The thrum of bass was subtle, mixing well with the soft sound of the trumpets as Gilda watched the crowd murmur amongst themselves. Two particular hooded onlookers watched anxiously as a male human, clothed in red, spoke out.
“The prisoner wishes to say a word.”
The crowd, initially antagonistic, began to murmur “Mercy”. The music began to ascend, getting louder as the prisoner, a rugged-looking human with long hair, began to take deep breaths, muscles twitching as he gathered his strength. Finally, his throat expanded as he finally shouted only one word.
“Freedom!”
Gilda would have found the whole scene quite touching. Even if the prisoner was not of her species, she felt she could respect the human just from his sheer audacity of staying strong in the face of torture. They had him strangled, mangled, and even, if Chris was telling the truth, removed his sac, yet he did not beg for mercy. It was so odd to see how similar humans and griffins were in a lot of regards, yet strangely different at the same time.
Of course, Fortrakt had to ruin the moment. Ever since he saw the humans in the movie riding what he called ‘strange, ugly ponies with very large muzzles’, he hadn’t stopped giggling. Honestly, there were many things in the movie he found funny (like the odd Equestrian accents these ‘Scots’ and ‘English’ humans had) but it was the horses that definitely got to him. Most of the time, he was trying to muffle his beak with his claws, but he was fighting a losing battle. Every so often, she’d hear a snort of air, and a few moments afterwards, loud chuckling and giggling.
And now, here it was again. When the human prisoner shouted his last cry, a sharp snort made itself present and Gilda closed her eyes for a moment, counting a few seconds before she heard Fortrakt laughing.
“Sorry, sorry,” Fortrakt apologized as he began to retreat away. It was a smart move. Gilda had already thrown her cup at him and she was seriously considering throwing the round table, which had the human ‘laptop’ (the machine that Fortrakt initially called ‘magic window’), speakers and projector on top of it, next.
Marco, who was sitting nearby him, chuckled. “You’re really tickled by the horses, eh?”
Fortrakt snorted again and, this time, his laugh afterwards was unrestrained. Gilda breathed out a sharp sigh. Even with the film depicting the human prisoner being beheaded, the mood was shattered and she lost interest. She looked at Marco with a slight glare.
“You just had to remind him,” the eagless muttered.
A ghost of a smile hovered on Marco’s lips before he looked away from her gaze. It was an act that was getting pretty familiar these past few days, which was then followed by a small irk of irritation—a feeling that, too, was getting familiar. It caused Gilda to narrow her eyes as Marco began to completely ignore her.
“Come on, dude,” he began, patting the Fortrakt on his side. “Let’s go to the pantry.”
The two made their way out of Chris’ suite, Fortrakt’s laughter fading to silence. Without the distraction present, Gilda tried to focus on the movie but found it impossible. As the movie ended with the band of heroes doing one last charge against their enemies, her thoughts strayed towards Marco’s actions over the past few days. That little irk she had earlier gave birth to an annoyance that had her grumbling loudly enough to garner attention.
“You okay, Gilda?” Tara asked.
Gilda looked towards the humans, wondering for a moment if she should speak her mind. While she toyed with the idea of just brushing it off, she found herself in a unique position to get some answers. She was alone in the room with Chris and Tara, both being Marco’s friends. Surely if she was being given a cold wing-brush by Marco, they’d be more than adequately equipped to satisfy her curiosity.
“Is it me, or is Marco avoiding me?”
Tara turned her gaze towards Chris. Gilda watched with some fascination as the male human sighed and mumbled, running his hand over his head, brushing his hair back. “Noticed that, have you?” he asked, tone careful.
Gilda couldn’t see how anyone who wasn’t blind could fail to notice. It started right after the incident three days ago when she had saved Marco from two griffins that aggressively moved against Chris. In an act that Gilda admitted changed her overall opinion of the brown-skinned human, Marco defended his friend, driving off the two griffins long enough for Chris to call out for help.
Marco then spent the next few days doing his best to absolutely avoid her. It wasn’t obvious. For example, his mornings now included a type of workout with Sergeant Reyes that had him eating breakfast before Gilda and Fortrakt could join in (Chris even mentioned that Marco was never one to rise before the sun). He also began to behave neutrally, almost coldly, towards her, sticking closely to Fortrakt in almost all occasions and would not look in Gilda’s direction. He would even avoid her gaze altogether.
Adding to her conflicting feelings was the little thrill that went through her when she thought of Marco bringing a weapon, a steel baton, specifically against her. Of course, Gilda was sure the human did it by accident. He wouldn’t have known much about Gryphon Culture, to know that a weapon brought against a griffin conveyed a good measure of respect. While, granted, it was an old tradition, and yes, he used it against another griffin, she couldn’t help but feel a bit… happy, which just added to her current frustration.
So Gilda just nodded at Chris’s question. That had Tara sighing as she stood up. For a moment, the eagless thought the female human was opting out of the conversation and leaving the room, but she didn’t. Instead, Tara made her way towards the kitchenette and grabbed a pot from a black machine that emitted the bittersweet smell of coffee and poured the dark liquid into three cups.
“How do you want your coffee?” Tara asked.
“With just a little sugar,” Gilda replied.
Tara stirred the cups and laid them on a tray, bringing them to the table. She gave one to Gilda, who found the coffee nice and dark. Chris moved the laptop away, saying, “It’s not just you. I’ve noticed it too. He’s acting like he did when he got burned by Dana back on the U.S. Ah, thanks, Tara.”
As Chris drank from his cup, Gilda remembered that the U.S. was the country where Chris and Tara were born. But… “Who’s Dana?” the eagless asked. For some reason, she recognized the name.
“Bitch in designer clothing,” Tara replied with a shrug.
“Tara,” Chris warned, somewhat sternly.
“Hey, it’s true,” Tara replied, shrugging again. Gilda was even more confused.
“’Bitch’? You have diamond dogs in your world?”
Tara blinked, her expression strange as she looked at the eagless for a second. After a moment, she laughed.
“‘Bitch’ is a term of insult,” Chris replied in a neutral tone.
“Ah.” Gilda nodded. She looked at Tara. “You don’t like her.”
“Obviously,” Tara replied, taking a sip from her cup.
Chris sighed. “I have to admit, Dana can be difficult to work with.”
“Difficult?” Tara looked at Chris. “Try impossible. I mean honestly, she’s only here because of her more-privileged family.”
“A little hypocritical of you to say that,” Chris replied with a small smile.
Tara rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe I do have to thank a certain someone—” she gave Chris a mock glare “—for allowing me to visit Equestria and an alien world in the first place.”
Chris accepted her gaze with a widening smile. “Well, I do admit that having two of my friends with me sounds much better than being accompanied by random strangers. It also helps that both you and Marco have enough qualifications to actually justify your presences.”
“And that’s what I wanted to point out,” Tara said. “Marco and I still have some sort of skill set to be of use. Dana? Not so much.”
Before Chris could add on the argument further, Gilda asked, “What do you mean by privileged?”
Strangely, both humans answered “Her dad’s a senator”, in complete synchronization. There was no follow-up afterwards, as if the sentence would explain itself, and oddly enough, for Gilda, it did. When Chris sipped from his cup, the eagless’ beak clicked as a memory hit her.
“Dana… oh! Gimli!”
Chris snorted, almost spilling the contents of his cup, while Tara’s laugh came unrestrained.
“Oh, God, yes!” Tara said.
“She was the one that was berating Marco when you first arrived in Arnau, right?” Gilda asked.
“Yup,” Tara replied with a nod, chuckling. “Please don’t tell me you thought that was actually her name.”
“Uh... well, I may have identified her as Gimli,” Gilda began, which started a fresh series of chortles from Tara. The eagless shook her head. “I had thought it was rather odd on how needlessly complicated human names were. If I remember correctly, Marco identified himself as Aragorn.”
“Yeah,” Chris nodded. “Honestly, that was just Marco trying to get Dana off his back.”
“He was swinging his hips back and forth,” Gilda muttered.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Tara countered.
Gilda snorted. Yeah, it did work, but it really painted Marco in a bad light. She remembered that day. Marco’s acts had pretty much convinced her that he was a pervert, which led to their confrontation later that night.
“Anyways,” Tara continued, “Dana’s done nothing but complain. Honestly, I have to admire the ponies that she was grating on back in Equestria. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t have TVs, satellite, or the freaking internet.”
“Dana misses being home,” Chris replied. “That’s understandable.”
“Maybe, Chris,” Tara muttered, taking another sip. “But come on. We were specifically warned that Equestria didn’t have a lot of human conveniences. I mean, I miss home too! I miss dabbling on Facebook and playing Minecraft, going to movie theaters, going online and trolling on the forums! Have I acted like a spoiled brat, though? And look at Marco. Goldberg’s been riding on his ass, yet have you seen him bitch and moan?”
Facebook? Minecraft? Gilda filed those words, also noting the use of similar words like ‘bitch’ and ‘ass’ in a different context. Before she could even think about that deeply, Chris spoke up.
“Point. All I’m saying is she has her reasons for being… whiny.”
Tara snorted but kept quiet. Gilda encased the cup in front of her with her claws, delicately lifting it to her beak and slowly tilting it, careful not to spill. When no one spoke for a minute, she began, “I understand that she came here through family influence but it sounds like she is making herself miserable here. Why would she even come to this world then?” She took a sip.
“Well,” Tara paused as she looked at Gilda taking a sip. “Um, I think it’s because she wanted to brag about being a pioneer in traveling to an alien world… okay, how do you that?”
“Do what?” Gilda asked, taking another sip. When Tara pointed at the cup, the eagless understood. “Well, it takes some practice, and the right cup. I can’t do this with an Equestrian one, those are far too small and the design doesn’t really allow my beak to drink without spilling.”
“Huh. So that’s why the cups are a tad larger than back at home,” Chris muttered before he turned silent once more. Gilda sighed.
“About Marco,” the eagless said. When none of the humans spoke up, she continued. “He’s avoiding me. Or more accurately, he’s closing himself off from me.”
“Yes,” was Tara’s reply.
“And you say he does this only to those that he dislikes?” Gilda asked. When Tara nodded, the eagless sighed. “I wonder what I did this time to warrant this type of reaction.”
Chris shook his head. “Honestly, it wasn’t anything you did.”
“Yeah,” Tara added. “Heck, if I had to guess, it may have to do with you rescuing him three days ago.”
“What does my rescuing have to do with his ignoring of me?” Gilda asked, confused.
“He may have felt emasculated by it.”
Gilda blinked. “Emasculated,” she muttered, rolling the word on her tongue. “What’s that?”
“Ah, crap, how am I supposed to explain that,” Tara muttered. Her hands moved slightly in circular motions, her expression in deep thought. “Um… in context of what I was saying, it means that Marco may feel inadequate and humiliated when he was rescued by a female.”
Gilda smiled for a moment, before that faded as the ridiculousness of the idea went through her mind. “That is insane,” she muttered. “He held off two griffins with a blunt weapon. He shouldn’t feel inadequate for that.” Then another thought popped through her mind. “And what do you mean ‘being rescued by a female’?”
“It’s one of those… human things,” Chris answered. “It’s a bit complicated, I’m afraid.”
One of Gilda’s eyes widened. “Are we pressed for time?”
Tara smiled as a response. She shook her head and took another sip from her cup. “One aspect of human history that you’ll find out is that a lot of our culture is patriarchal. Male dominated. No one knows why this came to be, but a lot of theories go on the primitive development of our species.”
“Which is?”
“Well, to put it simply, the males hunted for food, providing for his family and the community.” Chris placed his cup down the table. “The females mostly stayed at home, protected.”
“You make it sound so sexist, Chris,” Tara said with a chuckle.
“Oh, shut up.”
Gilda took a moment to think back on what she had learned from the humans, letting Tara and Chris banter. After a moment of thought, she nodded. “There are differences between the human male and female bodies,” she ventured. She looked at Chris. “Am I wrong to conclude that human males are built to be stronger?”
“Generally,” Chris replied carefully. “Nowadays, most of our food is grown, harvested or herded. There aren’t a lot of cultures back on Earth that still hunt for provisions, so the notion of men providing food is a little outdated. However, the patriarchal nature of our world hasn’t completely faded.”
“And Marco’s from a country with a strong patriarchal culture,” Tara finished. She took another sip from her cup. “How about the griffins? Are you guys patriarchal or matriarchal, like the Equestrians?”
Gilda blinked, swirling the contents of her cup. After a moment, she shook her head. “Neither. Tiercel and eagless… um, male and female griffins,” she corrected, seeing the two humans’ confused expressions, “are exactly alike.”
“Well, except eagless can get pregnant,” Tara said.
“Obviously,” Gilda replied, rolling her eyes. The female human gave her a grin, which the eagless returned. “As I said, both male and female griffins are physically alike. There’s no discrimination between the two. Both can hunt, wield weapons, farm, or mine. Whatever one can do, the other can do as well. If there are any differences in strength, it’s most likely due to either bloodline or will.”
Chris leaned forward. “What do you mean by bloodline?”
“Well, bloodline is mostly ancestry,” Gilda explained. “There are some families that are built to be stronger or faster. If I remember my history lessons correctly, that was one particular reason why there are sky-griffins, earth-griffins, and more importantly, mage griffins.”
Chris blinked. “You have different kinds of griffins?” he asked.
“Like Equestrian Ponies?” Tara added. “Earth pony, pegasi, and unicorns?”
“Not exactly,” Gilda replied with a shake of her head. “Equestria, the Land of the United Tribes, is made of three sub-species. Earth-griffins, sky-griffins and mage griffins are still the same species, but their bloodlines are… specialized to fit their lands of origins. For example, Western Ports and Northern Mountains needed strong fliers, so most sky-griffins you’d see can trace their lineages to those places. Eastern Plains and Southern Farmlands though needed griffins that were faster or stronger on the land, so earth-griffins birth can be traced to there.”
“Interesting,” Chris muttered, placing his hand beneath his chin. “How about mage griffins?”
Gilda finished her drink before she replied, “I don’t think anyone knows. Before, mage griffins were considered gifts by the Ancestors, revered in the old days. They could quickly heal sickness and wounds, bless pregnant eaglesses so they’d safely give birth, and even help with the crops.” They were also the most valued soldiers in a griffin war machine as they could rain down fire and lightning to their opponents from a good distance, but Gilda felt a bit uncomfortable revealing that to the humans.
“Well, whatcha know. You learn something every day,” Tara muttered. She blinked. “Is there any way to differentiate them?”
“Unlike Equestrian Ponies, it’s not so obvious,” Gilda answered. “Sky-griffins like me and Fortrakt, you’ll notice that we have a thicker coat and feathers. Our wings are also pretty large and eyesight is also much better. We basically fly faster and longer and we can effectively use crossbows. Earth-griffins have bulkier muscles and can run faster and longer on the ground. They also tend to carry heavier materials like shields and war hammers. Mage griffins… well, I guess the best way to know if they are mage griffins is if they are carrying staves. One of their unique characteristics is that they can be both a sky- and an earth-griffin.”
Chris nodded. “Okay, that explains bloodline. But I have to point out, it sounds a bit predestined for me. So far, from what I’ve seen in the Kingdom, griffins value strength. Does that mean if you don’t have a strong bloodline, you won’t be able to, I don’t know, raise your station or something?”
Gilda blinked, a little impressed. “That was actually true in the old days. Before establishing the Gryphon Kingdom, the griffins were separated tribes and had divided the territory into four: the Northern, Southern, Eastern, and Western territories. Each of those had their own Tribe Lords called Blessed, revered by those beneath them because of their strong Lineages. Of course, that all changed when the griffin tribes united under one banner. Our Primo Basileus, King Fortis Primus, established that instead of promoting griffins for their ancestry, they’d be promoted by their merits, acts, and will to self-improve. He believed that hard work, dedication, and loyalty were traits that would prove to be stronger and far more useful to the Kingdom than bloodlines.”
“Huh,” Tara interjected. “That’s very forward-thinking.”
“Well”—Gilda shrugged—“some say it was more pragmatic than that. Before he became our Primo Basileus, King Fortis was a tiercel from a very unremarkable family and ancestry. However, he was a griffin of particularly strong will and sharp mind.” The eagless stretched her claws a bit. “His path of growing was not easy. A lot of his early memoirs were mostly in regards to favoritism towards ancestry and lineages. When he came to power, the griffins were at war with an enemy that used our own reverence of bloodlines against us, destroying all of the Blessed along the way. What King Fortis established from the ruins was a system so that griffins like him wouldn’t bow down to others just because of ancestry.”
“Huh,” Chris muttered with wonderment. “So bloodlines aren’t important now?”
“Well, we still have to establish our family tree, but it in no way affects our standing in society. Normally, every griffin starts out in lowest position and gets the opportunity to grow, to make themselves useful to the Kingdom. In return for your hard work, the Kingdom rewards you.” Gilda’s thoughts went towards the Command Chain she wore. “Sometimes, in the strangest and most unexpected ways,” she finished softly.
There was a moment of silence as the humans seemed to absorb everything Gilda had said. The first reaction came from Tara, who chuckled. “Oh wow,” she said, “He is so going to wish he was here. He gets massive boners when it comes to history and culture stuff.”
“Who? And what are boners?” Gilda asked.
Chris coughed. “What Tara meant by ‘he’ was Marco, and that he’s very interested in social and cultural discussions. In fact, his curiosity in Equestrian culture and social scene was what got him in trouble there. And he would yammer nonstop about what new thing he learned from Fortrakt.”
Hearing Marco’s name suddenly reminded Gilda the original reason why the conversation took place. Her expression must have shown because Tara stopped smiling.
“Look, Gilda, about Marco—” and Tara was cut off by the eagless.
“He feels that I humiliated him,” Gilda said, nodding. “That means that it doesn’t matter what I do next.”
“I honestly do not think that’s the whole reason why he’s ignoring you,” Chris declared, finishing his own cup. “I’ve known Marco for a good while now, and while Tara was right in him growing up in a strong patriarchal culture, he’s not that simple-minded. If you really want to know, ask him. Talk to him.”
Before Gilda could reply, she heard a click of metal and Fortrakt’s and Marco’s voice coming from the entrance.
“Wow, that many types of fighting styles?” Fortrakt asked.
“Yup,” Marco replied. “It is just mind-boggling, really.”
“And you’ve learned what, three of them?”
“I’ve only dabbled in two of them. Arnis, though, was definitely something I am good at… or at least, was good at.” Gilda heard Marco sigh. “It happens when you stop practicing.”
“Isn’t that the reason why you’re doing your morning workouts?” Fortrakt asked. “To practice?”
“All I get is Robbie poking a knife at my ribs and slashing my neck, saying,” and Marco deepened his voice to mimic Reyes’s quite accurately, “‘You’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead again’.”
“That actually sounds like training,” Fortrakt replied. He saw the rest of the group and smiled. “We’re back.”
Gilda felt Tara’s and Chris’ eyes on her. She paid them no mind, instead looking intently at Fortrakt, his silly grin, and then at Marco, who turned his head to avoid her gaze. A soft annoyed trill escaped her throat. She stood up and walked towards Fortrakt. “Let’s go,” she declared.
The tiercel nodded slowly, a bit confused, as he followed Gilda towards the exit.
Gilda rolled the parchment, tying it neatly with a thin red ribbon to keep it from unfurling. Her writing claw was aching; understandable as she had been working it for an hour already, writing another report for Narada to go through. She wrote down everything she could remember on her conversation with Chris and Tara in regards to human culture, the presence of horses used for war, and the interesting evolution of their government. She also began to relate her doubts of her preconceptions of humans and their weapons.
The movie she just watched earlier, Braveheart, according to Chris, was apparently a historic retelling with some embellishment. Comparing the society it had with the modern one found in The Warrior, it struck her strange that they evolved warfare using close range fighting and weaponry. Surely they would have realized the effectiveness of long range weapons like bows and crossbows (which were used in Braveheart) in a conflict?
Gilda shook her head. Now was not the time to go off on another tangent, especially now that she just finished her report. The eagless looked outside the window, drinking in the sight of the darkening horizon. Her current thoughts vanished as she imagined the cool rush of the wind, feeling herself yearning for the skies. The Command Chain given to her had changed things, but some would always remain the same, like her nightly flights.
Donning her chain and exiting the room, Gilda closed her eyes as she was hit by the sudden brightness of the hallway. It was brighter than a griffin was used to but considered ‘dim’ by the humans. Like ponies, they had much weaker eyesight than griffins and they tended to crank up the brightness of firegems placed around the area. Thankfully, not so bright that it would be blinding for her.
After her eyes readjusted, Gilda passed by Fortrakt’s door, almost knocking at it before she remembered that the tiercel had told her he wasn’t going to join in today. As she proceeded down the hall, she met with a few marines walking past, greeting her with either ‘Sub-Tribune’ or ‘Ma’am’. While it was a little reminder of the position she now held, a rank she still found herself uncomfortable carrying, the humans’ somewhat informal attitude was much better than the stiffer regards the other griffins gave her. She swore to the Ancestors, every tiercel and eagless was baring their necks and saluting towards her as if she was going to call in the crows on them if they didn’t. She sincerely hoped she would get used to it as time passed by.
“Good evening, Sub-Tribune.”
Gilda looked to the left, spotting Staff Sergeant Stafford with something he called a ‘clipboard’ and a writing utensil humans called a ‘pen’ (she had first mistaken it as a ‘pencil’. This was another thing that she found odd with humans; they seemed to make more than one thing to do the same job).
“Staff Sergeant,” Gilda greeted back with a nod.
“Another night out in the sky, I take it?” Stafford asked.
Gilda nodded. “Wings need some stretching. Being cooped in a room for an hour or so isn’t good for me.”
“I noticed that young Gletscher will not be joining you tonight, though.”
The eagless shook her head. “He wants to rest in today, apparently.”
“Considering how close he sticks to Mister Lakan, it’s understandable why he’s rather exhausted,” Stafford chuckled.
Gilda forced a smile on her face when she heard Marco’s name, a ripple of emotion going through her. Not anger, surprisingly, but a cross of exasperation and confusion. Part of her wished she had spoken up earlier in front of Marco, clear the air, maybe. Even if the outcome wasn’t going to be favorable, she felt it would have eased her doubts.
“Is there a problem, Sub-Tribune?” Stafford suddenly asked, waking Gilda from her thoughts. She shook her head.
“No problem at all,” she replied, as neutrally as she could.
Stafford looked at her for a moment. He frowned. “Is Lakan still bothering you?”
Gilda sighed. “Not in the way you’re thinking. He isn’t making any trouble for me.”
Stafford continued to stare at her for a moment before he gave an unconvinced nod. He smiled. “Alright, I won’t keep you then. Enjoy your night out.”
Gilda returned with her own nod and the two went their separate ways. Descending a flight of stairs, she greeted a few more marines before she exited through the front door of the Inn, the smell of the cold air bringing her back to a more cordial mood.
As the eagless passed by the front gate, she spotted three marines that stood guard, their long black-barreled weapons pointed downwards. When they spotted her, one of the marines, a corporal, if her memory served her right, asked, “Out to fly again, ma’am?”
Gilda simply nodded and they let her pass. Past the barricade the humans had built, she dashed towards the battlements, squawking a clear signal for the griffin guards posted nearby before she took off from a crenel, flapping her wings as the cold night air took her towards the darkening skies. She climbed a few levels up, meeting at least two patrolling griffins before she reached the seventh level, high enough that she could float almost lazily just by keeping her wings spread as she enjoyed the view of the city.
This was how she’d start her flights, and was also quite her favorite part. Granted, it was much later than she had wanted, but thank the Ancestors she didn’t miss it. As the sun’s light faded, households from the Eastern Gates slowly began to operate their firegems. One by one, each house began to glow, the pony households brighter than the griffin ones. However, that did not detract from the beauty of seeing it at that height. Arnau slowly began to glow with pinpricks of light, softer than the cold blue glow of the night stars.
Gilda waited for a few more minutes before she flapped her wings, hard. Dashing forward in the air, she started an intricate sequence of rolls and dodges, sometimes folding her wings to her side to accelerate before spreading them out to abruptly change angles, trying sharp turns that would allow her to dodge bolts and move through confined spaces in a hurry. She also dove towards the sixth level, descending towards a landing stage and, without pause, dashing perpendicular to the battlement. Her breath became ragged as the muscles of her legs worked tirelessly as they pounded on the unforgiving stone ground, before she jumped through a crenel and took flight again.
She repeated her fort-runs twice. The feel of pain of her muscles used to bring up a sense of wholeness to her being, but not tonight. Her mind was plagued with a certain human, annoying the eagless to no end. It was as if Marco’s purpose in life was to make sure he would be a thorn on her flanks.
“He’s not that simple-minded.”
“Talk to him.”
Gilda squawked out an annoyed tone as she dove towards another level, spreading her wings to stabilize herself as she landed to another platform to perform another fort-run. She still could not get him out of her head.
This is getting bothersome… she thought as she aimed for the crenel once more. Yet no matter how many times she flew, that annoying feeling never faded. Part of her wanted to protest. Why would she reach out to talk to him? If it was true that his cold demeanor was due to some silly wounded pride, how was talking to him supposed to fix that?
By the time she finished her flight, Gilda’s throat was dry and parched. The eagless landed on a third-level platform and took a moment to scan her surroundings, folding her wings when it was clear. Walking back towards Winged Hall Inn, she was greeted once more by corporals who let her in only after she had given them a password (changed every day), making sure she was Sub-Tribune Grizelda Behertz and not another griffin in disguise. Passing their inspection, Gilda walked through the artificial barricade and made her way towards the mess hall, north-west of the Inn. The firegems were dimming, signifying decrease in activity, though she was sure there were a few patrolling marines in the halls. She hadn’t passed one yet.
Just a few steps from the mess hall entrance, she heard voices—familiar ones.
“Legs still sore, Flip-Boy?” Sergeant Reyes asked.
“Not as bad as yesterday.” It was Marco this time. “My arms are killing me though.”
“Good. That means you need to increase your reps.”
Gilda heard Marco groan. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Reyes declared. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about what retarded reason you had when you sprung up to join my morning training, but you did. That means you freely gave me all the rights to make sure I un-fuck you. So stop bitching and moaning. When I say more reps, you say how many.”
“Really? How many? Wow, Robbie. Are you trying to become some sort of drill instructor?” Marco asked, his tone making it easy for Gilda to imagine him smiling. “Am I your first recruit?”
Reyes didn’t reply. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Gilda paused by the doorway, feeling uncomfortable about going in at the moment. The sergeant must have quite an expression if it had Marco staying silent too.
“Marco,” Reyes spoke after what seemed to be an hour, in a voice so soft that Gilda had to strain to hear, “what you’re experiencing during morning training is nothing compared to what boot camp has to offer.”
“I… of course,” Marco muttered apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Reyes cut him off. “I know. Look, I’m not mad. I just don’t want you to have the wrong impression about what it takes to build a Marine, what it takes to make it to the Corps.”
“If I were to ask you to describe boot camp… how would you?” Marco asked.
“In one word: chaotic,” Reyes replied. “You come with just the clothes on your back, nervous and jittery as fuck. First thing they do is shave your head, strip you down to your skivvies, and give you identical uniforms with no name tapes. And while this is going on, you got a bunch of DIs screaming at your face as they tell you to march, toe the line. In boot camp, you as an individual no longer matter. There’s no me, my, I, or Roberto Reyes. There’s only Recruit Reyes. And Recruit Reyes has to show the DI his left shoe, his right sock, and it has to be done any day now. They’ll shout if you’re too slow, sticking even just one toe out of the line, or even for just looking funny. And that’s just the first day.”
Reyes continued enumerate a list of, Gilda guessed, what he had gone through when he was a recruit as Gilda listened in intently. In some ways, she could relate. Strength through unity and discipline was the building block of Gryphon Military as well… but there were some things that Gilda couldn’t believe Reyes had gone through. Marco seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“Oh wow,” Marco muttered. “What’s the point of some of those orders though?”
“To give a recruit a sense of what it would be like if he was at a war-zone,” Reyes explained. “War is nothing but chaos. A stabilizing factor in such situation is basically orders given by the higher-ups. That allowed Marines to do something rather than sit on the ground with their thumbs up their asses. It also taught brotherhood, that you can depend on the Marine next to you to support you, and in turn, expect you to do the same with the others.”
“‘The Marine Corps teaches family values’,” Marco muttered. “You told me that back at Equestria.”
“Yeah, well, you should know I rarely talk out of my ass,” Reyes replied. Was he smiling?
“Huh. And here I thought Marines were shining knights in pristine armor, swinging swords and slaying dragons.”
“Hah! You should know I put on my shiny armor everyday I’m in the Corps, Flip-Boy. Oorah?”
Marco chuckled. “Heh. Oorah. Though I have to ask, Robbie... are you recruiting me?”
Reyes laughed. “Are you serious? Who’d want to recruit you?”
“Ouch!” Marco reply. “Dude, that hurt. Are you saying I’m not good enough?”
“Considering that I already have you whining about my morning routine because it doesn’t have the air-conditioned rooms, treadmills, fruit shakes, or all that tight female ass jiggling in your face, yeah. Hell, I can’t see you even handle a little bit of boot camp.” Gilda heard Reyes laugh again. “Shit, I bet you just want to pop your cherry.”
Gilda blinked. ‘Pop’ the cherry? What did that mean?
“For your information, I already did,” Marco replied.
“Fuck you did. Firing a pistol down the range doesn’t count,” the sergeant countered.
Gilda felt her heart stop. She didn’t know how well the words translated for the humans, but ‘firing’ down a ‘range’ definitely indicated some sort of ranged weaponry.
So they do have them, she thought. Did they bring those along with them? Are they hiding it from us?
“Good evening, ma’am.”
Gilda almost jumped. Her talons were ready to attack as her wings spread out immediately. She turned and came face-to-face with two marines patrolling the hallway. They gave her a courteous smile as they passed by. It was only when they were nearing the door to another hallways did she reply, “Uh, yeah... good evening too.”
Once the marines exited the hallway, the eagless shook her head. Deciding that getting caught outside the pantry door twice was going to arouse suspicion, she entered the mess hall and spotted the two human males sharing one table, engrossed in their conversation. Reyes was wearing a simple black shirt with a black knitted hat. Marco wore a white sleeveless shirt and green cargo shorts. Humans had a silly notion of covering themselves in clothing that they had everything extensively named and called, even more so than ponies.
As Gilda made her way towards the cupboard, the sergeant noticed her. He shouted, “Hey Behertz!”
Gilda grabbed a cup, looked back and saw the sergeant raising his arm and indicated for her to join them. He had a smile on his face. Marco…
Marco just was looking at her. And he wasn’t looking away.
Gilda’s grip on her cup tightened for just a second before it relaxed. Was he… acknowledging her? She raised her cup in the air and pointed towards the drinking fountain at the end of the northern wall. Reyes gave her a nod. The eagless walked towards the small stone basin, pressing a small button on the side which released a stream of water through a small metallic pipe. She filled her cup full before she drank deeply, quenching her thirst and slightly moistening her feathers. She then refilled her cup and repeated the process again. That’s when she heard Marco groan, and glancing at his direction, she saw him stand up.
“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Reyes asked.
“I’m… going to turn in early,” Marco declared. Hearing the words made the eagless feel that she was being stabbed with red hot needles. Was Marco avoiding her again?
“Okay, but tomorrow morning is still on. If you pussy out, remember that I know where your room is,” Reyes threatened.
“I’ll be sure to wear my steel underwear then,” Marco replied flippantly as he made his way towards the exit.
“Oh, har, har, you little brown prick,” the sergeant declared, a faint smile appearing on his face. Marco was already outside, but he still made his voice heard.
“Undoubtedly bigger than yours, Robbie.”
“Fucker,” Reyes whispered, a full smile now gracing his face. He turned and looked towards the approaching Gilda. “Another nightly flight?”
Gilda nodded, her eyes still towards the exit. She took a moment before she sat down in front of the sergeant.
“You’re quite dedicated,” Reyes continued, unperturbed by her silence. “Even Fortrakt doesn’t do flights every night like you do.”
“He makes up for it with the morning runs,” Gilda replied. Her eyes drifted towards the doors again. “He puts in enough effort to keep himself in prime condition.”
“Well, that may be true, but you are something else. Honestly, you work out more than a grunt does. And you’re a junior officer. How fucked up is that?” Gilda could only nod, not really paying attention. Reyes sighed. “Are you and Marco having a fight or something?”
Gilda looked at him. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I’m not stupid,” Reyes replied, one of his eyebrows rising. “Is that the real reason why he joined my morning training? Am I going to hear about a Deathmatch between you and him?” he asked, his smile toning down the seriousness of his words. Gilda couldn’t help but smile back, albeit sadly.
“It has come to my knowledge that I may have inadvertently humiliated Marco when I rescued him,” the eagless replied, “that I may have… e-mas-cu-rated him.”
Reyes chuckled. “Emasculated,” he corrected. “Normally, I’d joke and say you’d have to buy him dinner first before you go and rip his balls off—”
Gilda blinked. What did that mean?
“—but honestly, I think you are off-base on that regard.”
“Off-base?” Gilda asked.
“Wrong,” the sergeant clarified. “As in I don’t think Marco was humiliated nor has his pride taken a beating.”
“And what makes you say that?” the eagless asked.
“Well…” Reyes smiled. “I remember a particular conversation I had with him after some daring junior officer swooped in and saved his ass.” He winked. “And did you know what he said? He said: ‘I wish I was as awesome as Gilda’.”
Gilda’s face scrunched to a dumbfounded expression that even an uninitiated human could understand. Her beak opened and closed for a moment, speechless for a few seconds before she finally said, “No.”
“Yes,” Reyes replied with a chuckle. “Swear to God. Once the shock wore off, he couldn’t stop singing praises. It was Gilda this, Gilda that. I think you earned quite an admirer.”
“I don’t believe you,” Gilda muttered, turning away. “He’s done nothing but avoid me since that day, clearly displaying hostility. And now you’re saying it’s the opposite?”
“Well, if you really want to know… talk to him,” the sergeant said with shrug. His words caused Gilda look back at him. “Marco’s a complicated guy. Okay, an idiot, but at least not a boring one.” He pointed towards the door. “Seriously, go. Corner him or something. Don’t give him the opportunity to hide behind someone else.”
It took a few moments before Gilda finally nodded. Taking a short moment to leave the cup at the basin, she exited the kitchen and made her way through the hallways towards the stairs, half-wondering why she was even considering the idea that she would be able catch up with the brown-skinned human. He had left minutes ago. He’d be in his room, locked up. So it was quite a shock and surprise when she saw him sitting on the stairs, head down and looking contemplative. And as she approached, his head rose up and met her gaze.
“Oh… hey,” Marco greeted, tone subdued.
“Hey,” Gilda greeted back, tone much harsher than she wanted. Marco grinned nervously as a response. Shaking her head slightly, she took a breath, trying to relax. “I thought you wanted to turn in early.”
“Ah, yes, well…” He paused. “Um, actually, I was hoping to speak with you.”
“Okay,” Gilda replied, standing to attention. “Well? Speak.”
Marco scratched the nape of his neck. His mouth opened for a moment before he closed it as his eyes wandered towards the floor. Gilda could barely keep her eyes from rolling. Before she could even say anything, Marco finally spoke up.
“I guess I want to say that I’m sorry.”
Gilda felt her shoulders relaxing but forced herself to look stiff and unmoving. Eagle eyes narrowed as they gazed at Marco accusingly, making the human chuckle nervously.
“And why do you have to apologize?” Gilda asked, impressed that she was able to keep her tone very even.
Marco sighed. “Because I’m an idiot.”
The eagless relaxed. She didn’t say anything, allowing him to continue talking.
“Look, I… just got a talking to from Chris and Tara,” he muttered.
Gilda rolled her eyes. “Ah, so that’s why you are apologizing. Your friends called you out.”
“Well, not only,” Marco replied. “I… okay, I have no idea how to say this.”
A sigh escaped from Gilda’s beak. She looked at him for a moment and shook her head. “If you still can’t express yourself clearly, then come back to me once you can.” As she made a move forward, Marco blocked her way.
“Wait, hold on,” he said. “I want to fix this. I do… I’m just—” he sighed again. “I just need to find the right words.”
Gilda stopped and stood in a neutral pose. She gave him a nod. “Okay,” she said. That had Marco relaxing.
“Oh… okay,” he replied, smiling. A short relieved laugh escaped his lips, but he immediately stopped it. “Um… okay. Okay, I’m just saying okay. Alright. Look, I’m not the easiest guy to know. When I first met Chris, he and I had arguments over religion. For Tara, I found her too… liberal, I guess. I never would have thought that after a year they would be my two best friends.
“I always seem to give a bad impression to anyone I initially meet. Sometimes, in the end, it doesn’t go so well. For every Chris or Tara, I get five people who stay mad at me for one reason or another. And a lot of times, they start pissing me off. That’s why I just tend to just avoid talking to or hanging out with them.”
One of Gilda’s eyes enlarged. “Is that why you ignored me?” she asked.
“Actually, no,” Marco replied. The eagless blinked. “I avoided you because I don’t want you to be one of them, one of those people… well, griffins, who’d come to hate me.”
“By not talking to me, and treating me coldly,” Gilda said, deadpan. “What a wonderful plan.”
Marco scratched the nape of his neck again. “Okay, if you put it that way, yeah, I was being stupid about it. Honestly, though, that’s the truth. I mean… we already got off at a wrong foot. Or paw. I got so close into your boundaries that you were shrieking my head off. Yet just a few days afterwards, you swooped in to help me.”
“It was my job.”
“I know, I know,” Marco replied. “But that doesn’t mean I still don’t feel grateful. Even more so when after talking to Fortrakt. He explained to me that those two griffins weren’t necessarily going for the kill and that the worst thing they would have done was knock me out. And I’ve talked to Chris and he told me how quickly you flew in the air to look for me. You basically could have waited until they were done with me before you came in to do your job.”
Gilda’s beak opened but before she could say anything, Marco raised a hand and stopped her.
“I know you’re going to say you’re not like that. And I know you're not. Fortrakt respects you a lot, and you got Tara and Chris talking my ear off because I’ve been treating you coldly. I’ve even gotten to see you in action. I also know you tried to patch up with me after you swooped in and rescued the day and I know that it must have taken something out of you to do so. I’m slow, but not ungrateful. And as stupid as I think it is now, at that time, I really thought it was the best thing to do, that you’d feel much better if I didn’t bother you more than strictly necessary.
“So for what it’s worth, Sub-Tribune Grizelda Behertz, thank you for that day. And I know now that I’ve hurt you even more afterwards. You didn’t deserve that. So please… accept my apology.”
When Marco bowed his head, Gilda immediately moved forward. “No. Don’t bow,” she declared. She stood up on her hind legs, right foreleg immediately touching Marco’s head as it dipped, with the other foreleg touching his abdomen to keep balance. Marco stopped and his eyes focused on her, confused. After a moment, he stood straight and Gilda went on all fours again. The human touched his stomach a bit.
“Uh, okay,” Marco muttered, tone confused. “Um, did I get that wrong or something? Fortrakt told me it was a sign of respect.”
Gilda sighed. “It is. But bowing is reserved only for Kings or Queens,” she explained. “It is only done to the highest authority. Do not bow to me just because you feel grateful or because you want to apologize.”
“Damn. Here I thought I could show you how sincere I was.” Marco scratched the top of his head. “Um, how do you—?”
“I think in this situation, baring your neck would be the most appropriate action,” Gilda replied.
“Ah! Like how the other griffins greet you?” Marco asked, smiling. He then bared his neck slowly, though a little too deeply for her.
“Not that much,” Gilda said. The human corrected himself and the eagless nodded. “There. Perfect.”
Marco chuckled as he straightened his neck. “Okay, I have to ask, what does baring your neck imply?”
“That’s a bit complicated.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “What, are we pressed for time or something?”
Gilda paused for a moment, oddly finding his expression and words quite familiar. A small chuckle escaped her beak, which caused Marco to break out with a silly smile. For some reason, it became infectious, and her chuckle transformed to a soft laughter with a smile gracing the griffin’s face.
“If I remember correctly, you are quite pressed for time,” Gilda replied. “Don’t you have morning workouts with Sergeant Reyes? Shouldn’t you be in bed right now?”
“Eh, a cold water dump will be a small price to pay to make it up to you,” Marco replied with a shrug. “Besides, for griffin stuff, I’d make time.”
Gilda walked past him. “Ah, so your intentions are suddenly clear,” she muttered. “You only apologized because you just want to use me to talk about griffin life.”
“Well… not only,” Marco replied.
“Good night, Marco Lakan,” Gilda declared, walking up the stairs.
“Uh… yeah, okay, so we’re cool now, right?” the human asked.
“Nope,” was all Gilda said.
“Wait, what?”
Gilda just stayed silent, her smile hidden as she reached the next set of stairs.