shun his advances. Will you let him take you in his strong wings? Will you hold him and take your prize from him, caring little what he would feel in the process? All prices he is willing to pay for the privilege of sharing that moment of pleasure, of carnal passion, with you.”

“This is power that you hold over him. As mighty as a king’s rule over his vassals. As powerful as a Jarl’s decree over his lands.” The Harpy let go of Gevorg and grinned at Gilda, pouncing over the table with all the grace of the cat part of catbird. “But something bothers you. Conflicting thoughts joust inside your head, little Gildas pulling your feelings in opposite directions, like the cubs playing tug-of-war.”

Her warm body pressed against Gilda’s back and caused her to grimace at the memories it invoked. Her paw stroked Gilda’s feathers and the tips of Her talons dragged at her skin. Her voice was as soft as it was sumptuous, and still carried Her commanding tone. “It had been so long since you surrendered to those delightful sensations. Grunhilda was more than willing to reintroduce you to, but she is inexperienced.”

Gilda donned a deadpan glare, slightly pulling toward annoyance and let the great griffoness have her way. She still spoke with a mirth that showed she was acutely aware of Gilda’s annoyance. “Even now, her adoring expression and memories of wonderful abandon intrude upon the conjured images of a strong and worthy male humping you into bliss.”

Annoyance turned into distress. Unbelievably, it hadn’t occurred to her Swordmaiden-y self that Grunhilda, so clingy, might be sad if Gilda had intimacies with other griffons. At the same time, she was talking to Captain Gevorg. He was hitting on her. Gilda was also busy hosting an intrusive goddess inside her head. But the point was that she had welcomed Gevorg’s advances.

For feathers’ sake! She felt like she was going insane all over again.

“Do you mind?” Gilda growled and snarled at The Harpy, not caring if the griffon could hear her or not. Staring at The Harpy’s amused grin, right next to her at the table. “I mean… Kindly, stepping out of my freaking head for a while I’m having a crisis?”

“But Child… You let me in yourself. You welcomed me.” Her strong voice came out with a chuckle as she pulled at Gilda’s cheek. “You cannot command your heart to stop beating for you to catch your breath. It is in my nature to follow you, as it is in yours to surrender to the passions of the flesh.”

Gilda cawed and rubbed a paw on her cheek where the other’s talons stung. “Are you trying to get me to fuck the dude and feel bad about Grunhilda? Or are you going to be pissy because I’m supposed to like that Grigory guy? It would be easier if you just told me what you want!”

The Harpy laughed and grinned deviously, patting Gilda on her head. “I believe I have told you several times I do not tell griffons what to do. I am basking in the wonderful dissonance inside your head. It is what makes your kind so interesting. Not because it makes you complex; you are not. You have already decided, and you are already subduing the guilt you feel. I am doing what I do best. Pointing fingers and amusing myself with your unnecessary distress. Free will is a gift I gave you, after all.”

And then She was gone. Poof. Like She was never there.

Gevorg was talking about something Gilda had no idea what it was, but he seemed excited about it. Grunhilda, Godwin, Georgia and Giza had returned too. They stood next to the table like they didn’t want to interrupt and stared at one and the other.

“So, the pines actually have little branches, and those things that look like scales are the actual leaves.” The dark griffon made excited gestures, despite sitting with a certain noblesse at the table. His grin was quite satisfied with himself, though. “But the guy didn’t know that, and any herbalist would know they’re called fascicles. So, we knew he was the changeling!”

He had the most focused, adorable black eyes, though. Gesturing with his paws as a knife at the table. Explaining how he and his subordinates held the changelings in different rooms and interrogated them separately. “I wasn’t really surprised at how the changelings had previously agreed on their lies. But they missed a detail: Lady Gjarma gave them something that really messed up their noodles and they started getting confused. They ended up telling us where their center of operations was. And let me tell you. That was a fight!”

He had that build of a northerner that got the job done. For sure, he was talking on and on, but he sounded so sincere and so passionate about his job of keeping griffons safe. His words were well articulated and organized, but most of all, sincere. Gilda believed he wasn’t making up stuff to make her impressed with his deeds. Something Gilda had almost come to expect from the griffons who tried hitting on her. Honestly, that too had happened so long ago she didn’t even remember when the last time was. Yes, there was Grunhilda, but it was different with her. Gilda wanted to live with her, and their regular sex was more of consequence of that.

Speaking of Grunhilda, she could be extremely jealous of Gilda. But Gilda didn’t want to waste the opportunity with the Captain and wanted to be on his good side. She rubbed her jaw, staring at Grunhilda, who ruffled her wings upon noticing Gilda’s inquisitive stare over her. The ‘kids’ just waited politely while the adults talked. Gilda smiled at Grunhilda, and then she grinned, which caused Grunhilda to show her confused frown.

“I didn’t know Changelings could get that big!” Gevorg kept narrating his soldiers’ raid against the infiltrated pod of changelings. “But I’ll be damned if the bughorse knew how to fight. He was so slow; it was like fighting a cripple. Can you believe they had managed to steal some weapons from the Sky Sentry armory? Harpy above! I may have lunched with one of them in the days before!”

He shut his beak when Gilda spoke, though. “Will you be at the meeting? You know, at night?”

He blinked a couple of times. He even blushed slightly under his dark plumage. “Yes. Lady Geena invites me every year.”

“Nice.” She smiled as sultry as she could, softly scratching the table with her talon. “After you’re done instructing the little kittens, maybe you can help me teach Grunhilda a few things. And then you can tell me more about fighting changelings.”

Gilda had to contain herself not to laugh at his and Grunhilda’s simultaneous bewildered stares. “I don’t mean to cut our conversation short, but I gotta watch the kids. I promised I’d buy them something.”

He gasped and coughed curtly before he grinned widely. “Of course. I understand. Yeah. I have work to do too. I can’t leave my lieutenants hunting for changeling infiltrators by themselves, and the city guard needs help with so many griffons around.”

“So, I’ll see you at night?” He just had to confirm, didn’t he? It made Gilda lean on the table, holding her jaw and resting an elbow, smiling back at him. Letting the excited shivering in her back ruffle her crest.

“You gotta tell me more about beating the snot out of the changelings.” Harpy above… What a stupid thing to say. In her defense, Gilda’s flirting skills had rusted. But anyways, since they would be swinging sharp metal sticks at the monsters along the way, she might as well bond with the guy. And what a fine-looking guy he was too.

He ended it with a content smile. Standing and bowing respectfully at her before leaving. “Later then, milady.”

There was something sillily nice about being called ‘milady’. And not by some insecure dweeb trying to suck up to her. Gilda watched him leave while the ‘kids’ came closer. Giza hopped onto the table, immediately teared at the meat, and covered herself with cheese and sauces. Grunhilda just showed her a confused and lost frown while Godwin glared at the distancing griffon like he had stolen something.

Georgia glared at Gilda, fuming, and ruffling her feathers like she had done the young queen harm. “How come I can’t look at a male for more than half a second and you can flirt like that?”

Gilda chuckled, looking at Giza and petting the cute little griffoness. She had sat on her little haunches and held a strip of meat to tear at it. She even smiled at Gilda, halfway through swallowing a morsel, half-covered with cheese and beige sauce. “Count to ten, Georgia. Later today you get to do all the flirting that you want. How about we eat something, and then we can go buy whatever you guys wanted?”

Gifts. They always calmed an angry griffon.

Next Chapter: The Gathering Storm, pt. II Estimated time remaining: 8 Hours, 3 Minutes