They had a fancy room, but they didn’t have any luggage to ‘get settled’ with. No windows on the walls, which Gilda supposed was expected since the whole facility housed the teleporters and not guests. It just made the whole thing shady. At least she seemed to be on the right side, with the right griffons this time.

The ample room had a large bed with black and white sheets and a long pillow and a furry headboard. It made Gilda think of the northerner hold. Cold and wild within the sophistication of the luxurious room. While the same mirror-y black marble made the floor, white mansonry made the walls and ceiling. A living room divided the space with the bed, adorned in rustic sitting furniture and a modern black desk. A painting of a mountain hung from the wall. Anex to it the accommodation had a bathroom with a giant tub and a shower. The whole thing was larger than Gilda’s old house. Probably more expensive too.

Some griffons sure knew how to spend their money and had a lot of it. The ‘high-rollers’ from Las Pegasus kept occupying her thoughts as she kept finding stuff like little golden statuettes of sexy griffon ladies. Someone had a thing for cute ladies.

“Miss Gilda?” Grunhilda, sitting on the floor, called and distracted her from gawking at every little thing in the room. “I’m going to take a bath.”

What? Did she think she needed her permission or something? “Sure. I guess I’ll go to the lobby and talk to that griffon that met us.”

“Okay.” She simply turned to the bathroom and went past the door.

Gilda might as well try to figure out what was the deal with the secret codes, creepy statues, and fancy teleportation company operating in the middle of Griffonstone. Still, she stole a glance to the bathroom’s door and decided Grunhilda had a weird aura about her, but should be safe.

Out the door she found herself on a corridor. Past another door she entered the lobby with the candelabra, the statues, and the bar where the griffon lady waited for her. She waved at Gilda as soon as she passed the doors.

Her paws tip-tapped on the fancy marble floor as she made her way to the bar. A cute and young hen with white fur and light gray plumage poured her an amber drink smelling of alcohol. Probably whisky. She never tried it, but everything smelling of alcohol and amber must be whisky.

“Thanks.” She nodded at the bargriffon, who smiled at her and then pretended she had vanished. Turning to the older lady next to her, Gilda meant to talk to her, but on the wall behind her hung a painting. A work of art with a plaque below.

It showed a griffon. A big, dark brown griffon, bulky and fit with a white head and serious brown eyes. No crest of feathers like most griffons, but he wore a golden diadem, and the painting showed his profile. He stood on his hindlegs with a huge war axe supporting his weight he held with his forepaws. He wore a black metal armor with not only black fur for ornaments, but also a cape of that stuff.

And the plaque read: ‘Strong? Intelligent? Resourceful? Competent or experienced? Or maybe just a griffon tired of your corrupt government. If you are loyal, there is a place for you, and Lord Gilad Ironfeathers, The Lion, needs you.’

Damn. Gilda didn’t know if she was horny or if the artist was, but if The Lion looked like that in real life, she might as well go there just to gawk at him. In the end, though, he was probably just another politician. Especially if that sort of money was involved.

“So, what do I call you?” Gilda minded the other griffon again. Paying some attention, the griffoness, much older than she, just didn’t look so. Despite her age, she looked fit and healthy.

“Madam Loremaster.” She grinned all mischief at Gilda, who didn’t exactly like it, but the older griffon laughed before she could complain. “I’m Gladys. Will you find it easier to relax if I answer some questions?”

“So… I guess you guys have some rich costumers?” She asked in the best, non-offensive way to mention all the fancy stuff for a teleportation company. “And you, completely without second intentions, support The Lion.”

“Unlike airships, teleportation platforms can’t offer luxuries other than instantaneous travel, Gilda.” Gladys gestured calmly with a paw. “We can’t have cassinos, lounges, dance floors and restaurants for passengers to enjoy during their trip. Teleportation companies took to enhancing their facilities with all sorts of extras. Some have restaurants, others have stores. Our main supporter likes a high-class lifestyle and wishes to provide our customers and supporters with the same luxuries.”

Gilda hummed. It seemed kinda obvious. “The Lion?”

“Almost.” Gladys grinned wider. “His mate. Lady Gwendolen. However, she is an adamant supporter of himself and his claim to the Throne of the Griffon King.”

Gee… Gilda would be supporting her hypothetical husband’s claim to becoming a king too… She must not have seen too impressed, because Gladys almost laughed at her.

“What is the deal anyways?” Gilda complained. “I mean, I hear Princess Celestia is cool with him becoming the king.”

“The chancellor is the problem. He won’t let go of his bone.” Gladys explained, making a gesture with her paw holding her glass. “There are also other reasons Lady Gwendolen supports our company. Actually, I’m not part of the company. I am her liaison officer, being part of a very exclusive group of griffons. Which brings me to my next question: How did you come to hear of the password?”

She didn’t wait very long and followed on. “Come now, I’m not going to kick you and your friend out. Did one our agents find you? I wish to better help you two, because you belong with us. Did Master Gabriel talk to you? We know authorities transferred him to the hospital. I’m guessing you work there, and he told you some things which made you question your present place in society. Am I right?”

Gilda wouldn’t ever understand why she trusted the old hen. Maybe it was her way of speaking. If it made any sense. “I was working as a nurse in the hospital. Community service, actually. I talked to him, and he said some things… Honestly, I don’t think that I would have cared about it if they hadn’t burned my house and I wasn’t marked to die by the mayor’s wife. But I have to say that his words sound truer the more I think about it.”

Better not to go around saying that she had visions… Dreams… Whatever those were… And that she killed two thugs by herself. It seemed like she went deeper and deeper into something, and not necessarily a good thing. Though, she didn’t really have a choice either.

“That unpleasant creature… I understand. It doesn’t matter what happened, but do you understand why is it Master Gabriel chose to speak openly to you?” Gilda shook her head ‘no’, so the older griffoness went on. “You are a purebred Shaddani. Griffon breeds have mixed so much in the past centuries only a well-trained eye can discern the individual lineages, but it is easier when you are such a pure example.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Not entirely true. Gilda understood whatever she talked about related to griffon races, or something. Like the pony tribes. Though she had never even thought about it all her life. As far as she knew, griffon races simply weren’t a thing.

“When the Windigos came down upon the world they claimed a large portion of it to themselves. It was called The Frozen North.” Gladys let her words hang, expecting Gilda to follow through, which she did after a second or two.

“Yeah. The ponies called them because they didn’t do their sappy friendship stuff, or something.” Gilda didn’t fully understand why, but it irritated her. Not enough she thought she let it show, but it did. “Why is this important?”

“What did the tale tell you about how the griffons dealt with the event?” Gladys asked, all smug grins.

Well, griffons… Gilda didn’t know. Huh. Actually, her kind wasn’t mentioned in the story.

Just as she realized it, and before she could speak, Gladys went on. “What about Nightmare Moon? What did griffons do when, roughly one thousand years ago, Princess Luna declared everyone’s day privileges canceled because she was sad?”

Gilda frowned at the dickish way of speaking of the event. But, at the same time, it wasn’t wrong either. She had never thought about it either. “Hum… What do you know...”

“Yes. This is what happens when your culture is owned by another.” Gladys smiled at her. “They will never tell you the ponies summoned the Windigos as an act of war against us.”

Hard one to swallow. Gilda did her best not to show, but she doubted it was true. Ponies got screwed by the Windigos. Hard. She knew. After all she had grown up with a pony and the damage the Windigos did to them hurt. As one could see from the actual history which survived the period in the form of archeological artifacts and written records. The unicorns were… Anal, to put it simply… About their records. The reason why the unicorn-heavy cities had more archives and libraries than earth-pony and pegasi cities. Ironically, pegasi cities, such as Cloudsdale, also leaned heavilyy on history. A ‘pegasus-pride’ thing, and they liked showing it. Harmless enough, but it also meant they gathered artifacts from the time and preserved them.

Evidence of constant wars between pegasi and griffons existed, and it would be simple to imagine the other tribes joined in, but it didn’t meanthey summoned the Windigos as a weapon, or anything similar.

Easy to imagine the Windigos screwed up griffons too, but claiming ponies intentionally used them as a weapon asked too much. One could say such claim would be too convenient. At the same time, one could easily see how griffons who didn’t live close to ponies could swallow such a version. Especially considering how griffons and ponies did have lots of wars among themselves. And those had been documented.

Interesting. If anything, it made her curious about how it all related to whatever lied hidden behind King Grover and Princess Celestia. How it related to her visions. She just knew too little, and with a clear head, she wasn’t prepared to believe just about anything.

But there was another angle to the whole mess. The same griffons readily willing to help Gilda were the ones saying ponies were a problem. Gilda supposed she had to choose a side and considering the last days, it was a no thinker. She had learned the lesson… No right or wrong, just sides.

Still, she didn’t want to be ‘easy’.

“Yeah. I see what you mean. Though you really have no proof of that.” Gilda tried to sound convinced, or at least, inclined to believe. Gladys’ bizarrely enticing voice and the alcohol didn’t really help a lot. “To be honest, I just think my life is done here on Griffonstone. I need to go somewhere else and it’s not really my choice. Gabriel told me to find his daughter in Haybale and to get to Griffindell. Because it’s where the ‘cool griffons’ are nowadays.”

“Survival. It is a powerful drive for our kind, Gilda. A pony might curl up and cry about it, but a griffon will fight destiny.” The older griffoness showed a proud grin.

“I don’t have a lot of love for griffons either.” Gilda took a sip of her drink. Come to think of it, she had no idea how whisky should taste, but she liked it.

“What if I told you you are special to us?” Gladys teased her with a grin. “The ‘cool griffons’?”

“Yeah…” Not impressive. “Princess Twilight Sparkle says all creatures are special.”

“I don’t mean special as in ‘minion we pretend to care about’. I mean special as in, ‘The Lion would really like you to be on his side’.” Gladys made a small pause. “More precisely, Lady Gwendolen would like you to be on The Lion’s side. So much you are worth a series of privileges.”

“You didn’t mention it, but I would wager a fair amount of money you had visions and dreams.” That got Gilda’s attention and raised her fur. “Maybe you saw a large and impressive griffon with a crown made of iron spikes. Or maybe you saw your death in another life. Now, understand we don’t talk about this to outsiders, but I am sure that you are one of us, and you will take your place among us. Maybe you are one of the lucky ones who remembers Her name. Maybe even Her face.”

“An old lady that worked as psychiatrist at the hospital said those things were visions caused by some weird magic in the thunderstorms.” Gilda shot back; despite being convinced. She wanted to see what Gladys’ reaction would be.

“Very observant of her. But she doesn’t know what you know… Isn’t that correct?” Gladys rose an eyebrow to Gilda, with her knowing smile which started to get on Gilda’s nerves. “The storms are Her magic. After all, you can hear Her cry… You remember the Stormy Eyrie.”

She couldn’t help but agreeing, and Gilda couldn’t fool herself. Whatever she had seen, it had to be more than random visions. A question came to her, but she already knew, what was the Stormy Eyrie. The place where her race was born. Where the magic from the Mother of Storms gave rise to her kind, and the Windigos had it. “Alright… You want to tell me something about myself… I’m listening.”

“You, and your friend, are purebreds of your lineages. As I told you. When our ancestors fled the Windigos, they spread to what is today the Saddle Arabian desert, the griffonian south and some remained in the north. Others tried going to the west, past the ocean and they gave rise to the hippogriff. Yech… Disgusting.”

Gilda just stared at her before she continued. “You are a descendant of the griffons who settled in the south, the Shaddani. But a branch of your ancestors became the Saddani and they are the ones who spawned those abominations. I don’t know what would possess a griffon into having sexual intercourse with a pony, but I suppose it is too late to judge.”

Gilda supposed she should keep her friendship with Dashie a secret… If that even counted for anything anymore.

“Anyways…” Gladys went on. “Your ancestors found themselves under King Grover and Princess Celestia. She destroyed the Order, and all evidence it ever existed. She ensured griffons would, illiterately, and carelessly, breed with no thought to spare about the strength of their blood. It ruined the Shaddani bloodline, and the Saddani brought pony magic which tainted our blood and spread to all the other lines. Their descendants fell apart from Her.”

“Your pure blood, however, brings you closer to Her. That is why she can reach to you. You had to make a choice, however. You allowed Her into your mind. That is something griffons out here won’t understand because all understanding of such is dead since the war ended. They hunted us down and murdered us with delights of cruelty. The Allmother loves us and wants us back. All of us.”

‘We’, huh? Gilda shouldn’t really be surprised by then.

“In the northern lands, isolated and forgotten, our ancient history thrived. Customs remained and the Cult of The Harpy passed on, generation to generation, far from Celestia’s eyes. A young lord rose among the others, and he ruled ancient Griffindell after his parents, a descendant of the first Lords of the Skies. A pureblooded patriarch of our race. Even with all the lies Celestia told our brethren, his claim cannot be denied for we have records proving it. And this is why Lady Gwendolen mated with him. She will bring back the Cult of the Harpy and he is a devout follower. This makes him the best king we could hope for, even if such details are secret. For now.”

“Why did she lie?” Gilda had an idea but wanted to hear. “Celestia, I mean.”

“Because she fears the Allmother. She and Grover tried to destroy The Emperor’s legacy and the world forgot as time passed, but we did not.” Gladys grinned wickedly. “Most important, She has convinced Celestia she never existed in the first place. As far as Celestia thinks, The Harpy was never real, but a false god worshiped in Grigor’s empire. And this is why we keep Her secret.”

That explained why the Princess was so stingy about the whole situation. She didn’t know for sure what went on. Ponies talked about her as though she was perfect and oh-so-awesome. Interesting. Gilda wanted to meet The Harpy… The Allmother. It felt as though she already knew her, somehow. If the ponies had their princess, it seemed fair griffons should have their ‘princess’ too.

“Celestia and her sister are liars, Gilda.” Gladys concluded. “They lied to us about our heritage, they lied to the world about the Emperor and The Mother of Storms. She lied about herself and about her little ponies and the damage they caused. Most importantly, Celestia stole your soul, and She wants it back. And this is why you find yourself drawn to Griffindell, Her city.”

“I suppose Lady Gwendolen is a sort of leader, like the Princesses, and she follows this Harpy… Allmother… The Mother of Storms? Same as they follow… Harmony? If it could even be compared.”

“Yes, it is a good analogy. Yes.” Gladys nodded. “Although ponies do not believe in Harmony as an intelligent force, more like the processes of magic and the world.”

“Now…” Gladys put down her glass. “We have more practical issues at paw. You told the clerk you wanted to go to Baltimare, and it is good. Miss Gerdie was made prisoner in the wake of Princesses Twilight’s and Cadance’s foray into Celestia’s lies. I would like you to check on her for us.”

Something drove a schism in between the freaking princesses. Damn… Ponies must be going nuts! She stole a glance at Gladys. It wouldn’t surprise her if the whole situations had been engineered. Lady Gwendolen and The Lion seemed smarter all of sudden. Wow. That was big! Like… World-changing big.

“After you’ve shown your allegiance and mettle, we will help you get to Griffindell. In fact, Gerdie herself ought to put you in the right path.” Gilda frowned at her. “Don’t look at me like that. Nothing comes free, Gilda. One paw washes the other.”

“And do keep the scarf out of sights until you get to Snow Mountains. Celestia has countless eyes under her employ and The Harpy’s symbol ought to remain hidden.”

To be honest, Gilda thought it was fair. “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Why, absolutely.” Gladys smiled.

“I have a few friends and I would like you to protect them from the Mayor's Wife until I can return and put her in her place.” Gilda could hope… “I’m probably asking do a lot… But…”

Gladys laughed. “Ah… Revenge. Another mark of a true Child of the Harpy. When you understand your place, you will know you ask for little compared to your worth. Tell me of them, and we will ensure they will remain safe, and ignorant.”

The day passed calmly and without any additional drama. Gilda mostly sat idly on their room while Gruhilda slept on their bed. They even got a nice lunch and a dinner with some grilled meat and potatoes. But after nightfall Gilda didn’t feel like sleeping, despite being so tired.

She just sat on the fluffy bed, rather sleepy, but too anxious. If she slept, she’d awake in some weird dream of a past life.

Grunhilda though, seemed to have slept too much during the day, because she just sat near the headboard too, staring at her feet as though she was doing something wrong.

“So… Are you from Griffonstone?” Gilda asked, smiling a bit at her.

“No…” She said softly. “Mamma and Pappa came from Snow Mountains with me, but they died in a train accident. The Royal House took care of my situation, and the ponies sent me to an orphanage here. Princess Luna’s orphanage didn’t exist yet.”

“Hum…” Gilda, at least, was old enough to take care of herself when her mother died. Also, she supposed ponies tried to help, but the bureaucratic structure of the time just put her in a griffon orphanage. Not bad, since the Royal House helped those, like the Griffonstone Hospital. When pony stuff worked, it was nice. “And you were working in the Mayor’s office?”

“I lived there. One day the owner of the orphanage told me I had to leave and find a job because I was too old, and the government wasn’t paying enough anymore. In the City Hall they let me stay in a room under the stairs and I helped clean the place. They paid me some money.”

Gilda couldn’t decide if it was charity or if getting an irregular spared more funds to be… Diverted. She was probably too sensitive about such stuff. Most griffons were probably nice enough rather than corrupt assholes. Regardless, weird. “Didn’t they leave you stuff? Your parents, I mean… Money, their possessions? Didn’t they have anything? At all?”

Gilda could imagine the answer, and what might have happened to her things, but preferred not to say it loud because it would only upset the hen.

“I don’t know.” Grunhilda said softly. “They didn’t tell me anything. They just sent me to the orphanage in the city and I lived there until recently. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Do you even know how old you are? What is your birthday?” Gilda believed orphanages kicked them out at eighteen with a chance to stay until twenty-one under some conditions. But with the whole mess of the Chancellor eating their basic income… She could imagine a young griffon girl would get screwed. Especially when she seemed so large for her young age and had such an undefinable weirdness about her. Not to mention it seemed easy someone would take advantage of her. And with her origins… Documents may have been lost in the accident.

Regardless, Grunhilda shook her head at Gilda’s question.

“What happened at the City Hall?” Gilda looked at the bigger griffon and she kept staring at her forepaws. “Did you get some visions? Or weird dreams?”

As Gilda thought of and recalled her own dream, she realized she did say some weird things when they tied her to the stake to burn. Things which sounded a lot like the ones Grunhilda was raving about.

“I dreamed I was hiding in an old and ugly place… And some bad griffons wanted to get me, but there was this awesome griffon lady with the sword, and she killed them… But they were too many. And they did really bad things to us… And then…” She stopped for a second, sobbing a little. “Then the nice griffon lady talking in my head told me I need to be strong. And that she loves me. And that you will take care of me, and not to be scared anymore.”

She spoke as though she confessed a sin. Shit… Griffons don’t go crazy. It’s the Allmother talking to them. The weather department probably coulçdn’t do anything about the storms. They used to be important to the griffons. Geez. Maybe Gina had those dreams too and it was why she got all excited with Gilda’s adventure.

Holy shit… No way the whole thing would end up well. With all the griffons being so upset about the Chancellor and his administration, it would blow up eventually. And if The Lion supported the cult, and vice-versa… Damn… A rebellion was the least of Gail’s worries. Celestia had one heck of a powder barrel on her hooves.

She grinned a little. A self-conscious and selfish grin. She couldn’t wait for it all to blow in the face of the jerks who tried to screw her up.

Then a soft sob pulled her out of her daydreaming. She acted before she thought and held the big griffon… Child? Teenager? She seemed adult, but… At the same time, she seemed so vulnerable too. Gilda just held her close and petted her head with the little crests that looked like little ears.

“It’s gonna be alright.” She supposed embracing the weird protective feeling she felt came with embracing the madness of the whole situation. She was no psychologist, but maybe it helped her anchor her own sense of reality in the middle of the chaos her life had become. Maybe she saw something of that young griffon she called a sister in her dream. She couldn’t know for sure. But she knew they were together in that disaster. “We’re gonna take care of each other.”

“Okay…” The other sobbed softly into her fluffy chest.

In the next morning, with exactly zero hours of sleep, while Grunhilda managed to sleep like a damn baby in her hug, Gilda hoped Gladys would keep her word. That the whole thing she got herself into wouldn’t prove too costly for her to pay in the end.

Once it was time to be up, she decided to, at least, freshen up a little in the bathroom. Grunhilda got a little too clingy, but a good ‘no’, set things straight. And when both were ready, they met Gladys in the lobby. Surprisingly, he big griffon they met in the entrance to their installation accompanied her. That guy who seemed like he had seen a lot of stuff.

And they had a ‘friend’. The one griffon who got away when he and his friends tried to have their way with Gilda. Well well…

“Do you know this bird, Gilda?” Gladys asked, grinning a little too happy with herself.

“Hell yeah, I know him! It’s one of the douchebags that tried to kill me!” She pointed at him.

Gladys turned to the green griffon with a smug. “You see, Mister Grodi? You could have spared yourself the shame. And a night in captivity.”

He didn’t answer with more than a few mumbles because he had a black eye, and his beak was tied with a rope.

“How did you get him?” Gilda looked at her with curiosity.

“Your description of Misses Grizelda and Gertrude reminded me of a pair of courtesans often… Peddling on the plaza before the teleporter facility. I asked the faithful Master Grofnar here to find them. He did, on a nearby hostel where mister Grodi harassed your friends for information. He was kind enough to accompany Master Grofnar here after some encouragement.”

“What about Grizelda and Gertrude?” Gilda growled at the green griffon.

“They have been taken to one of our fronts. A charity what takes care of less fortunate griffons.” Gladys explained with her superior smile. “We will keep them there. If you so desire, you can meet them if you return from your journey. I believe they are in debt to you. Unfortunately, the Mayor’s Wife is beyond our reach for the time being. But I suppose that you would wish to see to her reckoning personally anyways.”

“What do you want us to do with him?” She turned back to the griffon while talking to Gilda.

Grunhilda giggled. “Hurt him! Dumb bird hurt Miss Gilda!”

“How did we deal with pieces of shit like this in the time of the Empire, Gladys?” Gilda thought it a bit tasteless, but she couldn’t keep from grinning. The dumbass had indeed chosen the wrong side. In the end, it was all his fault. “How do we deal with this in the North?”

“Beheading. The Lord of whatever city would carry it out in public. But it is messy, and we can’t do it here. We will hang him if such is acceptable.” She shrugged and his eyes went wide. He tried talking, but only managed to mumble louder, just couldn’t free himself from ‘Master Grofnar’ and nobody really cared. “Would you like to watch?”

“You know… Nah. It’s enough knowing he’ll be out of circulation.” Gilda frowned. “I suppose I better get going to Baltimare and then Haybale. Sounds like it could be a while to reach Miss Gerdie.”

Gladys nodded. “Very well. Your friends from the hospital, as well as Mister Gary and Miss Greta are being watched and will be kept safe. If anything, someone made powerful enemies when they decided they wanted to get in your way. We take care of our own.”

Hell yeah. It felt good to be on top of things for once.

Everything settled, Gladys made sure they were ready to leave, and Wild North’s employees were nice to Gilda and her charge. They gave them a nice white fox pelt backpack the northerners used, rather than saddlebags, which Grunhilda happily wore. No money, but they did give them some traveling supplies: two canteens and some dried meat packed in deer leather.

Rainbow would freak out if she saw that thing. Regardless, Gilda stashed her scarf into the backpack too since Gladys said she shouldn’t wear it outside of the northern lands.

The teleporter room hid behind the other door on the corridor with the creepy statue. It had a raised platform, some three paws in height, made of white and gold tinted metalized crystal (or crystalized metal, Gilda didn’t know nor care). Next to it sat a sort of desk with all sorts of magical contraption doohickeys. Behind the desk stood a unicorn with a weird and forced smile. She could imagine how uncomfortable with his career plan working for such company he would be. She didn’t care. He waved all niceness and had a small wristband of iron links on his foreleg, greeting her.

Gladys accompanied them from his desk as he instructed them to stand on the platform, and then fiddled with the desk using his magic. A flash and a bang, Gilda finally left Griffonstone behind.

Next Chapter: Thriving in Adversity, Pt. 01 Estimated time remaining: 30 Hours, 9 Minutes