The sun was several hours out from evening by the time Slipstream and Gerardo finally reached the end of the line. The railroad came to a halt beside a wooden platform that looked like it hadn't seen love for a very long time, both limping heavily from cramps and exhaustion. As they drew further south, the rolling, grass-covered hills fell away into a dry, dusty plain that seemed like it could have been used for farming if someone stopped all the topsoil from blowing away.
Slipstream collapsed onto a lone visitor's bench in the train station, resting against decades worth of graffiti and 'I was here' scratched into the woodwork. "Whew," she panted, putting her legs up and rubbing her cramps. "I don't think we're going to do our trading and be back to our last camp by nightfall..."
"We'll just have to hope they're willing to trade space in an inn for sufficient coin." Gerardo jingled his saddlebags, carrying the ones laden with money now that their food supplies had started to lighten.
"Yeah." Slipstream stretched out, wincing from soreness and pulling a rock out from a horseshoe. "You feeling up to climbing that mountain and finding out, though? Because I'm sure not."
Gerardo stretched as well. "Perhaps in an hour. We could even fly to spare our legs, if you're feeling up to it... but waiting it may have to be."
"Mmm," Slipstream groaned in agreement, her eyes starting to wander. One of the roof's support posts had a few old posters tacked up, and she eventually found herself focusing on them.
"Look at those," she said, leaning over and flattening a poster down with a wing. "Friendship Express... Love Line... last stop. What do you suppose this means? Do you think it could be this train track?"
Gerardo cleaned closer as well. "Seems likely enough," he agreed. "Come and... tour the majestic land of the griffons? I have a feeling their advertising isn't very well-maintained, judging by the state of this poster. Hopefully that doesn't speak to the quality of their establishments as well."
"Yeah..." Slipstream brushed the faded, wind-crumpled page back into place one more time. "Hey, is this a map?"
"Let's see here." Gerardo dug in a talon, plucking out the single staple holding the paper to the wood. It had been torn in half, and only the right side remained. A red X near the top right corner was helpfully labeled 'You Are Here', overlaid atop a large cove structure that roughly matched the land layout they had seen walking from the Immortal Dream. The sea stretched to the south and west borders of the page, and a thin red line that was supposedly the train track meandered around and along a thin coastal strip marked with mountains and forming the northern border of the map before leaving the page to the west.
Slipstream tilted her head. "You really think we can just take that?"
"It's not as if it was being taken care of by whomever put it here." Gerardo tapped the page with a talon, then slipped it into Slipstream's bags. "And perhaps it will jog our friend Saffron's memory. That girl is our best hope at finding our way around this place, after all."
"Unless we could hire a guide," Slipstream suggested. "You think anyone would be willing to show us where's where and give us a newer, better map for bits?"
"Did someone say bits?" a new, suave voice spoke up from above, out of sight atop the roof.
Slipstream gasped, craning her neck. "Hello?"
"Now those are words of power, little pony. Music to my ears." A light patter of talons sounded on the roof, and a figure swung down, hanging by his tail from a rafter and regarding them with keen, avian eyes. "Did you perchance mean to say you have some you'd be willing to part with?"
Their visitor was a younger griffon, or at least a smaller one, but he wore a black tailored suit with upside-down pockets to accommodate his peculiar method of hanging. He stared at them with a neutral eagerness, and Gerardo politely cleared his throat. "Well, hello there. I am Gerardo Guillaume, griffon adventurer extraordinaire. If I'd known we were being watched, I'd have introduced myself earlier. Might you be a local?"
The dark griffon extended a single feather. "Information is a commodity, friend. Share the wealth, and I'll tell you most anything. And if I don't know, you have a full refund guarantee."
Slipstream blinked at Gerardo's bulging money saddlebags. "For asking if you're a local? You're charging? How much?"
"Name your price." The dark griffon gave an upside-down shrug. "You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, but I'm not about to stiff you and risk you taking your business to some other sod."
Gerardo pulled out a single coin and flipped it to him, and he caught it and pocketed it with expert grace. "Yeah, I'm a local. About as local as you can get, though that goes for everyone still living here. The name's Gunther. Don't misuse it."
"Well met, I suppose." Gerardo glanced at his faintly-lighter bags. "So, if we wanted to barter for food and a safe place to spend the night, how feasible would that be, and where would we go about it?"
Gunther beckoned for another coin.
Gerardo shook his head and tossed a second. "You're an opportunistic one."
"Hardly," Gunther chuckled, pocketing it deftly as well. "I didn't even charge you to know my name when you didn't ask. I actually think I'm quite generous. So you're from out of town, aren't you? What exactly are you trying to stay safe from?"
Slipstream hesitated. "How much would it change if we were?"
"Anyone unscrupulous enough to go after these, though I hope it goes without saying." Gerardo patted his bags. "And a place to rest our legs."
Gunther grew a slight smirk. "You don't look like the hardest targets, if you want a free appraisal. Food, you can buy it. It'll be bland, like everything else, but you get what you pay for. And there are plenty of folks who will stoop to sleeping on the floor and letting you borrow their beds to part you from your gold. Now, I might know a little extra about how to get good food, or how to keep your treasure safe from greedy griffons... but that was already a two-for-one, and this is good info, if you know what I'm saying."
Gerardo's headcrest flopped, and he tossed up another bit. "What's this trick for avoiding bandits?"
Gunther widely shrugged. "There is none. Stealing gold from others would defeat the whole purpose of having it. All these shinies are just symbols that show off how you got others to agree that you're better than them. A griffon who needs to steal to compete is weak."
Slipstream blinked. "Is that really it?"
"It's hard to lord your money over someone else when they just laugh at you and call you a fraud. It has to be legitimate." Gunther's eyes narrowed. "But, I can tell you're not one hundred percent satisfied with that response, so how about this? Completely for free, I will follow you around for one whole day and personally ward off any thieves who think they can sneak by."
"That's quite generous of you," Gerardo remarked. "Though I have a sneaking suspicion you'd do that anyway, just to be first in line if we're wanting to pay for any other information."
Gunther smiled and shook his head. "Guilty as charged. But now I'm offering to fight for you, too. You could use a friend around here, Gerardo Guillaume. Know how I know?"
Gerardo tilted his head, and was met with only a beckoning feather. He sighed, tossing up another bit.
"Because you've never once tried to extort me back." Gunther pocketed it with satisfaction.
Slipstream rubbed her face with a wing. "Talk about a cutthroat economy..."
"Oh, you get used to it." Gunther winked at her. "Sooner or later. Sometimes before you go broke. If you have the money but not the meanness, your best bet is to hire someone to do it all for you." He started to swing, then flipped himself back up on the roof, and a patter of talons sounded as he made himself comfortable out of sight. "You look beat. Whether or not to rest is up to you, but if you feel like a little friendship on demand before moving on, you know where to find me."