Gilda and Georgia spent several minutes getting Giza clean. A nearby northerner mother helped them by providing towels. No one could convince Gilda that Giza wasn’t having too much fun with the adults fawning over her. All the while, Gilda told the mother and her daughters how she had fought the undead griffons and rescued her pet roc from dying of starvation and exposure. Doing so, she pitched Godwin’s bravery. She hoped it would make him stop moping over whatever had bothered him so much after Captain Gevorg left.

Giza’s hygiene issues resolved; Gilda set out with them to buy the things they wanted. Grunhilda’s first. For no other reason than she was an actual adult, as per northerner definitions. Georgia’s vendor had his tent closer, though.

The young blue griffoness had found an artist griffon in the north. It shouldn’t have surprised Gilda so much. Even she had said the northerners loved painting epic snippets of their history. A slim, but tall guy sitting behind the stand, and wearing the red scarf of the Court of The Harpy. His orange pelt had the peculiar shine of the modern Astrani griffons, along with his green eyes and elongated beak and sharp facial lines. He smiled his foxy face at the group, but Gilda caught the subtle tells of an introverted griffon. His friendly smile was exaggerated, and he shuffled his feet. “Greetings, Lady Gilda. Lady Georgia, I am glad you have returned. I have your things prepared. Do you mind if I talk to your guardian?”

“No… Not at all.” Her awkward words caused Gilda to turn and see the blush on Georgia. Apparently, she had already forgotten Romeo-at-the-window.

“I wasn’t aware I was a guardian.” Gilda chuckled and turned back to the vendor as he deposited a folded leather case on the stand’s counter. It opened like a book to reveal a wood structure under a caramel velvet. Ribbons held in place an organized collection of pencils, brushes, and other tools. Gilda had no idea why a griffon needed so many. Truth be told, she didn’t even consider there were so many kinds of pencils. Different erasers. The things were supposed to erase… Why did someone need different erasers?

The colored pencils she could understand, though. They weren’t the sort of thing you could find anywhere. One could find them, true, but rarely in most places. Griffonstone, for example. Gilda suspected Astrani magic-fuckery of the locals to be involved. It wasn't a problem, but the price was likely to be astronomical. She put forward a genuine smile. “This looks neat. Is this that you want, Georgia?”

“Yes.” Georgia’s smile put a warmness on Gilda’s chest. It was nice to help another. Especially one she liked so much as the siblings. “I think it has everything I need. It’s like the one I had back home. Other than paper, I mean.”

“Well, that sounds easy enough to get.” Gilda turned to the Astrani tom. “How much?”

“Seven hundred Eagles.” The griffon smiled, although softly. “I’m… Uh… Giving it a nice discount because it’s Georgia’s first Gathering Storm. And uh… Well… She’s so cute. I mean! She’s been through some really unfortunate things. You know. With the… Uh… You know. And… Uh…”

Gilda smiled. “Dude, just ask her to look for you at the meeting.”

“Yes!” Georgia blurted, before he asked and turned to another side. “I mean…”

“Ah, great.” He restrained his excitement, but let his wings skip from his flanks. “So… I’ll close the stand and meet you there? I uh… Still have to charge for the thing… Sorry.”

“Chill, dude. We understand.” Gilda chuckled at him with a wave and Grunhilda took the hint to fish out the proper coins from the purse. The vendor nodded as she gave them to him.

Georgia grabbed her drawing kit from the counter and smiled at it before holding it under a wing. Georgia’s happiness made Gilda happy too, so she led the group to the next vendor after they excused themselves. It was Giza’s turn, even if she smelled of cheese and spices. Being told that, she bolted ahead, forcing the others to scramble after her in the throng of griffons. Fortunately, the guards weren’t angry at Gilda, hopping and hovering above to locate Giza. It helped a little. Gilda could see surprised griffons reacting to her little blue bolt running in between their legs, but no cub.

Fortunately, the others knew where she was going. One of the toy vendors near the gate. Arriving, Gilda took a moment to catch their breath under curious stares from the other patrons. Once she caught up to the little griffon kitten, Gilda let her head hang and talked as best as she could while panting her lungs out. “Can you please not do this again? Do you understand the hassle it would have been if we had lost you in the middle of all these griffons?”

She sounded like her mother, more and more. The thought made Gilda groan, more frustrated with herself than the cub. But it didn’t matter. Giza didn’t even listen to her. She stood on her hindlegs, supporting her weight on a paw against the stand and pointing up with the other. Looking at Gilda's eyes and pointing.

The vendor looked down from the stand. A mid-aged yellow and white queen with a puzzled frown that turned to a warm smile. “Oh. Hi, cutie. I’m glad to see you again!”

Giza reacted with an excited hop, beating wings, and an eager, snappy chirp.

Gilda chuckled. “Well, she has opinions. The others came here with her earlier?”

“Oh, yes. They did.” The old griffoness waved a finger, talking with a raspy voice. The others weaved their way around the crowd to them and joined Gilda. The toy maker picked a small wooden toy weapon from behind the stand and gave it to Giza. “When my mate said I should make something like this, I imagined no cub would ever want it. Swords and axes are more popular. But what do I know, right, cutie?”

Gilda watched Giza holding the toy weapon in her little paws. Gilda learned what was a war scythe. A spear with a long, curved blade. That one, made of wood, polished, then varnished in a ‘woody’ shade of caramel. Obviously, a toy, but it didn’t bother Giza. After a few excited hops, the first thing the little cub did was whack Godwin’s foreleg with it. He pulled it back with a shocked ‘ow’. Giza followed with a precise swing to his jaw that brought him to the wood floor. Grunhilda and Georgia laughed while Gilda talked to the stall’s owner. “Well, she looks happy to me. How much?”

“Oh, that would be five Eagles, dear.” She told Gilda while Giza held her mighty weapon aloft, standing above her vanquished foe. Victory chirp included.

Grunhilda offered the griffoness the coins while Georgia helped Godwin stand, and Gilda just watched them. She pawed a few specks of dirt off the feathers on Godwin’s chest. “Well, at least we can be sure she liked it. I guess you deserve your turn now.”

“I don’t really have anything I want, Miss Gilda.” He rubbed the pain out of his jaw.

“Really?” She gave him a frown. Gilda didn’t understand why it disappointed her. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Godwin shrugged. “I mean, I’m very thankful. I just think buying something just for the sake of buying is… Well, I don’t want to.”

“Lame.” Grunhilda groused at him.

“Boring.” His sister Georgia glared.

And little Giza shook her little head, so hopeless her brother was.

“Hey! Do you guys mind?” He ruffed his wings and blushed, angry as a slighted cub.

Gilda stared at him for a couple of seconds. Was something wrong? Was he sad? Did he think he’s not worthy? Had Gisele filled his head with her worries regarding Gilda’s money? Well, Gilda supposed she shouldn’t force Godwin to buy something just for the sake of it. Maybe it was his take on self-control. It just kinda sucked, though, but it was still his decision. “If that is what you think. I guess it’s your turn, Grunhilda.”

“Yes! Yes!” She shifted from her teasing into hopping on her feet and taking the lead, just short of running off by herself. Fortunately, unlike Giza, Grunhilda was easier to follow.

Big Girl took the group to one stand selling books. First, Gilda grinned at Grunhilda. She was shifting from her older posture of not wanting to own any property. Then, getting there, she wanted a book on ranging. Gilda’s first thought had her disappointed. Grunhilda wanted to make herself more useful, but in the end, she supposed it was the ‘northerner thing’. To make oneself useful guarantees a comfortable life. One thing the Loremasters of The Harpy preached. One paw washes the other. She supposed she couldn’t blame Big Girl.

The price came as a surprise, though. One thousand, two-hundred and fifty Eagles. Gilda took the book to examine. That thing better have pages made of gold, written in the blood of virgins for that price! No gold on the pages, much less any blood. It had a neat blue velvet cover, pristine. The magic warmed her fingers, seeping out of the book as Gilda held it under her scrutiny.

“Ranging, Hunting and Scouting.” Gilda read the silver, scratchy High Griffonese letters, squinting. “A treatise on locating and exploring Astrani ruins, as well as scouting, hunting, and skinning game, monsters and enemies. By the Master Huntress of Griffindell, Gaharjet Stormborn… Oh.”

“What?!” Georgia gasped and cried, coming closer to gawk at the velvety blue cover. “Grunhilda’s mom wrote it?”

“Skinning game, monsters and… Enemies?” Godwin deadpanned, but they ignored him as Georgia turned to Grunhilda and held her paws in between excited hops.

“This is awesome!” Georgia got Grunhilda into her excited dancing and wings flapped with feathers flying everywhere. “You can actually learn from your Mamma!”

“I know, right?!” Grunhilda grinned and cawed.

“I’m thinking this book is worth a little more.” The griffon behind the stand chuckled, adjusting his small spectacles in front of his small, green eyes.

“Please don’t?” Gilda glared at him, laying the book on the counter, but putting a humorous tone in her voice. “I owe my ass enough times over.”

The griffon’s laughter shook his dark gray body and old silvery feathers, losing their shine in his old age. Patches of fallen feathers on his head had left exposed skin, and the little green beret he wore helped little. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Miss Grunhilda should have this book. While it is not the original, I vouch for its authenticity as a copy.”

Gilda smiled at his words, but Georgia came closer with a huge, smarty grin. “Well, Gaharjet was Grunhilda’s mom. She should have the book for free! Eh?”

“Shut up, Georgia…” Godwin growled at her. “You suck at this.”

“You suck, Mister I-don’t-want-any-presents!” Georgia retorted, showing her tongue.

Gilda just stared from one to the other, and at the stand’s owner. The old griffon laughed, though. “Ah, I agree, kitty. But I had to pay for it, and it is a pretty nice and preserved book. It is fair to sell it for this price. I don’t think you appreciate how expensive some books can get!”

“Don’t mind her. I’ll pay the money.” Gilda concluded, and Grunhilda scooped the coins to give to the vendor. Then the big griffon girl hugged the book like it was her mother herself. How, in the ever-loving world, could Gilda have denied it to her? She would bought it if the damn thing cost double.

Better leave a book fund of around two grand, just in case Grunhilda’s dad too wrote a book.

All four ‘kids’ had their things and kept smiling. It made Gilda happy. Concerned with Godwin, but he was old enough to decide himself what he wanted. Even if that was nothing. “Hey. What do you guys think we see what else is going on? I bet there’s a lot of fun we can have before the meeting!”

As if ‘fun’ wasn’t the point of the meeting.

Gilda had never been one for much ‘fun’. Or games. The other ‘kind’ of fun was out of her reach most of the time. Regardless, it had always been about winning competitions and showing others just how awesome she was. Since her life got turned upside down, she recognized she slowly started changing. She reached the conclusion that after what she had done in the fight at Thunderpeak, there was not much point in competing with others. The Harpy expected much of her. The fight with the poor tortured rocs… Those had shown Gilda just how exceptional she was, dwarfing the rest. A warming serenity came from it. She allowed herself to just have fun.

Noticing it made her even happier. ‘Fun’ meant spending money in Griffonstone. Now she had the money and the spunk.

Gilda decided to just enjoy the whole party aspect of the Gathering Storm. Beyond the market and the food area, the festival spilled out. An octopus taking over the city with every tentacle. Frozenlake’s griffons had raised even more stands, and a few homes turned into stores and small showrooms. More ‘stuff’ Frozenlake’s griffons crafted and put to sale. Earthenware was popular, such as pitchers for the before meal hygiene. Clothes too. Heavy ‘winter’ clothes attracted a crowd of newcomers. A giant toy store, with elaborate wooden toys, drew the cubs as though they were moths to a lamp. A whole toy factory had turned into a store for the celebration, and the workers hawked their stuff, waving and shouting in front of the windows.

Yeah… Try that in Griffonstone and the union would tear down the whole thing.

It was a malicious thought on Gilda’s part… It was not like the unions were necessarily damaging. But the northerner griffons were more than willing to do ‘off contract’ jobs. In the end, ‘honor and duty’ were words meant to make you work harder. Except the northerners cared for each other. Gilda doubted so many workers would be cheering, showing their stuff to the cubs otherwise. The north made griffons more willing to cooperate and take one for the team. Not always, to be sure, but often.

But Gilda didn’t let such thoughts distract her. There were jugglers to watch. Things flew and danced in the air as though they had unicorn telekinetic powers. The cubs adored them, but the adults too. A sign promised fire juggling and fire breathing once the sun was down. Gotta make use of the wow effect.

Magicians pulled Eagle coins from cubs’ ears and made playing cards vanish. Dancers twirled and pirouetted on stage in well-coordinated swings and jumps. Graceful, shapely queens and toms in a whole rainbow of moving colors, drawing cheers from cubs and adults. A sudden urge drew Gilda to the stage. Ghadah, from behind her head, came close to making the griffoness climb onstage and try her sword dancing skills. Almost. It would feel inauthentic without Mythical. Yeah. Gilda went with that excuse.

Gilda’s temporary loss of enthusiasm did not scrape her enjoyment of the festivities, though. There was so much more to see. For example, the produce competitions. The largest pig. The biggest wooly ox. Largest chicken, largest egg, most beautiful chicken. Largest fish out of the frozen lake. And, of course, vendors sold animals, their produce, and tools for fishing on the frozen lake. Not to mention stages for presenting the largest strawberries, bell peppers, carrots, tomatoes, aubergines. Those griffons would try anything one could grow in a greenhouse. Take it to the festival and show it off. One Saddani sat beak high by his giant pears for the others to take photos and got a plaque from the mayor. And one of those stupid fishes.

The festival escaped control, stretching all the way to the lake. Griffons taught ice fishing and made a game of it. The encroaching cold of the approaching night? An afterthought. Outside the city, things were even better.

A crowd formed along a lengthy mud pit and the rowdiest griffons of all joined there for a game. Organizers, laughing and cheering, threw buckets of cold water, and the audience encouraged the competitors on. Griffons carried their mates on their backs in a race, trudging through the mud for the grand prize of their weight on mead. Full measure for the winners, half for second place and one third for third place. All for the entry fee of five Eagles per pair.

“Oh, we are so doing this!” Gilda declared to Grunhilda’s unbridled giggling.

The kids cheered them on against four other couples just as Big Girl jumped onto the muddy water like she was born on it. Gilda hugged Grunhilda’s neck, and she too cheered Grunhilda onward. The slick mud at shoulder height made running difficult. One couple of colorful southerners slipped onto their sides to emerge again in a fit of giggles. Grunhilda and the others left them behind until they reached the thickest part of the pit. The largest griffons plowed through. Strong as bulls, while their partners, holding on around their necks, still cheered them. The swiftest pairs struggled, and the ones left behind caught up to them. It became a match for stamina.

“Come on, Big Girl!” Gilda yelled to the white griffoness. Grunhilda plowed through the mud with a determined frown. Gilda’s steed to the finish line. One of their adversaries even clawed her mate’s rump to make him go faster and drew laughter from the cheering crowd.

Grunhilda’s absolute commitment and drive sounded in her groans. She powered through the thick mud like their lives depended on it. The others never disappointed, competing with similar gusto. Partners, as did Gilda, shouted encouragement. What details decided the outcome? Nobody cared. All that mattered was that a couple from Frozenlake climbed out at the end of the pit first. Another Amazonian Nartani, a male version of Grunhilda, finished second with his partner. He collapsed in a fit of laughter after the end, and his mate revived him with a bath of half a flagon of mead before he drank the rest himself.

Third place sounded less than ideal, but Gilda and Grunhilda sat on the mud, leaning against each other and downing their flagons of mead. The fourth couple was an orange, older guy from the South and his tan and white mate. They didn’t care, neither did the fifth couple, that they won nothing. Too busy laughing, having a good time as the crowd showered them with cheers.

Meanwhile, the organizers and the watching griffons threw buckets of water to clean the competitors. Shame? Awkwardness? Everyone was having too much fun to worry. Some stared at the griffons bathing at the finish line, but nobody minded. That and the stratospheric count of mead flagons going around dispersed any discomfort. It didn’t matter where they came from, or who they were.

The cold made itself noticed, but the alcohol and giggling proximity with Grunhilda kept it at bay as they kept exploring the feast. Giza became restless, wanting to take part in the fun, too. Fortunately, the games had barely started and chasing a giant cheese wheel was fun enough for the little griffoness. There were two categories: little cubs and adults, but they worked the same way. Chase the obnoxiously large cheese wheel down the slope and grab it before the others.

Flying was not allowed, but who cares? As soon as they set the thing rolling, griffons flew at it with murderous intent. It brought Gilda hazy memories of griffons diving talons first on ponies and deer in the distant past. In fact, while the adults grabbed the cheese, hopped onto it, and cheered, the cubs went full predator.

Speaking of murdering cheese wheels, Giza won. She jumped on the wheel and latched onto it like her life depended on it. The thing kept rolling with the small cub stuck to it. Adult griffons, including Gilda, chased after her all the way down. At the bottom of the slope, Gilda had to pry her from the cheese amid her growls and screeches. After some effort, she succeeded and cleaned the caking mud and chunks of cheese from her little talons.

Giza had won though, and her prize was a platter full of cheese and guava fritters. Grunhilda carried Giza and the platter for them until the next game nearly made her drop both. Chasing pigs.

Griffons were supposed to grab the small, oil-soaked pigs running everywhere inside the fence. Since Gilda’s charges wanted in no matter what, she paid the entry fee for them. Except for Giza. She preferred covering herself with cheese and guava jam. Gilda didn’t even understand how so many fritters could fit inside her.

As far as the competition was concerned, chaos didn’t even begin to describe it. It sounded easy, but there was a catch. Gloves. No talons could be involved. The goal was to grab the lightning-fast piglets. The rules forbid hurting the piggies. It made the game challenging and much more fun. Giggles fused with the squealing of fleeing pigs. Mud flew everywhere, and eventually someone rose victorious with a shrieking pig in the air. Then it started all over again.

Several young griffons were having the time of their lives chasing the pigs. Frozenlake griffons had assembled another platform nearby, with tables where griffons could sit at and eat while talking. Gilda took a nearby table with Giza and her diminishing pile of fritters.

The little griffoness sat and ate one after the other. Giza held one fritter on both her little paws and tore chunks of it. One little chunk, swallow it. Another morsel, swallow it. Gobble down the rest, pick up another fritter. Repeat. “Don’t you think you’re downing those a tad too fast?”

Without an answer, Gilda stared at the tiny cub who made quick work of her prize. The fritters sure seemed delicious, so she reached for one, stopped when Giza halted mid bite into her fritter and growled. Alarmed, Gilda retracted her paw, but as the cub resumed wolfing bites of fritters, her expression turned to a reproaching frown. She waved her finger at the cub. “Now, this is not acceptable, Giza.”

Gilda reached once more, but stopped again, wide eyed at the little blue cub’s screech. She pulled back her paw again before she lost it. Fine. Those stupid fritters didn’t seem that good on second thought. Resigned to sitting there, just watching griffons going nuts trying to grab a pig was fun enough.

Madam Gelinda arrived from behind. Gilda noticed her approach with Gia in tow but didn’t react. The green griffoness’ expression amused her, reminiscent of a cub whose mother dragged her to school, despite angry complaints.

“Hi, Gia. Madam Gelinda.” Gilda waved as they walked around the table and smiled just because it would irritate Gia further and it gave Gilda giddy excitement.

“Good afternoon, Gilda.” Gelinda smiled, sitting with Gia across the table from Gilda. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure. Grunhilda and the others are having a good time trying to grab a pig there, and I’m just here, waiting.”

“I am preparing to return to Wayfarer’s Rest. But before I go, duty obligates me to set you and Gia together.” The old gray griffoness spoke with her usual solemn tone, but she waved a paw at Gia. “Hardly a tradition, but I believe you will both help each other. Loremasters and Swordmaidens working together during the time of the Empire were a near unstoppable force. Especially since you can learn from Gia’s training as a Loremaster and what she can impart on you.”

“She’s dumping me on you.” Gia translated with a tired groan.

It didn't amuse Gelinda. “Hardly. You have a job, and much to atone for. Pretending you don’t care and failing to take responsibility for your duty will not absolve you. There was a reason Gaetana kept her eyes on you at Thunderpeak. It is known that your games with the money were nowhere near your first foray into unsavory ideas.”

“Damn… What did you do, Gia?” That sounded so bad, Gilda almost regretted finding Gelinda’s words funny.

“I don’t really care, though.” Gia kept her blank expression and made the old Loremaster sigh. Gilda thought it best to just let them hash it out. Giza ate another fritter.

“Do you believe you are the only foolish hen to join the ranks of noble daughters of the Loremasters of The Harpy looking for the luxuries She gives Her chosen?” Gelinda remained unfazed. “Lady Gwendolen disclosed things to us that make returning to the life of a normal griffon impossible.”

Gilda agreed inside her head. She understood that idea well enough. No way back for her, either. She had accepted it. After a couple of breaths, getting no response from Gia, Gelinda pressed her point. “Not everything in life is fair. Maybe I would not have accepted it either if I understood the things I do now. But the point remained, there was no turning back. You are a Loremaster and if you fail at your job, your example will drag griffons along with you into your failure. Even if you despise your job so much, that thought ought to give you a dutiful obligation to it. Have you no love for your brethren under the Allmother?”

Gia never responded, instead keeping her constant unamused, bored expression. Gelinda refused to allow her to shut herself. “The Mother of Storms expects something of all griffons, and we have the freedom to choose our own path, but She will hold us to such choices. You do not wish to reach the end of your life and find you lack the strength to make your last journey. Not any more than you do not wish to meet The Harpy at the end of your journey and realize that the Allmother found your service disappointing.”

Gia rolled her eyes at the end of her patience with the older griffoness words, but that was when Gelinda delivered the final blow. “You chose to walk the path of a Loremaster of The Harpy. She does not give you failure as an option. If you do not fix yourself, She will. And that is why Lady Gwendolen has summoned you back to Griffindell.”

“Geez!” Gia put up her paws and sighed. “Fine. Enough with the cult bullshit. What is it you want? I’m already going with Gilda to Griffindell, aren’t I?”

“You are not to merely travel with her. You are to serve her as a Loremaster of The Harpy.” Gelinda put her talon right on Gia’s face before pointing at Gilda. “Gilda is lacking much of the education a northerner griffon would have received and that you can provide. You are also to provide medical care to her and her entourage in my absence. You will provide counsel and protect her from things you can see that most griffons cannot. Those are all duties of a Loremaster and you must fulfill them. No one fails the Allmother and finds respite.”

“Fine!” Gia pouted like a cub, ready to throw a tantrum. “I already said it was fine. I understand. Do you want me to Pinkie swear or something?”

Gilda came close to smacking Gia. Right across her dumb face. Not just because of her petulant tone, but because Gelinda deserved respect. She was trying to help! The unnecessary quip. Just because she wanted to irritate Gelinda. It made Gilda’s blood boil. Gia’s antics failed to get a raise out of the old Loremaster, though. In any other situation, she would have slapped the silly out of Gia, but Gelinda didn’t. Her angry frown was seasoned with worry, and that chilled Gilda’s spine. The Harpy had expectations.

Gelinda reached under her wing and produced a small, elongated vial from it. Around an open griffon paw in length, made of transparent crystal and filled with a red liquid reminiscent of blood. A lock, styled as a bronze griffon’s paw, kept it closed with a talon over the crystal cork. The cork made a coiled snake wrapped around the bronze talon that kept it in place.

“I appreciate you didn’t have a mother.” Before Gia could unleash her anger at Gelinda’s words, the older griffoness gave her the vial. “It was given to me by mine. I want this gift to encourage you.”

First Gia scowled, but it shifted into a curious stare. The green griffoness pulled the griffon’s talon to click it open and uncorked the vial. Gilda resisted jerking away as the liquid flowed out of the vial to shape a small snake and wrap around Gia’s foreleg. Velvety and smelling as blood, it stared at Gia with beady eyes and sharp, tiny triangular teeth. Its mouth resembled a shark’s, instead of a snake, much like the shape of its head. Gilda grimaced and resisted slapping the thing out of Gia’s foreleg. Gia was more amazed than scared.

“Her name is Blodughadda.” Gelinda explained. “She has served me exemplarily, and I know she will serve you as well.”

“Gia? Why aren’t you freaking out?!” Gilda blurted at Gia, still grimacing at the creature as it’s head swayed side to side, still eyeing the young loremaster.

“This is a blood snake,” the green one replied, keeping her eyes on the crimson creature. She even moved her foreleg around to see the creature from different angles. “It’s an elemental. They used to be trained for assassinations. Now they help the arcane-aware physicians diagnose internal injuries. I heard stories that we could even train them to perform surgeries.”

“That sounds cool.” Gilda raised an eyebrow. “Horrifying, but cool.”

She was going to stop Gelinda from reaching and picking up one of Giza’s fritters, but the cub allowed her access to her prize. The drama of the fritters otherwise unnoted, Madam Gelinda took a small bite of it and talked to Gilda. “Most uninitiated will squirm around the things relating to healing. ‘Blooda’ was trained to keep herself from harming her patient. She will assist Gia like few things could.”

The old loremaster didn’t understand why Gilda was angry, but the tan griffoness’ expression shifted to a grin while Gia petted the magical creature with a finger. “Wait. Did you just give Gia a pet? So she’ll learn responsibility?”

“It’s not a pet!” Gia responded much louder than she needed while the creature retreated inside her home. Gilda called the vial its home. “It’s a tool! A servant!”

“It is a creature. Capable of feelings and bonding.” Gelinda shoved a talon on Gia’s face. “Treat her with due respect and care.”

Gia blushed, turning to the side for a heartbeat before she addressed Gelinda again. “Thank you, Madam Gelinda. I promise I will take good care of Blodughadda. And that I will do my best from now on.”

“I will leave you both then. I must prepare for the meeting of the Court.” Gelinda gave Gilda a satisfied nod. Stood and adjusted her blue satin cape before she smiled at Gia. “Gilda may be your last chance. Do not waste it!”

She turned to Gilda. “And you don’t abuse her. She is still a Child of The Harpy and bound to be very useful to you. Even if she is irresponsible and lazy.”

As Giza still minded her fritters and no one else cared about what happened on their table, the two griffon ladies watched Madam Gelinda walking away. Gilda finally said something, still staring as Madam Gelinda vanished between the gathered griffons. “Promise me that if I am going to die, you’re not going to use this thing on me, and I promise I’ll treat you with dignity.”

Gia sighed and Gilda spoke again, with an excited smile which failed to placate Gia. “Hey, where’s Geary? You should be having fun, shouldn’t you?”

“I lost him to the wrestling game.” Gia shrugged. “He is good, and he claims it gets him in touch with his masculine side. For the meeting tonight. I’ll be at the Manor, putting this somewhere safe and pretending I don’t hate my life until I have to go to the meeting. I don’t think you’ll direly need a Loremaster anytime soon.”

“‘Kay. See you later, then.” Gilda said her goodbyes with a wave. Gia would be cross about that conversation for a while. It was better to just let her go than try to keep her in the festival.

While Gilda watched Gia stash the magical vial under her wing and start on her way Grunhilda returned to her table with the other two. None had success, as none carried any prize, but they had gigantic smiles. Fortunately, they weren’t as dirty as Gilda thought they would be after the muddy pig wrangling.

“You look like you had fun.” Gilda smiled back at them.

They spent little time waiting to explore the festival further. A strip of land had been set up for ax throwing. It looked as dangerous as it sounded with so many clueless griffons hurling sharp axes. In the right direction, mostly. The organizers kept eyes on them and tried their best to teach half-drunk griffons how to throw axes at wooden stumps. At least, it appeared nobody had died or lost any limbs.

Less dangerous was the cutting contest. Grab a sharp tool for killing and swing it at a line of targets. The goal was to perform a clean horizontal cut across a line of straw rolls. Cutting more rolls yielded a better prize, simply put. Was it fair that Gilda, with her memories of past lives, participated? Whatever. It was like working on a holiday, so she just watched and cheered among the other griffons.

Godwin tried the game and cut the straw targets with precision, a nice, straight cut. It earned him a few Eagles for a prize and a couple of excited fans. Guille showed up too, with his huge ass sword, and so did the two Gunner ex-soldiers. But they preferred using halberds. Fortunately, none of them treated Gilda as ‘the boss’ and everyone just moved on with the fun.

And speaking of fun, Grunhilda won a wrestling tournament. She even got a simple, but nice trophy of a pair of griffons wrestling. Whether it was her likeness to Lady Geena or her ridiculous strength, Gilda wasn’t sure. The northerners didn’t pull punches, though. Next, they found an archery contest, but Grunhilda didn’t do so well. A hunter from one of the nearby hamlets won. Fortunately, Grunhilda’s mood stood unabated.

Gilda learned that contests of griffons insulting each other with rhymes was a thing. So many griffons rhyming and talking shit so fast gave her a headache. Turning to another game, the shooting range convinced her to never, touch a gun again. The two Gunner ex-soldiers were there, but they wanted to talk about guns with the armorer running the game. Apparently, Godwin was a good shot though. He amassed the best score of the nigh finished day and earned himself one of the griffon’s fancy rifles. Complete with a fancy wood case. That, and a lot of enamored fans.

The day ended as the pony princesses switched the sun for the moon. The clouds grew dark, and the cold seeped into the festivity. Enormous bonfires were lit and fancy artistic presentations involving fire popped around the festival. Amid that, the Harpy’s Loremasters started showing up along the festive griffons. Apparently, Lady Geena wanted griffons to move somewhere.

Gilda tried approaching one of the blue-silk-wearing griffonesses and asked what was going on. Gjarma intercepted her with a broad smile. “Lady Gilda. Would you and your companions come with me? We are preparing griffons for the ceremony before dinner. Traditionally, all adults and older cubs who have never attended the Gathering Storm should be present. I believe that fits almost everyone among your companions.”

Turned out it did. They decided it better to stash their things away at the Manor rather than carrying them. Georgia decided Giza had enough and left her with one of the Manor’s maids, eager to watch over the little cub. It should be easy since the cub wanted to sleep after all those fritters. Gilda let Gjarma by the door, waiting for the others to get their things sorted while she went with Grunhilda for a quick bath. This time truly a quick bath, with no fooling around because Grunhilda was excited for whatever was going to happen. Gilda would be lying if she said she wasn’t.

Next Chapter: The Gathering Storm, pt III Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 39 Minutes