Gilda caught the eyes of every single griffon passing by or working on cleaning up after the festivities. Her destination, the barracks, was an elongated building next to the keep’s tower, resting against the defensive wall. Mostly made of stone and with several windows reminiscing of a hotel with a thatched roof.

They even had a small smithy, billowing black smoke, and an exercise area in front of it with a running track and fighting dummies. A dozen young griffons exercised under the watch of a veteran guard, and a few whacked the dummies with wooden weapons. Everyone was busy. Either a forced cantering gait to the beat of their instructor counting to three over and over, or a mock-up fight.

Noticing Gilda and Grunhilda, several of the young recruits stopped and stared at them. Their beaks moved with comments among themselves, but they received no acknowledgement on Gilda’s part. All they managed was to incur the instructor’s wrath. Under his bellowing, they returned to their exercises in a hurry and the moment passed.

Their instructor was an aging gentlegriffon wearing the city’s leather armor. He greeted Gilda with a respectful nod but spared her no further attention. He turned back to yelling and telling the recruits all the ways they made him feel sorry for the future of Frozenlake.

The pair of guards by the barracks’ door also noticed Gilda. Northerner griffons, on the bulkier side of physical builds and both in gray shades of blue and white. They wore the same leather armor as the others but held pikes and sat by the heavy wooden doors, looking bored.

Gilda stopped and smiled at them. “May I see Captain Gevorg?”

“Sure!” The slightly older guard on the right said. He had a shiny, bluish silver under his leather armor. Probably a couple of years older than the other. His eyes never left Gilda, but he coughed and spoke a second time. “I mean, yes. Ma’am. Upstairs. Uh… He’s upstairs.”

As he spoke, the other immediately pulled open the door for Gilda, and she excused herself with a nod before walking in. Grunhilda followed. The white griffoness kept quiet, but with a haughty posture, strutting around like she owned the place.

Or as though her master owned the place, Gilda supposed, and suppressed a chuckle.

The entrance was an atrium with some reasonably comfortable furniture for griffons to wait. A pair of them sat by and talked but stopped when the pair entered. One of them kept looking up and down at Grunhilda, but Gilda’s greeting snapped him out of it.

To her left, a staircase led to the second floor while the atrium opened to a mess hall on the right. Further that way, it probably led to more living space or utilities like the forge she saw outside. Wasting no time, she took the stairs up. Coming to another living area with a banner with the city’s emblem and an office where she finally found Gevorg.

Sitting on the wooden floor past the door, the captain made some gestures to the three griffons talking to him. They were mostly unremarkable next to his dreamy black and gray. And when Gilda entered through the door like she owned the place, they immediately silenced.

Gevorg blinked and coughed into his fist. “Hi! Hello, Lady Gilda.”

All sorts of ‘soldier paraphernalia’ occupied the walls and the corners. From flags and a stand holding his blue and golden Sky Sentry armor to weapons of all sorts. A framed black-and-white photograph of a sultry griffoness hung from the wall. She laid on her back, wrapped in a white furry tippet and hiding absolutely nothing from the camera. Gevorg’s friend closest to it immediately took the framed photograph and hid it behind himself as best as he could. Barely at all.

If Gilda’s head was not so full of the dire situation with the hippogriffs, she would have found it all cute, funny, and endearing.

“Just call me Gilda, dude.” She said as casually and naturally as she could, still trying to channel the rising star. Smiling softly, sitting on the floor, and letting her cape rest on her back. Gracefully pretending she didn’t see the griffon trying to hide the saucy photograph. Then she smiled slightly more, eyes on Gevorg. “Since we’ll be traveling together, both to the bandit camp and to Brokenhorn, I figured I could ask a small favor from you.”

“Of course!” He blurted and smiled too widely, enough as to be awkward. “I ah… I mean… Sure! What do you need?”

“I just got the hippogriff prisoners of the GSA army and Gjarma told me they are being held at an inn.” As she spoke, Gevorg’s face transformed. His smile slowly died away. The shine in his eyes dimmed like the sun hiding behind the mountains in a cold and joyless evening. Even as she spoke, she could feel the excitement draining away from his increasingly deflated posture.

Her confidence drained away, and she hoped she never let it show as she kept talking. Doing her best to keep the posture of a powerful and dignified, if not pompous, noble lady. “So, would you come with me and make sure your griffons don’t mind pawing them over? I need to get them ready to work with my roc and ready for the trip to Brokenhorn.”

The other three griffons with him too reacted to her words. One of them, with the photograph hidden behind his back, winced as his eyes kept jumping between Gilda and Gevorg. The other, behind Gevorg, hid it better, but Gilda could read the disappointment in his eyes, even if his expression remained stoic.

The third, sitting next to Gevorg, raised his fist with a grin. “Great idea! Dealing with a still unbroken magical beast is risky! Getting the half-bloods to put their limb and life on the line for such a menial job is brilliant!”

Gilda’s confidence turned to shaking paws in a split second. What the fuck was that? She thought he would be all over himself to help her. But she couldn’t stay there, staring at them and not saying anything while Gevorg looked like a crumbling sandcastle.

“So, you’ll be keeping the hippogriffs as slaves?” Gevorg finally said something. His voice came out in a neutral and monotone, matter-of-fact sequence of words. “I suppose that makes sense. I ah… I’ll get my griffons to cooperate.”

Gilda’s beak clicked. “I’m… Ah. They can’t stay here. And I will treat them like I treat Grunhilda. You know. She is a very good thrall.”

Gevorg blinked and then understanding filled his mien. An awkward laugh exploded out of his beak, along with a nervous cough. Thank the Harpy, thank Discord, thank the Alicorn Sisters, if need be. Thank Harmony and all the gods in that stupid world of theirs.

“Of course!” Gevorg clamored. “I could expect no less from you.”

A wave of relief washed over two of the other griffons in that room, and the third nodded again. His smile accompanied a confident nod that Gilda would treat those filthy half-bloods how they deserved, alright!

“So, ah, sure! I’ll go with you!” Gevorg laughed awkwardly and then he stroked the feathers on top of his head like an insecure cub talking to the popular queen at school. If the northerners even had schools like the southerners. “I just had something I needed to ask you first. If that is alright.”

What were they talking about before she arrived? Because after the dreariness of the hippogriff subject lifted, something funny seemed to be going on there. Fourth grade level funny. She just stared at the four griffons, and they stared at her. Grunhilda blinked, and she too watched, with her dumb ‘I don’t know what is going on’ face. The three griffons with Gevorg kept looking at Gilda like they expected her to say something. Gevorg kept fixated at her, also expecting her to say something.

“Sure.” Gilda said with a confused frown.

“I was just about talking to the guys and… Ah… I’m just gonna get the quartermaster to get my tent from storage. You know, just to be ready. To leave as soon as we can. Right? Once we’re back. From the raid. Because I’ll need my tent. You know. To pass the long, cold nights during the trip to Brokenhorn.”

Oh… Oh! After she suppressed a goofy, silly grin from showing, Gilda gave Captain Gevorg a coldly calculated frown of disappointment. “I thought you were going to sleep in my tent with Grunhilda and me. In fact, I was even expecting you to join us at the Manor tonight. There was not even a question in mind whether you would stay with us. Now, can you help me with the hippogriffs?”

“Right.” He coughed, but his beak opened in a giant smile again. “Sure. I’ll meet you outside in a couple of seconds. I just need to set some things straight before we leave.”

Gilda finished with a smile and walked out of his office, with Grunhilda following and closing the door behind her. As soon as it closed, discreet, but excited comments filtered through, and Gilda smiled triumphantly at Grunhilda, who giggled back at her. What was more childish? She and Grunhilda giggling at it. Or the congratulatory comments Gevorg received.

“Well, that was easy.” She whispered to Grunhilda, barely containing her gleeful grin. “I thought I’d have to throw the charms on them, but I guess things worked out. I sure am not complaining that Gevorg is all over us too!”

While Grunhilda shared another giggle with her, Gevorg took little time to exit his office. Gilda smiled when the door opened and he came out, pulling it closed with his tail. He was going to say something, but the laughter from the other side of the door gave him pause.

“They… They think it is nice I’m dating you.” He said and concluded with an uncomfortable grin as more laughter came from the other side. “Because they think we’re going to mate at some point. Or something.”

That was a new and alien feeling. Nobody had ever cared that she had dated the nerd who was good at math in school. Later, some ponies thought it was inconvenient for a promising pegasus to be seeing a griffon savage. Come to think of it, Neighsay probably would try to ‘stop with that travesty’ had it ever reached his ears.

Gilda really ought to stop thinking about the grassbreaths when she had nice griffons to look at and gallivant about with. With a small nod, she invited Gevorg to walk with her and as they reached the stairs, she caught someone peeking up from the corner before they vanished. As they walked past the living room, at least a couple of griffons peeked from behind the tables further into the mess. Walking out, several of them peeked from windows. Gilda even heard some cheering.

“I’m sorry!” Gevorg walked stiffly. He looked at her, but his eyes avoided hers. “They’re… So damn immature.”

Gilda knew that part of her charm was authenticity. She was the noble lady that talked like a nobody from Griffonstone. A nobody who had struck luck with their goddess. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t capitalize on her neat cape and jewelry, posing like she belonged at her station. Because she did. And if griffons saw her as something special, then so be it. That was the point of swordmaidens, right? Much less that she couldn’t reap the benefits of her position.

“I’m not complaining.” She smiled and walked closer before pecking his beak softly. The barracks behind them exploded with cheers and shocked shouts. Once again, the drill instructor yelled his recruits into shape as the trio walked away.

The black griffon didn’t respond. He kept walking and smiled while Grunhilda giggled and did a skippy little prance next to them. After that, they walked in silence. It took them a couple of minutes to reach the Manor. Inside, Gertha had a dozen griffons in the hall, waiting for them. The Manor’s maids were there and did their best attempt at hospitality, offering refreshment and little snacks. The overall mood was not accommodating, though. Something that Gilda couldn’t truly put a talon on bothered everyone in that whole affair.

Several griffons didn’t fit with the southerners from Gilda’s caravan. Some northerners may have caught wind of the situation. The huntress, the roc’s caretaker, and her family were there. Others too. Griffons Gilda didn’t know, but if Gertha trusted them, it would be fine. The only reason they were there might be that Gilda meant to help the hippogriffs. Convoluted and awkward as the whole thing had become.

Gilda quickly pieced together a small speech to give them. A cold paw grasped her stomach as it became obvious that she should have thought that through, and a wince showed in her face. Some of those griffons had grim stares and pursed beaks, like they expected her to tell them to beat someone. All of them were armed, like Gilda had hired them to raid a place. Gilda’s heart skipped a beat at the thought things might turn that bad. All it would take is for the griffons to not like her idea.

Oh well, it could be worse. It could be that none of them showed up at all.

She walked to the tall chair at the top of the stairs and dragged their stares with her. Turning around, she looked back at them again. A nobody from Griffonstone that struck luck, Gilda cleared her throat as she put that luck to test. “So, I asked you guys to come here because I bought the hippogriffs.”

She almost slapped herself at the puzzled expressions she received. Poor Gertha and her disheartened frown looked like she really regretted getting behind Gilda. Clearing her throat, she tried again. Quickly thinking of something less distasteful to tell them, preferably without spilling the beans entirely. If they were there for the right reason, they would understand.

“Ah, what I mean is that there are these hippogriffs who came with the GSA army that invaded Snow Mountains without proper authorization. Or something. I don’t really know how that happened. But… Chances are that Griffonia has abandoned them. What I know is that there are some hippogriffs that may not be getting proper medical treatment, or shielding from the cold… Or food. So, I decided that I rather they worked for me. I need help with my roc, and they need someone to take care of them. Ah, I don’t like ponies and I’m not fond of hippogriffs, but those are not reasons for me to leave them to suffer just because.”

Nobody responded to her little speech, but they nodded and remained stoic. The important thing was that nobody objected. Supposedly, they all agreed that it was better than leaving the hippogriffs abandoned to their luck. With that implicitly agreed upon, Gilda and Gevorg led them out and towards the inn Gjarma had mentioned. A dozen griffons walking around with weapons drew attention, but the citizens of Frozenlake didn’t seem to want the trouble. Gevorg’s presence certainly helped too. Their walk took them across half the city, but it was uneventful, and Gilda was grateful for that.

The inn was not as decrepit as Gilda had imagined. Gjarma probably had a different definition of tawdry than Gilda. A five-story building with lots of windows and using the city’s new wall for support. A central chimney let out a black smoke from the topmost roof made of washed-out blue tiles. The several rows of square windows seemed opaque in multiple colors because of the curtains on the other side. Overall, it was new, but the inn lacked quality materials. An unremarkable building that obviously seemed designed to house creatures in the most practical way possible. Its most distinct characteristic was the ground floor and its extension. It looked like it used to be a mansion before it became an inn and went through renovations. It became an amalgamation of northerner architecture trying for something more practical like one might find in the south.

In front of it was a small force of seven griffons wearing the guards’ leather armor with the crest of the jumping spotted trout. Armed with spears, they just wandered about like they had nothing better to do or stood on their posts looking bored. The street had walkways on both sides and griffons passing by preferred the one across the street from them. Even carts braving the mud preferred the opposite half of the street.

Walking across the wide street made it dawn on Gilda again how much of a good idea it was to bring Gevorg along. He would make the guardsgriffons cooperate without a hitch. But there was also the fact she was walking in on them with a dozen armed griffons. One might become nervous. They were holding prisoners, after all. The situation was likely not as smooth as it seemed. Gilda would not bet on the GSA soldiers being completely docile either. Hippogriffs were half-griffon, after all.

One of the leather-armored griffons kept staring at Gilda and Gevorg. Two of his companions talked next to him, and he poked one of the distracted griffons with a talon on the back of his neck. The conversation ended with all eyes turning towards the Captain and the Swordmaiden. A few silent comments moved beaks with a few smiles and even one contained laughter. Gilda almost thanked the Harpy news of her and Gevorg spread so fast, and griffons decided to be so silly about it.

Instead of a stiff and formal approach, Gevorg took a couple of steps before Gilda and addressed the guardsgriffons as they converged before them. “Lady Gilda is taking the half-bloods with her caravan, so her griffons are taking over. You cats are dismissed. Let’s get back to the barracks and grab some spiced wine on me.”

With no more than a few nods and stares, the griffons started on their way. A few comments about her and Gevorg dating reached her, although the word ‘fucking’ was more prevalent.

Gilda suppressed her silly smile, and Gevorg let out a nervous cough. “I’ll leave you to it. The hippogriffs should be more comfortable without me. Just don’t forget that these guys are soldiers.”

“Don’t worry.” Gilda smiled at him. Then the corners of her beak pulled just a touch more. “Meet me in the Manor later.”

He smiled at her, too. “Will do, ma’am. Later.”

The captain joined the armored griffons walking down the street and suffered some hushed comments with dignity. Meanwhile, one of the guardsgriffons recognized Gertha as the second in command and threw her a keyring and they exchanged a nod. After a couple of seconds of watching them leave, Gilda turned to her griffons. Gertha opened the door for Gilda and Grunhilda to enter and Godwin followed with his sister and a few of their armed griffons. The pink mercenary told the others to wait outside before she closed the door again.

The first thing in Gilda’s head, as she turned around, was trying to understand why Godwin’s three kittyfriends were there too. They stood in front of her, side by side, and she supposed her glare conveyed her thoughts well enough. Glóra gave Gilda a glare of her own. “Well, Godwin is my mate. If he is getting involved in whatever is happening, so am I.”

Fair enough, great start. Gilda turned to the other two. Gloriann winced and Griska did a little nervous tap-dance. “Well, we were with Godwin and Glóra. They are our friends, and we wanted to ask you to take us to Griffindell with your caravan. And… And you said you needed help… We didn’t expect to come upon you buying slaves!”

Gloriann mumbled something and frowned. “Can we? I mean, follow your caravan?”

Gilda groaned and restrained her desire to smack the two out of the building. “Keep your beaks shut, stay in the corner, and pretend that you can’t see anything. I’ll talk to you three later. This whole thing is already too much of a mess and I don’t feel like making a scene!”

The three young queens didn’t respond and simply stayed close to Godwin while Gilda turned back around again to survey the entrance hall of the inn. First impressions-wise, it was a basic inn. A place to spend the night that had found itself turned into housing for a bunch of displaced hippogriffs.

The entrance lobby was nothing to write home about, with little more than the furniture to fulfill its role. An open hall like a living room with four wooden pillars supporting the ceiling and windows behind the beige curtains. A fireplace occupied the center of the room, made of stone and raising into the floor above. It provided heat, light, and the smell of burning fresh wood. Several sets of candles on iron sconces by the walls and pillars supplemented the lighting since the curtains blocked all the windows.

A pair of doors flanked a receptionist’s counter and the stairs beyond let upstairs. Another door led deeper into the ground floor and the lobby spread on both sides with sofas and a cozy, if simple, decoration. To the right was a passage into a restaurant and to the other side was a small sitting area with larger windows, but also covered with curtains.

The reason for all those curtains was obvious. About a dozen hippogriffs milled about or sat on the chairs and sofas close to the fire. Gilda didn’t know what she expected, but she didn’t expect to see hippogriffs lounging about. Almost like they were on vacation. They didn’t even wear uniforms since the fireplace made it so cozy. But then again, it was during the day, and the nights were probably much worse. They kept staring at Gilda, who was obviously in charge there, but she said nothing yet.

Gilda only said anything when she looked at the griffoness behind the counter. Propped on it with her forelegs and waiting for Gilda to notice her. “Hi. Do you own this place?”

She was a cute and young griffon lady in shades of purple, with pink eyes and twirly plumes on her head like she wore a headdress. The counter itself was basic and made with varnished, caramel shaded wood. The griffoness took a second more, staring at Gilda, taking measure of her and not liking what she saw before responding.

“Yes. I’m Genith. I believe my mate spoke to your friend. He is not here now, though. Granulf went to the market to buy some things.” As she spoke, a hippogriff approached the counter, also eyeing Gilda critically. “This is Lieutenant Blue Feather.”

True to his name, the hippogriff sported a shade of blue similar to Georgia and Giza, but without their characteristic white griffon heads. His mane was aquamarine, as was his tail. The first he kept short and standing, while his tail flowed smoothly and made a twirl at the end. His yellow eyes seemed like a griffon’s but carried the softness of the pony's eyes. For some dumb reason, Gilda expected him to be wearing the green uniform of the Griffonian Standing Army. He was naked, but didn’t seem very comfortable, stiff and frowny, with tense wings on his sides.

“So, you’re the Swordmaiden of the Shaddani I keep hearing about.” The hippogriff spoke almost as though he accused Gilda of something. Her brow shriveled into a frown, and he sighed, shaking his head, completely changing his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m just so incredibly frustrated with your people. We lost too many of my hippogriffs because they refused to assist us with proper sheltering. I don’t know how Stingray hasn’t died yet.”

“What is wrong with him?” Gilda swallowed her pride and sat on the floor as the others spread around the room and made themselves comfortable. It helped ease the situation further.

“He has asthma.” The hippogriff sighed. “How do you think he is doing in this cold? Without his medications?”

“How in the feather does the military let an asthmatic hippogriff serve in the griffon army?” Gertha’s brother, Guille, asked, laying his claymore to rest on the wall.

“It’s simple, really.” One of the prisoner soldiers, standing next to a couch, glared and raised his voice. “You get a bunch of xenophobic assholes threatening the country with civil war, and recruitment standards get a little lax. Especially after the Royal Cake Eater decides she’s okay with it.”

The worst thing was that Gilda had to agree. And a block of ice dropped on her stomach when she realized that they could have drafted her. All because of that mess of punching the mayor’s kid.

No. Not her. Mother Harpy wouldn’t have allowed it. Coughing into her fist before she spoke, she focused on the situation again. “When did they get you here? I thought that until yesterday you were on your own.”

“Miss Genith and her mate got permission, just this night, to shelter us.” The hippogriff from the couch said. “I hear that this Gathering Storm feast makes the northerners slightly less abusive.”

“Let it go, bro.” Another hippogriff told him. “She’s here to help us.”

“Reaching Lady Geena is not so easy when you’re a ‘filthy-blooded Saddani’, Lady Gilda.” The griffoness behind the counter closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s not usually the problem, for a loremaster. The city is full of twits between us and her. Especially if you are worried about the hippogriffs who everyone would rather pretend don’t exist.”

“With help from others, me and my mate fed them and got them some medicine. But we couldn’t take them from the abandoned houses they had sheltered in. Some genius decided that if they let us move them, they’d escape. Eventually it worked out, but the inn is closed now. We’re not making any money and feeding so many creatures is not cheap. Especially when a few have strict diets.”

Part of Gilda wished to leave them with the innkeepers. But it didn’t look like they could do a lot. Not more than they already did. The hippogriffs would not find her idea too hot, either. And there was also Godwin. Looking at him, Gilda found a good-natured young griffon next to that unknown quantity that was Glóra. Not to mention the two young queens that shared the night with him.

She felt naïve. Did her infallible plan to help the hippogriffs stand a candle’s chance in the Frozen North of working?

“Godwin?” Gilda waved him to come closer, and when he did, she turned her backside to the others and spoke in secretive tones. “Do you want to say anything? Should we leave them to the care of these innkeepers? I’m not sure they can take care of them until the northerners allow them to go back south.”

Godwin opened his beak and drew in the air to speak. Glóra talked first, suddenly next to Gilda. “If they owe you their lives, then they should be happy for the opportunity to repay their debt.”

Gilda gasped and turned to talk to her. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your beak shut?”

The young griffoness cocked her head with an offended frown. “You told the others. I am Godwin’s mate. Anything that concerns him concerns me. And, considering the way you secured these griffons from Lady Geena, they are more his than they are yours.”

“They are not ‘mine’ nor Gilda’s, Glóra.” Godwin deadpanned. “They are not pets.”

“They are prisoners and undesirables.” Glóra retorted. It sounded more like pragmatism than disdain, though. “They owe Gilda and you their life and should be dead, anyway. They will be dead if you don’t care for them. The choice is not theirs.”

Godwin retorted back to her, raising his hushing voice. “We don’t need a bunch of slave hippogriffs!”

“I’m not so sure.” Glóra grinned. “We’re starting a new homestead! We could use some servants!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Godwin slapped his own head. “Even if this was morally acceptable, we don’t have the resources to keep them under control!”

“Shut up, you two!” Gilda growled and walked from them. “You’re mated for less than a day and already remind me of the reason I never got mated!”

The hippogriff raised a paw while the others around the room kept paying attention to Gilda and their superior. “Hey, do you guys want to include us in the conversation or what?”

Gilda hardened her frown. “I dealt with Lady Geena and Lady Gwendolen to get you guys from here.”

“So, you’ll let us go and we can get back south, right?” Lieutenant Blue Feather gave her a sarcastic glare. It broadcasted he had his doubts, but more than that, it rubbed Gilda off the wrong way and her tone and tense wings showed it.

“I can’t. You will die. The northerners will only allow you to leave when they let the remaining soldiers go, and that is going to take a while. You’re not stranded tourists. You are prisoners from an army that came here to do harm to the northerners. I’m not even sure the others can go home without help. The northerners will have to organize a caravan just to take them back. And I don’t think the northerners will care about protecting you.” Gilda shook her head. “No. I’m going north, and I mean to take you guys in my caravan to Griffindell.”

Someone gave a nervous laugh. “Even further north?”

“Are you feathering high?!” Another one cried amid complaining hippogriffs making angry gestures, flapping wings, stomping hooves, crying, and screeching over each other. “This is some bullshit!”

Gilda mostly ignored them. Who knew what a mess that situation could have turned into had she come without armed guards? She didn’t ignore Lieutenant Blue Feather, though. He was fuming. But Gilda didn’t feel like allowing him to complain, either and beat him to the first word. “I’m going out of my way to help you guys.”

“So that is what we are doing and the best I can do for you is a promise that my griffons will treat you with dignity and that I’ll help you guys go back south as soon as I can.”

She spoke again, before he could respond, and gave the conversation a gesture of closure with her paw. “I wouldn’t like it if I was in your place, but I’m not in your place. I’m the one helping you. Offering medical help, food, and shelter. I am the one making the decisions. Not you.”

Gilda inhaled with an angry scowl. “You morons came to fight for the most corrupt government in the world! I even have something for you to do and not make griffons suspicious. I don’t want to hear any more complaining, because I am one talon from dropping this shitshow and going back to my own problems! Which are significant, by the way! You guys can either shut up and do as I tell you, or I’m walking out that door.”

The hippogriffs piped down their complaints. An aquamarine and lavender hippogriff guy, with a mane like the foam on the beach, stood from his laying pillow and raised a paw. “We got hippogriffs in need of medical help. It will be better than staying in the city. Who knows when the northerners will get fed up and kick us out? I vote we go with Miss Gilda.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Another added his squawky voice to the discussion, raising other voices in agreement. Immediately, the complaining rose too, and other hippogriffs cried about how ridiculous the whole thing was.

“This is not a foalscouts trip. We’re prisoners of war! We’re soldiers.” Blue Feather countered with some angry shouting. “We should make every effort in our power our to escape these freaks and return to our unit.”

“They detained your entire unit, dumbass.” Guille growled. Thank the Harpy, Gilda didn’t laugh.

More inane shouting and angry arguing followed, except now there were two sides in that mess instead of one unified front of complaining. Arguments ranged from honor and duty to simple pleas for their survival. Some hippogriffs, at least, understood just how utterly fucked they were. What would happen to the souls of hippogriffs dying like flies to the winter and the monsters? Gilda doubted Mother Harpy would shed a tear over their souls getting snatched by the Windigos.

Once again, Gilda didn’t know what she expected. Certainly not all that whining from adults that couldn’t understand things were less than perfect. Maybe it was because she had learned she was not part of the Pony Utopia, and those hippogriffs still hadn’t understood the situation they were in.

The complaining and arguing didn’t cease. It started escalating with more stomping hooves and fists pumped into the air. Some of them hovered above and pointed fingers. Angry calls to reason came from both sides of diametrically opposing ideas. A lot of big talk coming from hippogriff idiots that got themselves captured while trying to help a corrupt government. Gilda felt she’d soon start agreeing with the Harpy and seconds later, she had decided. Screw them.

She raised her paw and turned around to leave, but hesitated. In that split second Glóra and Georgia walked by her with the former raising her voice. “Where are the sick hippogriffs?”

Most of them didn’t respond, too engrossed in their bickering, even as some of their friends tried to shut them up with gestures and angry words. Gilda turned around again and gave them another chance. When Georgia asked again, their commanding officer, or whatever the feather he was supposed to be, gave a defeated sigh, and shook his head in defeat.

“We got some in the rooms. On the beds, where it is warmer. But we’re running out of firewood. There are panic fits, frostbite, a broken leg… We don’t know what some of them have, and a few just gave up. It’s a long and sad list. One of them even tried to kill himself but we stopped him. There is Stingray. He’s asthmatic and not dealing well with the climate. He said that in the south he’d get a tobacco syrup that helped a lot.” Blue Feather’s frustrated expression turned angry with a deeper scowl. “But it is one of the forbidden things here in the north.”

“Uh… Isn’t tobacco bad for your lungs?” Gertha joined them with a confused frown at Gilda, as though she would know.

“It is if you smoke it.” Georgia explained as though she held a cigarette. “But you can make medicines out of it. Inhalations are quite common.”

Vague memories came to Gilda that asthma was common in hippogriffs. A common enough problem with ponies and griffons, for starters. Then, something about the way griffon and pony lungs worked didn’t mix very well, and the hippogriffs took the short stick. Lung problems used to be the biggest cause of death in hippogriff foals… Cubs… Whatever they were supposed to be called. And then the things in their bodies that cause allergies didn’t mesh well too.

As doctors and healers learned how to deal with the entire package, they started living through to adulthood and the problem would mostly disappear. There was the possibility that the early deaths filtered out the hippogriffs with the harshest issues and they never passed it along to their kids. They also suffered from problems with blood sugar and weak hearts. Not everyone, but those happened more frequently than on griffons or ponies.

Their use of magic to go back and forth into the sea may be involved too, but that was hearsay. Nobody knew for sure, and Gilda didn’t really care. Gloriann’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Steam inhalation with tobacco. Doctors use it to treat some coughs and dyspnea. Sage and physalis too.”

“You can buy sage in the market!” Glóra added with a beaming smile. “I’m pretty sure Loremasters use it for a lot of stuff.”

Gilda turned to the hippogriff officer with an inquisitive stare and he frowned. He looked at his soldiers around the lounge. One of them, closer to the conversation, shrugged and said what the others seemed to have accepted. “We don’t have a lot of options, sir.”

Gilda admired his stoicism and maturity, but Lieutenant Blue Feather didn’t seem convinced. Gilda could see it in his eyes. And truth be told, in his place, she probably wouldn’t like it either. She refused to just keel over and die back at Griffonstone, after all. She understood. But there was something she understood better.

“So, get this, and get it good. I am not going to repeat myself.” Gilda let her voice raise and poked the hippogriff in his chest. “I am likely getting myself in more trouble than you guys are worth, but some dumb thing inside me is keeping me from slapping a ‘not my problem’ label on your asses.”

She took a step back and put a paw on her gold and diamond covered chest to look at the others too. “I am helping you, but the world outside of the lame pony utopia works in such a way that you have to be useful to me, otherwise I will stop caring. That is how I survived the mess my life became. So, you are going to behave. You are going to help take care of the roc. And you are going to work for me.”

Her earnest expression turned to a serious scowl. “Because the moment any of you stop being an asset, I’ll dump you to freeze in the wild. Are we clear on that? Cool. So do what the cute kitten here tells you to, and the big scary pink mercenary chick won’t have to whip you into shape. And I won’t have to take measures. Help me help you.”

“Fine.” The lieutenant finally relented.

Gilda nodded at him. Then she looked at Glóra. “Can I trust you to take care of them?”

Since the beautiful young queen nodded and Godwin did too, Gilda turned to Gertha. “Cool. Gertha will make sure that nobody does anything stupid, and Georgia will take care of their needs along with Glóra and the others. Does anybody have any further questions or bellyaching?”

Nobody answered, and from there, things worked almost on their own. Glóra incarnated the matron and took care of things like it was her little family. The inn would keep the hippogriffs cozy and warm until Gilda was ready to leave for Brokenhorn. Away from eyes, with Gilda’s griffons providing for them. Georgia got Gil and Mister Gillian, their caravan master, would buy stuff as though it were for the caravan. Gertha took care of security so that none of the hippogriffs had stupid ideas and none of the northerners harassed the prisoners. Gevorg eventually helped Guille get in touch with the other prisoners and let them know Gilda would take care of them.

Things progressed smoothly. So smoothly, Gilda feared they would go out of rails at any second. But they never did. Lunch time arrived and her griffons, under Gertha’s orientation, organized a quick schedule so one third could lunch each turn. But Gilda doubted there would be any trouble because the hippogriffs were happy enough to eat the decent food Georgia and Gil bought. They started caring for the sick and morale improved like a magic trick.

The less Gilda interfered, the better, so she delegated everything to the others. All she really did was endure Gisele’s angry stare. Her secretary quickly explained how unwise it was for a griffon without a fixed income to invest more than they owned in anything. Gilda matched her sarcastic tone and thanked her. Inside, she was glad her secretary was doing her job.

Lunch itself was a quick deal, and Gertha’s schedule worked. Meanwhile, Grunhilda reminded Gilda that she wanted to go to the blacksmith. Specifically, to the two Astrani sibling blacksmiths. Big Girl wanted them to look at the spear and shield she had gotten from the ruins where they fought the monstrous rocs. With the situation on the way to resolution, Gilda decided they could relax enough for a shopping trip before the mission tomorrow.

Next Chapter: The Aftermath, pt. III Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 58 Minutes