Gilda woke to chatting griffons and conflicting feelings and sensations. She couldn’t remember ever having been so relaxed and rested after so much exerting activity in her life. The soreness in between her thighs felt insignificant next to the memories of ecstatic ‘fun’, to put it simply. She couldn’t remember ever passing out doing anything she’d rather just keep doing. The result was that her mind was as serene as a field of undisturbed virgin snow.

She was lying with her back on a mattress as soft as a cloud and a bedsheet as smooth as silk. Immersed in warm air, thick with the smells of griffons and a hint of lewd stuff. Snuggly comforting bodies, most still asleep, surrounded her. Such as Grunhilda, lying next to her and snoozing away with a soft breathing. Some stirred next to her, and others shared greetings with soft voices and respectful, hushed voices.

She stretched the discomfort out of her neck, keeping her eyes closed and shielding them from the light. Her right hind leg extended, and she let out the most satisfying yawn ever. Someone lied next to her, with their head on her stomach. When she finally opened her eyes and raised her head, she found Godwin using her belly for a pillow.

Godwin’s dark tan had a nice shine under the tinted light from the windows. A smooth velvet in the shape of firm muscles and shiny wings resting in their place. Shapely curves of a fit young griffon drew her eyes and reignited vivid memories from the past night.

Gilda’s beak moved but made no sounds and she looked away with a slight tint on her cheeks. Then she looked at him again, calling his name. He responded with a sigh and snuggled closer to her. Accommodating his head on her teats and hugging her thigh while her face reddened like a ripe tomato.

“Godwin!” she cried with a piercing shriek.

He jumped with a squawk and a few griffons around them startled awake. A few grunts and annoyed groans followed, but nobody really complained. Gilda turned on her side as Grunhilda stirred, and Godwin yawned, backing from her a step. Once the shock waned, he grinned at Gilda, speaking with a cheeky, cheery tone. “Hi! Good morning!”

Gilda glared his chirpiness into submission. “You better not let what happened get to your head!”

His grin turned to a grimace, and he shook his head frantically. “No! Not at all!”

With a final glaring scowl, she turned on her belly to stand and her body pressed something against the mattress. Standing, she grabbed Mythical in her scabbard and smiled. “Oh. Hi. I almost forgot you were here!”

“Are you talking to your sword?” Godwin frowned at her.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Gilda grinned awkwardly and sat. Leaving the weapon on her back where it stayed, she could feel the magic clinging to her.

She yawned again as Gjarma approached with a pleasant smile. Lady Geena’s attractive salmon and white colored Loremaster assistant carried something with her beak. A small wooden dish with a similar bowl. Sitting by Gilda, she offered it to her.

“This is for you, Lady Gilda.” Gjarma smiled, holding the dish in one paw, and offering the bowl with the other.

A combination of trust and a slow, sleepy mind moved Gilda. She didn’t even think, despite the potent smell. The bitterness seemed to shrivel her tongue, and she put it out with a childish ‘bleurgh’. The salmon loremaster giggled at her while Gilda recalled what that tea was. Eventually, the tan griffoness decided the tea wasn’t so bitter. At least not as getting a cub from any random male that stuck his peen inside her that night. She downed the thing in one go. It tasted disgraceful anyway.

“Thanks.” She returned the bowl to the young loremaster, who responded with a respectful nod.

“If you would like to bathe, there is a bathroom that way.” Gjarma pointed with a wing. She was busy that morning, it seemed. Probably making sure none of the high value queens got pregnant in an unfavorable matchup, even within the Court of the Harpy. It should probably irk Gilda more than it did, but she was past worrying about stuff she couldn’t do anything about.

Seeing Gevorg next to her, sitting, and giving his neck a long stretch with a groan before shaking his mane of gray feathers distracted her. He turned to her with a frown. “Wow. That was intense.”

Gilda laughed softly at him while her tail kept swishing from side to side and she grabbed the golden dancing garment. “We gotta do that again with some privacy. Just the three of us.”

“I need a bath.” Grunhilda complained, still half asleep, sitting next to Gilda.

Judging by the disheveled fur and feathers with dried up sticky patches, Gilda agreed Grunhilda needed a bath. She probably needed one too and smiled at Big Girl’s sleepy ‘just woke up’ eyes. “Come on.”

Gilda laid the dress over her back and led Grunhilda to the bathroom Gjarma had mentioned. It was easy to spot with a small gathering of griffon ladies chatting or just waiting patiently by the door. The male one was on the opposite side of the hall. Someone had thought big time about the meeting and the logistics of it. Orgy. It was an orgy. Whatever the name, it had been thoroughly planned. Gilda really wanted some personal care, and some distance after that night and the placement of the bathrooms provided that. She liked Godwin and Gevorg, but she didn’t need them right now and they would find their own place.

Unfortunately, the rich old lady was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Lady Gwendolen. Not seeing them made Gilda’s bang of feathers deflate, but she supposed the Harpy couldn’t expose herself that much. And that she had important goddess stuff to take care of.

The uneventful walk let her see the glorious mosaics of griffons on the windows filled with the day’s light. They departed from the heroic saga narrative of the northerners. Depicting griffons without armor or their ubiquitous weapons. They appeared naked, in tasteful poses that emphasized their more natural assets. Given the purpose of the building, Gilda didn’t even think it was strange. The griffons of old fucked too, after all. Creepy? After last night, nothing would surprise Gilda in that regard.

Judging by the brightness coming from the windows, the sun was high outside. It was difficult to gauge precisely because of the cloud cover and the painted windows, but they had probably slept more than usual. Regardless, Gilda shook the sleepiness out of her eyes and joined the others.

Gilda greeted about a dozen griffon ladies talking or waiting by the entrance. The younger ones bowed respectfully and deferentially let her and her thrall go in first. Nodding just as courteously, Gilda led Grunhilda past the white curtain doors, after a pair of gray griffonesses on their way in.

The air, thick with steam, rose perfume, and the sound of running water, greeted her from the next room. Finding herself in a cozy, dim anteroom, she saw Gertha giving her peytral to a cute griffon lady by a counter. The yellow griffoness gave it to another, behind the counter, who stashed the thing in a box as the latter sent Gertha to the next room with a smile. Then she smiled at Gilda.

“Greetings!” The yellow queen smiled radiantly. “Let me take care of those things for you.”

The one behind the counter was blue and white, and she also smiled at Gilda, resting her paws on the countertop. She pointed at the jewelry Gilda wore. “We’ll clean it properly for you! And we’ll also send everything to the Manor, Lady Gilda.”

“Sweet!” Gilda smiled as she removed her tiara and then the peytral, along with the red scarf and the dress. Grunhilda looked at the iron bracelet on her paw and didn’t give it to the griffon ladies, though. Gilda just let her do as she desired, thanking the two helpful queens.

Past the door, several showerheads lining the side walls rained hot water and filled the room with steam while chatty griffon ladies bathed. The central area was mostly dry, if heavy with steam, and there was a plate on a small table offering a pile of soaps. Deeper inside was a pool of hot water and a heavy door probably led into another pool with cold water.

A side door led to the latrines. With the amount of alcohol flowing in the previous night, it surprised Gilda none that nobody even minded the shared space. Running water just took all the nasty stuff away from minds, anyway. Funny how going to the bathroom and bathing became social things to the northerners. It probably came with the thrifty empire customs regarding water. She was not complaining, though. It felt much cozier than her previous self would have thought. She and Grunhilda just took care of business before occupying their places under the showers.

“Do you want me to help you, Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda grinned while she held one of the oval soaps with chunks of rose petals in her paw. As if she needed to ask.

Gilda enjoyed a relaxing and warm bath and noted Godwin’s kittyfriend, Glóra. Like most of the griffonesses there, taking care of cleaning herself. Conversations sounded casual and relaxed, and Gilda even took part in some small talk with the griffonesses next to her. Just mindless words about the fun and her beautiful thrall.

Grunhilda rinsed Gilda’s back and front with the soap, and then she returned the favor. Big Girl seemed to have a lot of fun with it. Gilda spotted Gertha there and allowed herself to watch as the strong pink griffoness covered herself with foam and washed it away. The Harpy’s words about how Gertha too desired Gilda made her blush slightly. If she didn’t take care, she’d end up bedding every griffon in her group of friends.

Lady Geena soon joined them and distracted Gilda. Although she was just as much an eye candy as the other. They exchanged greetings, then Grunhilda innocently decided she wanted to help her aunt too. Gilda had to conjure up some thoughts of dead puppies. Fortunately, nothing too embarrassing happened. She never thought she’d be glad not to be a male.

Once clean, they joined the others in the hot pool. Grunhilda swam around the pool like a cub while Gilda and Geena talked. After all, they still had a mission to perform. Some bandits to bring to justice. The Harpy’s justice. The best kind of justice. Although Geena had no new information about that. Just a quick, friendly reminder that Gilda was supposed to go murder some horrible griffons soon. Gilda should meet her in her office, in the keep for details. And that was it. Just a formality because they had to share the same space.

Gilda reassured her she had not forgotten and that she’d take her friends on the mission just to guarantee success. Once their exchange was over, Lady Geena turned her attention to other important griffonesses of her realm. Gilda saw Godwin’s partners close together, like a bunch of cubs in high school, talking and celebrating. Apparently, the experience made them friends, or something. Good for them. Gilda wouldn’t mind knowing them further, but she decided not to intrude on their little group. Other griffon ladies wanted to talk to her too, although about nothing important.

Once the hot bath was done, with its additional soaps and oils, they moved to the cold bath, and it was peaceful as it was back at Wayfarer’s Rest. As she let herself float and drift in the water, Gilda did not know what her future home would look or be like, but she was going to make sure it had one of these awesome places. Not even all the present griffon ladies disturbed the experience as they kept silent. All the chatting and happy griffonesses took the time to relax.

Once it became boring and Grunhilda grew restless, Gilda decided it was time to move on and start the day already. But before the exit were several little vanities, each one with a cute griffon lady offering to spruce up the visitors after the bath. How could Gilda say no? Both she and Grunhilda simply relaxed and allowed Lady Geena’s servants to take care of them with brushes, pincers, and a few creams.

Featherbedding? Possibly. Probably. Lady Geena understood the importance of a relaxing bath and some pampering and of trustworthy griffons to perform such jobs.

When it was over, Gilda felt like she had been born again and walked on clouds. Exiting the baths with Grunhilda following close, she found the hall was still half-filled with excited griffons. They talked and mingled like it was still party time. Especially because some did more than mingling and talking, but Gilda didn’t let that distract her.

She found Godwin and Gevorg at a table with several light and refreshing little pieces of chicken and vegetables. Her brow wrinkled a little when they stopped talking at her approach. But either Grunhilda didn’t notice, or her good mood just made her ignore it. “Hi, guys!”

Admittedly, Gilda’s mood was pretty great too, and seeing Gevorg’s shiny black, velvety ass did wonders for her already light mood. As they responded to Big Girl’s greeting, Gilda sat next to them and took one of the little morsels of food. It smelled of lemon and chicken. “So, I’m supposed to go see Lady Geena at her office. Inside the keep.”

“We got a rebellious hamlet to set straight.” Gevorg nodded with a frown while Godwin and Grunhilda stuffed their faces with food. “I had almost forgotten about that with all the weirdness and excitement of the night.”

“I’ll bet…” Gilda responded with a chuckle. “So, I’ll just eat something, and I’ll go see Lady Geena. I suppose I should visit the Aviary and see if everything is alright.”

“Yeah.” Gevorg agreed and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “I gotta see my griffons at the barracks and solve any hitches that happened during the night without bothering Lady Geena. Then I’ll tell my best griffons to get ready to leave. Tomorrow, at dawn ought to work. A little earlier would be better. I'd rather have daylight to find a decent place to camp for a while before attacking them.”

Gilda thought it would be a quick trip, a brawl, and the trip back. But what did she know? She simply agreed with a nod, and both looked at Godwin just as he finished gobbling one of the chicken and veggie canapes. He just stared at them for a while before he talked to them. “Ah… I have to take care of something. It’s kind of weird…”

Grunhilda gave him the evil eye. “Are you trying to squirrel away from the raid?”

“You’re an adult now!” Gevorg’s eyes opened wide, and his voice became urgent. “It’s expected that you seek glory and offer service for sponsorship and honor. You gotta pay for your living too, and serving under a noble like Lady Gilda is legitimate and good. I know it’s not a monster hunt, but some of these griffons are just as bad. I’ve had reports that some of them are downright feral. You know, honor, duty, and glory. We gotta stop them. It’s important.”

“No!” Godwin flapped his wings before he controlled his impetus and coughed into his fist. “I… The Har… Er… Lady Gwendolen. She mated me and Glóra. And she has granted me a title of nobility. I am the ‘Leifrlendgriff of Griffindell’, and that means that I am going to be the next Lord of the Black Gate. She wants me to remain in the caravan and go to Griffindell. She is going to train us to do our jobs. It’s not that I’m trying to ditch my duties, it’s just… I have responsibilities now.”

Maybe Gilda should have worried she not only understood it, but that the news failed to surprise, or even shock, her. What surprised her was the fact that the Harpy hadn’t made up some new rule for Godwin to mate all three of his kittyfriends from the meeting.

Gears kept spinning inside her head. After all, if Lord Gilad was to become the Griffon King, he would have to move to Griffonstone. Or even if he wouldn’t, he probably couldn’t be Lord of the Black Gate and king at the same time. Someone would have to take care of Griffindell for him to focus on the rest of the nation. Or so seemed reasonable to Gilda. It seemed reasonable the Harpy would find someone trustworthy to take care of Griffindell and the northerner griffons. After that, She could focus on making the Empire become a reality. Ensuring that Grigory would inherit Griffonia with the best chances of making it happen.

Unless Gilda had grossly misunderstood something, that was even more reason for Godwin to go with them. He must earn respect pronto. Because Gilda doubted the northerners would be okay with their nobility, was it not for their system of honor.

“You’re still going with us to fight the bad griffons, aren’t you?” Grunhilda glowered at Godwin. Gilda had expected him to respond immediately, but he didn’t. He turned away from Grunhilda’s stare as it quickly turned into an angry glare.

“You’re afraid something is going to happen to you and Glóra is going to be left alone, mated to a dead griffon.” Gilda offered. After all, griffons should only mate once, or so she was told. But Godwin still didn’t answer. But Gilda knew he had two sisters who he worried about. Gilda understood all that, too. She didn’t want to die either, but…

Gevorg put into words what Gilda was thinking, and more. “If you let her see you thinking like that, your mate will accuse you of cravenness and could get the mating nullified. Though, I would not think the problem is that you are afraid. She would not mate you to Glóra if She thought you to be a coward, and I assume Her to be a good judge off a griffon’s character.”

Gevorg shrugged. “The point being, if Her all-knowing grace chose you, chances are on your side. Now, I know you are young and want to protect your sisters and be with your mate, but if we were supposed to think like that, nobody would go out to hunt monsters. And that is why we are supposed to live our days as though they are the last and be prepared for the Allmother to call us to the Stormy Eyrie.”

Gilda just let him speak. As did Grunhilda and Godwin. All three listened to the black and gray griffon. “I never got myself mated. I had never found a queen that distracted me from my job. But I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. To let her think I am craven before my duty. I don’t think Glóra is the kind that will join the fight, but she strikes me as the kind that will hold you to your duty. Dutifulness, bravery… Those are the things she likely sees in you and that Lady Gwendolen saw, too.”

Gevorg’s appraisal of the Harpy’s motivation struck as naïve. There was more than that, Gilda knew for sure. He was not exactly wrong, but that was not all. But she said nothing. Godwin certainly knew it too, and nothing needed to be said.

“She… Glóra wants me to meet her parents. Officially.” Godwin said something. “Before we go out tomorrow. She plans on moving in with me immediately.”

Gilda rolled her eyes. Must be overwhelming. Glóra clung to him like she had found the best piece of ham in the market. She made a small, discreet smile, because she didn’t blame the young queen in the end.

“Then go with her. Show them who you are. And tonight, make it another one your mate will remember. Tomorrow, do all you can to return to her. All except putting it before your duty.”

Godwin didn’t answer right away, and his eyes aimed at the floor. Only after a few breaths, he looked at them. “I’ll find Glóra. Thank you, Captain Gevorg.”

Gilda, Grunhilda and the black griffon watched Godwin walking away toward the exit of the female's bathroom. There he sat from a respectable distance and waited. Gilda frowned, not looking at the griffon sitting next to her, still focusing on the young tom. “For feather’s sake. Now I feel responsible for both of them.”

Gevorg chuckled and walked a couple of steps before turning around and walking backwards, talking to her with a wave of his wing. “Nothing changed then. I’ll see you later, Gilda.”

His words made her blink and then raise an eyebrow. He had a point, the rascal. Gilda stood where she was, watching him leave and exchange a few words with griffons on the way out. Until Grunhilda pulled one of her primary feathers like a cub about to ask for a candy. “Is he going to be traveling with us? We could buy a larger tent. I promise I’ll keep it tidy!”

Gilda turned to Grunhilda and poked her beak with a talon. “We gotta do something about your horniness. Go to the Manor and tell the majordomo that Godwin gotta have a better room to accommodate his mate. And that Georgia should have a better one too now they’re adults. Stay put in there and don’t make trouble with the maids. I gotta take care of stuff.”

“Yes, Miss Gilda.” The white griffoness went cross-eyed, but then she grinned and shook her fists in a bout of excitement. “Can we take our new weapons to the blacksmith? We’re going on a quest tomorrow!”

“Take this seriously, Grunhilda. But yes. After I’m done.” Gilda concluded. “Don’t bother them for now. Just get your hind to the Manor and wait.”

“Yes, Miss Gilda.” Grunhilda said, stood, and trotted out of the hall, past all the griffons in there.

Left alone, Gilda made a small frown and clicked a talon on her beak. “I suppose I ought to let Lady Geena get herself ready. I could go see the Aviary before everything. Just to be sure the roc is alright. The others will be at the Manor when they’re ready and we’re bound to see each other at lunch.”

Just as Grunhilda left, Georgia came into the hall. The blue queen swiveled her head to one side and the other until she saw Gilda sitting in there and approached. She looked well-groomed compared to how Gilda must have been before the bath. “Morning. Wanna tell me what happened? ‘Cause you vanished in the middle of all that drama.”

“No.” Georgia blushed and frowned, sitting before Gilda, and wrapping her tail around herself. “I don’t.”

“Fair enough.” Gilda chuckled and made Georgia’s blush worsen. “You should go see your brother and meet your new sister-in-law.”

“My what?!” Georgia’s sapphire eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “What did you say?”

“You better go find your brother. You have stuff you need to talk about. Meet me in the Manor later.” Gilda said as she raised and left Georgia to figure it out on her own. She’d probably need the queen to deal with the hippogriffs when it was time. It was a good idea to give Georgia some space and time before that.

On her way out, Gilda greeted a few griffons and made small talk with them. Outside of the old building, the city’s guards kept watch as griffons returned to the town after the festivity of the night. Fresh snow covered the ground and flavored the breeze swaying Gilda’s feathers. She stopped for a second and took a deep breath before resuming her way to the city proper. The perpetual gray of the storm clouds dominated the sky, violent as usual, but they seemed higher than the last day.

Life seemed to have returned to normal after the giant celebration that had taken over the city. Streets needed to be cleared of the snow and walkways tended to. Goods needed delivering and griffons had places to be. Cubs ran, converging on one home in the street as Gilda walked by, under the eyes of one of the blue-wearing griffon ladies. Some of the city guards patrolled the streets, but a calm serenity reigned, with peaceful and amenable griffons returning to their routine.

Griffons worked on dismantling the fairgrounds near the entrance of the keep. The job was nearly done, and it was understandable given the late hour. The city’s market plaza returned to business as usual, as griffons still needed to buy stuff and vendors needed to sell them. Most of the work revolved around replacing the plank walkways and taking apart the stands. In the surrounding stores, griffons removed the ice from the windows and the snow from the walkways. A griffon-pulled cart hauled fresh straw for the keep’s courtyard, while another hauled the soggy and dirty out.

The guards greeted Gilda as she passed the gatehouse, and all the activity seemed normal in the yard. Under the breeze, the banners with the Harpy’s iconography barely moved, and some dogs barked in the distance. The execution block was clean, and the cages were free of prisoners. Griffons didn’t seem to want problems that morning.

Most of the additional decoration for the Gathering Storm was still up. Griffons worked, removing colorful banners and strings hanging between the tower and the walls. Working carefully so they could use them again next year. A pair of Sky Sentries stood guard before the tower’s massive, reinforced wood door and a trio of griffons talked about something before it. An older lady wearing a white veil over her blue feathers too stood nearby. Gilda supposed they waited to see Lady Geena.

A group of small cubs ran everywhere, making a raucous racket while a young loremaster, gray and white, tried to keep them under control. Gilda thought they were cute, but she pressed her step with the side entrance of the Aviary in sight.

“Hi! Are you Miss Gilda?” One of the wee griffons looked up to her and made her stop or she would trample the little thing. An adorable little cyan and gray thing with big blue eyes. Full of innocence and hope. “Can you make a donation to our orphanage?”

Gilda chuckled and patted her little head. “Sorry sweetie. I’m afraid I don’t really have a lot of money myself. I owe everything to Lady Gwendolen.”

“Aw… Well…” The little chick stared down and shuffled her wings a little. “At least I don’t owe anyone money. Good luck with that!”

With that, the little griffoness trotted away after her caretaker, the loremaster, calling her back to the group. Gilda watched the small army of cubs grouping together, making their way to the other gate. Those kids probably had it better than Grunhilda growing up in Griffonstone. She wondered if the loremaster had some sort of activity for them in dismantling the carnival grounds. Having been one of the problematic ones, Gilda knew keeping the kids occupied with something safe was a good idea. And the loremasters seemed to really know their way around the cubs.

Wait, did a feathering orphan just pity her? When she turned to look again, the loremaster and the cubs were already gone. Gilda huffed and resumed her walk to the Aviary.

A couple of guards in leather armor, both different shades of gray, seriousness, and boredom, sat before the small door on the side wall of the Aviary. Apparently, Gevorg worried someone might have tried to mess with the infant roc during the night. The pair greeted her with respectful bows and the older one talked to her while the other opened the door after a long yawn.

“Greetings, Lady Gilda. The captain posted a couple of us by the door during the night. Griffons are a touch too curious about the roc. We’re covering the morning shift, and have nothing to report.”

“Did anyone try to enter?” Gilda raised an eyebrow, trying to understand the logic of breaking into a place housing of a feared animal.

“Not exactly.” He shrugged while the other walked out of the way with the open door. “No. But he felt it would be a good idea to expect that. They just kept flying to the roof to see the roc, though. We yelled at them to cut it out, same as the night shift. The caretaker complained they were making the bird nervous.”

Gilda acknowledged his words and made her way inside, past the small storage room. The warmer air welcomed her, as did the sounds of griffons working. Walking into the holding area, the first thing she saw was one of the caravan’s hunters standing on his hindlegs and scooping up straw with bird poo. A lot. A couple of buckets received the nasty loads before another took them away.

Next thing, the gray huntress approached Gilda. She seemed under the weather. Probably a consequence of too much alcohol and partying the previous night. She was up and doing her job, though, and her father and her mate helped clean the place. The roc apparently had simply collapsed on the floor. He slept with complete disregard for all the activity around him or his caretaker talking to Gilda.

“Good morning, Lady Gilda.” The Huntress smiled with tired gray eyes. “He got a bit excited with all the noises and movement.”

“He seems like a bit of a pawful.” Gilda just stared at the bird, fast asleep. Then she turned to the huntress with a grin. It grew in proportion to the idea inside her head. “Say, how many are going with us to the Brokenhorn? Griffons who can help you with our little guy?”

“Ah… A couple. I guess. My Pa and my mate. Most are going back to Wayfarer’s Rest.” The huntress shrugged. “Are you going to hire workers? A lot of the local handlers and hunters make it nervous and get scared of it. I don’t think they will take the job.”

Gilda’s grin grew larger still. Her face lit up with all the glowing excitement. “Do you mind working with hippogriffs?”

“Only if they are lazy.” The griffoness shrugged again, albeit more alert and curious after the surprise. “I’ll work with anyone that will help me do my job! But… Uh… hippogriffs?”

“Cool. Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything!”

Gilda turned on her hindlegs and almost galloped out of the Aviary, barely able to contain herself. She hurried outside and observed the keep’s tower. The griffons outside were still waiting, and the guards were still watching the entrance. Dressed griffons; ladies with dresses and males fancy wearing brigandines or fur stood there. The leather wearing griffons of the city’s guard sat on the wood deck floor and held their pikes on their shoulders, tired of staring at the bourgeois griffons.

She nodded to herself as her wonderful plan grew and became better by the second inside her head. Finally, she turned around toward the Manor. Another quick trot took little more than a couple of minutes to carry her to the closed doors of her temporary home. A pair of Sky Sentries greeted her and opened the doors for her to enter with a passing nod. Inside, the great hall smelled of burning wood and roasting meat. It was mostly empty except for a minor commotion with a pair of the Manor’s maids watching as Godwin and his sister looked down on Giza. The blue baby cub laid on the floor while their green loremaster, Gia, examined her. Godwin’s trio of friends from the previous night too were there.

“She should learn not to eat so many fatty desserts.” Gia declared, raising her ear from Giza’s belly. “Serves her right for screeching at me because of them. I’ve given her something, so that she doesn’t feel too nauseous. I recommend just letting her rest. She should feel better before long, and she can define her own limits.”

Gilda smiled at Gia being a loremaster and approached.

“Poor thing.” Georgia grabbed her little sister and held her in her forelegs. Giza looked miserable, like a rag doll bent backwards and with her beak hanging open. Coming closer, Gilda patted her head.

“I can understand.” Gloriann giggled. “Those fritters were delicious!”

“Guys, I need to talk to you.” Gilda declared and the urgency in her voice drew their attention. Giza raised her head but surrendered after a couple of seconds. Once she reassured the little griffoness again, Gilda addressed the others a second time. “Gertha, I need you to find some good, trustworthy griffons going further north with us. From the caravan. I’ll need them for guard duty, and you can promise them a reasonable pay.”

Gertha said nothing, but her eyes widened with understanding. She simply nodded at Gilda’s command. “Get your brother and the Gunner dudes involved, too.”

“What’s going on?” Godwin turned to her. “You look nervous.”

“You just need to know it is important.” She wasn’t sure why, but Gloriann and Griska showed up there. Maybe they wanted to say goodbye to Godwin, or something, but Gilda would rather they not know about the hippogriffs. Anyway, Godwin’s nod and serious eyes afterwards told Gilda he remembered the situation. “Go with Gertha. You too, Georgia.”

She looked at Gertha again. “Wait for me here. I’m gonna talk to Lady Geena and get the captain of the city guard. We’ll go together.”

“Go where? You’re up to something. What is it?” Gia rolled her eyes, and Gilda’s shaky paws were barely under control. She stared at the green griffoness for a moment, but Gia spoke again before Gilda produced an answer.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Gia offered in an uncharacteristic bout of usefulness.

‘Don’t get involved.’

‘Mind your own business.’

‘Pretend you heard nothing.’

‘Go stuff your mouth with Geary’s dick so you don’t talk.’

All those crossed Gilda’s thoughts, and she was just happy it wasn’t Madam Gelinda talking to her. Hardening her frown and keeping her voice assertive, Gilda settled with something more effective and mature. Gia was better kept busy and under control. “Yeah! I need you to stock up on healing stuff.”

“We already have a stock of remedies and supplies with the caravan.” Gia twisted her beak like a lazy cub given an order.

“Boost it up. Potion crafting supplies too. And potions. I don’t know! You’re the Loremaster. Figure it out. And take Miss Gisele with you. Pay for everything with my name. Mention Lady Gwendolen if you need. Get Gil to talk to the cooks and the maids. We’ll have to feed a bunch of creatures soon. It doesn’t matter if the food is cheap, ‘nutritive’ is fine. Also blankets. Clothing against the cold… Bring everything to the Manor and say they are all supplies for the caravan.”

Gia’s face transformed from lazy contempt to childish stubbornness. “Are you going to tell me what you are up to?”

Gilda responded with a glare of her own. “You offered help is what is going on! Get busy.”

“Fine. Fine.” Gia groaned tiredly and started on her way.

She watched the green griffoness leave before addressing the others again. “Just do what Gertha says. She knows what is going on. I’ll meet you guys here soon. Try not to draw too much attention.”

After a few nods of agreement, Gilda took the stairs up to her room. She barely spared a look to servants or guards along the way. Nobody bothered the important lady in a hurry, and she soon reached her room’s atrium. Grunhilda was on a couch with her book about smithing and holding a knife with a critical scowl, like it had done something wrong.

“Big Girl. Get dressed in something fancy. We’re gonna go see your aunt and Gevorg.” She needed no more words. The white griffoness closed the book and dropped the knife, hopping off the couch and following her into the room.

Smiling at seeing her things waiting for her, Gilda hurried to the bed while Grunhilda stuck her head inside one of the room’s armoires. Mythical was on the bed, and all of Gilda’s bling rested on a griffon mannequin. She donned everything. She started with the ridiculously expensive-looking golden mesh with diamonds. Then the pair of magical bracelets, and the headdress with the Harpy’s visage.

The dancing garment was probably not a good idea. Better save that one for the night. The white cape was perfect, though. Mythical was going too, but the goal was not to slice griffons open. It was to show off. Gilda adjusted her magical sword’s place on her back, under the cape, but so that the hilt poked from behind her shoulder. Finally, Gilda made sure her red scarf was easily visible with one of its satin red legs showing the crest of the black and white griffon wings. Underneath it all, the golden jewel rested on her feathers with the diamond dots shining in the light from the torches.

An honorable and powerful northerner lady griffon stared at her from the mirror, raising her beak and looking down at her. With a chuckle, she patted down her crest of feathers. Turning to the side and found Grunhilda. The white griffoness blinked at her, wearing her confused frown along with a silly, large headdress of blue and silver feathers.

“Never mind.” Gilda shrugged. “Just take yourself and it will be fine. Come on!”

Grunhilda shrugged, dropped the headdress, and followed Gilda’s frantic pace down the stairs. They rushed past Gertha, talking to some griffons along with Godwin, but they didn’t stop, and nobody bothered them. Another quick trot took them out and around the keep’s tower, but then Gilda restrained her gait to a dignified walk. Grunhilda caught on and did the same, keeping a respectful distance from her.

The same selection of griffons as before waited outside the tower, plus a few other extravagantly dressed griffons. Just as she arrived, two more joined. Gilda stopped in the middle of the gathering and talked to no one in particular, and to all of them. Mostly to the guards flanking the door. “I need to talk to Lady Geena. It’s important. Like, I need to see her right now.”

“Well, her office is on the second floor,” One of the noble-looking, fur and steel wearing griffons started. A rather short, black, and white griffon with brown eyes. He and the others measured Gilda up and down before he gasped. “Lady Gilda! Greetings. Ah… Milady is still quite busy with matters regarding the festival yesterday. I’m afraid she cannot see us right now and we must wait. She’ll summon us whenever she is ready.”

“This is quite common.” A griffon lady, sandy and cyan, wearing a rabbit pelt hat and a green cloak added. The others agreed. “The city could barely function without her. Even more so when Lord Graham is away. We all must wait.”

“Thanks.” Gilda simply turned and entered through the open door despite a complaining voice. The guards just nodded at her. Inside, another selection of well-dressed griffons surrounded a large table with a map before a pair of empty thrones.

Stone and mortar for proofing made the outer walls. Wood shaped the internal structure with individual rooms and decorating panels. At the tower’s entrance, that meant the audience chamber, a small kitchen to the side, and the staircase going up. The place seemed old, with several planks looking clearer and sharper on the walls, floor, and ceiling. The ambiance was dim, but sufficient while the air smelled of burnt wood. Torches on the walls, a candelabra with countless candles hanging from the ceiling and from a central hearth fire provided both the heat and lighting.

A map of Snow Mountains occupied the center of the room and a pair of thrones sat at the top of a couple of steps in the back. A giant banner with the city’s trout covered the stone wall behind them. The map of the hold had models of mountains and blue paint for rivers, with small castles representing the important cities and houses for the smaller ones. Half a dozen griffons surrounded the map and silently judged Gilda for her invasion.

The warmth from a burning hearth reminded Gilda of just how cold it was outside and made her hurry. A pair of axes and shield armed Sky Sentries, recognizable by the blue and gold armor, sat by the staircase. Neither bothered her as Gilda started on her way up. Surprised comments turned to perplexed gasps, but nobody tried to stop her as she nimbly climbed the stairs and Grunhilda followed. The soldiers on guard duty? They nodded at Gilda, as respectful as though she were Lady Geena herself.

Privilege. If you got it, flaunt it.

The second floor had an open passage from the stairs into an office. Rustic decorations included a painting of the city’s lords, carved wood, and a painting of the city’s emblem: the jumping spotted trout again. About a dozen griffons of northerner colors filled the room, wearing clothes that ranged from the humble to the luxurious. From cotton to silk and fur, but what got Gilda’s attention hung from the walls. Crests and banners showed what Gilda assumed were the personal crests of Lord Graham and Lady Geena. A snowed pine, white on blue for him, and a dancing griffon lady for her, white on lead gray.

Gilda wanted a personal crest, too! But she had more important things to mind. Heedless of protocol, she walked into the office. A large desk occupied the back with Lady Geena sitting behind it, signing stuff other griffons constantly offered her. Gilda raised her voice and greeted Lady Geena like she was an old friend. Or an aunt-in-law, for all Gilda cared. “Hi!”

“Hello, Lady Gilda.” The loremaster did an exemplary job of matching Gilda’s enthusiasm. Even with her frown, frantic writing, and the sea of bureaucratic work on her desk. It made Gilda feel nice that Lady Geena considered herself close to her. “Hello, Grunhilda! Welcome!”

She just finished reading and signing a paper to return it to an anxious, fidgeting black griffon wearing reading glasses. He, upon receiving the paper, promptly gave her another. Only the first in the group of fidgeting and huffing griffons. “You can see I am slightly busy. But what can I help you with? Did you come to talk about your mission?”

The salmon colored Gjarma, Geena’s assistant loremaster, sat next to the table, and she too held another pile of papers. Gilda nodded a greeting at her and sat herself before the desk. She was going to rest an elbow on it, all chill and informal-like, but decided she was a noble lady now. Instead, she took a second to stare at her shining talons and adjust her cape. “I came to talk about the brigands. Yes. And also, to collect on that thing you owe me.”

Oof. That came out too blunt, but the damage was done. Geena let out a curious exclamation and looked up from the paper she was reading. Fortunately, not offended or anything. Thank the Harpy for the northerners’ sense of practicality and bluntness. “Do you want to take the hippogriffs to the rogue settlement? They are not in fighting shape! At all! Many are bound to die on the trip!”

“No. I want to get them to help my beastmaster with the infant roc.” Gilda kept her voice as calm as she could. Pretending she couldn’t feel her fingers trembling or her heart thumping in her chest. “And I’m willing to pay a decent doctor’s fee to get them healthy. Erm… Because they can’t deal with the roc if they’re sick.”

Gilda waved her paw around with a flourish. “Obviously.”

“Ha!” One of the present griffons croaked. On the older side, but a griffon who may not have aged as graciously as the griffons Gilda met the previous night. His back had a lump under his gray cape and his black feathers lost most of their shine. One of his eyes had gone white and gave him a most unpleasant appearance. “Hippogriffs can’t deal with monsters, period, ma’am. What you’re doing is a wastage of your time and resources. Hire more monster hunters and scouts. Yes.”

He rubbed his fingers on his thumb. “This is an expensive cheap you’re shooting for, milady. Just as soon as they stand upright, they’ll give you trouble. To try and escape. Might even kill your precious roc, just out of malice, the spiteful and dishonored things they are.”

“Sell the filthy half-bloods and use the money to hire actual griffons to do a griffon’s job.” He concluded with a dismissive wave. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll pay you four hundred Eagles per head.”

“You are out of your mind, Garson.” Gjarma shot him a fierce scowl. Perhaps out of place, but simply annoyed. “They are soldiers. They should be at least a thousand Eagles, each. If they were not to be returned to the south. They are not slaves.”

“Ah. Hippogriff soldiers, milady.” The griffon turned to her with a condescending tone and smarmy smile that would have made Gilda claw his face. “And barely soldiers at that. Warriors don’t get themselves ambushed. Much less surrender like scared, motherless cubs at the first sign of an angry enemy. They forfeited their freedom through their cravenness. Come now, they are slaves. Griffons are prisoners, half-bloods are not griffons.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Gilda gave him an icy stare. “But I have plans and they don’t include selling them.”

Lady Geena cleared her throat and left her feather pen on the desk.

“I believe it would be better for me and Lady Gilda to talk alone.” She declared clearly. Immediately the griffons holding piles of papers, except for Gjarma, started complaining like a litter of motherless cubs. Geena responded with a dismissive wave of her paw. “Off you go. Nobody is going to die if I don’t sign these papers right now. I promise you we shall finish before supper.”

Her tone, like an experienced mother, convinced them that whining wouldn’t win them anything. They left in a line. Gjarma left last, but eventually Gilda, Grunhilda, and Geena were alone in the office. She turned to Geena again, and her face bore an impenetrable expression behind the desk.

“I will not back down on the deal we struck.” The large and white griffoness frowned. “But I am curious.”

“What? I really want them to help. That bird is a pawful and I need help to take care of it. Locals are scared of it and I’m sure the hippogriffs are going to be cheaper. With supervision from my new beastmaster!”

“Of course.” Gilda scowled at her but gave Lady Geena’s sarcastic tone no response. “Ask Gjarma. She’ll help you with that. I suppose you also would like to talk about the brigands you and my captain will go out after.”

“Yes.” Gilda cleared her throat, glad to put a rock on top of the other subject.

“Very well, then.” From friendly and professional, Geena’s shifted into scowling and growling.

She produced a map from underneath the desk and slapped it on the table, prompting Gilda and Grunhilda to come closer. It was a map of the region of Frozenlake, rather than of the entire hold, and it held much greater detail. Most noticeable of those were that the map, rather than a to-scale representation, offered clear indications of landmarks. The edges of a forest, a frozen stream. Abandoned ruins of failed settlements or ancient households of the Astrani. A mound or an exceptionally shaped peak, all found their places on the map.

The faux stone doors represented Frozenlake, with the city’s name written inside a banner for clarity. Drawings of distinctive buildings marked the location of lesser towns, such as a windmill or some local lord’s mansion. For Gilda’s destination, Lady Gilda’s talon pointed at a drawing of a feather nestled between three clustered mountains and a stream on the map.

“These are called the Triplets. They are notably easy to identify, but low clouds often obscure them.” Gilda listened as her eyes drank in the details on the map. “Don’t worry, though. Gevorg knows the way by heart.”

Three mountains, one stream. A forest nearby, covering one of the three entrances, all clearly evidenced in the drawing. Even without Gilda’s memories of past lives, the forest was an obvious entrance. Especially if the weather graced them with low cloud cover, obscuring not only the peaks, but the view from them.

Notes carefully written on the map measured travel days rather than distances and noted landmarks to look for during a trip. Feathertip was a day and a half east of Frozenlake and Goldharvest two days, but only a half from Feathertip, due south. They may have passed close by, coming from Wayfarer’s Rest. The brigands might even be what spooked Gosalynn’s scouts on the way.

“You will face icy winds most of the journey.” Most of the friendliness and comradery vanished from Geena’s voice. Her talon ran across the expanse of rolling hills between Frozenlake and Feathertip. Only some particularly protruding rocks or terrain shapes and small forests offered guidance along the way. “But I suggest entering the valley from the forest. They will guard it, but less effectively than the walls and perches in the other two valleys. If you time your approach, the forest should protect the party under the dark of night.”

“They have been preying on the nearby hamlets. Small farming and foraging communities dot the area, and even your griffons will not be safe here unless we deal with them. The only one of significant size is Goldharvest.” Geena huffed. “Gavingkal, that filthy dog wanted to clear the forest and Graham forbad it. As though nobody knew he was likely to stage a little coup one of these days. We just never expected something like this. They have been raiding the area for some time, but only recently we’ve noticed it. And that is the concerning part.”

Gilda nodded, looking at Geena and the map. She frowned. That Gavingkal dude probably filled the forest with lookouts and traps, though. But such was so obvious Lady Geena didn’t bother saying so.

“Feathertip is itself a small hamlet. It is literally half-a-dozen streets and some homes surrounding Lord Gavingkal’s longhouse. What concerns me most is that any griffon we send to check on those cities returns with no news. What we know is thanks to survivors and escapees found by Sky Sentry monster patrols.”

“There have been reports of rapes, mugging, burglary. At first it seemed like common brigand matters and scared griffons. Recently, intimidation raids and abductions started. We received reports of missing griffons and it all points to Feathertip. Finally, an emissary never returned, and Sky Sentry patrols reported aggressive behavior from locals. That was when Graham concluded this was beyond the local enforcers and decided something must be done.”

“I will be honest with you. More than I should.” Geena’s eyes raised to meet Gilda’s. “I asked Lady Gwendolen to deal with these vermin. She has responded by ordering that you deal with the rebellious griffons. And that is all I am allowed to tell you.”

Gilda smelled a trial in the air.

“Do you think that Lady Gwendolen knows what is going on?” Grunhilda asked with a worried tone.

“That is little which happens in Snow Mountains she doesn’t know, sweetie.” Geena’s voice and countenance softened. For a second and a half, Gilda wondered if she wanted to say something else, but Geena turned her attention to Gilda again.

“Kill any who resist. Take back those who surrender. Help their victims however you can. Once you have dealt with the situation and made the area safe, I will get Gjarma and my griffons to assist whoever remains.” Again, she wanted to say more, but pursed her beak.

The elegant griffon lady stood from her sitting pillow on the other side of the desk and stared out the thin, slit-like window. “There is a griffon… Actually, two. They must absolutely not survive your raid on Feathertip.”

Gilda kept her beak shut and listened. After a long pause, Geena turned to Gilda from the window. Her expression had transformed. From the angry statesgriffon, crossed by some criminal, her eyes had lost their shine and her fierce visage became a blank, inscrutable deadpan. “One of the griffons who absolutely must meet an end is Gavingkal himself, condemned to death for harboring brigands and conniving with murder, arson, terrorism, rape, griffnaping, and treason. Since I doubt he will surrender, you are to deliver Mother Harpy’s justice to him in what manner you consider adequate.”

The white griffoness stared outside again. “The other griffon is Goving.”

But she said nothing more. Okay. Fair enough. She wanted a couple of griffons to make a hasty departure from the world of the living and make it safer for the more decent griffons. Gilda could work with that. Second intentions be damned. Only one problem, other than her change in tone. Gilda started with a ‘uuuh’ and a small wince. “You haven’t described them to me. How am I supposed to recognize them?”

Geena never turned back to her. “Don’t worry. Gavingkal will make sure you know him and Goving should be easily recognizable as well.”

Okay. Gilda spent a moment staring at Geena’s back, covered by her cyan satin and swan feather cape in awkward silence, before she spoke again. “Do this for me, and you can ask me anything. Including not telling Lady Gwendolen you are trying to help the half-bloods without her noticing. Ask no questions, make no decisions, simply send those griffons to the Stormy Eyrie, and let Our Mother deal with them.”

Fair. She had her reasons for doing stuff, and so did Gilda. That worked. “Cool. I should leave you to your ‘powerful lady things’ now. I guess we’ll see each other after we’re back.”

“Make sure you are thorough.” Geena proffered her parting words without leaving the window.

Gilda said nothing further either, merely turning and walking down the stairs outside the little office. She rushed down the steps and past the guards at the base of the stairs. Again, ignoring the griffons at the map in the audience hall and the anxious griffons with papers. She stopped before Gjarma, though. The salmon griffoness gave her a curious stare from behind the pile of papers she held while sitting on the straw and planks of the courtyard.

“Come on, we gotta talk. Real quick.” Gilda told her plainly, dryly. Her response was dropping the pile of papers onto the griffon next to her. The surprised leather-wearing guard who had nothing to do with the conversation dropped his polearm with a squawk but held the papers.

The next moment, Gilda was away from the impatient griffons. Away from ears, and with Gjarma following close. Gilda turned to her and her attentive red eyes. “I bought the hippogriff prisoners from Lady Geena and need you to tell me where they are. I’ll take my griffons there to deal with them.”

Gjarma nodded at her request. “There is a tawdry inn leaned against the inner side of the city’s new wall. It is close to the construction site and owned by a Saddani couple. The city’s guard moved the hippogriffs there at the innkeeper’s request during the night. They are prisoners and since they’re staying inside the city now, they are being watched closely.”

Gertha had said the northerners left the hippogriffs on their own and they had occupied some hovels. Gilda supposed it was an improvement that they let some inn take care of them. Maybe Geena didn’t want it to look too ugly to Gilda after she showed an interest in the hippogriffs. Maybe, inside, she knew it was something to be ashamed of. Or maybe she was actually rotten… Who knew? It mattered little, and it was up to Gilda to do something, anyway.

The problem remained that if Gilda didn’t take the hippogriffs away, they’d end up in trouble. She doubted an inn owned by an already discriminated against griffons would have enough resources to house the hippogriffs. It was hardly ideal, but at least Geena tried while she knew the Harpy would look down on that.

Gjarma’s attentive and focused eyes lost their shine when she aimed them down. Her feathers on her head and neck deflated a little and her wings sagged too. “Good luck. I hope it works out.”

“Great. Thanks.” Gilda put forward a paw that Gjarma shook. Something about that mess had Geena insecure like a cat being held above a tub full of water, and now Gjarma too. That profoundly irritated Gilda, but she decided it would be best to just get it all over with already.

Next Chapter: The Aftermath, pt. II Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 25 Minutes