> Feathered Heart
>  by Demon Eyes Laharl
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gilda felt her flapping wings shiver as she spotted the silhouettes of moderately sized houses contrasting with the sunrise that came from the East. Her shivering wasn’t because of the weather or season. While it was Running of the Leaves Season—a rather ridiculously long name considering the Gryphons just called it Artumnus—and a step closer to Winter (strangely enough, it was the also the name used by both Ponies and Humans), the elements were not the reason for her discomfort. She was a sky-griffin of the North; even high above, colder than the fields below, the freezing bite of the wind was no match for her thick coat and feathers.

No, it was the town itself—Ponyville. It was a quaint little settlement in the Sovereign Nation of Equestria, situated at the base of the mountain where the Royal Capital City of Canterlot was located. From her position, she could see the river cut through the center, the big red building that had served as its town hall, the houses with bright yellow roofs, and the apple trees all around.

She had visited this place, once, and it didn’t turn out the way she had hoped. She’d lost a friend and with that, her reason to stay in Equestria. The years had passed and so many things have changed, yet the trepidation of coming back always remained. Was that the reason why she hadn’t stopped by the town yesterday, making excuses that the travel had exhausted her?

Gilda looked at Ponyville for a few more seconds, with no answer springing to mind. Was she too afraid to even think about it? 

She turned her back to it. Her powerful wings flapped with practiced gracefulness as she soared higher and higher towards the overlooking mountains. Her eagle-sharp eyes shifted from left to right, trying to find the cavern where they set up camp. It took her a moment, but she spotted it: wisps of red-orange ember, dancing inside an open maw almost a kilometer away.

The wind shifted as her wings began to fold the air around it. With a powerful push, Gilda darted forward at breakneck speed, her eyes narrowing as she weaved through the clouds with expert ease. Before she knew it, she was at the mouth of the cave.

Smiling, she spread her wings outwards, immediately causing the air to drag her back, slowing her dash long enough to plant her claws on the mountain ground, sparks flying as her talons scratched the surface. Her momentum was still pressing her forward as she shifted her body without difficulty, her hind paws moving diagonally. With such an entrance and her wings spread out, she was the very image of a graceful griffin: lithe, majestic, and just plain awesome.

The first thing she heard was a series of sharp clapping sounds. She tweaked her head slightly, like those damn griffin models she absolutely hated. She couldn’t really help it. Her companion, her mate, was a special circumstance. She never really had a problem being a bit girly for him.

“Nice entrance,” he said. Oh, his throaty deep voice always gave her the tingles.

Trying her best to ignore the feeling, she approached the makeshift lodgings they had built yesterday. The cavern that sheltered them from the cold was large enough to be hoardplace for a dragon, though it was abandoned, of that much Gilda was certain. She had checked the whole place before they set up and there was nothing in this place except strong ancient stone.

The camp was definitely different from the usual griffin setup, which usually consisted of few dry twigs for the fire, firegems, and leaves for bedding. The basic materials were still there, though some amenities had to be added because of her mate.

At the center of the camp was a small fire contained within a hastily constructed fire pit. The usual one-time use firegems were missing, instead replaced by these human tools. Her mate called them fire-starters, which really consisted of basically two tools. One was the ‘flint lighter’, which was a simple looking metallic stick with a wheel at one end that could cause sparks with a simple flick of a finger (or claw, in her case). It was also reusable. The second was the ‘fire-tabs’, little cotton knotted ropes that caught fire quite quickly, even when wet.

These tools were far more usable and much more simplistic than the off-at-times firegems that needed a vial of liquid magic or a strong impact to work. It was no surprise when the ‘fire-starters’ almost single-handedly replaced the traditional magical gems back at the Kingdom.

Also, instead of the usual leaf bedding, there was a tent in place. Unlike pony tents, which were costly and used magic, this one was far simpler, using one of those refined strong aluminum frames as its skeleton. How these humans developed them were beyond her. It usually took a team of unicorns to refine the metal to a usable form, and even then, it was far too soft to use.  The humans also developed interesting fabrics that they used to cover the tent. Her mate called it ‘nylon and other stuff’. It was thin, but it kept the insides toasty warm. While it seemed impossible, she ignored thinking about it too deeply. The tent was big enough for the both of them—wasn't that enough?

Speaking of her mate, there he was, sitting by the fireplace and stoking the flames. Since the cavern and the fire were more than comfortable enough, he was not wearing his traveling clothes—a gold-yellow and red hooded jacket, a pair of brown pants and boots. Instead he wore short pants and that thick fur vest she had given him as a gift some time ago, showing off his dark golden-brown muscled arms.

She remembered when she was so busy with her duties that it was hard to get enough free time to hunt animals for their fur. Worse, she had the bad luck of starting a month before his birthday and she at least wanted to make a coat for him. She failed, but her gift was wholeheartedly received nonetheless, and judging by the wear-and-tear, he wore it virtually every day.

It was a reminder of why she loved him.

Remembering made her neck and face feel warm and it wasn’t because of the flames. Approaching him, she laid her kill down next to the campfire. She licked the blood off her beak before she faced him.

It didn’t show now, but he was a tall, bipedal creature and while on all fours she’d only reach his chest. His brown face was muted by the low intensity of the fire, but it made his smile much easier to see. She nipped on his neck affectionately. In turn, he rubbed his cheek on her neck, his teeth nibbling on it as well, making her throat involuntarily trill.  

“Morning, Gilds,” he greeted.

“Morning, Pet,” she greeted back. She settled down on her haunches beside him, and he automatically grabbed a brush from nearby and began to rub the lion half of her body, smoothing out the fur and removing a few specks of snow. She groaned with pleasure.

“You need me to skin it for you?” her mate asked. It took her a moment to realize he was talking about her kill.

“Not unless you want some,” Gilda replied absently. While she had discovered a greater appreciation for how humans prepared meat, griffins were more than comfortable eating it without any preparations. Plus, skinning the kill herself was quite an enjoyable task.

“Eh, I’ll stick with jerky.”

Gilda rolled her eyes. “You’d really pick that briny dry meat over my fresh kill?” she asked. It was always something she’d say every time he’d stick with the jerky on their travels. And, as always, he would always give his usual mock smile as a reply. She looked at him for a second before turning away, with a fake huff. “Humans really are masochists. The whole lot of you are weirdoes.”

Her mate just chuckled. “I don’t see why you’re complaining. Especially if...” and he let his words linger as he slowed down his brushing in a particularly sensitive spot. The griffin hiccuped a squawk of surprise and pleasure before she cuffed him with her wings.

“Stop that!” Gilda muttered, feeling her face flush.

 “If I wasn’t weird, would I be able to make you feel this good?”

Her face definitely felt flushed this time. She whispered, “Oh, shut up and brush me.”

Brush he did. Up and down, his hands were steady as he worked a rhythm of even strokes. They were practiced motions, honed by weeks of repetition. Gilda always enjoyed his grooming ministrations, even when he wasn't that good at it first. Thank the Ancestors that he was such a fast learner.

Satisfied, she tapped his leg with her wing, signalling him to stop. With the pressure off her coat, it was time to return the favor. She walked behind him and draped her forelegs over him, her claws lightly scraping through the fur vest as she rubbed her neck and beak over his head, shoulders and scruff. She closed her eyes and lost herself as she smelled her own scent mingling with his.

Her stomach suddenly rumbled. Her eyes flew open and she felt her cheeks heating up, from embarrassment this time. She suddenly felt his fingers glide over her feathered neck, his lips kissing her throat.

“Go eat, Gilds. Thank you.”

The griffin gave a very fake huff of annoyance, and immediately stalked her kill near the fire. Before she dug in, she looked back at him for a moment, her eyes shifting.

“Are you sure you don’t want...?”

“I’ll be okay with the jerky for now,” her mate replied with an easy smile. “Besides, with Ponyville so close, I won’t have to suffer too long.”

“Ugh, Ponyville,” Gilda spat out before she began to eat her breakfast ravenously.

“Slow down, Gilds. Don’t want you to choke,” he advised, laughing.

Gilda rolled her eyes. Still, choking to death was a much better prospect than going to Ponyville. Who knew, maybe it’d convince him to let someone else represent him.  “Better choke now before I enter that Ancestor-forsaken town,” she muttered, not bothering to keep the gruff out of her voice. “Why are we here again?”

“Well, I have to meet up with the council to finalize and secure the trade routes, while you claimed you wanted to protect me from amorous ponies,” he replied, chuckling.

“Claim nothing, I’m definitely going to protect you from those in-heat dweebs,” the griffin replied.

“Honestly, Gilda, I don’t think it’s that bad.”

She licked her beak before facing him again. Her mate wasn’t afraid of a little blood, but had told her that he was a bit unsettled seeing it on her. Oh, the things she would do for him. “You are talking about a race that practically built companies to hire out male humans for intimacy-driven services. As far as I am concerned, I can’t trust you with those... horses.”

He laughed loudly at that. “Okay, even if that’s true, I still say it wouldn’t be that bad. I mean, it’d be nice to have some additional affection.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Gilda’s neck straightened, her eyes narrowing. The tone of his voice indicated that he was more or less joking, but the idea of having to share him? Her thoughts began to zoom around her head. She imagined seeing him with those stupid ponies or even other griffins. Her blood began to boil.

“Additional affection?” she asked in a low, deathly quiet tone.

“I heard the ponies practice polygamy. I wonder if that’s true.”

A growl vibrated from the confines of her throat. She turned, leaving her breakfast on a flat stone near the fire, and stared straight at her mate, who was wearing a goofy smile on his face. He was egging her on and she was playing right into his claw-er-hands, but she didn’t care. How dare he imply that she should share him? Wasn’t she enough?

Her hind paws kicked up a bit of dirt behind her before she jumped at him, her wings spread to make her look as big as possible. Her claws bit lightly into his shoulder, sharp enough to cause him to yelp, but not enough to pierce his flesh. She would not hurt him but he needed to be taught a lesson.

He put up almost no resistance, letting her pin him on his back. She settled her haunches on his thighs, staring at him for a few seconds before her claws moved towards his vest, and slowly kneaded them on the furred surface, a little rougher than her earlier actions.

Her mate stiffened at her aggression, yelping quietly as her beak darted quickly and bit him on his neck, more painful than the usual nibble of affection. She wouldn’t let him up, though. Using her claws to force him down, she slowly traced the outline of his shoulders, nipping in particular places, feeling satisfied every time he gave a half-muttered apology.

“You are mine!” she whispered harshly at his ear after a fifth bite. She earned a weak affirmation, before she bit again, earning another yelp. “What was that?”

“I’m yours,” her mate replied, more clearly this time. “I’m all yours, Grizelda Behertz.”

“And don’t you forget that, Marco Lakan,” she said, her throat growling at the mention of his name.

“Swear to God,” he replied, with his arm moving and positioning itself perpendicular to his prone form, palm facing upwards from the ground, open. A human gesture, he had explained before.

“Swear to me,” Gilda muttered, now settling on all fours, letting her full weight rest on top of him. She could feel the warmth they both shared and his beating heart and she smelled as her scent intermingling with his once more. She lowered her face, her beak almost touching his nose, internally smiling as she felt him squirm under her weight.

It was a gesture of dominance, a lesson to show him her displeasure. A normal griffin response was to expose their neck, a sign of trust and submission. Instead, his response was simple: he kissed her on the beak. Gilda stared at him, her eyes crinkling. Later, her face followed.

“Ugh, whatever,” she muttered, trying to force the smile from her face with an uninterested tone. She pulled herself up, letting her mate sit up. She then rubbed her neck on his back and over his shoulder. “You owe me some preening time.”

“Preening, or ‘preening’, Gilds?” Marco asked, a little heat escaping his tone as he began to give soft kisses on her feathery neck. Gilda felt like she was struck with lightning.

“What do you think, Pet?” she whispered hoarsely.

His only response was more feathery kisses, and sometimes a little tongue. His hands moved in precision as well, one towards her neck, massaging it with his digits, while the other rubbed her sides and shoulders with practiced motions.

Oh, Ancestors. When did she become so lucky?
	

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It is said that to acknowledge one’s ignorance is to acknowledge one’s wisdom. Never have the words struck me any truer than today. As most of you are aware, news of such surprising nature has reached this Kingdom: Equestria, our long-time ally, has discovered life beyond this world. A species called humans, an apex predator of their world.
                        
“I hear some cries from our Citizens. They worry that this new race shall change the balance of power we have with our Equestrian allies. They fear that these humans will give rise to untold opportunities, and not all of it for the better. They are correct. This discovery, this new species, heralds a change.

“I am not omniscient, nor can I predict the future. I am not armed with enough knowledge to even begin to guess what the future brings... but Gryphons! What I know is our history! What I know is our race! Even before uniting under one banner, we drove out the Cloven of the Sun and squashed the Elder Rams. United, we fought Equestria to a stand-still! We thrive today because our progenitors have made sure to pass an important lesson—that change is nothing but an opportunity to grasp. And we shall do the same!

“I have told our Negotiators in Equestria to gather as much information as they can. Let us find out more about this human race. Let us examine their strengths, their weaknesses. Let us extend the claw of alliance as a measure of respect to their power. And if, by chance, they shun us, then let them feel the terrible vengeance of our race! Let them feel our sharp talons, sharpened by stone, our beaks, hungry for blood – whether or not victory will be achieved, we shall proudly stand on all fours: For we are Gryphons!”


                        —Queen Molyneux
                        Address to the Kingdom, Fifty-Seventh Year of Her Reign
        



        
        It was the Fifty-Seventh Year of Queen Molyneux’s Reign, marked in the Kingdom’s history books that Equestria has discovered a new species. No one knew then whether they’d be new enemies or new friends.
        
        Not that it mattered to Gilda. Trudging through the frozen winds with hesitant steps, she had more important things to worry about. She always reminded herself that she was already in deep, that her savings were dwindling into nothingness. Even if she was back at home, in Aquilamra, the frigid northern city where she was born, she would not expect any financial support from her family. Her sire definitely made it clear when he wouldn’t even recommend her to the Wind Knights, stating she had ‘grown too soft to be a proper soldier’. 
        
        Oh, Ancestors, she wanted to hit him then and there. 
        
        Could she begrudge him, though? The first year she had arrived in the Kingdom after leaving Equestria wasn’t exactly a welcoming one. For weeks, she had to relearn everything that her mother taught her in regards on how to act like a griffin in the Kingdom. And no matter how well she behaved, no matter how proper her responses were... they knew she hadn’t grown up in the Kingdom. 
        
        An Equestrian griffin, they called her. No one dared to say it to her face, though... well, at least the older and more tempered griffins didn’t. The younger, more aggressive ones, though, thought they could get away with it. She responded as any Gryphon should: she went up to them and punched them in their faces. Needless to say, she got into a few good scuffles, earned a few scratches. She won most of her fights, which slowly built up her reputation and in turn, earned some measure of respect from the other griffins. 
        
        She found it somewhat funny, though. Back in Equestria, if she ever got into a scuffle with a pony, even minor and light ones, she would expect a Royal Guard to come knocking at her door. Here, though, she was cheered on. Loudly, even. 
        
        Thinking of Equestria made Gilda’s mind wander in regards to a certain pegasus. How many years since she lost Rainbow Dash? The question left a sour taste in her mouth. She did her best not to think of ponies. She tried to remove all associated memories regarding Equestria. Right now, she told herself to focus on one thing: to try and get a job. 
        
        She passed through a few more stone huts, a common residential place for anyone living in the North. The houses here were built from rocks carved out the mountain, carefully placed, reinforced and extended with every generation. They were primarily built to last in the harsh conditions. Understandable, considering this was the region where it almost perpetually snowed and had occasional bouts of hail.
        
        The way the city was built was a testament on how boring the North really was. It was just a stretch of frozen rock as far as the eyes could see, but it was… home? No, not even. She had grown up in Equestria, near a Gryphon settlement north of Vanhoover. She associated mostly with ponies. Culturally, she was neither Equestrian or Gryphon. She had lost her home and now was, essentially, a stranger in her homeland. 
        
        Thank the Ancestors the town rarely changed in all these years, though, as the town was almost the same as she remembered. She didn’t think she’d need more problems, like getting lost... well, most of the time.
        
        She saw the recruitment hut, only a few steps away from her position. Its stone roof was draped with a banner bearing the Gryphon flag, a bloodied claw, imposed over the Northern colors of white and blue. She could see a few griffins coming in and out, some younger males cuffing each other lightly as they squawked with joy. 
        
        They must have gotten the jobs they wanted, she thought, her eyes narrowing. Stupid cubs. 
        
         She shook her head. Mentally squabbling about complete strangers wasn’t going to do her any favors. She took a deep breath before walking towards the doorway and pushed herself inside. 
        
        The interior of the hut was warm thanks to the controlled fire produced by firegems that surrounded the place. It also swathed the inside in a dark crimson glow, standard lighting for almost any Northern Gryphon home. Even back in her Cloudsdale residence, Gilda had kept the practice, much to Rainbow Dash’s annoyance. The pegasus had commented that the light intensity was too low for her to see clearly but for Gilda’s eyes, it was more than enough to go around. 
        
        Rainbow Dash. Gilda sighed, half-wondering what the pegasus was doing now. Remembering just brought a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She violently shook the memory out of her head. Her gaze turned red as she felt fire well up within her, intensifying her steps as she went straight to the recruiter, who was behind a standard grey old table. She grabbed her documents from her knapsack and placed it all on top of the desk before sitting down on her haunches. 
        
        The recruiter, a male griffin with black feathers and a coat of a lighter shade than hers, looked at Gilda for a moment before his eyes went towards the documents. It included her birth certificate (with her family bloodline tree), Equestrian documents that covered her absence from the Kingdom, and a letter of recommendation from her sire.
        
        “So you want to be a Guard, eh?” he asked. 
        
        Gilda internally sighed. No, she wanted to be a soldier, not a poor griffin’s version of it. She didn’t say that, of course, and instead, she gave the best fake smile she could produce and nodded. “Yes, sir,” she replied. 
        
        The male griffin looked down at the documents once more as Gilda shifted her hind legs a bit, trying to remain stoic and calm. The recruiter looked up and gave her a once-over. She tried to project the image of a strong, no-nonsense Gryphon that oozed with confidence she did not feel. She might have been holding her breath, she did not know. “It says here you were rejected from the Knights,” he advised. 
        
        Gilda internally grimaced, trying hard not to let it show on her face. “My… father believes that I am not yet ready for it.” 

        “Well, considering how long you stayed in Equestria, your sire may have a point,” the recruiter replied, nodding thoughtfully. His demeanor quickly changed though when he saw the look on her face and immediately dropped that line of conversation. “There are openings for the Auxiliary Guard units, but there is quite a demand for work in the mines. The pay is much better too.” 
        
        “No offense, but I’d rather be mail courier than a miner,” Gilda replied with steel in her voice. There was no way she’d be stuck digging inside an enclosed space. Even if she had to brave the frigid Northern wind, Grizelda Behertz was a sky-griffin at heart. No one would take the sky away from her.
        
        “Ah. Understandable then,” the recruiter advised. “Now, tell me, what do you have to offer to the Auxiliary Guard? Why should they take you?” 
        
        She blinked for a moment. Did he really just ask that? That line of questioning was something she’d expect a Pony to say, not a Gryphon of the Kingdom. Gilda’s eyes stared at him for a few seconds, letting him stew a bit as he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. She let her claws rest on top of the stone table that separated them and her talons began to scratch the surface, creating uneven lines in their wake. The recruiter blinked, his feathers ruffling with discomfort before he nodded, eyes silently begging her to stop. 
        
        Gilda did. She let go of the stone surface and raised her claws to her face. She wriggled them slightly before blowing out the dust from her talons. “Well, am I in or not?” she asked. 
        
        The recruiter swallowed. He smiled. “Welcome to the Guard.” 
        
        The female griffin sighed. There it was. She was now a member of the Auxiliary Guards, and all it took was for her to ruin her claws. 
        
        Oh, yay. This is going to be fun, fun, fun, she thought with a roll of her eyes. 
        
        “Thank you, sir,” she said instead. She started to gather her things. “I won’t let you down.” 
        
        The recruiter gave a nod, bringing out a parchment and stamped on it, approving her application.  He began to hand it to her but paused, and then gave her an odd look. She, in turn, tilted her head slightly to the right, confused. 
        
        “Yes?” she asked.
        
        “Um, this has nothing with your recruitment, but what did you think?” 
        
        Gilda blinked. What was this griffin going on about now? “Think about what?” 
        
        “Haven’t you heard the news?” he asked. When Gilda shook her head, the recruiter explained, “Equestria opened up some type of portal. They discovered a new species!” 
        
        Gilda blinked. For once, her mind did not revisit Equestria. She had been hearing word about the discovery of the new species. She even heard that the Queen’s Address to the Kingdom involved these new aliens. Gilda just shrugged and took back her documents and approval letter, muttering, “Maybe we’ll get to fight them.”
        



        
        There was actually more to the Auxiliary Guards than what Gilda had initially thought. She didn’t know whether it was because policies had changed or if she and everyone else were under the wrong impression, but she had expected to just be given an armor piece, get  assigned under a command immediately, and patrol the borders of towns. 
        
        The Kingdom, for whatever reason, didn’t agree. Under the collective training called ‘The Gauntlet’, Guards, Knights, and even the Talons (the main soldier body) recruits were put through almost the same training.  Most of the days, Gilda and the rest of the recruits would do exercises like flight dashes and ground sprints. They were meant to build up stamina and speed on both air and ground respectively. The rest of the week would be split between weapons training, making them use a variety of weapons ranging from the basic spears to the more advanced crossbows, and general education, which encompassed a range of lessons from basic hand signals to the command structure. 
        
        Ranks were mostly denoted by the amount and what type of armor was worn. Rookies usually received leather pauldrons. Climbing up, hardier armor, like metal plates, would be given. The idea was that with higher rank, the more competent the Gryphon was, hence was more valuable to the Kingdom. It also promoted a single message to any soldier: Get Better. 
        
        Gilda found it surprising that ranks of any of the three branches of the armed forces were quite interchangeable. She was even more surprised when in turn, this gave opportunities in advancing her career. If she merited it enough, she could apply for the Knights with a very good recommendation.  
        
        With that in mind, Gilda trudged through the training with utter focus. She made it a habit to always fly out at night after dinner, keeping her flying skills sharp. She went through drills, exhausted, but unrelenting. Superiors and trainers always kept reminding her that she hadn’t been raised in the Kingdom, that she was considered ‘soft’, maybe even unfit. She thoroughly proved them wrong. 
        
        After grueling months of training, she finally made Guard with a solid recommendation. They gave her two pauldrons instead of the usual one and it fed her motivation to continue her work ethic. When she was ordered to patrol through a snowstorm, she did so. When she was ordered to help out the miners in clearing out a rockfall, she did that too. She made herself a perfect Guard model, and the Kingdom, in turn, showed its appreciation: not even a year, and she climbed up high enough to receive a shoulder plate armor, denoting her rank higher than her fellow rookie Guards (who were mostly still stuck with single or double leather pauldrons). Granted, the pay still left much to be desired, but she was surviving with what was given to her. 
        
        After a year from being recruited, she experienced her first Rotation, a required Kingdom practice of trading warrior units annually to different cities with the purpose of seasoning them out. It ensured they would be adaptable enough to fight in a variety of towns as well as work with the local armed forces with as little friction as possible. 
        
        Her first Rotation had put her right in the heart of the Southern Farmlands, in the city of Tierra, which had almost perfect weather all year round to plant crops like grain, fruit and nut trees, and others. This was also the place that had the largest gathering of Kingdom-hired Earth Ponies that efficiently grew the bulk of the region’s produce, which in turn kept the Kingdom fed. 
        
        While she was glad to get out of the freezing sky of the North, this too-warm region felt very much like Equestria, with all the ponies present and the staple diet of nothing but seeds, fruits and breads. Worse, nothing exciting would ever happen in this region. Ever since her arrival, the only disaster she had encountered was when one of the earth ponies accidentally backed a cart into a ditch and couldn’t pull it out. 
        
        Most of her days were spent lazily patrolling the borders of Tierra. The rest, she was on the ground, making sure none of the Earth Ponies were slacking off. Today, she was keeping an eye on two stallions on their break as they began conversing about a race she had been hearing more and more lately. 
        
        “Have you heard? These humans are two-legged apes!” the stallion with a red coat and bale of hay cutie mark told his companion, a stallion with a yellowish coat and  scattered petals for a Cutie Mark. Both their mane and tails were of different shades of brown. 
        
        “Apes. Oh, Celestia. What are we going to discover next? Talking dolphins? So, what, do these humans like bang their chests and make monkey sounds?” 
        
        “Actually, from what I’ve heard, they talk mostly in Equestrian.” 
        
        “What, really? That’s odd! Did we meet these species before? Have we taught them our language?” 
        
        “I don’t know. All I know is that these humans are quite technologically advanced!” 
        
        Gilda rolled her eyes before she noticed the darkening sky. Hearing enough, she cleared her throat, grabbing their attention. “Sun’s coming down,” she declared. “Finish up your work, or the Steadholder isn’t going to be pleased.”  
        
        “Yes, ma’am,” the stallion with the red coat said. 
        
         “Slave driver,” muttered the other. 
        
        Gilda rolled her eyes again before she spread and flapped her wings. With a great push, she launched herself upwards, higher and higher, passing through a few clouds and dispersing them with her air streams. The wind moved around her as she expertly manipulated it with her feathered appendages and banked to the left. After a few seconds, she saw a garish square building made from stone and wood – the barracks.  Aiming for it, she folded her wings and dove towards it.
        
        With the wind hammering her feathered face, she thought back on the conversation she just heard. These humans… 
        
        She had read the speech from Her Highness, of course. It was just the standard welcoming message to an established race: are we friends or are we enemies? It was a pretty generous offer, considering that there was almost no information regarding these humans. Usually, the Kingdom would test their mettle first. So far, though, she hadn’t heard if these bipedal apes had replied, and it’d already been a year. 
        
        She hadn’t given them much thought, but under the orange sky and with the previous conversation in mind, her mind began to wonder. Maybe they would get to fight the new species; after all, if someone still hasn’t responded to an invitation of friendship in a span of a year, it surely must have been a sign that they were rejecting it, right? And if there was going to be a fight, she wondered how the Gryphon Kingdom would fare in against them. 
        
        What did she know of them?
        
        First of all, humans had superior technology. Gilda snorted though. If anyone but a pony said so, she’d be inclined to believe it. For ponies, anything beyond a spear was already superior technology. Zebra Nations had already surpassed them in terms of alchemical weapons and tools, while the Gryphon Kingdom were experimenting rapid-fire crossbows (though from rumors, they were near deployment). The only real reason why Equestria could afford to be behind was because they had the most minimalist conflict between themselves and other nations; the former because ponies were born to be almost non-confrontational and the latter because no other nation wanted to anger the long-lived alicorns who could control heavenly bodies at will.  
        
        Though even without the presence of the Princesses, Gilda had to give due credit to the ponies. Conquering Equestria was pretty much a logistical nightmare. They had enough pegasi numbers to manipulate the weather, making any invasion, either by the sea or air, a bloody uphill battle. That was the reason why the two nations fought to a standstill back when they were at war. 
        
        Secondly, bipedal apes… Gilda had seen apes, and smelled them too. She had no idea how these humans would look, but if they were a bit like the apes she knew, it’d be an easy battle. The animals were big, alright, but lacked mobility. They couldn’t even fly! And while there were a lot of egghead griffins claiming that the animals had some form of intelligence, but she severely doubted it. 
        
        All in all, information regarding the species was still lacking. She had no idea how the Gryphon Kingdom would fare, though she knew if it came down to it, they’d win. Griffins were stubborn that way. Besides, the way the ponies described them, they sounded really dweeby.
        
        She spread her wings, slowing down her descent long enough to land safely on the soft earthy ground. She made sure the area was clear (something that the Gauntlet had taught her) before she slowly relaxed and folded her appendages to her side. Gilda ran towards the barracks, hoping she was early enough to grab some fresh meat. There was no way she’d be beaten by her squad and get stuck again with bread and soup again, not after last night. 
        
        When she was a few more claw paces from barracks, she saw the wooden door open up revealing three griffins moving outwards. Two of them wore shoulder-plates, breastplates, and complete leg braces and metallic claws, denoting at least six or seven ranks higher than her. However, it was the one in front and center that caught her attention – a male griffin with light blue, almost white feathers blending well with his pale brown coat. He wore no obvious metallic armor, but instead had leather-like clothing wrapped around him, neck, sides, and underbelly with strategically placed metallic greaves. Around his neck was a chain made of white metal with blue pearls and feathers weaved around it.  
        
        She immediately stopped, moved to the side and banged her enclosed claw near her shoulder and at the same time exposing her neck in deference when they approached. 
        
        The center figure was Captain Cipio, the Commander of the Gryphon Forces in the South Region and a son of a Kingdom High Lord. He had introduced himself to everyone that rotated to his unit in a manner that she would remember forever: he took down three overly-aggressive and overconfident griffins, who were thinking that he was just given his rank because of his family and noble title, with two moves. 
        
        It wasn’t just his skills, but also his attitude. Captain Cipio ran a tight unit and treated all of his subordinates, whether just Knights, Talons, or even Guards, equally. He would take time to listen to concerns, though he had warned them that wasting his time was tantamount of spending a good amount of days in the brig. Strict but fair, he was a model Gryphon Commander. A solid Captain. 
        
        “Captain Cipio,” she greeted. 
        
        Cipio took a note of her before stopping. “Making trouble, Behertz?” the Captain asked with a slight smile. 
        
        “No sir, just making sure the ponies don’t get too lazy,” Gilda replied. 
        
        “Carry on then,” Cipio replied, banging his own shoulder with his claw, his neck stiff and straight.  She didn’t mind. He was, after all, her superior. 
        
        The sky was darkening when she ran to the barracks. Going straight to the mess hall, her throat gave a satisfied trill when she noticed that there was still meat being served. 
        
        Today seemed to be a lucky day for Gilda. 
        




        Gilda raced through the air, encircling the large city below. Her sharp eyes darted left and right, trying to cover as many angles as possible. It was Fifty-Ninth Year of Queen Molyneux’s Reign, three years since her induction to the Guards, and her vigilance and disciplined work ethics had finally paid off as she finally earned her second shoulder plate and a pair of leather foreleg braces. She was also Rotated to the Capital City of the Gryphon Kingdom—Arnau.
        
        The majestic capital city was built to be a stronghold, even more enduring than the Western Port Cities, the first line of defense for the Kingdom. Arnau was carved from the side of a mountain, taking generations of careful planning. It was built with ten levels, each elevating uphill, surrounded by thick and strong ancient stone walls. If anyone was foolish enough to fly up without proper clearance, they’d have to contend with the patrolling guards or be shot down by the newly deployed rapid-fire crossbows.
        
        The roads inside the city were split into two pathways. The main central road took the most direct route upwards, cutting through levels with an inclining smooth road. However, during battle, these roads would be blocked with heavily reinforced stone walls, forcing any invading army to take the longer, circling road towards the top. Even then, they’d have to contend with the well-placed checkpoints along the spiraling road—palisades using thick steel walls as their gates. 
        
        Defense wasn’t the only thing in mind when the city was built, though. Functionality was also part of its building process. All flight passages and roads from the different regions all led to Arnau, making it also the biggest trade capital of the Kingdom. Whether one was looking for precious gems and metals from the frozen mountainous North, fruits and nuts from the rich farmlands of the South, a variety of fish of the West, or even the game herds of the plains of the East, any proud Gryphon would tell anyone—Arnau had it all. 
        
        Gilda remembered visiting the Capital City once as a cub. Her mother had brought her there before they made the travel to the Western Ports to go to Equestria. She remembered marveling at the splendor of its city walls, the patrolling Wind Knights. She remembered her mother, who told her the city was proof that the Gryphons can do anything. Even now, many years later, the image wasn't tarnished. The city was well-maintained, both structurally and socially. There were still some cases of violent outbreaks, though it was lower than expected, especially coming from a city where the majority living there were griffins.   
        
        Of course, that wasn’t to say her transition was easy. After living more than a year in the idyllic Southern Farmlands with minimum demand for work, Arnau felt like a wake-up call. Patrols were far longer and she had additional duties like goods inspector, Peacemaker (which was basically a civil officer that knocked out griffins before they could start anything stupid), and even had a brief stint as a help-claw at the palace. She even spotted the Queen for a few brief moments. Yet, she trudged on for weeks, and before she knew it, the busy city life became routine.
        
        Until they received the news a week back. 
        
        “Gilda!” 
        
        Gilda glanced to her left, spotting her partner, not of her choosing. It was another Kingdom policy: any soldier with a high enough rank and armor would be assigned a partner of lower ranking. It had something to do with efficiently training rookies by giving them more experienced griffins to work with. She wasn’t a big fan of that particular policy. 
        
        Her partner was a fellow Northerner named Fortrakt. He was quite younger than she was and had only earned a leather pauldron last month, which he wore proudly on his left shoulder. His coat was the same shade as hers, though his feathers were darker. And like any younger griffin, he thought he’d endeared himself to his new superior partner by trying to invade her wingspace. She’d promptly responded by slamming him through the table, hard. 
        
        Thank the Ancestors he learned his lessons fast. Even more so when he was actually decent company. 
        
        “Gilda, crows take it, let me catch a breath!” Fortrakt called again, his tongue  lolling.
        
        Heh, what a hatchling, she thought as she descended and perched on a crenel of the fifth level wall. Fortrakt followed afterwards, keeping a respectable distance. She gave him a smirk. 
        
        “What’s the matter, Fortrakt? Can’t even do a double fort-run without a break?” 
        
        “Stick your head in a cave,” Fortrakt muttered breathlessly. 
        
        To be fair, fort-runs, a practice of simultaneous ground and air dashes,  were exhausting. This was especially true for most Northerners, sky-griffins who were more enduring in flight than ground travel. However, she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Only when you stop being a cub,” Gilda replied, before she smirked and added an insult, “cub.” 
        
        “Not all of us have shed our down feathers,” he rebutted. Gilda rolled her eyes. She wasn’t that old. 
        
        “Do you want me to drop you from here, cub?” she asked, facing him with a smile. “Because you know how hard I dropped you on the ground that time. Don’t think I can’t do it from the air.” 
        
        “Yeah, whatever you say.” 
        
        Gilda smiled just for a second before it faded. She took a deep breath and looked at the horizon. A web of paved roads from all regions converged as they approached the city. Spread in rows and columns down below were yellow fields of local farmlands, tended by small figures, like ants. Gilda couldn’t identify if the figures belonged to  ponies or griffins. Nor did she care. Right now, her eagle-eyes settled towards the Western Region. 
        
        “No matter how hard you look, you won’t be seeing the humans. I heard they’d be arriving three days from now.”
        
        She looked at him for a moment before shifting her gaze back at the horizon, she replied, “Don’t remind me.” 
        
        The news just came in a week ago. The Gryphon Ambassador had sent word from Equestria that the humans were willing to build trading relationships between the two species and wanted to visit the Queen personally to start the negotiations.  
        
        And only after three years of silence, she thought. 
        
        Five days ago, the High Lords and Ladies convened with the Her Highness and after days of silence, they announced that they agreed to warmly welcome the new species in the Kingdom. They even planned a feast. Game meats, pigs and even chickens were being brought over from the Eastern Plains, and grain import increased from the South. Bakeries all over the kingdom were gearing up and preparing for a mass production of bread. 
        
        All in all, Arnau became very busy indeed in the last few days, even more so for Gilda. After the patrol, she and Fortrakt were to report to the Eastern Gates to inspect the goods coming in, making sure nothing illegal was being smuggled under their beaks. And with all the cargo coming in, it left her exhausted enough that she couldn’t even enjoy her after-dinner flights. 
        
        All because the walking and talking apes were visiting. 
        
        “So, you’re one of those ape-haters?” Fortrakt asked. 
        
        Gilda sighed. Was she? She couldn’t tell, truthfully. Maybe annoyed, more than hate. For one, she was so sick and tired of these humans. She had heard nothing except ‘They are coming’ and ‘Wonder what they look like’. As more news came in, her opinion was unwavering. The fact that these humans are only extending their, well, whatever their claws were called, now, well after the Gyrphon Kingdom extended theirs three years ago, meant they weren’t taking them seriously. 
        
        “These humans have probably traded all the good stuff to those Equestrian dweebs, probably leaving the junk for the rest of us. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have all my feathers fall off than accepting sloppy second-kills from the ponies.” 
        
        “Well, they are coming.” The guard shrugged. “And we’re going to greet them too.” 
        
        Gilda just growled. 
        
        Fortrakt smiled. “I can’t wait to see you in a dress uniform.” 
        
        “Well, you can keep hoping,” Gilda declared. “Later, I’m meeting with the captain and see if I can get a leave of absence.” 
        
        “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, Gilda,” Fortrakt replied. “You’ll probably get us booted up front. Maybe the captain will have you nibble some ape’s rear, eh?” 
        
        The female griffin’s wing snapped out to try and cuff him, but the male griffin just launched away, laughing. 
        
        Crows take him, Gilda thought before she shook her head and launched after him. 
        
        It was Fifty-Ninth Year of Queen Molyneux’s Reign, three days before the human’s arrival. 



> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gilda growled as she shoved her left foreleg on an opening of the crow-begotten clothing they called a dress uniform. She had spent almost half an hour trying to make her wings fit at the provided openings and now she realized the foreleg sleeves were coming up too short. The damn dark-blue vest was supposed to spruce a griffin up, making them look presentable, but all it did was make her angrier by the minute. Once she finally secured both her forelegs, she had to secure it using belts (colored in a darker shade) that were looped around in strategically placed straps, tightening around her shoulders and even annoying the base of her neck where her flight muscles extended. 

The dress uniform didn’t fit. The Quartermaster proved to be useless when Gilda had wanted a replacement. He told her that the dress uniform fit as per Kingdom’s standards. She later learned that it was purposely made to annoy the wearer. It gave the griffin wearing it the battle-ready look – scowled eyes, ruffled feathers, and twitching wings. 

She’d have probably felt more embarrassed if she was in Equestria. Ponies were convinced, thanks to the pegasi, that twitching wings was a sign of arousal. While not completely false, they failed to remember that a pair of twitching griffin wings also meant that said griffin was ready to charge. 

At least it didn’t fully impede her forelegs. Stretching them out, she donned her armor, polished and gleaming proudly, over the uniform with practiced motion. Checking the belts of her clothing one last time, Gilda stretched her wings, making sure she could actually still fly with the stupid vest, before she walked towards the exit, leaving her bare quarters (consisting of only hay bedding, small closet, and stone desk) behind. 

Gilda’s eyes narrowed as the bright sun blinded her momentarily. Once they adjusted, she quickly scanned around. She was currently in the fourth level of Arnau, and the griffins here moved around at a hurried pace, the air smelling of freshly baked bread. She sighed, feeling so sick of the aroma that had permeated the whole city since yesterday. She knew she should have been glad, maybe proud at least, that the Arnau was fully prepared to greet the humans. Instead, she still felt apprehension regarding their presence. 

Walking towards the edge of the level’s battlement, she met a few guards patrolling the merlons surrounding the area. She began to shout the clearance code but they immediately complied before she completed it, most likely recognizing her and giving her leeway. A bit unprofessional, but then again, Gilda was grateful that they were trying not to be obstructive. Dashing towards a free crenel, she jumped off and spread her wings, letting the wind catch her as she flew. 

Gilda smiled as the wind hit her face. The smell of bread was fully ignored as she flapped her feathery appendages harder, letting her climb higher. She was almost stopped by two patrolling Guards in the sixth level before she shouted the code and they let her be. She stayed at that height, looking at the splendor of their Capital City before she slowly glided towards the Western Entrance.
  
As she descended, she could see the busy bustle on the third level, which was primarily designed as a receiving area. It had minimal residences and a lot of smoothed stone ground.  The large central area of the level was being cleared and tables, barely mid-griffin high, were set down in rows. Some griffins were preparing torches around for light. Apparently, these humans couldn’t see that well in the dark. 

She was almost at the first level when she was greeted by the waiting Fortrakt. He was waiting in the middle of a landing point, an upraised stone stage filled with soft soil, smiling. He was early, not surprising as he lived on the second level. He was also dressed in a blue vest, and while it looked snug, his smaller frame made it a far better fit than hers. 

“Nice dress uniform!” he shouted with a wide smile. “You finally look like a proper Gryphon Guard!” 

Gilda landed on an angle, and didn’t slow down. Her momentum carried her on with a slide. Dirt flew as she twirled around, hoping to cuff him with her wing as she passed, but he ducked out of the way. She got the last laugh though as Fortrakt got caught from all the scattered dust that billowed to his direction. She watched him cough for a moment before she snapped and spread her wings open, and folded them on her sides. 

“Really, cub? You’d think with all my armor, I look more of a proper Gryphon than you do,” she replied, smirking. Fortrakt rolled his eyes and coughed one last time before he approached her. The two jumped off the platform and began to walk side-by-side to the gate. 

“All it takes is time, something that you are lacking,” he replied. He ducked and chuckled as Gilda tried to cuff him again. “One day, I’m going to get my shoulder plates and braces. And then you’ll realize the fundamental difference between us.” 

“Oh, and what is that, cub?” 

“I make the armor look good.” 

Gilda snorted, which then turned into a slightly loud laugh that got the attention of a few griffins and ponies walking amongst them. “Cub, while you’re trying to woo the females with your spit-shined plates, I’d be behind a stone desk, ordering you to get my drinks.” 

“Yup, like any old griffins. Sit behind the table, let the younger ones run the show,” Fortrakt countered with his tongue out. Gilda tried to think of a retort, but she had to admit, she walked into that one. She continued her trek in silence. Fortrakt smiled, reveling slightly in his victory. 

Arnau’s first level housed a lot of the farmers. Unlike the upper levels, the residential buildings were widely spaced, built from more wood than stone. It really reflected the high number of Earth Ponies living there, as most of the houses were decorated with plants or had a small garden that was tended. There were some foals and fillies laughing about, sometimes playing with cubs wearing leather claw gloves. 

They passed a statue of the Ardanius of the West, a faceless griffin that wore heavy armor. It stood on its hind legs, supported by the large diamond-shaped shield it held at one claw, while the other gripped a large war-hammer. It was used as a model for the Fortus Knights, earth-griffins with strong capable bodies able to carry and lift heavy loads. While it looked mightily impressive, Gilda still favored the Wind Knights. 

Thinking of the Wind Knights, Gilda was surprised when she spotted a number of them landing on the rampart on top of the Western Gate. From her distance, she could make out the leathery hide of their armor, designed for maximum maneuverability, and the crossbows hanging on their flanks. Some were even bringing them forward, letting them rest on the raised stone platforms, ready to be aimed down at the western road. 

“Did I miss something?” Fortrakt asked, confused. “I thought we were just greeting them?” 

A new voice answered him. “Just letting the apes know that we’re taking them seriously.” 

Gilda and Fortrakt glanced on the right, spotting a female griffin with a dark coat and very pale feathers. She was dressed like Captain Cipio of the South, leather-like hide with metallic greaves on her throat, shoulder and sides. Unlike the Southern Captain, though, her chain was made of a darker brown shade. Fortrakt immediately saluted, letting his enclosed claw bang on his chest and easily exposed his neck in deference. Gilda followed closely, though a bit more stiffly. 

“Good morning Captain Narada,” Fortrakt greeted with a smile. 

“Morning, Captain,” Gilda did the same, though with less enthusiasm than her partner. 

Narada saluted back, her neck stiff and unmoving. She gave Fortrakt a smile, but gazed at Gilda neutrally. 

“I’m glad you came, Behertz,” the Captain declared. “After our meeting three days ago, I had thought you wouldn’t show up.” 

“As a Guard and as a soldier, I shall fulfill my duties to the Kingdom,” Gilda replied neutrally. 

“That is very professional of you, Behertz.” Narada nodded. “The Kingdom appreciates your services. They won’t be forgotten.” And with that, she took her leave.  

Fortrakt looked at the retreating Captain before he turned to Gilda, who said nothing. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I thought you were joking when you said you were going to talk to the captain about taking a leave of absence.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gilda muttered. 

“So, Captain didn’t approve your leave, eh?” Fortrakt asked. 

Gilda’s eyes narrowed as her mind went to the conversation. 





“What do you mean ‘no’, Captain?” Gilda asked. 

 “Is there something wrong with your brain, Behertz? ‘No’ is a very simple word.” 

“With all due respect –”

“And by that you mean ‘Kiss my rear’, Behertz?” Narada asked, her right eye growing slightly bigger than her left. “It’s too much of a short notice. Even then, with the visit coming up, we had to recall all soldiers that were on leave for that day. It’s Her Majesty’s wishes that they be present on this historic day. You can take your well-deserved leave some other time.” 





“I bet you left her office with all your feathers all ruffled like a hatchling,” Fortrakt continued. “You were probably thinking of telling her off.” 

Gilda sighed. “I do not want to talk about it,” she repeated.

“Well, I knew what was coming,” Fortrakt continued. “I told you, didn’t I? Three days before a Visit, and you –”  

Gilda rolled her eyes and began to block out his incessant talking. Walking stiffly and official-looking towards the gate, she spotted more Guards clamoring around the area, talking amongst themselves. Some were conversing with Fortus Knights, who had their shields and hammers secured at their sides. There were Talons sitting along the wall as well, their spears set lazily on a nearby. She even spotted a Magus Knight meditating, hunched on all fours and staff floating lazily in front of him. 

Ancestors, she thought. All the armed forces division was present; Talons, all three Knights, and the Guards. Captain Narada wasn’t kidding. She really was greeting the humans seriously. 

Taking position near the entrance of the gate, Gilda greeted a few of her other Guards before turning to Fortrakt. “Isn’t this overdoing it?” she asked. The younger griffin looked at her before looking at their surroundings. He shrugged. 

“Well, if they are the apex predators of their world as these Equestrians claim, then they should understand a show of force is a sign of respect,” Fortrakt replied. “Besides, we don’t want to give an impression that we’re pushovers, right?”

A few guards’ feathers fluffed, their eyes straining to Gilda’s and Fortrakt’s direction. One of them said, “Hey, you talking about the apes?” 

“Yup!” Fortrakt replied with a smile. 

“I heard they were the only sapient creatures of their world,” one of the male Guards interjected. “They probably killed a whole lot of neighboring creatures to be on top.” 

 “I heard they didn’t kill off anyone and didn’t have any neighboring races,” a female Guard replied. 

“Really? That’s stupid! We live with a bunch of ponies and zebras. Are you telling me that they live on their world alone?” 

“That’s what the ponies are saying.” 

“Then you’re an idiot for believing them!” 

The female guard’s feathers ruffled. She quickly jabbed her fist into the male guard’s neck, an insult that got a few ‘Ooohs’ from the crowd. “I think you’ve been cleaning the latrines for far too long,” she muttered with a hard tone.  

“And here we go,” Gilda sighed as the discussion suddenly became louder, with more griffins, Guards, Talons, and some Knights, joining in the conversation. 

“Yup, there we go.” Fortrakt nodded, his eyes rolling. He watched as the large group began to shout out their points. Some were already butting heads. “See, this is what we need. Show the humans that we’re willing to fight, even against ourselves,” he shouted the last part loudly. He was largely ignored. 

The bickering reached to a point that a centurion authorized the setting of a fighting ring. Soldiers began to form a loose circle. In the center, there were griffins pitted against opponents of their choosing, engaging in full-contact sparring. It was pretty much a good way to settle out grudges between soldiers, letting off steam so they could later focus on their jobs and the real enemies. Gilda herself participated in a few of these, winning a few before losing out when a much stronger or better skilled opponent bested her. Today, though, she was happy just to watch. 

Bets were made. Even the centurions joined in. For the moment, no one cared about their duties. Most of their attention was on the dominating Fortus Knight named Brutus, who was mowing through his opponents before he was outmaneuvered by a female Wind Knight (Gilda went a bit wild on that) who won two more rounds before falling against a well-armored Talon. For an hour, there were cheers, shouts, jeers and laughter. It didn’t last. Just before the Talon could face his third opponent, a shout rang out: “The convoy is coming!” 

The fighters stopped. The ring went silent. A centurion stood up, his eyes towards the rampart above the gate, and shouted “Confirm!” 

There was pause before a Wind Knight exposed his head from above, looking down at the gathering. He nodded. “Three more confirmations. The human convoy is visible!” 

The centurions were the first to stand. The lead centurion, a female griffin with multicolored feathers (Gilda suspected they were dyed), took note of the others and faced the soldiers. She bellowed, “Gryphons! Stand proud!” Every griffin snapped to attention. They were up on all-fours, necks straight, ready to receive their next orders. Satisfied, the lead centurion continued, “Form up with your squads! Centurions and squad leaders will advise you on your formation. Remember: give the apes a good impression! Are we clear?” 

“Yes, sir!” everyone shouted their reply, and then dispersed. 

“Someone get the Captain,” the lead centurion shouted, her voice clear even amongst the bustle. Gilda couldn’t hear the rest as she and Fortrakt fought through the crowd. Auxiliary Guards were positioned right at the back. They weren’t front-line soldiers or specialized like the Knights, but they were the last line of defense in case the others were overrun. The Knights began to converge in their own groups. Fortus Knights were gathering in the gate, securing their helmets and shields. Naturally, the Talons joined soon after, with the Gryphon Military Doctrine having both units paired together.  Some Wind Knights positioned behind the Talons, though most favored the high ground. She even spotted the Magus Knight take to the sky and settle right with the Wind Knights on top of the Western Gate. 

Gilda’s throat gave out a harsh trill when she felt someone brush her wings. She looked around, but with the crowd moving, it was most likely an accidental brush-up. Calming herself down, she began to push through the thick crowd. She lost Fortrakt for a moment before she saw him ahead of her, his claw waving. With a last push, she trudged through the claustrophobic crowd and joined her fellow Guards. 

“Took your time, Behertz,” Giraldi, a male griffin with two shoulder and chest plate armor, greeted her. He was the team leader for the Guards, an easy-going griffin a few seasons older than her. 

“Why, Giraldi? Am I missing an invasion yet?” Gilda replied with a slight grin. Both bared their throats, Gilda exposing hers a degree more, while they both saluted with a solid bang of their shoulder plates.

“If these apes are hostile and pass our defenses, I’m going to see you eat those words.” 

“Won’t happen Giraldi,” Gilda chuckled. “By that time happens, I’ll act as any Guard would;  I’ll push you right ahead to face them, and retreat like any proper griffin under your command would.” 

Giraldi guffawed. Shaking his head, he shouted a command. The Guards began to form up around Giraldi, and he broke the Guard into different squads. Some joined the Wind Knights above, while others joined the Talons and Fortus Knights. Gilda and Fortrakt were stuck behind the gate, probably a good seven rows from the front line. 

From her position, her eagle-eyes swept through the gate. She noticed small dotted figures moving through the skies. She could reasonably guess it was an air coach, maybe a six-seat, pulled and carried by five sky-griffins. That wasn’t the only thing she noticed. A rising column of dust was also present, probably caused by ground coaches pulled either by griffins or earth ponies, and judging by the amount of smoke, they were coming in big numbers. 

Five minutes later, Captain Narada arrived,  marching down rows of readied soldiers. She stood calmly in the front line, watching the approaching shadows. The Talons and Fortus Knights stood proudly, unwavering, as five more minutes passed and the air coach came finally came to view. It was a boxy wooden structure with lines extending outwards to connect to the harness of the sky-griffins carrying it. As it began to descend, Gilda was surprised that the carriers in front were three Wind Knights (whoever was inside was probably influential). The lead shouted an ‘all-clear’ command, most likely for their fellow Wind Knights spread out at the rampart—Gilda could imagine the soldiers raising their crossbows and getting ready to fire—before they landed smoothly about ten claw-paces from the Captain. 

They landed a bit awkwardly, with the Wind Knights carrying the coach showing signs of fatigue. Still, when they saw the Captain, they immediately saluted. The lead Wind Knight greeted the Captain, though the exact words escaped Gilda. She could guess they were formalities, trying to get everything clear and out of the way. Narada nodded, and the lead Wind Knight approached the side of the air coach and rapped his claw on the door. He waited for at least a second before he opened it. The first one to step out was an older griffin, clothed in Equestrian-made clothing that softened his hardened features, though he carried himself with the same proud stance befitting of a Gryphon. Even from far away, Gilda recognized him as the Gryphon Ambassador. Following him was… 

How could she describe them? The human that came out afterwards looked too different to even be considered an ape. It was a tall creature that wore clothing, its design far simpler than what she’d see an Equestrian pony wear. Simple white covers below the neck, short-sleeved and exposing two pale lanky limbs (arms, like a dragon or Diamond Dog, she assumed) covered with very fine hair. It also ended with something that resembled a Minotaur hands, complete with spindly digits. Its legs were hidden under blue coverings and there was some sort of covering on its…—paws, hooves?—in the end.  Its face had some hair on its chin, two small eyes, a short snout, short tuft of brown hair on top of its head, and two petite ears and lips. 

She watched its features move as it talked to the Ambassador, noting that its face expressed emotions as richly as any Equestrian pony did. Five more humans came out of the coach and they all had different skin tones and hair color. There were even two humans (one with long yellow hair and one with short brown hair) that had bulky expansions on their chest. Gilda wondered how they fought with those in the way. 

The Ambassador guided the humans towards the Captain. They talked, and one of the humans offered its arms, hands open towards Narada. The Captain took a moment, before the Ambassador gave a nod, and she shook the human’s hand. 

The ground vibrated and the unmistakable clip-clop sound of horseshoes announced the arrival of the rest of the convoy. Earth ponies dragged large ground coaches, long wooden boxy wheeled structures, not unlike the pony wagons, with seating capacities of twenty griffins. When they came to a stop, the doors popped open, and the humans pushed themselves out and quickly went to a loose line formation. Gilda did a quick count. So far, one coach had almost thirty humans (quite a tight fit, she thought), and with seven or eight coaches visible, taking to account of humans bringing their own supplies, she guessed they numbered at least –

“What’s your count?” Fortrakt whispered beside her, breaking her train of thought. 

Gilda paused, trying to remember the number that was about to pop in her head. “I’m thinking two hundred strong. You?” 

“Headcount went at around one hundred eighty. Odd, considering I see eight coaches. Shouldn’t that be around two hundred forty? I could be wrong.” 

Gilda didn’t doubt Fortrakt’s numbers, as he was a better counter than she was. Still, she shook her head over his inexperience. “Your headcount is probably right. The extra coaches are most likely the human supplies.” 

“Ah, got it. Still, Ancestors, these creatures are tall. Somewhat colorful, I guess.  Pale pink to ebony skin,  and look at the hair on top of their heads,” Fortrakt muttered. “I noticed most of them are wearing identical clothing. Brown with different colored patterns… uniforms, maybe?” 

Gilda gave a slight nod. “Good guess. They look fit enough to be soldiers.” 

Fortrakt hummed thoughtfully. “They came in by force. I’m counting at least thirty non-uniformed humans. That’s about five soldiers assigned per human. Wow. Ponies send only what, fifteen guards for five diplomats?”

Gilda had to admit, the humans were putting up quite a good impression. Still, something else caught her attention. “Those black tubes that are strapped closely on their sides. Weapons?” 

Fortrakt nodded. “Makes sense,” he replied. “I have no idea how they are to be used though. No blade, no bolt, no arrow. They look like… blunt weapons.” 

“So these human evolved their fighting through close combat?” Gilda wondered out loud. 

Fortrakt snickered. “Ancestors, they’ll be open to our crossbows.” 

Gilda was about to warn Fortrakt that underestimating the enemy would get any soldier killed when Giraldi harshly whispered, “Quiet on the line!” 

Fortrakt shut his beak, giving Gilda time to contemplate once more on the human weapons before she noticed sixteen of the non-uniformed humans that rode the ground coaches were grouping together. She also noticed one particular human, who didn’t immediately join the others. He was instead talking to the uniformed humans, getting some reaction. Gilda noted that he wore a grey top and blue leg covers. It also had brown-colored skin and cropped ebony black hair. Then, it turned its eyes to Arnau and its lips broke out in a… smile? 

Yup, it was a smile, showing two rows of off-white teeth. For being predators, Gilda thought their canines were a bit too small. And the way the ponies talked about them, she’d have thought they’d be more impressive. Then again, sharp teeth, no matter how small, tended to make ponies nervous. 

Pride welled in her. The human seemed quite impressed and happy seeing Arnau. She looked towards the other non-uniformed humans, seeing if their expressions matched his; they did. Some were even pointing its white walls, heads nodding. 

It took a moment, but the non-uniformed humans (from both air and ground coaches) finally grouped together. Gilda’s eyes were once more on the brown human who was running towards its compatriot, one with pale skin and short curly red hair. The two approached and each of their hands slapped together, producing quite a strange sound of sharp, escaping air before they talked in an animated fashion before joining the rest of the group. Even as the Ambassador motioned them to follow, leading them to the city gates, they wouldn’t stop talking.  

Now that the humans were approaching, Gilda made sure her posture was straight. She kept her face as still as possible as group passed her. First thought that formed in her mind was that they didn’t smell as bad as she thought. They had that tell-tale musk of having traveled long, but it was in no way offensive to her. A darker part of her mind even wondered how they actually tasted. 

“Oh man. It’s definitely like Minas Tirith!” the brown-skinned human declared to its red-haired companion as they stopped in front of Gilda. Its voice was… masculine. Male?  

“Marco, can you shut it? No one wants to hear your lame-o opinion,” another human, the short-haired one with those protrusions on its chest area, declared in a feminine voice. Female? If so, it made sense the protrusions would be her mammary glands. It was odd seeing them placed higher than normal. Gilda also noticed that the human’s tone of voice indicated some sort of annoyance, maybe even anger. She was… frowning. “Stop being a dumb ass already. Ooh, you’re in the Rings Lords! Next thing you know, you’ll be asking those griffins for a sword so you can play some stupid character.”  

The male — Marco, was it? — just smirked. “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I wield Anduril, Flame of the West. Do you want to see it, my dear Gimli?” and he ended it with a thrust of his… hips? Gilda’s right eye grew a bit bigger. Was he…? 

 “Ugh, you’re a pervert, Marco!” the annoyed human (Gimli?) declared. “An absolute perv!” 

Fotrakt’s throat was making an odd sound. Gilda was sure he was laughing, and nudged him with her foreleg. “I like this human!” the younger griffin whispered. 

“You would,” Gilda muttered with a roll of her eyes. She watched as the other female suddenly guffawed, earning an irritated glare from the angered Gimli before she stormed away from this ‘Marco’ (or was it Aragorn, son of Arathorn? She decided to stick with the shorter version. The way these humans were named confused her).  Her facial features looked quite… mashed, for the lack of better term. 

The human with the red hair approached Marco. With a shake of his head, he said, “Marco, man, one of these days Dana’s going to bust your balls.”

“If she can find them,” the female human with long yellow hair declared. That earned a reaction from the two males. 

‘Winced’, Gilda thought, if the way the humans displayed emotions was the same as the ponies. 

“Tara!” the red-haired human declared. Gilda was reasonably sure Tara was the yellow-haired female’s name. 

“Oh, come off it Chris, I didn’t mean it that way!” Tara exclaimed. “I was just saying she couldn’t find her own ass with a map and a flashlight, much less someone’s scrotes. Besides, ‘Ring Lords’? Christ Almighty. The books have been out there for years, and the movies are on Blu-ray! There is no way she should have gotten the name wrong! Why the hell is she on this trip anyway? She’ll probably act worse than in Equestria.” Her voice turned high pitched, trying to mimic the Gimli human. “‘Oh, why is there no internet? Where’s the room service? Oh, disgusting, they are naked! I can see their schlongs!’”

“Come on, she ain’t that bad,” Chris replied. 

“Chris, dude, I love ya, but I have to agree with Tara,” Marco replied. 

“You only agree with me because I have a nice ass,” Tara declared with a smile. Gilda blinked. That was  the second time Tara mentioned donkeys. Apparently Gimli couldn’t find hers, and Tara had a nice one. Was having a donkey part of their culture? Slavery? It made no sense if the ponies were claiming humans were the sole sapient species of their world.  

“Well, it is a fine ass, no doubt,” Marco agreed, his body positioning slightly to... was he leering at the female human’s rear? Gilda’s eyes narrowed. He was. Her thoughts of donkeys evaporated when she saw him look exactly like a perverted griffin, one that was blatant in his display. She felt her hackles rise. Such things were reserved for mates, and in private places at that. One does not look at a griffin’s rump, no matter how well-covered it is, especially not in public. 

“Wow... this guy is a pervert,” Fortrakt whispered, chuckling. 

“He does that to me, I’ll rip him open,” Gilda muttered. 

Marco continued, unaware of Gilda’s antagonistic thoughts, “Dana’s here thanks to her Senator daddy,” Marco said, looking a bit… disgusted? And that was interesting. Humans have senators too? So that Gimli (or Dana... she wasn’t sure. Human names were definitely weird) was the daughter of someone important? 

Human hierarchy dynamics were still unclear to her. She didn’t want to assume that this Marco was of a lower standing, but if he was, his blatant disrespect towards Gimli, especially in public and under foreign scrutiny, annoyed her more than the idea of him being perverted. Granted, she had met a lot of senators’ offsprings, and a whole lot of them were nothing more than immature cubs, but if this Gimli really bothered Marco, why wouldn’t he challenge her to a Duel and get it over with? 

He probably only talks big. He may just be a coward, Gilda thought harshly, her eyes narrowing towards the brown-skinned human. 

“I just hope she doesn’t annoy the Gryphons too much,” Marco said and then looked directly at Gilda for a moment. He hid it well, but Gilda caught him shivering for just a second. She felt triumphant, and hardened her gaze. “They look ready to eviscerate us at a moment’s notice.” 

Yup, he’s just a coward. 

As they went on their way, they were followed by a few uniformed humans, probably their armed escorts. Gilda was glad for the distraction. She’d rather take a closer look at their weapons than think about that Marco. Then Fortrakt nudged her. She stared at him, annoyed for a moment. “What?” she asked. 

“What in the crows is a blue ray?” Fortrakt replied. “Or a flashlight?” 

Gilda shrugged. “Probably a human thing.” 

“Ah.” Fortrakt paused. He opened his beak, and closed it again. 

“What?” Gilda asked. 

“Humans are weird. Fun, but weird.” 





“I’m hungry,” Fortrakt muttered. “Why are we in this shift and not the later one? I bet Schulz is eating up all the meat right now. He’s probably laughing his flanks off, maybe even trying to eat everything and leave nothing for us.” 

“I’m pretty sure that the Kingdom ordered quite a good amount,” Gilda replied, not letting her eyes off the tables set in front of them, observing all the present humans. “And his mouth is bigger than his stomach. We’ll have our share when our shift is over. Now, stop salivating like a starved cub and stand straight.” 

Fortrakt ‘hrmphed’. “I’m not salivating.” 

“Right. And besides, I thought you weren’t a fan of cooked meat?” Gilda continued. 

“Well, yeah, I mean, I don’t really prefer cooked meat, but I’m so hungry, I’d eat anything now.” 

It was a few hours since the humans had arrived. Gilda, Fortrakt, and other Guards in Giarldi’s unit were assigned to stand guard around the prepared receiving area. The air now smelled of wood smoke and roast. Apparently, the humans themselves preferred to cook the meat before eating. Once more, the Kingdom accommodated leaving Gilda starting to think that the whole deal was a bit one-sided.

Fortrakt hadn’t eaten lunch, saying he wanted to save his stomach for a savory meat dinner, and he was now feeling it. Ever since he was assigned to stand guard, he had spent most of his time with his eyes closed, beak slightly open as he took deep breaths, as if trying to absorb the smell the air. 

Gilda, on the other hand, was absorbing the scene in front of her. From the way the seating arrangements were done, she knew which humans were higher in their hierarchy by how close they were to Queen Molyneux. Her Highness herself looked steady and confident in her elevated chair at the end of the central table. She was draped with Royal Blue cloth under gilded hide (polished to a shine), her feathers dyed  and styled with dark blue and orange,  and had golden feathers adorning the sides of her head. On her left sat the Ambassador, and along his side the humans, nearest being the one that shook the Captain’s hand. On the Queen’s right were the High Lords and Ladies, all dressed in white cloth secured with golden buttons on their shoulders. 

Gilda took one last look towards Marco, who was sitting beside the red-haired Chris. Both were done eating and were talking animatedly with each other. A little while, the female, Tara, joined in a few moments later. Gilda narrowed her eyes. At least the brown ape was behaving. 

The surrounding tables were occupied with griffin and human soldiers, the latter rotating every hour or so. Apparently, according to a passing Wind Knight, the human soldiers rode out with the ground coaches and traveled two-fifths of a league away from the city. Apparently, they built their own camp, which Gilda hoped to visit and see it with her own eyes. When asked about the diplomats and the non-uniformed humans, a Fortus Knight advised that the humans  had reserved a place for them and their armed escorts to stay somewhere in the Fourth Level.

Gilda was now definitely sure those black tubes the human soldiers brought were weapons. They carried them even during dinner. So far, they only seemed comfortable enough talking amongst themselves, though they did give some of the griffin soldiers a look (especially the Wind Knights and their crossbows). They were... rowdy, would be the best term she could describe them. Not violent, though. They haven’t once moved overly aggressive or gave any hostile signals but they were loud and spoke in obnoxious tones. She couldn’t read their ages, and a whole lot of them looked looked almost alike (they had same short hair styles and bare faces) but she was willing to bet that they were quite young. Their brashness was definitely something she associated with the younger griffins. 

“Hey!” Fortrakt declared. 

Gilda blinked. She  looked at her partner, who was staring at her, his head signalling her to move. She was about to ask why when she saw Schulz and the Guard who were to relieve them. 

“Come on, I’m hungry!” Fortrakt continued. 

“Alright, alright,” Gilda muttered. “Let’s go.” 

A short trip later, they were in the temporarily built pantry, a designated eating area for the Guards, which was filled with tables of uncooked meat. At the sight of it, Fortrakt was in awe. 

“Ancestors bless us,” he declared. 

Without preamble, he immediately rushed towards a free seat, leaving Gilda behind. She just snorted and looked around for a moment, seeing a few Talons and Knights around, most likely not appreciative of cooked meats. It took her a moment, but she found a seat next to a male Wind Knight. 





“Would you take a rest already?” Gilda declared to Fortrakt as both of them walked out of the pantry. She tried to sound scolding, but she couldn’t keep the smile out of her face as she watched Fortrakt continue singing.  

Dinner had been festive. In Gilda’s opinion, more so than the one with the humans. A few minutes after she had sat down, someone broke out a lute and began to pluck strings in tune with a lot of common songs the Gauntlet taught: battle songs to keep morale and marching tunes that staved off boredom. Fortrakt himself had sung together with a young female Talon, who seemed to laugh at all his jokes. Things had gone well enough that Fortrakt finally asked the female Talon if she would be available for a Round, a day where they could ‘spar’. She had said yes. 

“March off to the land of ice and snow, where only the bravest griffins go...” Fortrakt continued to sing a marching song. He paused as he looked at Gilda. “Come on, join in already!” 

Gilda rolled her eyes. “No, Fortrakt, I won’t make a fool of myself.” 

“Maybe you need a pad-warmer,” Fortrakt replied. “How about that Wind Knight you sat beside?” 

“Cub, the sun will melt all the snow in the North before you start playing matchmaker for me,” Gilda chuckled. “Besides, that Wind Knight had a mate. He was wearing a colored primary that wasn’t his.” 

“I bet you can take her out, and claim him as your own.” 

Gilda looked at Fortrakt, unamused. “Right. Because we don’t know if she’s the höher. Or maybe they are aequalis and challenging her may just insult him. Or maybe we don’t live in such times anymore?” 

“You have to live a little.” Fortrakt shook his head. “I’ve known you a few months already, and I still haven’t seen you spend time with anyone else. I haven’t seen you try and look for a tiercel. Or maybe you are you into eagless instead?” Gilda narrowed her eyes to him, and he raised his claws in defense. “Hey, its cool if you are.” 

 “Maybe you ought to worry about your own romantic pursuits before you worry about mine? Or did you forget that I had a good look at that eagless and I could give her all your most embarrassing stories?” 

Fortrakt looked at her with narrowed eyes and huffed. “You play dirty.” 

“Only when you get condescending, cub.” Gilda smirked. 

Before Fortrakt could reply, they heard someone speaking Equestrian. Gilda and Fortrakt immediately crouched, claws out as they spotted three figures walking towards them. The low lighting made it difficult to discern their features from afar, even with their eagle-eyes, but as they approached, Gilda recognized one of them. 

“Great,” Gilda muttered darkly. Marco, Chris and Tara were making their way to them, with the brown-skinned human looking a bit... ruffled. 

“Marco, come on, just ignore her,” Chris declared in a consoling voice. 

“I’m trying,” Marco muttered with an even tone. “I left her alone at her table, hanging out with you guys. And what does that Whiskey Tango brat do? She rubs it in my face where they placed her.” 

“Whiskey Tango?” Tara asked, confused. 

“I know this,” Chris replied, frowning. “It means ‘white trash’. He learned it from his Marine friends.” 

“Swear to God, Marco, you hang out far too much with them. Besides, Dana’s a damn brat,” Tara declared. “The fact that she can easily goad you is something that gives her satisfaction.” 

“I don’t mind her going at me, but she was insulting you guys too,” Marco replied. 

“Well... — Marco! Hey, look!” The red-haired human started pointing one of his digits towards Gilda and Fortrakt. Tara looked took a moment before she smiled. 

“Marco! Marco! Here’s our chance!” she declared. 

“Chance for what?” Fortrakt whispered, confused. 

As the brown-skinned human approached, Gilda replied, “We’re about to find out.” 

“Hi there!” Marco greeted. The griffins stopped and took a look at the new arrival. The human just gave a smile. “I was wondering... me and my friends were hoping to take a few pictures with you guys? I hope that’s okay?” 

“We’re not all males,” Gilda replied almost immediately in Equestrian. She internally winced. Her Equestrian sounded rough. She was understood, though. Her statement earned a laugh from Tara, though much to the griffin’s annoyance, Marco didn’t seem to be discouraged. His smile got even larger as he looked at Tara. 

“Oh you like that, eh?” he asked his female companion. 

“Christ, yes,” Tara replied between her guffaws. 

“To be fair, she’s right, Marco,” Chris said with a smile. “They aren’t all ‘guys’.” 

Marco responded by sticking his tongue out at both of them before he coughed. Turning back to the griffins, he nodded. “Okay. As I was saying, me and my friends were wondering if it was okay if we took pictures of ourselves with such majestic and fine specimens of griffins.” 

Before Gilda could tell him where to shove it, Fortrakt was beaming. “Of course!” he replied in an accented Equestrian. 

“Fortrakt!” 

“Oh, come on Gilda,” Fortrakt replied back in Aeric. He nudged his head towards Marco encouragingly. “He called us majestic and fine specimens. Surely you can stand taking a picture with him?” 

Marco took a step forward, knelt down. Gilda stared at him, apprehensive. What was he doing now? 

“We come in peace” he declared. “I’m really sorry if calling you a guy offended you.” He made a fist. “Friends?” He bumped it gently on Gilda’s neck. 

There was a sound of air being sucked in as Fortrakt’s smile almost disappeared. Gilda’s eyes shrank dangerously. Marco’s eyes widened and he wisely backed away as much as he could. He looked at Chris and Tara. 

“Holy crap, she looks pissed,” Tara declared. 

“What the hell, I thought you said bumping them with your fist was a friendly greeting?” Marco asked. 

“I swear, that’s what the Ambassador said,”  Chris replied, taking a step back too. 

Fortrakt blinked. He looked at Marco and to Chris. “Hold on a minute. What do you mean by... bumping with the fist?” he asked in Equestrian. 

Chris looked at him. “Um, I kinda asked the Ambassador what’s the best way to greet griffins, and he mentioned that the younger ones seemed to bump each other with their fists as a greeting.” 

“You mean... like this?” and Fortrakt slowly approached the still apprehensive Marco, who comically still had his enclosed fist held out, and the griffin bumped his own fist to the human’s. 

Chris and Marco gaped, their expression utterly dumbfounded. They looked at each other for a moment, with the former smiling sheepishly. 

“The Ambassador is really old,” Fortrakt explained, which earned a hard nudge from Gilda. The griffin looked at her. “What? He is! He probably didn’t know that it was called a fist-bump.” 

“Okay, then... what the hell did I do then?” Marco asked. 

Fortrakt chuckled. “You basically insulted her. It’s a... griffin thing.” 

“Oh.” Marco looked towards Gilda, who slowly relaxed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I swear.” 

Gilda sighed and nodded. “Fine,” she muttered in Equestrian. “Let’s get this thing over with.” 

“Nice!” Fortrakt exclaimed as he walked beside Marco. The human, sandwiched between the two griffins, smiled towards Chris. 

“Alright, game on!” Marco declared. 

Chris took out a black box. Gilda hesitated for a moment. Whatever the red-haired human was holding, it was not the camera she had come to recognize. And with all the black metallic weapons the humans held, a suspicious thought entered her mind. 

“What’s that?” she asked. 

Chris, who was removing a cap that was covering a tube that extended outwards, paused. He blinked. “Its a camera.” 

Fortrakt’s eyes widened. “I thought...” he blinked. His beak opened and closed slightly. “I... wow. I thought they’d be bigger. Gilda talked about how they even had a stand and big light bulbs and all.” 

Tara chuckled. “Oh my God, yeah. Equestrian cameras. I swear, I thought I stepped back in time. We stopped using those kinds of cameras long ago,” she replied. 

Marco chimed in, “Yup. We stopped even using film now.” 

“Amazing!” Fortrakt muttered in awe. Gilda herself was impressed, but didn’t want to show it. Maybe they were technologically superior? But if so, why were their soldier’s weapons mostly melee? Before she could even think about it too deeply, Chris was already pointing the lens at them. 

“Smile!” the red-haired human declared. 

Gilda was about to smile when she felt contact at the base of her shoulders, where her flight muscles were present. It was a very intimate spot, something she knew the pegasi had as well, and on contact, she felt jolted, as if a lightning bolt lit up her spine and wings. She had never been touched there, in all her life. Her eyes narrowed, fire bursting from her cheeks and stomach  as she stared at Marco, who was grinning like a moron, his hand and arm touching her. 

There was a flash of bright light and,  for a moment, she was blinded. Her thoughts took a darker turn. Marco, the human who she had known to be perverted and a coward... was he taking advantage of her? All logical thought processes were thrown out of in the air as she crowed out an attack and immediately shifted her whole body to her side. Without warning or preamble, she jumped at him in as another flash of light burst out again. She ignored it as she pinned the offending human down, her beak open as she trilled out a battle-cry as she stared into his wide eyes. She could feel him shiver as she held him down, his mouth opening in shock. She could almost smell his fear.

Before she could do anything, something hard slammed her from the side. She was forcefully thrown off the human and was pinned down. She immediately began to defend herself, her claws out and her wings trying to find an angle she could escape from. 

“Gilda! Stop it!” Fortrakt’s voice came in loudly and clearly. It took her a moment, but she stopped. Her heart slowed back down and the flames began to recede from her cheeks and stomach. Only when she was still for a minute did Fortrakt let her go. 

Once unbounded, Gilda immediately flipped upward and scanned the area. The humans were gone, though she could see shadowed figures scrambling away in the distance. She could still smell him. Part of her wanted to give chase, a hunt for the thrill, but she shoved those emotions away. Instead, she began to scratch the stone ground with her claws, trying to do away with the stiff feelings in her wings. 

“Crows take it.” Fortrakt sighed. “Gilda, it was an accident. He touched me there too. You didn’t need to go the crows about it.” 

“I know,” Gilda replied with a edged tone. Ancestors, she wasn’t calming down. She still wanted to chase Marco. Maybe it was the too-tight dress uniform that made her aggressive, or maybe it was the adrenaline but she wanted to confront him one more time, have a more decisive conclusion without Fortrakt getting in the way. “I know.” 

“Your wings tell me differently,” Fortrakt muttered. Gilda just stared at him. He sighed. "Ancestors, I can’t believe he got you so easily. You weren’t like this when I got wing-grabby.” 

“That’s because I drove you through a table,” Gilda replied stiffly. Her body shook, trying to release the tension that was built up inside her. “And also because I didn’t have this stupid dress uniform on.” She shook again, trying to calm down her stiff wings. Nothing. She sighed. “Crows take it.” 

“Come on, Gilda,” Fortrakt said. “Let’s just report to Giraldi, go home, relax, and sleep, alright?” Gilda nodded, though her eyes traveled once more towards the direction where she thought the humans ran. Fortrakt snapped his claws together, producing a sharp sound that got her attention. “That human won’t bother you. You scared the droppings out of him and I’m pretty sure he’s going to do his best to avoid you. Just... let it go, alright?” 

Gilda sighed and nodded. She scoffed, “You snare an eagless for a Round and you go acting all mature.” 

“Well, someone has to be the adult here,” Fortrakt replied with a smirk. 

“To think, the only way you grew a sac is to get a yes from a Talon,” Gilda declared as she walked towards their destination. Fortrakt uttered a sound, a mix of disbelief and sputtering. She finished it off with a flat, “You’re all grown up now, cub. Really grown up.” 

“Oh shut up, Miss ‘Assault-The-Alien-Guest’,” he replied as he followed her steps. “Just for that, I’ll pray to the Ancestors that you’re going to be stuck with that brown-skinned human, one way or another.” 

Gilda smirked. “Hah. Like that will happen.” 




> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Gilda reported the slight confrontation between her and that brown-skinned human to Giraldi before she went off-duty last night, she had expected a warning of sort, written or verbal, the next day. What she did not expect was a visit to the Captain’s office, with Fortrakt in tow. Nor did she expect Giraldi and the Ambassador to be present. And even more surprising was that they were about to be given promotions. Judging by Fortrakt’s bewildered expression, he didn’t expect it either.
 
“Ancestor’s Past,” the male griffin invoked, as his eyes roamed on top of the wooden table of Captain Narada. On top were pieces of armor, separated into two groups. On Fortrakt’s side was a new shoulder plate and another pauldron. His eyes were gleaming. Gilda couldn’t blame him. That armor pieces indicated he was jumping two ranks. On the eagless’ side, though, was a pair of new metallic braces, a leather vest… and a simple metal chain. That last bit had her quiet, had her suspicious. A Command Chain was more than a jump in rank; it was a sign that the Kingdom wanted her as an officer, a potential leader.
 
“Stand proud,” Captain Narada, behind her table, declared. Both Gilda and Fortrakt immediately stood in attention as two pairs of griffins, one on each of the Captain’s sides, grabbed the armor pieces with their beaks and presented them to the two Guards. Before Fortrakt could grab his, Gilda spoke.
 
“Is this a joke, Captain?”
 
Fortrakt looked at her partner with a scowl, but Gilda’s eyes were squarely on her superior officer.
 
 Giraldi, who was standing beside Narada, smirked slightly. “Come on, Behertz. Don’t want your uppity team leader calling you ‘sir’?” he asked. He was quickly silenced when Narada gave him a glare.
 
“Is there a problem, Behertz?” the Captain asked, looking back at Gilda.
 
“Captain, I am simply confused why a slight altercation last night would lead to a rather”—Gilda looked at the armor pieces offered to her, then back to her superior—“lucrative promotion. It is completely unheard of, sir.”
 
The Ambassador chuckled, a deep, almost groaning sound that emanated from his lungs and throat. “Might as well tell her, Captain,” he said in a deep baritone.
 
Captain Narada looked at the elder griffin with a frown, but nodded afterwards. “Very well.” She faced Gilda and Fortrakt. “As of this morning, Ambassador Strenus received a formal apology from the human ambassadors for last night’s altercation.”
 
Fortrakt frowned. “But that was no one’s fault, sir.”
 
“Humans are a bit of pushovers,” the Ambassador clarified for the Captain. “A bit like ponies, really. They seem rather invested in making this ‘first contact’ work. Having spent some time with the humans in Equestria, I believe their logic on the move was to nip any potential problems that could pop up after the incident. So, they issued an apology.”
 
Gilda frowned. “That doesn’t explain the promotions, sir.”
 
“We were getting to that, Behertz,” Narada replied. “The apology comes with a good opportunity.”
 
“I talked with my human counterparts,” Ambassador Strenus continued for Narada, and the Captain, in turn, let him speak. “I suggested that to make sure the incident does not repeat itself, we would have the party involved… bond, so to speak.”
 
Gilda’s eyes widened. “Bond?” she asked, feeling the slight dread of what was coming.
 
“We’ve made arrangements with the human ambassadors, and they have agreed. You two are now assigned to guard the humans involved in the incident,” the Ambassador replied.
 
“We are to be cub-sitters then?” Gilda asked, her voice taking a more annoyed tone.
 
The Ambassador chuckled. “That was the proposal we presented to the humans. What better way to promote and foster friendly relationships than have the parties involved during last night’s altercation to come together and settle any misunderstandings?” Gilda scowled and her beak opened to protest when the Ambassador beat her to it, his eyes gleaming. “Of course, that was the story we gave them. Your jobs, Auxiliary Guard Behertz and Auxiliary Guard Gletscher, on the other hand, are to observe them.”
 
Fortrakt blinked. “What do you mean by that, Ambassador?”
 
“We need you two to spy on the humans,” Captain Narada clarified.
 
Gilda and Fortrakt looked at each other for just a second before they resumed looking back ahead.
 
“To spy?” Gilda asked.
 
“Yes,” the Ambassador replied.
 
“No offense, Ambassador,” Gilda began slowly, her tone forcefully even, “but am I to understand that in three years since these humans appeared in Equestria—three years you were there—me and my partner are being assigned on a job that should have been done already?”
 
“Behertz!” Captain Narada began, but the Ambassador’s left wing expanded slightly, signaling Narada to pause. She did.
 
“Young Behertz has a valid question, Captain. And to answer, while this may be hard to believe, those three years were not enough,” the Ambassador stated. He lowered his wing as he looked towards Gilda and Fortrakt. “The first year after contact, Equestria had readily invited the humans in their country, but they delayed. I later found out that they were taking precautions. I was told they were making sure that no diseases would easily spread from their homeworld to ours and vice versa, but, while I never voiced it, I suspected there was more to it. It was only during the year after that they finally start coming in through the portal the Equestrians made.
 
“They came under one banner called United Nations.” The Ambassador walked across their sights. “With the name and the numerous diplomats, one can hazard to guess that these humans each have their own countries, their own form of government, and a wide range of different cultures and passions. That tells me we are dealing with a complex species with outliers that go beyond any of the other species we have fought and befriended. Yet it still told us nothing.
 
“Granted, we have discovered some core similarities they all share, physical weaknesses and capabilities. However, if our history tells us anything, it’s that our enemies and allies constantly evolve to cover whatever weaknesses they have developed. And from what I’ve learned of these humans… they had constant practice on that end. They are not the biggest or strongest beings on their planet. Nor do they have the any sort of natural weapons or any magic. Yet they number in the billions.” He stared at them. “They are not to be trifled with.”
 
Gilda and Fortrakt looked at each other again. Ambassador Strenus was an old-fashioned griffin, whose rise to his position was not through politics, but by his stalwart reputation built by his many years of service being a veteran soldier and leader—and he was giving these humans very high praises. Gilda was not much for reading undertones, but Strenus’ words were clear—the humans were potentially worthy enemies that, if met in the battlefield, should be fought with as much strength as the Gryphons could muster.
 
“What I am asking is for you two to help the Kingdom understand these humans more,” the Ambassador said. “I have high hopes that an understanding will be forged, and your assignment can further that goal. At the same time, you can supply the Kingdom with knowledge to help us just in case everything goes sour. Will you accept?”
 
Gilda and Fortrakt took a moment, drinking in the old grffin’s words and request. With a solid bang, the two Guards saluted, with their claws to their shoulders.
 
Strenus nodded with a smile. “The Kingdom appreciates your service,” he declared. “Reap the rewards of your dedication, soldiers of Gryphon.”
 
Fortrakt moved first, removing his pauldron and replacing it with the metallic shoulder plate. He gave the securing belts a hard tug as his claws moved towards the second pauldron. Gilda removed her leather braces, grabbing the metallic replacements. Once she secured them around her forelegs, her claws shot towards the vest. She snapped her beak when the soldier presenting the vest came forward to help her, making him wisely back away as she finally wore the leather clothing without assistance. However, she would not touch the chain.
 
“Is there something wrong, young Behertz?” Strenus asked. Gilda looked at the Ambassador, his expression more curious than anything.
 
“I do not believe I will need a Command Chain for this assignment, Ambassador.”
 
Giraldi snorted, though only for a second before Narada gave him a look. Strenus just smiled. “Do you honestly feel that way, or are you afraid of shouldering the new responsibilities that come along with this Chain?” When Gilda didn’t answer, he continued, “Your new assignment will have you responsible for the safety of our guests. The Command Chain will assist you in that.”
 
“How so, Ambassador?”
 
Captain Narada was the one that answered. “You may not know it, but humans arriving in force have gotten a lot of soldiers talking. We’ve been having some increasing number of reports from the centurions and team leaders that the younger soldiers have been wanting to test the new species’ mettle.”
 
“Not only the soldiers, Captain,” Giraldi added. “Even among the populace, there’s been talk of wanting to wrestle with the intelligent apes.”
 
Captain Narada’s face scrunched with exasperation, but Strenus just roared with laughter. “Griffins will be griffins,” he said rather jovially. He chuckled a few more times before he shook his head. “Still, let’s not try and ruin this. Captain, if you would, could you announce that fighting the humans, or challenging them, would be grounds to confinement?”
 
Narada nodded. “Yes sir.”
 
Gilda closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. When she was sure the Ambassador or the Captain would not speak, she asked, “So this Command Chain is just for show, to give me power to stop trouble before it rears its ugly beak?” 
 
“Also as a test,” Narada replied. “Someone had commended you, suggesting that you have potential as a leader.”
 
Gilda blinked. That was… surprising. Her mind solely began recalling names, potential griffins who had enough clout to have their commendation listened to. Captain Scipio sprang up from her mind, though if it was him, he’d have recommended her to the Wind Knights as he knew that was her aim. Other names were less likely. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Who, sir?”
 
“Your sire.”
 
Gilda’s eyes narrowed. “That must be a mistake.”
 
“I assure you, young Behertz,” the Ambassador said, “Amalrich had sent the commendation. Your sire is strict, but not unfair. He recognizes your hard work, and reciprocated.”
 
Gilda looked towards the Ambassador, the Captain, Gireldi and Fortrakt. It seemed every griffin’s eyes were on her as she slowly, hesitantly took the chain and wore it around her neck. The griffins that presented the armor pieces fell back in line to Narada’s sides. The Captain stood on all fours and walked towards the Guards, nodding at both of them before giving them a salute. Gilda and Fortrakt did the same.
 
“Stand fast. Both of you honor the Kingdom,” Narada declared.
 
“Thank you, sir,” both Gilda and Fortrakt replied in sync.





Giraldi, Gilda, and Fortrakt exited the office, leaving behind the Ambassador, Captain Narada and her guards.  There wasn’t much ceremony afterwards, just Captain Narada wishing them luck before they were dismissed and the trio of griffins found themselves walking the smoothed stone streets towards the edge of the battlement wall. 

Gilda, for some reason, couldn’t feel anything but the cold steel of her chain around her neck. It felt unnaturally heavy, as if it was trying to drag her to the ground. Every ten steps or so, she’d look down at her neck just to see the chains were still there, half-hoping that maybe this was all just a dream.
 
“No matter how many times you look, the Chains are there, sir,” Giraldi declared without looking at Gilda or even pausing on his steps.
 
“Don’t call me that,” Gilda replied, doing the same.
 
“Can’t do, sir. You’re an officer now, and I’m just a lowly team leader,” Giraldi replied, cackle unmistakable in his voice. Gilda grumbled but didn’t look back, trying to avoid griffins walking in the opposite direction.
 
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, Giraldi?” Fortrakt ventured.
 
“What, having a younger upstart be my superior?” Giraldi chuckled. “Oh, Ancestors yes. Instead of having one more beak depending on me for direction, I get to lean on them instead. Such is a life of a simple soldier.”
 
Gilda dashed three steps before she turned, her eyes narrowing towards the older griffin. The two tiercel stopped on their tracks. “Are you really okay with this?” she asked, grabbing the chain with her claw. “You’ve been in the service longer than I was. If anyone deserves an opportunity, it would be you, Giraldi!”
 
 “Well, I don’t have a distinguished sire like you, Behertz,” Giraldi replied with a chuckle, only to wisely stop when the eagless’ eyes narrowed and her wings slowly spread open. He quickly bared his neck. “Sorry, sir. Just trying to make light of the situation.”
 
Gilda deflated. He was one of the team leaders she had known and respected. While she may have joked on occasion that his mild demeanor and the lack of flaunting of his position made him only slightly superior to her, it was just all in good fun. And now, he was deferring to her. It finally clinched it; the whole situation was real and there was no escaping from it. “Don’t call me that,” she muttered, defeated.
 
For a moment, there was silence. Fortrakt and Giraldi looked at each other, while Gilda stood there, looking lost. Fortrakt looked a little unsure before he mock-coughed, gaining attention from his two superiors. “By the way, Giraldi, where are we supposed to meet the humans?”
 
The older griffin looked at Fortrakt before nodding. They both walked to catch up with Gilda. “They are staying at the Winged Hall Inn. According to Ambassador Strenus, we’re supposed to meet them there in five minutes. The humans leased the place and posted their soldiers in front, so try not to start any fights.”
 
“No promises,” Fortrakt muttered. “If my partner and superior officer charges in, it is my duty as a lowly soldier to follow.”
 
Gilda raised her head, staring at Fortrakt. He kept his face still, tone utterly devoid of any emotion as they caught up with her. However, as she turned to continue walking, she could distinctly hear him chuckle softly with Giraldi. They weren’t going to stop making fun of the situation and they weren’t going to stop jabbing her with comments. Strangely enough, she didn’t feel mad at them—the opposite, actually. Maybe it was the fact that they were taking all this to stride or that they were still comfortable enough around her to make jokes—whatever it was, it somehow lessened the weight the chains seemed to have.
 
Crows, Gilda thought, what would the Ancestors say that I needed those two to cheer me up after a promotion?

As they approached the rampart Gilda gave the signal towards the Guards posted on the battlement. They signaled back a reply. However, as Gilda’s group approached, they seemed to do a double-take, and hastily bared their necks when they saw her. The eagless sighed. It would be awhile before she would get used to soldiers greeting her in deference. Her wings spread as she took a running leap through the crenel.
 
Narada’s office was on the sixth level, so naturally the party would be greeted by at least one aerial patrol.  She gave one a signal, and the patrolling Guards moved easily out of the way as they made it back all the way towards the third level without further incident. The three griffins aimed for a landing platform there and once their claws and paws were safely on the ground, Gilda studied their surroundings before she flexed her wings, folding them on her sides.
 
There were a lot of griffins and ponies on the third level—too many, actually. Gilda guessed that their presence was most likely because of the visitors staying here. The Kingdom rarely got visits from foreigners, with Equestria being the only one to visit every year celebrating The Armistice (with either a dignitary, be it a Duchess or Duke, or a member of the Royal Family, either the three Alicorn Princesses or the two unicorn Princes). The Zebra Nations were far too busy to deal amongst themselves and the griffins never really got along with the Diamond Dogs, a relationship that deteriorated further with the latter’s raids in Equestria. Add the fact that these visitors were also a newly discovered species, it was understandable why the third level looked as busy as it did.
 
Past a few more shops, Gilda, Giraldi and Fortrakt spotted the Winged Hall Inn. Its design was definitely griffin in aesthetic, using smoothed white stone walls and hard edges. All in all, it looked more like a small castle than an inn. As they approached, Gilda could see a few human soldiers posted in the front gate, their hands holding on those black metal tubes. They also seemed to have borrowed some wooden barriers that the Peacemakers used to cordon off an area, and made them into a temporary barricade that discouraged anyone from going in. 
 
As they approached, one of the human soldiers raised a hand. Gilda wondered if it was a signal of some kind. Then, she realized that she had no idea what their signals meant. A part of her mind wondered what would happen if her ignorance caused a misunderstanding that sparked some sort of conflict. Maybe as a regular Guard, the thought wouldn’t cross her mind so easily, but now… Gilda looked down at the Command Chain again. She had responsibilities now. Her actions would now be scrutinized. Once again, she felt the weight of the chain dragging her down.
 
As it turned out, she didn’t have to worry too long. The soldier explained his intent loud and clear. “Halt! Identify yourself!” he declared in Equestrian.
 
Giraldi took a step forward. He gave Gilda a look. “Let me take care of this,” he whispered. The eagless nodded. The older griffin turned back to face the human and replied in Equestrian, though with a much thicker accent. “Giraldi, Team Leader of Auxiliary Guards under Centurion Batz. I am escorting Sub-Tribune Behertz and Guard Gletscher, as per arrangements made by Ambassador Strenus and Ambassador Goldberg.”
 
Gilda tried to get to a relaxed stance, but when she heard the conversation between the two human soldiers behind the one Giraldi was talking to, she stiffened.
 
“Which one took down Marco?”
 
“He said the griffin was a female. You want to go check?”
 
“What? Shit, no way, dog. Don’t want to get the same treatment Flip-Boy got.”
 
The very mention of his name got Gilda to close her eyes as she reminisced about last night. She began to feel lightheaded and fire spread out from her stomach. The memory of his touch spilled forth embarrassment and anger she had yet to settle, even with a fitful night of sleep. Her mind began to wander, her imagination feeding her the brown human’s image pinned down on the ground, his eyes wide in fear.
 
“Gilda,” Fortrakt called, derailing Gilda’s train of thought. Her eyes snapped open and looked at her partner, now her subordinate.
 
“What?” Gilda asked.
 
“Your wings are stretching,” Fortrakt replied in a whisper. “Am I going to have to tackle you again?”
 
Gilda took a deep breath. She reminded herself that she was a soldier, now an officer of the Kingdom—she had to control herself. Giving out a sharp exhale, she shook her head. “I’m fine,” she replied.
 
Fortrakt looked like he was about to say more but Giraldi and the human soldier stopped conversing. The older griffin looked at Gilda, and she was mentally chagrined when he saluted to her. “Sir, you are cleared to go in. This is Sergeant Reyes,” Giraldi introduced, his Equestrian almost faltering with the word sergeant. “He’ll lead you to Lieutenant Nantz”—the older griffin had difficulty again in pronouncing lieutenant this time—“who will introduce you to your new charges.”
 
Gilda hesitated before she saluted back. “Thanks, Giraldi,” was all she said.
 
The older griffin nodded. As he passed, he whispered, “Good luck, sir,” and went on his way.
 
The soldier that greeted them took a step forward. “Sub-Tribune Behertz?” he asked, his eyes looking towards Gilda.
 
“Yes,” the eagless replied. Her eyes did a quick study of the human.
 
He looked a bit different from the rest of the soldiers; his brown-patterned uniform was slightly modified with cloth wrapped around his neck, yet somehow didn’t seem out of place. With further inspection, Gilda was finally able to actually look at the human’s face from this close without emotion running through her. For some reason, she found him neither wholly alien nor ugly. His face was symmetrical, facial structure quite similar not to only ponies but also griffins. The top of his head was covered with some kind of hat made of fabric (same color as his uniform) with a short brim. His cheeks were sharp, nose melding well in the center. He gave her a smile, his lips reminiscent of a pony’s (though smaller) while his teeth had a more predatory feature to them. His eyes, while not large, were fully ranged in emotion and alive. 

 Then there was his scent—somewhat sweet and not wholly unpleasant, which struck her as really odd. Even when ponies used griffin soaps, they still smelled like ponies. The humans just smelled… good.
 
“Sergeant Reyes, Third Marine Division,” the human introduced himself, ignorant of the thoughts running through her head. “Come this way, please.”
 
The collection of soldiers in the entrance gave way as Reyes led them in. A lot of them greeted the sergeant by his name despite his title (which sounded like a position of command). Granted, she had no idea how high the rank of sergeant was, so she kept quiet as she and Fortrakt were led towards the entrance of the Inn.
 
The first thing Gilda noticed was that the Winged Hall’s interior was very well-lit, with firegems burning brighter than usual. It was also a very sharp contrast compared to the outer Gryphon-based design. The inside was posh, painted in softer colors with a hint of silver. There were some small picture frames or paintings hanging around, while the windows were draped with curtains. Wooden furniture spread around, long benches and tables. Some of those tables had vases, though instead of flowers the ponies would use, they contained more practical polished and colored sticks. Other tables had simple griffin art like small stone sculptures.  The floor was covered with a very Zebra-styled carpet—a highly stylized flower with multi-colored flying petals in a red backdrop.
 
Sergeant Reyes walked the two griffins through the halls. Fortrakt looked absolutely amazed by the design while Gilda was less impressed; some of the hotels she had visited in Equestria were far more sophisticated. She was more interested in the human soldiers that passed, noticing quite a few of them no longer armed with the long metal tubes. They did wear elaborate belts, though, which held some sort of tool at their hips.
 
As they moved towards the stairs, Gilda found the silence a bit unbecoming. Thinking of taking a stab at fostering friendly relations, she said, “You have a lot of soldiers present here.”
 
Reyes turned his head for only for a moment, expression odd, before he continued looking forward, not breaking a stride. “We’re not soldiers,” he replied. “We’re Marines.”
 
Fortrakt blinked. “Wait, you’re not soldiers?”
 
“Nope. A proud Marine of the Corps,” Reyes answered, with his tone a mix of amusement and pride. The two griffins looked at each other, confusion evident in their faces, but remained silent as they passed through another corridor. A few steps later, Reyes stopped by a large door, opened it, and led them inside. 

Judging by the size, Gilda thought it was a conference area. She spotted the long rectangular table, usually located in the center, pushed at one side of the room. The room itself was divided into two halves, each with neat rows of chairs with a narrow walking space in the center. At the far end of the room, Gilda spotted three men, two in uniforms and the other in a formal suit, similar to what Ambassador Sternus would wear.
 
Reyes led them through the center. The three walked in a line file until they passed through the walkway. Gilda and Fortrakt positioned themselves, standing formally in front of the three humans while Reyes saluted. It was quite different from how the Gryphons did it, but the motions were similar. A quick snap of his arm, he raised his fingers to touch brim of his hat. It was actually quite reminiscent of a pony salute. Afterwards, the sergeant  introduced them. “Gentlemen, I have Sub-Tribune Behertz and Auxiliary Guard Gletscher.”  
 
The man in the suit went forward first, his arm extending. “Very glad to meet you both. I am Ambassador Goldberg.” Gilda extended her foreleg as well, grasping the human’s hand with her claw as he gave it a bit of a shake. He went towards Fortrakt next and both greeted each other the same way. “I am quite happy that both our races are taking necessary steps to make sure any misunderstandings will be stamped out as we build for a relationship that is mutually beneficial to all of us.”
 
Gilda blinked, half-wondering if all the humans were as wordy as their ambassador. Taking a neutral approach, she gave him a nod. “Of course,” was all she said.
 
The ambassador nodded happily, his smile somewhat infectious for Fortrakt who was sporting a similar grin (though not as wide, given the beaks). The human ambassador took a step back as the two marines stepped forward as well.
 
“Lieutenant Nantz,” one of the humans, male, with a hard-faced expression, cropped blonde hair, and sharp blue eyes, introduced himself as he extended his arm. Gilda shook it. He motioned the marine beside him. “And this is my second in command: Staff Sergeant Stafford.”
 
Stafford, another male, had a much softer face, his brown eyes smiling as his lips curved upwards. “Heyo,” he greeted. While he extended his arm, his fist was closed, surprising both griffins. They bumped fists together.
 
“Lieutenant Nantz is the commanding officer overseeing guard duties here in the Winged Hall,” Goldberg began. “He’ll get you introduced to  Mister McClain, Miss Fields, and Mister Lakan. You both will be in good han—claws,” he corrected himself at the last second, using the Gryphon term. “I would rather take you myself, but I seem to be quite busy nowadays. However, I do hope you enjoy your stay.”
 
Gilda didn’t mind. Diplomats, whether griffins or not, always seemed so busy. Instead of replying, she gave Goldberg a small nod. The ambassador gave a smile and left, leaving the two griffins with the three marines in the room.
 
Moments passed and Gilda half-wondered why they were still hadn’t moved. Assessing the three marines, she noticed Nantz was contemplating something. After a few seconds, he looked towards the griffins and asked, “Which one of you was directly involved in the altercation last night?”
 
Gilda blinked. “That would be me,” she replied. Nantz looked at her and she felt the force behind his stare. She stood her ground. “Is there a problem?”
 
“Yes. I’ll be frank, sub-tribune; I’m not comfortable with your presence here.” Gilda’s beak opened but before she could say anything, Nantz continued. “While Ambassador Goldberg maintains that this ‘improves relations’, I am uncomfortable in transferring three civilians from my care to yours. And knowing that a scuffle occurred between you and one of those said civilians last night concerns me even more. Now, I’ve heard good things from the Equestrian side; they say that Gryphon Soldiers are as professional as they. I’ve also recently heard that Captain Narada will be announcing that any aggressive griffin fighting any human will be punished. However, actions are considerably louder than words. If there is to be a repeat performance of last night, I will personally deal with the aggressor. Do we have an understanding?”
 
Gilda looked at the human for a moment. His speech was consistently neutral in tone but there was an undercurrent of a threat and definite harshness in his words. A part of her wanted to challenge him, establish who would be dominant. Another part toyed with answering with an aggressive reply but couldn’t find the necessary expression. She was spared a decision when Stafford spoke up next.
 
“What Lieutenant Nantz is trying to say is that we all want to clear out any misunderstanding and make sure there won’t be another incident like last night. We’ll extend a measure of trust, hoping whatever happened between you and Lakan will be out of both your systems.” He gave an easy smile. “We’re going to be fair though. If Lakan’s going out of his way to stir up trouble, please just report it to us, and not… well, take matters into your own hands.”
 
Gilda nodded, noticing that Stafford’s wording and tone had softened Lieutenant Nantz’s words somewhat, which made her suspect why two humans were together. She had seen some officers and centurions do the same when trying to motivate or order the soldiers under their command; one would take a more professional, harsher stance, while the other would be more understanding.
 
“Yes,” the eagless replied to Nantz, her head nodding. “We understand each other.”
 
“Good,” Nantz declared. His face softened somewhat. “I’m surprised Lakan had an altercation with a junior officer.”
 
“He does seem to have a knack of getting into trouble,” Reyes replied with wry tone. “And he was not drunk this time.”
 
Stafford chuckled while the two griffins looked at each other, somehow feeling they had just stumbled into a somewhat private conversation. The feeling didn’t last long as Nantz gave Reyes a nod. “Alright. Reyes, Escort Sub-Tribune Behertz and Auxiliary Guard… Gletscher, was it?” he asked, his Aeric accent somewhat thick. Fortrakt nodded. “Alright,” Nantz continued, and then looked at Reyes, “escort both of them to Mister McClain and company.”
 
“Roger that, sir,” Reyes replied, saluting. He turned and faced the griffins. “Come on, let’s get you started.”
 
As they passed through the narrow walkway but before they made their way out the door, Gilda took one last look at Nantz and Stafford, both watching them steadily as they left. They moved through the corridors of Winged Hall, completely silent until Reyes led them to the stairs, where he spoke up again.
 
“The LT doesn’t mince words and will be quite frank when talking to anyone.”

“LT?” Gilda asked. 

“Lieutenant,” Reyes explained. 
 
“Oh. Well, to be honest, I can actually appreciate that,” Gilda replied truthfully as they reached the top of the stairs that led to another hallway.
 
“However”—Reyes stopped and turned around, facing Gilda—“he was wrong about one thing. If you hurt Marco in any way, you’d be dealing with me first.”
 
Gilda’s eyes narrowed. “The way you word it seems a bit more personal,” she ventured.
 
“He’s a friend,” Reyes replied easily.
 
Gilda looked at the marine for a moment and gave a quick nod. Seemingly satisfied, Reyes continued their travel, passing through a number of doors before they stopped near the far end of the western corridor. The marine was about to knock on the door when his eye moved towards a corner. A contemplative expression crossed his face for only a second before he motioned Gilda to approach. The eagless, curious, followed.
 
Reyes knocked on the door. Behind it, Gilda heard the familiar voice reply, “Who is it?”
 
“Marco, dude, it’s me,” Reyes replied, a mischievous smile gracing his face. “Nantz talked to Goldberg. You’re clear man. No griffin bodyguards for you.”
 
One of Gilda's eyes widened raised an eyebrow. Reyes was purposely lying? Why?

“No shit?” Marco replied. “Holy crap. Chris, dude, I just dodged a bullet.”
 
“Great, Marco,” a masculine voice came from farther in the room, almost inaudible and flat in tone.
 
“Hot damn,” Marco muttered. “Hey, Reyes, want to come in? Or are you on duty?”
 
“I got time to spare,” Reyes declared, and then whispered to Gilda, “Hey, Behertz, stay in front of door and put your game face on.” The marine winked, smile now a full blown smirk. Gilda had stayed with Rainbow Dash long enough to spot a prank in the making and she too smiled. Reyes’ voice went back to normal volume as he asked Marco, “Why? What do you have in mind?”
 
“Well, I loaded up The Warrior to my laptop.”
 
Gilda heard the tell-tale signs of the door being unlocked. Reyes was already chuckling. Fortrakt seemed to have caught on what was going on because he whispered, “You humans have an odd definition of friendship.” 

When the door opened, Gilda saw him again, this time in more detail. Ebony black hair cut short, soft-looking cheeks and darkened lips, almost blending with his skin color. His brown eyes were smiling for a moment, until he saw her. His expression went slack for a second before they widened dramatically with… fear. Yes, the expression was the same as with ponies and griffins. The eagless felt some satisfaction knowing that he recognized her and in turn, feared her.
 
“Putang ina,” Marco muttered. His eyes wandered towards Gilda’s left. He saw Reyes, smirking. “Robbie, you stupid asshole.”

Robbie? Gilda thought, looking at Reyes.  
 
“You should have seen your face!” Reyes declared with a laugh. “Your eyes bulged out of their sockets.”
 
Chris came into view, expression curious. “What the hell is going on?” Marco replied by side-stepping and showing Chris who was at the door. The red-haired male blinked, looked towards Gilda, Fortrakt, Reyes, then at Marco. He chuckled. “Oh he got you, didn’t he?” he asked.
 
“My only friend, stabbing me in the back,” Marco muttered in a tone Gilda found reminiscent of the Senators and some Equestrian dukes. “Et tu, Reyes?”
 
“Great, what am I, then, chopped liver?” Chris replied with a shake of his head.
 
“What’s with all the commotion?” a feminine voice called out and Tara appeared as well. When she saw Gilda at the doorway, she turned her head slightly, a smile and understanding gracing in her expression.
 
Gilda watched with some fascination as Chris replied Tara’s question without pause. “Marco’s just telling me that Reyes is his only friend.”
 
Marco, for a moment, forgot Gilda’s presence, turned and replied with a wry smile, “Come on, Chris. Everyone knows you’re not really my friend but my sugar daddy. I only stick around you because you’re rich.”
 
“Yeah right, Marco,” Tara said with a chuckle. “The way you keep staring at me, everyone knows you’re as straight as an arrow.”
 
“Arrows tend to bend once shot,” Marco countered.
 
“Yet only a woman can put the tension on your drawstring,” Chris declared.
 
“You boys always make everything sound so dirty,” Tara said, making Chris and Marco look at her with identically incredulous expressions.
 
“Look who’s talking,” Marco accused. “Chris and I weren’t the ones who made those really colorful comment in regards to the Nickelodeon Goo.” 
 
Fortrakt looked absolutely giddy seeing them interact, a contrast to Gilda’s expression, which was saying something considering she had more experience with dealing with races other than griffins. She looked at Reyes as the three humans continued their conversation and the marine just gave her a wide smile. 

“You’ll get used to it. Chris, Marco, and Tara have been close since their University days,” he said.
 
Gilda didn’t know what a University was, but she filed that information away for later use. And as the three humans who were now under her care became increasingly animated, she knew she had to get their attention again. Coughing loudly, as if to clear her throat, she got their attention. Chris and Tara immediately stopped, looking sheepish, while Marco cringed.
 
“Sorry about that,” Chris declared. “Come on in.”
 
“Dude, I still have time to shut the door and we can all make a run for it out the window,” Marco muttered.
 
“Marco.”
 
“Fine, fine.” With some reluctance, Marco motioned Gilda, Fortrakt and Reyes inside.
 
Gilda took one last look at the brown-skinned human before she entered the room, followed by still-chuckling Reyes (who slapped his arm around the still-annoyed Marco), and Fortrakt. The first thing the eagless noticed was the room setup. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was one of the more expensive suites. It had a small corridor as a receiving area which led towards towards a much larger quarters that served as a living and dining room. The interior designs were definitely something an Equestrian would think of, rich of wood and color, but there was something more.
 
Outside the balcony, Gilda could spot a few glints of sunlight reflected by what she could describe as large reflective mirror boxes with some sort of cords that ran inside the living room area. It was connected to a small rectangular grey box that had a small green light on top. There were more cords of different colors coming out of the box as well, one of which led towards a small light blue rectangle that was sitting on a couch, another connected to a grey box with some sort of lens, and lastly another to a tall black metal machine. The last machine had the unmistakable bittersweet smell of coffee emanating from it.
 
“We were in the middle of breakfast,” Tara declared, taking Gilda’s attention away from these human machines. She saw the humans were moving towards the round dining table. “Want to join us?”
 
Gilda and Fortrakt looked at each other, the younger griffin smiling slightly. One of Gilda’s eyes widened a bit. Fortrakt just didn’t look away. The eagless sighed and nodded.
 
“Sure,” Fortrakt declared as both griffins moved in to join the humans. Reyes followed but did not take a place at the table, opting to stand watching as Gilda shoved Fortrakt to sit beside Marco as she settled beside Tara who was all smiles. Fortrakt didn’t mind, giving the brown-skinned human a small grin as a greeting, which Marco returned with a toothy nod. The tiercel rubbed his claws together as they all sat down on the small pillow seats, saying, “I haven’t had my seconds yet.”
 
“Well, I hope you like cooked food well enough,” Marco said. He gave Fortrakt a somewhat crooked smile. “Um, I didn’t quite get your names.”
 
“Fortrakt,” the griffin replied, extending his foreleg with claw closed. Marco laughed heartily as they both bumped fists. “Fortrakt Gletscher. Call me Fortrakt. I prefer my meats fresh, but I don’t mind cooked ones.”
 
“Oh, okay, that’s cool. I’m Marco Lakan. Call me Marco.”
 
Fortrakt extended the same greeting towards Chris and Tara, who both followed suit, as they introduced themselves.
 
“Tara Fields. You can call me Tara.”
 
“Chris McClain, though just Chris, please.”
 
Marco hesitated for a moment before he extended his own arm towards the silent Gilda. Her eyes narrowed at his fist for a moment before she looked up. “Sub-Tribune Behertz,” she declared unemotionally. She then gave an acknowledging nod towards Chris and Tara. “I know both your names.” She looked back at Marco. “And of course, yours as well.”
 
The human immediately withdrew his hand and placed it behind his head. “Okay, I know who’s going to be the hard-ass,” Marco muttered. “Fun, fun, fun.”
 
Gilda blinked. The wording, the expression, it was something she would think or say. It was so utterly… normal, coming from an arguably very odd creature. Before she could think more about it, Tara declared, “Come on. Let’s eat before Marco starts another scuffle.”
 
“Yeah, yeah, blame it on the Filipino,” Marco mumbled. “Blame it on the minority. It’s entirely my fault.”
 
 Fortrakt swallowed his food with an audible gulp before he shook his head. “Wait, hold on. It was no one’s fault. Yesterday, I mean,” he declared. He earned a few stares. Fortrakt coughed. He looked at Tara. “If a male is being perverted, what parts of body would he grab?”
 
Gilda rolled her eyes. She knew what Fortrakt was trying to do, but otherwise stayed silent. She studied Tara for as the human answered.
 
“Um, boobs and ass,” Tara replied. When she got a confused look from both griffins, she clarified, “Chest area and the buttoc—rear area.”
 
Fortrakt smiled. “How about shoulders? Is touching the shoulders bad?”
 
“Normally, no,” Tara answered. “I mean, grabbing is usually bad, but shoulders are pretty much an okay area to hold.”
 
“See? Misunderstanding,” Fortrakt declared, pointedly looking at Gilda, who stared back at him with narrowed eyes. He ignored that and looked towards the three confused humans. “Shoulders are… um, not good areas for griffins. Yesterday was no one’s fault. So you shouldn’t blame Marco for last night.”
 
Marco looked at Fortrakt with some sort of admiration. “We were actually half-joking. They don’t actually blame me or anything.”
 
Fortrakt blushed. “Oh.”
 
“But whatever,” Marco said. He looked at Chris, Tara and Gilda. “You see this? I think I found my new best friend.” He extended his arm, palm open. Fortrakt extended his foreleg. Both shook hand and claw, the human smiling at him. “You are an awesome griffin.”
 
“Thanks,” Fortrakt replied, giving a smile of his own. 

“Well, glad you kids are doing fine,” Reyes spoke up, earning the attention of everyone around the table. “I gotta go back to my duties though, so play nice alright?”
 
“Hey, Robbie, hold on,” Marco called, his hand going over his hips. He grabbed something, what Fortrakt and Gilda could only describe as a small rectangle and threw it towards the marine. Reyes caught it easily and his eyes widened as he looked at it. Marco gave him a nod. “More of the same, though I added some extra stuff.”
 
Reyes’ fingers moved in a very, for the griffins at least, complicated and agile manner. “You taking advantage of my corporals again? Which one did you exploit into sucking your dick this time, Flip Boy?”
 
“Just because I’m a ‘poor’ Asian means I have to exploit your desperate corporals? Come on, Robbie,” Marco declared with a laugh. “You know I’m doing this as a service for all the brave young men and women, though only mostly men, of the Corps. Marines so far away from home the only entertainment they have is whatever Hustler and Jugs magazine they brought with them? Nevermind the fact that none of you will ever receive”—and he enclosed his fingers, jerking his hand up and down—“dirty-ass jack-off letters from Susie Rottencrotch in the near future.”
 
Chris’ face scrunched in utter confusion and exasperation. “Susie Who!?”
 
Reyes laughed, hard, at Chris’ question. He gave Marco a small smile. “If I could adopt you as a marine brother, I would. Except you’d be some stupid-ass POG who’d bring his sissy gear everywhere, so maybe it’s a good thing I can’t.”

“POG? Sissy gear?” This time, it was Tara’s turn to ask. 
 
“And pray tell who’s the sergeant that brought his Gameboy?” Marco countered, ignoring Tara’s question.
 
“A Sony-droid like you isn’t going to hold that against me,” Reyes replied. He looked at the rectangular piece once more. “You made sure that none of the guys here will have moto-tats or anything, right?”
 
“Positive,” Marco answered.
 
“Alright.” Reyes looked at everyone at the table again. “See you guys. Behave.” He left.
 
Gilda felt a headache coming. She finally had an inclination why the Ambassador seemed to have a hard time getting a read on these humans. She looked at Chris’ and Tara’s faces as they stared questioningly at Marco, who seemingly found the amusement of ignoring them. If they were just as confused as she was on the earlier exchange, how would she do any better?
 
Crows, Gilda thought. The overwhelming feeling was slowly crushing her. Everything was coming at her too fast. A Command Chain, spying on the humans, her lingering anger at Marco… how was she going to proceed with this assignment?
 
“What was that you gave Sergeant Reyes?” Fortrakt asked. 

“Porn,” Tara muttered. 
 
Before Gilda could ask what that was, Marco answered, “Hush, you dirty-minded minx,” sticking his tongue out at her. He looked at Fortrakt and said, “That, my cool, new griffin friend, is a USB Drive. It’s a device that stores information like pictures, books, videos and music.” 
 
Gilda perked up. That small device could store all of that? Her mind flashed through the images of a large paper developed from cameras, a book, a film reel and a phonograph and she couldn’t see how that would fit inside something so tiny. Fortrakt didn’t seem to believe it either because he asked, “Really? Something that small?”
 
“Yeah,” Marco replied. “Technically that thing just stores the information… but you know what? We were about to watch a movie, I can show you how it works. Maybe you’ll understand better.”
 
“I’d like that,” Fortrakt grinned.





Gilda yawned, scratching her bare shoulder as she finally packed her rucksack with everything she had from this room. Her headache was still persisting and the new developments were not helping. 

When they reported back to Narada, she advised Gilda and Fortrakt that they were now moving in the Winged Hall Inn. Ambassador Strenus had advised her that the human ambassador found some free rooms where the two griffins could stay. The Captain was also busy, swamped with written complaints in regards to her announcement earlier that day so she also told Gilda that whatever report the sub-tribune had, she could put it in writing and submit it tomorrow. 

The parchment, laid in front of Gilda, was still blank. Strangely, it was not because she was lacking on any material to write about (which she could make do). Normally, the initial report would have been minimal. It was just the first day, nothing more than an introduction, meeting and greeting. Yet she had learned a lot of things just by spending one day with the three humans. It all began with that video Marco had prepared that morning. 

The Warrior, a human film that centered around the lives of two human brothers. It was a bit of an eye opener in so many levels, not just because of the film, but how they were able to watch it. 

The box with lens was a more advanced projector, only instead of using film, it was connected to that light-blue rectangular human-machine. Marco had tinkered with it a bit, unfolding it while Fortrakt was looking from behind him. The tiercel had an awestruck expression (which if memory served Gilda correctly, never left Fortrakt’s face for the whole day). When asked later, her partner could only describe the machine as some sort of ‘magical window’. Marco also connected black boxes to it, which he explained were speakers, something Gilda had not expected to see in such small sizes. 
 
Curtains were drawn before the movie played. Gilda could only describe it as… clear. Very clear.Usually, she’d have expected some sort of fuzziness around the sides of the film, maybe some black spots. And considering how small the speakers were, she was again surprised on how smooth and clear the sound was. 

The film itself showed a lot of the human world called ‘Earth’. It also explored a lot of instances of human social interactions while it also dived a bit of their culture. Gilda could still barely believe what she saw—cities of towering buildings made of rocks, glass and lights. They had ‘cars’, which were chariots with some sort of self-propelling machine and if to be believed, ‘airplanes’ that could travel faster than griffin aircoaches and transport large groups of humans in the air.  It also showed that human culture was vaguely a strange mix of social ponies and warriors like the griffins.

Most of the humans in the film spoke in Equestrian, which humans actually called it ‘English’. Gilda found it particularly odd that both languages were arguably identical, with the exception of a few expressions. Fortrakt had asked a few questions, which Marco answered readily, but most of the time they all stayed silent as they watched the story unfold gearing towards very physical and exciting duels as the two human brothers collided and the story culminated into such an emotional end.
 
 There was also a few particular scenes that gave her some sort of insight on how they waged war. One of the brothers was a marine and the movie did show a glimpse of fire and a metallic vehicle that looked like a larger version of a pony tank. There was not much, but In the end she concluded that Fortrakt seemed to be correct on his assessment: humans did seem to specialize on close quarters combat. 

Gilda’s mind went back to the final combat of the two brothers. She cringed when she remembered Marco’s words in regards to one particular scene where one of the brothers received a dislocated shoulder. Most griffins wouldn’t be able to stand up with that, let alone continue fighting, yet the human showed they could. If she had to guess, it was most likely due to the human’s bipedal nature and the way they expertly coordinated their bodies in combat.

They moved with agility I’ve rarely seen, Gilda thought. Reyes’ finger coordination, the way they twist their bodies in subtle notions...

Gilda swiped the air with her right claw, trying to remember how the humans used their arms to push their enclosed fists forward against their enemies. The words of Ambassador Strenus came back to her. 

‘They are not the biggest or strongest beings on their planet. Nor do they have the any sort of natural weapons or any magic. Yet they number in the billions.’

Constant practise. Their bodies are very flexible. They can wrap their limbs around you while they also have hard areas like their fists, elbows and knees to use as weapons, Gilda thought, tapping her feathered neck. She concluded that maybe the humans weren’t as weak as they looked. 

Marco had informed them that he had hundreds of more movies and even invited Fortrakt  (and by extension, Gilda) to watch with them. Her mind went back towards the film. If just one of them had a veritable fount of information in regards to human society, what more insight would she gain by viewing more? 

While Gilda was thankful of her luck, she had almost refused. There was some part of her that didn’t want to accept Marco’s invitation. Her blood still pumped hard when she pictured the brown-skinned human. It was so strange. She had never had someone get under her skin so deeply or quickly. Not even the crow-begotten pink pony mare, the one Gilda had held responsible for breaking up her friendship with Dash all those years ago, had her raising her hackles this much. However, a more rational part of her remembered that throwing out such an opportunity was not only stupid but it was also treasonous. 
 
Looking at her faceless parchment, she began to gather her thoughts. There were so many things to write about. And there were more days to come. Deciding  the night wasn’t getting any younger, Gilda closed her eyes for a moment before her claw grabbed a quill and began to write.





The next day, Fortrakt and Gilda were guided to their new rooms, unconnected but found in the same area and level. They were modest dwellings that were definitely more comfortable than her bare quarters. Gilda now had a room with a bed, a bigger closet, and her own bathroom. The two griffins didn’t have much time to unpack as the trio of humans were needed out towards the fields outside Arnau. They explained that they were asked to look at griffin lands and agricultural workings to see opportunities that could be made with trade.
 
Meeting them outside the Winged Hall Inn, Fortrakt and Gilda began to guide them towards the Southern Gate. Tara had brought out some metallic tools and a blank booklet made of white human paper (Tara called it a ‘notebook’) and strange writing tool (which she called a ‘pencil’), advising that she was doing a survey of the place. Chris simply had one of those magic windows he called a ‘tablet’. Marco, though, looked like he was ready for battle. He brought a small pack that strapped around his shoulders that made soft clinking sounds every time he moved. Around his waist was a belt that held a lot of familiar tools, but miniaturized. It included a shovel, a hammer, and what looked like some sort of pickaxe. The two males wound up sticking together. Marco explained that he’d be at the fields collecting samples while Chris talked to the steadholders and farmers there, while Tara opted to go to places with higher ground.
 
Gilda had Fortrakt stay with the two males, though she agreed that they’d change shifts after an hour. The eagless spent the better part of that hour helping Tara move her tools to specified spots. The human was absolutely specific on where she wanted to work and had a perfectionist attitude that reminded Gilda very much of her half-siblings. Fortunately, the human wasn’t as overbearing.
 
The usually talkative woman was quiet as she worked with her tools. The only time she spoke was when she’d recite numbers out loud, writing them down on the notebook. Gilda assumed they were measurements, but didn’t ask. 

“Oh, God,” Tara suddenly declared, making Gilda alert. The eagless looked around. Was there something she missed? 

“What?” Gilda asked. 

“I’m so sorry,” Tara replied. Gilda looked at her. Tara sighed. “I was giving you the silent treatment, wasn’t I?” 

Gilda relaxed. “You were busy. I understand.” 

“Really? Oh thank God. I swear, I’m not snubbing you or anything, I just tend to stay quiet when I’m working.” 

Gilda nodded. “I really can’t begrudge you for being a hard worker, if my career was any indication.” 

“What’s it like,” Tara began, “to be a soldier?”

Gilda looked at her. “Why do you ask?” 

Tara adjusted her tool again, a three legged metallic construct with what looked like a pony spyglass on top. Tara was moving her fingers on what looked like an adjustment dial in the said spyglass. “Well, its a little silly but I’m trying to figure out the appeal of it. Chris told me he had wanted to enlist in the Army when he was a kid. Then we have Marco who was quite quick to befriend the marines with us, so I...” 

Tara fell quiet, once more absorbed in her work. Gilda found it funny, but remained quiet as the female human worked. The eagless found herself thinking back on Tara’s words though and realized she may have given out information in regards to human armed forces. Before she could explore it further, she spotted a griffin taking flight. It could have been Fortrakt. 

“Tara,” Gilda called. 

“Hmmm?” was Tara’s reply. 

“Fortrakt and I will be changing shifts. Please stay here either until he arrives, or I do, alright?” 

Tara nodded and went back to look through the spyglass. “No worries. I’ll be here,” she replied, writing down on her notebook once more. 

Gilda took off into the air, approaching the waiting griffin that did turn out to be Fortrakt. “I left them over at the western fields,” the tiercel declared once the eagless was in hearing range. “Marco’s got a lot of glass vials and is taking samples of everything. Chris was talking to the steadholders and some of the earth ponies, using his magic tablet to record everything.” He paused. “Did you know that his magic tablet can also take pictures? Humans’ve got really cool stuff.”
 
“Maybe you can ask your new best friend to teach you how to use them,” Gilda replied. She pointed towards the south-east area. “Tara’s over there, near the small creek. She’s got some sort of spyglass.”
 
Fortrakt blinked, his eyes staring at where the direction that Gilda was pointing at and nodded. “Yes, I see her,” Fortrakt said. He looked at Gilda. “And you know what? Maybe I will ask him how their stuff works.” And he took off, leaving Gilda to shake her head as she followed her partner’s directions and moved towards where Chris and Marco were, though not much of a hurry as Fortrakt was.
 
Gilda sighed. Her thoughts went to Marco. She knew she was going to have to confront the human at least one more time before she could clear whatever anger she still harbored for him. Hopefully it would be much more peaceful than their confrontation two days ago. She also found it rather silly that she was holding onto a grudge for so long, considering how the humans had explained that Marco meant nothing sexual by his touch. She also thought back on how amicable both were yesterday (they hadn’t tried to strangle each other, for one) and how Marco was the first to extend his hand towards her. Fortrakt’s words came back to her. She was definitely acting like a stupid cub. Maybe it was time to sheathe her claws?
 
Her train of thought vanished when she spotted Chris, a bit far off, running through the fields. While that wasn’t so strange, her eagle eyes saw the very clear panicked expression he had. With one broad and strong stroke, she raced forward through the air. As she came into range, she folded her feathered limbs to her sides, making her dive down fast and hard. The eagless landed with a slight forward momentum, making her slide towards the red-haired human, who for a second, looked at her fearfully until she spoke.
 
“What happened?” Gilda demanded.  
 
“Sub-Tribune!” he exclaimed, gasping. He pointed behind him. “Marco! Help. Him!”
 
“Crows,” Gilda cursed as she flapped her wings upwards, creating a small dust cloud in her wake. In the air again, her eyes scanned forward, trying to see what the stupid brown ape gotten himself into this time. After a few seconds, she saw him, surrounded by two griffins, encircling him in a pincer situation. Marco was holding something in his hand,  some sort of metallic stick. He kept shifting his legs, his neck moving, trying to keep the two griffins encircling him in sight. And was it the sun, or was he bleeding?
 
With a whoosh, she rocketed towards the surrounded human. She was too far away to prevent one of the griffins from finally striking him. She watched as he dodged the claw, bringing his arm holding the stick upwards, hitting the griffin hard on the head. The force was pretty strong, judging by the way the griffin immediately snapped away, but then the human made a mistake: his eyes were on the retreating griffin, not the one sneaking behind him.
 
Marco got pinned down, face first on the floor. The griffin on top of him grabbed a hold of his neck with its claw, a move that called for the opponent’s submission. Relief washed over Gilda. The griffins he was facing weren’t looking to kill him. All the human had to do was expose his neck, admit defeat. However… her stomach suddenly felt heavy as she realized that Marco might not know that. He wasn’t a griffin. He was a human. 

Marco forcefully continued to resist, arching his back as if to try and get the offending griffin off. All that accomplished was annoy it. In response, it raised the other claw, going for another blow that would have connected to the back of the human’s head if it wasn’t for Gilda’s timely arrival. 

Gilda grunted as she felt the impact of the slam but was not shaken. Momentum was on her side, and judging by the way the other griffin easily gave way, mass as well. The force was enough to dislodge the offending griffin off the human as a surprised feminine croak escaping the air. 

The griffin was an eagless, Gilda realized as she pinned the attacker down. The sub-tribune’s claw grasped the other eagless’ neck. For a moment, Gilda thought there would be more resistance, but once the eagless’ eyes strayed towards the Command Chain, she immediately exposed her neck in submission.
 
Before Gilda could ask for the eagless’ anything, a masculine scream filled the air. Her eyes widened as she turned her head and looked behind her. She expected, feared even, the other griffin hurting Marco. She was sure she would see him pinned down again, fighting uselessly against his opponent. It was such a surprise for her when she saw Marco on top of the downed griffin, instead. What was more shocking was the fact that the griffin was spouting apologies in Aeric, panic coloring his voice.
 
“Don’t cut them off!  I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please!” the tiercel begged. His feathers were ruffled and his tail twitched while he repeatedly bared his neck, signalling submission. The human wasn’t giving any indication that he was accepting the griffin’s surrender. There was something lethal in the way Marco looked at the downed griffin. He was… chanting in Equestrian and another tongue, tone low and quite menacing.
 
“Sige, gumalaw ka, punyeta ka. Just give me a good goddamned reason.”
 
Gilda didn’t know what was worse: the death glare the human was giving, or the fact that his hands were right between the griffin’s hind legs. Judging from the increasingly panicked shouts and pleads, Marco was probably holding a blade or something sharp against him. The tiercel was scared out of his mind. 
 
There was a rustle as she saw an increasing number of earth ponies and griffins appearing, apparently trying to figure out what was the commotion. She gave a signaling squawk, earning an attention from one of the griffin guards, probably assigned on another field. It was another eagless who looked like a complete hatchling with only one pauldron to denote her rank. When she saw Gilda, armor and command chain, she immediately saluted and bared her neck.
 
“Yes, sir?” she asked hesitatingly.
 
“Get the Peacekeepers here. Now!” Gilda ordered.
 
“Yes, sir!” And she flew, leaving Gilda to sigh. 

The Guard came back a few moments later with a good number of Peacekeepers in tow. Gilda immediately ordered them to detain the eagless she had pinned and the tiercel (who was crying freely at that point) for questioning. It took them awhile with the latter, though, as Marco refused to let him up. It wasn’t until Chris had come back and whispered to Marco that the brown-skin human relented.
 
Once the two griffins were sent away, Gilda approached the two humans huddled together in a somewhat isolated area. Gilda spotted some fine crimson lines along one of Marco’s arms. There was some bruising appearing on his face and unwounded arm, and though Marco looked exhausted and panicked, he seemed to be okay. 

Curiously, her attention was on the small shovel Marco was holding. Chris was sitting beside him, patting his shoulder and asking the brown-skinned human if he was okay. She noticed the red-haired human holding the black metallic stick that Gilda recognized as the weapon Marco had been using before it was dropped when he got pinned from the back.  
 
“What happened?” Gilda asked gently.
 
Marco looked at her for a moment but stayed silent. Chris was the one that answered. “Marco and I were taking a break when those two griffins approached us.”
 
Gilda nodded. “Then?”
 
“Does it matter?” Marco muttered, his eyes on the ground.
 
Gilda looked at him sharply. “Yes it does. The Peacekeepers are going to question those two griffins. I need to know what happened.”
 
“Goldberg’ll spin this one against me anyway,” Marco muttered, shoulders shrugging.
 
“No he won’t,” Chris replied, his voice surprisingly hard. “It wasn’t your fault, Marco. At least, not this time.”
 
Marco answered with a short snort. Chris looked back at Gilda. 
 
“Well, they were speaking… well, your language,” Chris continued. “When I told them I didn’t understand, they said in English, ‘Fight’.”
 
“It was ‘You, me, fight’, actually,” Marco corrected. “Pretty bad English, really.”
 
“Yes, well, not every griffin is well-versed in Equestrian,” Gilda muttered with a bit of heat coming out of her reply.
 
“Really?” Marco looked at her. “You and Fortrakt seem to speak it well.”
 
Gilda sighed, not wanting to explain that her knowledge in Equestrian stemmed from growing up in Equestria, or the fact that Gletscher family was more known in the less cold parts of the Northern Region with lots of ponies that helped them grow barely just enough food to minimize importation from the Southern Region. “Nevermind that. Come on. Those two griffins will be questioned soon and we need to have your story, your side ready.”
 
Marco looked at the eagless for a moment, his eyes steady before he gave a short nod. “Chris said ‘No fight’, turned his back on them, and they swarmed at him.”
 
“And that’s when you became suicidal and attacked them with just this,” Chris finished, motioning the stick he was holding. “Honestly, Marco. What the hell were you thinking?”
 
“Hey, they came at you with their claws out! What was I supposed to do?”
 
“You could have called for help! And when did you even start deciding on carrying weapons?” 

Marco looked at Gilda for just a second before he went back to looking at the ground. “Two days ago.” 

Both Gilda and Chris looked at Marco for a moment. The latter recovered first. “Okay, but still, just a stick? There were two of them! With sharp... thingies! I mean, of all the stupid, idiotic things you”—and Gilda watched Chris ranting on, using his arms a bit, driving the point home on how he felt Marco’s actions were absolutely brainless. Marco just gave his friend a roll of his eyes and ghost of a grin.
 
Gilda’s mind blocked everything out as she pictured the scenario. If what Marco said was accurate, then she realized what had happened. Two griffins, probably those stupid and brave enough to ignore Narada’s announcement yesterday, came to the two humans looking for a fight. They couldn’t speak Equestrian well and Chris probably made the mistake of speaking in simpler terms. ‘No fight’ was most likely misinterpreted. The two griffins thought that Chris was claiming that he was too strong for them and they weren’t worthy of fighting. Turning his back on them must have exacerbated the situation further, flaring the griffin’s tempers and making them think that the human was giving the message that they weren’t even a true threat.

“Okay, I can make a report about this,” Gilda suddenly declared, cutting Chris’ tirade short. She looked at them both. “Captain Narada announced yesterday the new policy of disallowing any aggression between griffins and humans. While this was likely another misunderstanding, they still started the fight. Both of you will most likely be cleared of any wrongdoing.”
 
Chris sighed, shoulders sagging. “Oh, thank God.”
 
Gilda looked at Marco. She expected some sort of relieved expression to cross his face, but it remained blank. “You did a decent job holding them off,” she declared. “And to defend a friend. I may have misjudged you.” 

Marco looked at her. “Yeah. Thanks,” he replied unemotionally. 

Gilda could only nod. For a few seconds, the three were silent until the eagless pointed towards the shovel. “Okay, why that?”
 
Marco blinked. He looked at the eagless direction of her talon and replied, “Oh. Um… well, I lost my baton and this was the only thing I could reach. I kinda just… threatened to cut that griffin’s... well, sac, with it.”
 
“With a shovel,” Gilda muttered, sounding doubtful.
 
“Well, I remembered my brother sticking a spoon in my neck, tricking me to think he held a knife. Back when we were stupid kids,” Marco said with a shrug. “I thought it could be the same.”
 
“But how sure were you that it was going to work, though?”
 
“I didn’t. It did work, though, right? Guy was speaking in griffin language, so I didn’t really understand.”
 
Gilda looked at Marco. For a moment, she said nothing. The next, she was laughing. It only confused the human further as he looked towards his red-haired friend, who just shrugged.
 
“What?” Marco asked the eagless.  
 
“With a shovel,” Gilda replied, shaking her head with disbelief. “With a small crow-begotten shovel, you made a fully grown tiercel cry for his Ancestors. It wasn’t even a war shovel! Unbelievable.”
 
“Okay, seriously, what?” Marco asked, anger coloring his voice.
 
“You’re not bad, Marco Lakan,” Gilda said, a small smile gracing her face. “Not bad at all.” She shook her head again. “With a shovel.” And she continued laughing.
 
Tara and Fortrakt arrived a few minutes later. The younger griffin looked curious, but when he saw the wounded Marco, stayed quiet until they were able to bring the humans back to the Winged Hall. The wounds weren’t deep or bad enough to need a Magus Knight, but still needed treatment, which Marco got when he was checked by a human medic. Only after Marco was all patched up did Fortrakt ask what had happened.
 
Gilda explained.
 
Fortrakt laughed harder than she did. 



> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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. 
	
	

> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fortrakt’s gloved claw came in fast, almost a blur, towards Marco’s side. If unsheathed, it would have stabbed the human right in the ribs, maybe penetrated and punctured his lungs. It still hurt, though, judging by Marco’s short but sharp cry as he moved away from Fortrakt, his arm protecting his side. 

“Dead,” Fortrakt declared, taking a few steps back, putting space between him and the human. He looked at Reyes, who gave him a nod. 

The Sergeant, who was overseeing the training outside the spartan ring Fortrakt had created, looked sharply at Marco. “What the hell dude? You’re moving even slower.” 

“You had me sparring non-stop for half an hour already!” Marco replied, glaring at his Marine friend. “You’re taking your break. Can’t I take mine?” 

“You know the rules,” Reyes said. “You don’t stop until you get in a solid hit.”

Gilda, lying on all fours outside the ring, could see Marco closing his eyes, his lips thinning. She found it both fascinating and funny watching his expression going through changes. She could tell that he was irritated, angry at his friend and at himself, and frustrated at the situation he found himself in. 

Reyes was going full out today. He had reasons. Tomorrow, he was going to assist the Staff Sergeant in mobilizing Marines that would accompany the groups of human civilians going towards the different parts of the Kingdom. Chris, Tara, and Marco were all attached to the excursion trip in Southern Farmlands tomorrow. Naturally, Gilda and Fortrakt were joining them. 

Thinking about the trip, it surprised Gilda how much she was going to miss the morning training. For the past few days, both she and Fortrakt had woken up early to join Reyes’s routine. It served as a double purpose: it allowed the griffins to fulfill their morning runs, and allowed them to get closer to both the sergeant and Marco. 

Reading the latter had been easier ever since they both reached an understanding a few days ago. Clearing any misunderstanding between them, Gilda found herself hanging out more and more with Marco, who talked more openly and often with her. His tales of his hometown were interesting and informative, while her training stories captured quite a bit of his attention. 

Still, she wondered when they’d finish. The sun was slowly climbing its way towards its highest peak. As much as she enjoyed lazing around, kneading the loose dirt on the ground, and being outside the city, she and Fortrakt had a meeting with Captain Narada soon. Gilda half-wondered if she was going to talk to Reyes about it. 

“Come on, Robbie. At least give me a stick,” Marco said, voice weary. 

Reyes shook his head. “This spar simulates a situation when you’re unarmed.” 

“I’ll never be unarmed,” Marco countered. 

“You can never be too sure when it comes to combat situations,” Reyes replied. “If you lose your stick, you need to know how to defend yourself without it.” 

Gilda agreed. The Gauntlet had hammered that point to her, giving every recruit basic training to all available weapons in the Gryphon Arsenal and  claw-to-claw combat lessons at the same time. She opened her beak, squawked softly to get Marco’s attention, and gave him a nod. “Listen to Sergeant Reyes, Marco. Remember that encounter in the fields?” 

“I was fighting against two-to-one odds, Gilda,” Marco replied. 

“Not my point,” Gilda said. “You lost your collapsible baton during the scuffle. Things like that happen in combat. The Sergeant here is only trying to prepare you.” 

Marco sighed, then shook his head. He pointed towards the sheathed knife on Fortrakt’s side. “Okay, but come on. He’s got a knife on him!” 

Gilda gave him a slight smile. “Yes he does,” she agreed. “And he hasn’t even used it.” 

“Exactly my point!” Marco said. 

“Marco, stop wasting time here,” Reyes declared, deadpanned, getting Marco to glare at him. “Just land one solid hit and we’re going home.” 

“Yes, come on, Marco,” Fortrakt joined in. “I have better things to do than watch you flop around.” 

Marco looked hurt as he stared at Fortrakt. “Wha—dude! Harsh!” 

The tiercel's confused look got Gilda chuckling. “Fortrakt didn’t say that to insult you,” she clarified, looking at Marco. “Its the griffin way of telling their opponent that they can do this. Insults get blood pumping faster than praise. He wants you to put forth a better effort.” 

“Really?” Marco asked. He looked at Fortrakt, who nodded immediately. The human conceded with a sigh, then crossed his arms across his chest. “Look, Fortrakt’s a trained soldier. How am I supposed to beat him, unarmed, and protected with only leather arm braces?” 

Reyes smiled. “You have to figure that out. Just remember, Marco, this isn’t the pansy-ass spar you're used to. This is a combat simulation. No bowing and that shit. You step up and you go to fucking work. Now, come on!” 

Marco frowned, his expression deep in thought for a moment. When he faced Fortrakt, a spark appeared in his eyes. Gilda shifted, wondering if the human finally had a plan in mind.

The two combatants approached the center of ring. Fortrakt arched his back, ready to attack, while Marco looked at him steadily. 

Reyes gave the two a look before nodding, slicing the air with his arm, declaring, “Okay, let’s go to war!”  

Fortrakt was about to charge in when Marco extended his hand forward, a call for a stop. Oddly enough, it was the same signal griffins would use as well. Fortrakt, surprised, slackened his stance. 

“What is it?” Fortrakt asked. 

“Fortrakt, look, are you sure you can’t just, I don’t know, stand still while I hit you once?” Marco asked. 

Fortrakt rolled his eyes. “Please, there’s no wa—”

Marco made his move. His leg kicked up the loose dust on the ground towards Fortrakt’s unprepared face. The tiercel tried to immediately cover up, but it was too late. He screeched as he moved away, eyes closed and watering, and forelegs swiping blindly in front of him. 

The human stepped in, both his hands on his head, elbows out, as he moved, weaving in and out through the tiercel’s clumsy strikes. Marco’s forearm braces would protect him from any lucky strikes as he penetrated Fortrakt’s defenses, using his hard elbows as offensive weapons, trying to redirect the moving forelegs out of his way. 

Smart, but not enough, thought Gilda. Soon, Fortrakt would recover, and he’d put Marco down immediately. 

Then, Marco did something that surprised her. He grabbed Fortrakt’s extended foreleg, twisted it in a rather painful looking angle, and drove the tiercel down towards the ground. Marco locked him into position by using his legs to pin the griffin in place, freeing his hands to reach towards Fortrakt’s sheathed knife. In quick motion, Marco drove the flat of the blade towards the side of the griffin’s exposed neck. 

“Dead,” Marco declared. 

Reyes nodded. “Finally.” 

Marco eased away from Fortrakt, who recovered immediately. Standing up, he coughed up the last of the dust and looked at the sheepish-looking Marco. 

“Sorry,” Marco muttered.

“Sorry about what? That was a great move,” Fortrakt replied with a grin. 

“Thanks,” Marco said. He handed the knife back to Fortrakt, who shook his head. 

“Nah, keep it,” the tiercel said.

“You sure?” Marco asked. He looked at the blade. “This isn’t exactly a kitchen knife.” 

“Believe it or not, I got three of them,” Fortrakt replied. “I’m not going to miss one.”

Gilda was on her feet, walking towards the ring. “Not bad, Marco,” she said. Marco replied with a grin. 

“Okay, now that training is done, want to continue Lord of the Rings?” he asked. “We’re at the Two Towers now, right?”

“Yeah,” Gilda replied, but shook her head afterwards. “But we’ll have to do that after lunch. Fortrakt and I have a meeting to attend to.” 

Marco blinked, then nodded. “Ah, right. Its probably in regards to the preparations for our trip towards the Southern Farmlands, right?” 

Gilda slowly nodded. She didn’t want to lie so she settled for, “Mostly.” 

Marco just nodded. “Can’t wait.” 

As Gilda and Fortrakt walked away, the eagless spotted Reyes approaching Marco, hitting him on his shoulders hard enough to almost cause him to fall. As difficult it was to believe, that was a complimentary gesture. The latter shoved the sergeant back, who just laughed.

When the two griffins were near the entrance of the Western Gates, Fortrakt spoke up. “About time he realized the knife was planted. Though I did not expect him to kick up the dust as an initial attack.” 

“Quite. Though I don’t think he realized that the knife’s presence was part of the test,” Gilda replied, looking at the tiercel. “He just thought of the best way to fight you off, and went with that.” 

Fortrakt looked a bit put off. “Sometimes I think Marco wasted his time learning those martial arts of his.” 

Gilda shook her head. “Marco’s not fully trained for competition or for warfare like us or Sergeant Reyes. He did it to keep fit and to be able to defend himself.”

“Yes, see that’s the other thing!” Fortrakt exclaimed. “Their self-defense rules! I mean, honestly, first rule is to avoid confrontation, run when you can, and only fight when cornered? Best way to defend yourself is to put down your enemy immediately! We’ve seen humans kick rear like in that movie! Why can’t self-defense rules be like that?”  

“Like Warrior, you mean?” Gilda clarified. 

“Exactly!” 

Gilda chuckled. “Apparently, human laws frowns on excessive fighting or somesuch. Kinda like Equestrian Ponies, really.”
 
Fortrakt frowned. “Well, he’s not on the human world. He should really let himself loose more often.” 

The eagless looked at her partner for a moment before smirking. “Oh, is my partner having fun doing Rounds with a male human?” 

“Wait, what?” 

“I mean, I did feel you were a bit jealous that I’m taking a lot of Marco’s time.” Gilda chuckled. “I wonder what that that eagless Talon will react when she finds out that the tiercel she has been having Rounds with is doing the same thing with a male human.” 

“That wasn’t a Round!” Fortrakt exclaimed. 

“And nice touch with the gift giving,” Gilda continued, as she didn’t hear him. “Are we going to hear plans for an Engagement soon?” 

“It was just a knife, not a—” and he got cut off by Gilda’s snort and laugh. The tiercel whistled out an annoyed trill. “Oh, shut up,” he finished.

Gilda continued chuckling until they passed through the Western Gates, giving the guards a signal. Given the all-clear to fly, Fortrakt and Gilda arched their backs and launched themselves into the air, wings spread out. In rhythm, both griffins flapped their feathered appendages fast and hard, passing through the first level and going even higher until they reached the sixth. Finding the closest landing platform near Narada’s office, both griffins descended until all eight legs were touching the ground. 

“Hey,” Fortrakt began, “this meeting... are you sure you want to do this?” 

Gilda looked at her partner for a moment. “Why?” 

The tiercel looked around for a moment, then approached the eagless, whispering, “I don’t know if you heard, but Marco’s a bit in trouble with the human ambassador. They are threatening him to send him back to Earth.” 

“Well, I did hear that he was being given a hard time, but threatening to send him home?” 

Fortrakt nodded. “Yeah. Apparently, he embarrassed the humans during that time you had to act like a stupid cub. Ouch! Hey!” 

Gilda folded back her wing and rolled her eyes. “First of all, he touched my flight muscles. Second, I doubt my little discovery would affect his standing with the human ambassador in any way.” 

“You sure?” Fortrakt asked. 

“I’m pretty sure that the humans only brought seven agriculture specialists, and that it takes a few weeks of travel to get back to Equestria, and depending on how well they can communicate, even longer to replace one of their staff,” Gilda replied. “Besides, my report is nothing but a theory. And I doubt we’d risk friendly relations by telling the humans we may have discovered a secret of theirs, complete with bright blinking lights and fanfare. So, don’t worry about Marco.”  

“If you say so,” Fortrakt replied, though his tone indicated that he was not entirely convinced. 

The two continued on towards Narada’s office in silence. Once in front of the door, Gilda knocked twice, and waited for until she heard Arnau’s captain response. 

“Come in.”

Gilda and Fortrakt entered, spotting Captain Narada, as usual, behind her wooden desk. The presence of Ambassador Strenus, sitting on his haunches besides her, though, was quite a surprise. Gilda and Fortrakt immediately bared their necks. 

“Good morning, Captain,” Gilda greeted, then turned towards the Ambassador. “Good morning, Ambassador Strenus. I didn’t know you were called. We’d have arrived here much earlier. My apologies.”

Strenus chuckled, his deep voice rumbling. “Do not worry about that, Sub-Tribune Behertz. Shall we?” 

“Yes, sir,” was all Gilda could say. She looked at Narada. “Sub-Tribune Behertz present for the report, sir.” 

Captain Narada nodded. Her claws began to spread a rolled scroll flat across her desk. “You said you may have some information in regards to the human weaponry?” 

“Yes, sir,” Gilda replied. She took a deep breath. “As you know, me and Fortrakt have been reporting on the black tubes and the variations we have seen.”

Narada grabbed a scroll Gilda recognized as one of her reports. The Captain unfolded it and scanned through it. “According to this report, you've seen at least four variations.”

“I found bulkiest the most interesting," Strenus interjected. “The one with that square block at the bottom, I believe. Though what about them, Sub-Tribune?”

“Sir, I have a theory that all the weapons that the Marines are carrying are not in fact melee weapons, but ranged weaponry.” 

Narada and Strenus looked at each other before going back at Gilda. “Why would you say that, Sub-Tribune?” the Captain asked.

“Observation,” Gilda replied. “I initially thought that their weapons were cumbersome to wield, but assumed that their fingers could compensate for it.”

Narada raised her claw. “Excuse me, Sub-Tribune, but what are fingers?” 

Before Gilda could reply, Strenus answered for her. “Fingers, my dear Captain, are the human’s blunt yet nimble claws.” 

The Captain nodded. “Alright. Continue.” 

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Gilda said, looking at the older griffin. Then, she turned back towards Narada and continued, “As I said, I initially thought that their fingers would be more than enough to compensate for the weapon’s cumbersome form. I was wrong. 

“I’ve been personally observing how humans move and fight and I have concluded that the weapons are not designed for close combat. I believe Fortrackt and I have submitted reports in regards to these human ‘films’, Captain?” 

Narada nodded. “Yes you have,” she replied. “What does it have to do with anything?”

“Well, the first film we’ve watched, Warrior, showcased human’s modern civilization in a country called USA,” Gilda said. “The next film we watched, Braveheart, was a historical re-telling of their older civilization in another country called Scotland. While the countries differ, I am sure my observation still applies.

“Braveheart showcased how early humans fought in a war. They rode—” 

Fortrakt suddenly snickered, which got him the attention of three griffins. Gilda gave him her harshest stare, while Narada and Strenus looked at him curiously. 

“Yes, Auxiliary Guard Gletscher?” Narada asked. 

“Nothing, sir,” Fortrakt replied immediately, clearing his throat. He then stayed completely silent. Gilda ignored the urge to cuff him with her wing and settled on rolling her eyes. 

“As I was saying, Braveheart showed us that early humans waged war almost the same way as we do. They had melee weapons quite like ours. They used swords, spears, and shields. In matters of mobilization, they rode beasts of burden, Earth Horses, to move around the battlefield. And they also used bows and arrows, like the Equestrian unicorns, and a very primitive version of our crossbows.” 

Strenus stroked his chin. “Interesting. Bows and arrows, I can see them manipulating with their fingers. But you say they also use crossbows? That they have invented a weapon similar to ours?” 

“Yes, sir,” Gilda replied with a sharp nod. “Quite frankly, I am much more surprised on the similarities between the humans and ourselves. Even armor design look very familiar. However, this brings me back to the other film, Warrior, which is set on the modern human setting.

“Living standard between the two films is very drastic. Building designs turned very sophisticated. From stone castles transforming to metal and glass towers that seemed to reach the sky. The more I think about it, sir, the more I realize that we could be very wrong on their current weapons. I cannot confirm by how they look, but judging the way they hold it, its very similar to how a Wind Knight would hold a crossbow.” 

Gilda took a breather before looking directly at Narada. “I think that modern human weapons are very advanced crossbows, firing small arrows. I recall we have developed spring-launched bolts at one point, and we may be looking at the same thing.” 

“While the weapons were theoretically possible, their power and range were laughable,” Narada commented. “Are you sure about this, Sub-Tribune?” 

“It’s all guesswork, Captain,” Gilda replied. “For all I know, they succeeded where we didn’t in regards to that particular venture. However, it all fits from what I’ve seen. I cannot believe that a race that has developed long range weaponry so long ago would stick to melee weaponry. Especially as cumbersome as those black tubes they are carrying.” 

Narada looked at Strenus, who nodded. “Very interesting, Sub-Tribune,” the Captain said. “To be honest, this is not the first time we’ve heard of the theory. However, it is just that: a theory. We were hoping that close contact with non-combatants would uncover new information in that regards, as they wouldn’t be as tight-beaked as soldiers.” Narada’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you haven’t discovered anything?”

“No, sir,” Gilda replied easily. “I am actually suspecting that these films were chosen specifically to keep us in the dark. Warrior, while set in the modern human era, shows limited amount of human warfare. And considering circumstances, I believe that we were only able to watch it because we caught them by surprise. The rest of the films were all either set in the past or were pure fantasy.” 

Strenus’s eyes suddenly gleamed dangerously. “Has your purpose been discovered, Sub-Tribune?” 

Gilda looked at the Ambassador for a moment, wondering why she felt like she was given a loaded question. She took a moment to think back, remembering as much as she could on her interactions with Marco, Chris, and Tara. She recalled Reyes’s face and expressions. In the end, she shook her head. 

“I do not think they are aware that I’m spying on them,” Gilda replied. “However, I would not be surprised if the civilians were told to maintain silence.”

“Heh. Humans come in force, and they have civilians remain vigilant for any information gathering.” Strenus didn’t laugh as much as roared. “Equestrians were never this fun. Yes, Auxiliary Guard Gletscher? ” 

Fortrakt lowered his claw. “Sir, we are pretty close to our three charges. Maybe we can ask them directly?” 

Strenus immediately shook his head. “No. We don’t want to risk insulting them, especially during this stage.” 

“What stage is that, sir?” Gilda asked. 

“I am sure you are aware of the trips around the Kingdom tomorrow, correct?” 

Gilda nodded. 

“The trips are the opening engagements for our trade agreement,” Strenus continued. “The humans claim that they have extensive crop selection and breed domesticated animals for food. They also understand the food shortages we’ve been having, and they believe they can help us on that regard.” 

“Does that mean we are being re-assigned?” Gilda asked, half-wondering why she suddenly felt uneasy for even suggesting it. 

“No,” Narada replied. “Continue observing the humans. Get as much information as you can. Who knows, maybe the Ancestors will bless us and you will learn the secrets behind the human weaponry, and more importantly, the race that wields them. Which reminds me, I believe this is a good time to discuss the trip tomorrow. Unless you have more, Sub-Tribune?” 

Gilda shook her head. 

“Then thank you for your report, Sub-Tribune,” Narada said. “Now, as both of you are aware, the humans are sending out small expeditionary teams around the Kingdom. Your concern is the group going to the Southern Farmlands, towards Tierra.” The Captain took out another scroll and unrolled it. “The humans have submitted the names of those in the said team. Three names, you are quite familiar with: McClain, Fields, and Lakan. Coming with them is a—” Narada blinked, her eyes roaming on the scroll “—ge-o-lo-gist?” 

“I think its pronounced geologist,” Strenus advised. “It’s someone that studies elements, I believe.” 

“Human terms,” Narada muttered under her breathe. “A geologist named Henderson, a bee-o-lo-gist named Brennan.” Narada looked at Strenus, who just kept quiet, though not quite hiding his grin. She said nothing. “And one of the Ambassador’s aide, a... Ra-leg?” 

“That’s pronounced as Raleigh,” Strenus advised. Narada didn’t even bother to correct herself anymore. 

“We also know that the humans will be sending teams each made up of fourteen soldiers to escort the civilians,” she continued.  

“We’re sending our own escorts, aren’t we, sir?” Gilda asked. 

“Precisely,” Narada replied. “We cannot just allow them to travel uncontested in our Lands. Which brings me to your second assignment, Sub-Tribune.” 

“Yes sir?” 

“I need you to lead the Gryphon Escorts attached to the group going South,” Narada finished. 

Gilda’s eyes blinked before they widened when she fully understood the implications of what the Captain just said. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to smile or call for the Ancestors to dig a hole she could hide in.  Instead, she opted to take a breath and asked, “Sir, is that wise?” 

It was Strenus that replied. “It makes a lot of sense, Sub-Tribune. You’re still assigned to accompany the three humans, and with your rank, there’s no need to confuse the Gryphon Escorts by having redundant officers leading them.”

“Sir, I’m aware that this Command Chain”—Gilda gently grabbed the chain around her neck—“was only given to me to help me with my assignment of guarding the three humans.” 

“It was also given to you as a test,” Narada reminded her. “To see if you have the potential to be an officer.”

Gilda looked at the Captain. “All I’m saying, sir, is that I do not feel that I am ready to lead griffins, to be responsible for their lives.” 

“Sub-Tribune, I’m not ordering you to send them to war,” Narada replied. Gilda had a sneaking suspicion that the Captain was trying her hardest not to smile. “Consider this the first step into making you a proper officer. And we aren’t going to clip your wings and throw you down a cliff. We will provide you with a newly-appointed centurion to help you along.” 

Gilda nodded. What else could she say? “Thank you, sir.” 

“Then let us go over tomorrow’s trip.” 

By the time they were finished, it was lunch time. Both Gilda and Fortrakt saluted towards the Ambassador and the Captain before making their way out. Once they were a ways away, Gilda released a sharp huff. 

Fortrakt looked at her, amused. “Were you holding your breath or something?” he asked. 

“Wouldn’t you?” Gilda countered. After a moment, she sighed. “I did not expect the Ambassador. Or even this new assignment.” She felt for her chain. “Sometimes, I feel like I should have fought harder when they gave me this.” 

Fortrakt stayed silent for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, if you ask me, the Chain fits you perfectly. You should act more of your age. Sit behind the frontlines, ordering younger griffins to do your work, talking to alien guests and all that.” 

Gilda grinned at the last part. “Is that your jealousy rearing its head again, Fortrakt?” 

“Stick yours in a cave,” was Fortrakt’s only reply. 

As they approached the battlement, Gilda couldn’t resist adding one more niggle. “One of these days, Fortrakt, you’re going to need a better insult than that.” 

Before he could reply, Gilda took off. It was a few moments later that Fortrakt joined in, a sour look on his face. The eagless just laughed as they descended to the third level and made their way towards Winged Hall Inn. They passed the guards and went straight towards the mess hall, where she hoped that lunch was still being served. It was. They even spotted Chris, Tara, and Marco, who were already finishing up their meals. 

“Hey, over here!” Tara, seeing them first, greeted with a smile. Chris and Marco turned around, and upon spotting them, grinned as well. 

“How was the meeting?” Chris asked. 

As both griffins approached the table, Fortrakt looked at Gilda for a moment. The eagless spared him a glance and shrugged her shoulders. 

“Boring,” Gilda replied, walking behind Chris and Marco, checking out what they were eating. She must be getting quite used to cooked food beucase it looked and smelled good. 

“She’s just being modest,” Fortrakt declared, earning a look from Gilda and the three humans. He motioned towards the former and said, “You are looking at the officer leading the Gryphon Escorts tomorrow.” 

Marco raised an inquiring eyebrow, Gilda gave him a steady look. “What?” she asked. 

“You, in charge of tomorrow’s escorts?” Marco asked. “Ancestors preserve us.”

Fortrakt’s laugh came in sharp and loud, which Gilda was sure attracted the attention of a few humans. She felt her cheeks flush, and her beak opened to protest when she saw Marco sticking his tongue out to her. She replied by cuffing him behind his head with her wing, which earned chuckles from Chris and Tara. Even Marco looked a bit pleased with himself, grinning as he recovered. Gilda could only roll her eyes. 

“So, what’s for lunch?” Fortrakt asked. 

Chris, Tara, and Marco stayed with the two griffins as they ate, some asking Gilda in regards to the Southern Farmlands. She had advised them of much of what she knew, like how much higher the temperature was there compared to Arnau, more presence of Equestrian earth ponies, and did her best to describe the steadholts and all the crops they grew. 

The rest of the day was spent in Chris’s room, watching The Two Towers. 

If someone told Gilda that she could get tired by doing nothing but sit all day, she’d have told them to dunk their heads into ice water. However, there was something draining in watching a film for three hours. She almost couldn’t believe Marco when he told her the next one was the longest. Or that there were even longer versions of the films. 

She doubted she could sit through a movie that was longer than three hours. It wasn’t that the movie itself was boring, but the length made it quite exhausting. Judging by how Fortrakt was no longer snickering in regards to the humans riding horses—and there were a lot of those scenes—he was tired as well. 

Still, Gilda would never forget the final parts of the movie, where the humans were defending against impossible odds. It reminded her of the Blessed Arnau’s last stand. More so when the human mage came with reinforcements in the end, which reminded her of Fortis’s charge. 

By the time Gilda and Fortrakt finished their nightly flight, they were utterly worn out. She didn’t even bother hanging up her armor properly, and just placed them on a small stone table. She wanted nothing more than to just nod off until breakfast. 

She dreamt of the war with the Cloven of the Sun. Except that the griffins were riding Saddle Arabians to war. And Marco was leading them, sporting a full white beard while holding a white collapsible staff. 

When she woke up the next morning, refreshed, the first thing she did was laugh. And that laugh stayed with her during breakfast, earning her a few looks from everyone. 

Not fancying giving the Spear Centurion assigned to her a bad impression, she composed herself as she went towards the meeting place, which was just outside the Southern Gate. She could see a few air coaches already propped up and displayed, and a few armored griffins waiting at the ready. Amongst them, she spotted a familiar-looking griffin wearing a centurion helmet. He noticed her and immediately squawked an order that had the other griffins scrambling into formation. 

Much to her relief, the centurion was someone she recognized and respected.

“You’re the newly-appointed Spear Centurion they assigned to me?” Gilda asked, smiling. 

Giraldi made sure the griffin soldiers were standing correctly before he gave her a small smile. “Yes. I reckon I made someone angry to get stuck with you, sir,” he replied softly, saluting and baring his neck. The griffins behind him did the same. Gilda returned the salute. Giraldi turned he gave them a nod before barking, “Stand by ready. We’re going to give the apes something to admire.” 

“Yes, sir,” they replied easily, and then broke formation, going on their own way but still standing nearby. 

“Not bad,” Gilda said, nodding. 

“Yeah, not bad for a bunch of hatchlings,” Giraldi muttered. “Only a few Talons are seasoned soldiers. The rest are fresh out of the Gauntlet.” 

“And who better to lead them then a newly-minted centurion and an unqualified sub-tribune," Gilda scoffed. 

"Glad to see the Command Chain hasn't improved your optimistic outlook," Giraldi said, chuckling. 

"Someone has to stay sane," Gilda replied. "Still, least we’ll have you, Giraldi. Its good to see you.” 

“Aye, you too, Behertz. I’d say how surprised I am to see you, but honestly, we both knew you would come back crawling to me for help.” 

“Hah. Alright centurion, what do we have?” 

Giraldi handed Gilda a scroll, which she promptly unrolled and read. The older tiercel began, “Well, as you can see, we’ve been assigned four air coaches, six-seaters. I know it doesn’t seem much, but one will fit eight humans comfortably. The advantage of walking in two legs, I suppose. As far as I know, the humans are sending six civilians and fourteen soldiers to the Farmlands.” 

“Marines,” Gilda interjected. 

“What was that, sir?” 

Gilda shook her head. “The human soldiers identify themselves as Marines, and prefer to be called that way.” Giraldi looked at her for a moment. She just shrugged. 

“Okay, fourteen Marines,” Giraldi conceded. “We’re not going to just let them show off, so I was able to scrounge quite a large amount of Knights and even a mage with us.” 

“Giraldi.” 

Giraldo paused for a moment and looked at Gilda, who was looking a bit perplexed. “Yes, Behertz?” 

Gilda pointed a symbol in the scroll with her beak. “What do the red dots mean?”

“The red dots represent Rotation. For reference, it takes two rotations to season a soldier.” 

“Ah, okay. So, we have a lot of hatchling Wind Knights and a few seasoned Talons. Though... only three Fortus Knights?” 

“Yes,” Giraldi replied. “There isn’t much need for Fortus Knights as our travels will mostly be via air coaches, which all the Wind Knights will be used to fly. Now, in regards to the seating arrangements, I’ve taken the liberty of putting you and all the human civilians on the first coach.”

Gilda shook her head. “No, I won’t need it. Put a Fortus Knight in my place.” 

 “Sir—”

“I’m a sky-griffin,” the eagless interrupted. “I am not going to spend the trip inside an air coach when there’s plenty of space in the sky. Is that clear, centurion?” 

Giraldi just rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir. Any other requests in seating arrangements?” 

Gilda thought about it for a moment. There were a few protocols she remembered, especially in regards to the presence of griffins in a coach, but there was still enough space to mix things around. In the end, she said, “Arrange it so that there’ll be equal amounts of griffin soldiers and Marines per coach. Get them comfortable with each other’s presence.” 

“Risky, but I can see the advantages of it,” Giraldi replied, nodding. “I’ll rearrange the seating arrangements to the new specifications. If that is all?” 

Gilda hesitated for a moment, then looked out towards the griffin soldiers. She faced the older tiercel. Her apprehension must have shown because Giraldi steady expression gave way to worry. 

“What is it, Behertz?” he asked. 

“Giraldi... am I ready for this?” 

The Centurion looked at the Sub-Tribune for a moment, a smile gracing his face. “You’ll never know until you try, sir. And this salted griffin can tell you, you’ll be fine.” He suddenly laughed. “Though don’t take that as Ancestor’s Word. I’ve been known to be wrong every once in awhile.” 

Gilda rolled her eyes. “Here’s to hoping that you didn’t make centurion by giving out advice.”

Giraldi’s laughter exploded out. “You gotta start somewhere. And don’t worry. Its a simple assignment. Perfect for those young uppity griffins whose whole experience as an officer was hanging out with foreign guests.” He gave her a wink. “You’ll do fine.” 

Gilda gave him one last look before she nodded. “Thanks, Giraldi.” 

“No problem. So, when are the humans coming?” 

Before Gilda could reply, she heard a warning from one of the griffin soldiers. Checking the sky, she noticed a tiercel coming at them—it was Fortrakt. Landing just a few paces away, the young tiercel ran towards the group, and was about to say something when he saw the soldier griffins and Giraldi. He paused, then gave Gilda a sharp salute and bared his neck. 

“Sorry I’m late, sir,” Fortrakt declared professionally. “The human excursion group is on the way.”

Giraldi nodded and looked towards the scattered group of griffin soldiers and shouted, “Formation! You too, Gletscher, get in line.” He shot Gilda a look. He approached the eagless and whispered, “And you, sir, ignore everything here and focus on facing the humans.” 

Gilda blinked. “What?” she whispered back. 

“Officers shouldn’t pay attention to soldiers doing their jobs. That’s mine. Yours is to lead them. And right now, they need to know that their commanding officer would gladly meet a foreign force head on, unflinchingly.” Giraldi gently nudged Gilda to look at the Southern Gate. “Here they come. Remember, strength and respect are languages understood by Enemies, Allies, and Subordinates. So give the hatchlings and the humans a good impression. That is a responsibility you hold as an officer of the Kingdom.”

Gilda took a moment before she nodded. Standing readily facing the Marines approaching in a five-line formation, she rotated her shoulder a bit before she settled on a neutral face, her game face. 

The crowd of ponies and griffins behind the gate cleared out immediately, letting the group of humans pass unobstructed. The eagless let her sharp eagle-eyes focus on the Marines in front, not recognizing any of them. 

Maybe she was hanging out too often with Reyes, but she wished he was part of the group. 

As the humans got closer, the Marines began to split, revealing the civilians in the center. Marco and his friends were recognizable, dressed for the heat with short-sleeved shirts, shorts, and wearing large backpacks. The former even waved his arm in greeting, almost threatening to make Gilda smile. Almost. 

The other civilians she didn’t recognize. One was female and the other two were males. One wore round spectacles, and the other had a... rounder body. They too seemed ready for the heat, sporting bright colors. The spectacled male carried a small bag with one of his hands, while the female had a bag hanging from her shoulders. The rounder male wore a backpack. 

The Marines stopped in front of Gilda, each of them with an a neutral, if not very casual, expression. They all wore the same patterned brown uniforms, but additionally wore off-brown multi-pocketed vests on top of that. They also wore patterned helmets, each holding  black metal boxes that looked like cameras. 

Some Marines casually carried those black tubes, the three variations she was familiar with, though now she noticed one of them carrying another type of weapon that had small red tubes attached on its side. Before she could study that any further, the one in the center approached her. 

He was different from the rest. Instead of casual easiness, he carried an expression as if he was burdened with something heavy. He stared at Gilda for a moment, assessing her, and she made the show of doing the same. 

He was thinner than Reyes, less muscled, younger,  and paler. His cheeks were stark, showing sharp cheekbones, while his nose had a beak-like feature to it. While the helmet made all Marines look alike, it was his eyes that were the most prominent feature—orbs of pale golden brown that almost glowed. 

“Corporal Imlay,” he introduced himself. He offered his hand. “Warwolf-3 alpha Squad Leader.” 

“Sub-Tribune Behertz,” Gilda replied in Equestrian, grabbing his extended limb and shook it. “Commanding Officer, Gryphon Escort for the Southern Excursion Group.” 

“Pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am,” Imlay said, giving her a small smile. “Heard about you from Sergeant Reyes and Flip-Boy over there.” He pointed back towards Marco with his thumb without moving away to face her. He gave her claw one final firm shake. “Hope we can get along.” 

“Same here.” Gilda let go of his hand. “You know Sergeant Reyes?” 

“Spent two tours with him, one under him,” Imlay replied. “He’s quite the regular moto Marine.” 

Gilda blinked. Moto Marine? Mentally shaking her head, she just nodded, and motioned behind her. “My Spear Centurion, Giraldi, and I have planned the seating arrangements.” 

“Alright, I’ll have a look,” Imlay replied, then motioned the Marines with him to follow. Gilda stole one last glance at the humans as they passed by her, and focused on the approaching civilians, still flanked by a few Marines. The bespectacled male approached first. 

“James Raleigh,” he said, simply. He offered his hand. “I’m the ambassador’s aide and representative of our race on this trip. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.” 

Gilda gave his hand a simple shake. The unknown female approached next. 

“Jennifer Henderson,” she introduced herself. “Resident Rock Rooter.”

The rounder male approached. “She means  geologist,” he said, smiling as he offered a fist, which Gilda was happy to bump with her own. “Bradley Brennan. Biologist.” 

“He means Resident Evil Enthusiast,” Henderson added. 

“Zombies are real, and I can prove it,” Brennan replied with an easy smile, which Jennifer returned. 

Zombies? Before Gilda could say anything, Marco scrambled right in front of her, grabbing her claw, and shaking with with overt enthusiasm. One of her eyes got larger. She opened her beak, only for Marco to grin. 

“Hey, Hey, Marco Lakan. I’m the resident farmer. Nice to meet you! Say, you look familiar. Have me met from somewhere before?” 

Before Gilda could respond, Chris and Tara shoved Marco aside, laughing. 

“Dude, what the hell?” Chris asked. 

“Look, they were all shaking hands and shit, so I wanted to get into the action,” Marco replied. 

Gilda rolled her eyes as Tara said something about Marco being silly. Before she could comment, a griffin made his way to her side, saluting and baring his neck. She turned and saluted right back. 

“Yes, Talon?” she asked in Aeric.

“Centurion Giraldi wishes to speak with you in regards to the seating arrangements,” the tiercel replied. 

Gilda hesitated before she nodded. Dismissing the Talon, she gave the civilians one last nod before she walked towards Giraldi, who was pointing towards the scroll, while Imlay shook his head, pointing towards some of the Marines behind him. 

“Problems, Centurion, Corporal?” Gilda asked, switching to Equestrian again, as she approached. 

Giraldi gave her an acknowledging nod and replied, also in Equestrian, “Corporal Imlay wants to modify the seating arrangements a bit, though I advised him that you have the final say.” 

“What do you have in mind, Corporal?” 

“We need a Marine to stay with the civilians in the first coach,” Imlay replied. 

Giraldi spoke next. “The problem is, as I’ve pointed out, that with their equipment and bags they have brought, we can’t fit anything else with all six civilians and a Fortus Knight in the coach.” 

“I suggested removing the Fortus Knight, as they are carrying a lot of the bulk, and thus giving us a lot of the space,” Imlay advised. “But Giraldi here said it was against protocol?”

“He’s right,” Gilda replied. “Protocol for air coaches is to have one or two griffins inside as means of reinforcements. The Wind Knights carrying the coach are defenseless, and we’re already limited in numbers to assign armed escorts. Maybe you can put all your supplies in the fourth coach?”

“No,” Imlay responded immediately. “You may get the civilians to agree with that, but no way we are leaving our supplies to someone else, ma’am.” 

“Do you have any suggestions, then?” Giraldi asked. 

“We’ll probably have to move a civilian or two,” Imlay replied. He placed a hand on his chin before he nodded. “I think we can get Mister Lakan to move into another coach. He isn’t quite... comfortable with Mister Raleigh.” 

Gilda looked at Giraldi for a moment, before she nodded. “If they agree, I’m sure we can arrange something.” 

“Alright, I’ll get things moving,” Imlay replied. Giving Giraldi and Gilda one last nod, he turned towards the Marines behind him. “Santos! Guerrero! Gather the civilians.” 

Gilda watched as the Marines just nodded and moved swiftly towards the other group of humans, communicating swiftly. She watched as Imlay began to relay the plan to the civilians, with some of them asking questions. She noticed Marco immediately raising his hand and moving towards the side, away from the rest. The biologist Brennan followed him soon afterwards. A moment after, Imlay looked at Gilda and gave her a nod. 

“Alright, Giraldi, let’s get everyone set up,” Gilda ordered, looking at the centurion. 

Giraldi saluted. “Yes, sir.” He turned towards the griffin soldiers and barked, “Time to go to work, Gryphons! Get your lazy rears up!” 

Everything moved quickly. With Giraldi’s reining the griffin soldiers, they were in position before she knew it. The Marines didn’t slow down either, which probably displayed Imlay’s leadership qualities; or maybe they were just very disciplined. Either way, she was glad both sides knew what they were doing. 

The civilians flocked towards first coach, flanked by a Fortus Knight and a Marine. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, appraising each other before nodding, almost in sync. 

She approached Chris and Tara, both talking to Marco. Judging by the way he was shaking his head, his friends must have offered to have him join them. When she was near enough, she overheard Chris ask Marco, “You sure you don’t want to join us?” The latter shook his head. 

“Nah, it won’t be like going to Arnau,” Marco replied. He spotted Gilda, and asked her, “The trip will be what, four hours tops?” 

“Depends on direction of wind and how strong it is,” Gilda replied. “But yes, we’ll be able to get to Tierra in less than four hours.” 

Marco gave Gilda a smile, and nodded towards Chris. “See, there you go. One nap, and we’re all there.” 

Chris, Tara, and Marco slapped their hands together—high-fives, if she remembered the term correctly. The three friends were all smiles as Chris and Tara began to board the first coach, the former giving one last nod towards Marco, who raised his hand in reply. Brennan and Henderson shared a fist bump before the latter entered the coach. 

“Okay, gentlemen, come with me,” Imlay said, leading the last two civilians to the second coach. A Marine and two griffins were already inside, settled in their positions. 

Brennan unhitched his backpack first before climbing inside. Marco was next. He too began to move his backpack when he hesitated for a moment, looking at the coach with a mix of fear and trepidation. 

“What’s wrong?” Gilda asked. 

Marco bit his lip for a moment before shaking his head. “Uh, okay, maybe now’s a bad time to say this, but I’m not comfortable flying in your air coaches.” 

Gilda blinked. “Are you afraid of heights? I thought you’d be used to it, with all the human airplanes and everything.” 

“Yes, well, an airplane has a lot going on for it, including safety records, reliable machines, and other stuff,” Marco countered. “An air coach is basically a flying box supported by four flying griffins that are quite affected by factors such as wind and stuff. Yes, I’m being silly here. I’m just... preparing, you know.” 

 Imlay rolled his eyes. “Come on, Flip-boy, get your brown ass in already.” 

“Hey, don’t nag. I’m trying to get to my happy place.” 

“Psh, happy place,” Imlay muttered. “Look, this thing crashing is no different from a humvee stepping on a mine and flipping it over. It is very easy to ensure maximum survivability.”  

Marco looked at him. “Oh yeah? How?” 

“You curl up like a bitch,” Imlay replied, smiling. “You do know how to curl up like a bitch, don’t you?” 

Marco looked like he wanted to laugh, yet maintain a I-am-not-amused face. In the end, he broke down to a chuckle. “I’m a civilian, Corporal. Curling like a bitch is what we’re good at.” 

Imlay shook his head, amused. “Good, now stop whining and get on already.” 

As he began to get in, Gilda interjected, “Marco.” 

He paused then looked at her. “Yeah?” 

“You’ll be fine,” Gilda assured. 

The human looked at her for a moment before smiling. “Thanks, Gilda.” 

As she moved away, she could hear him continue to mutter, “Great, now everyone’s going to think I’m the biggest pussy here.” 

Imlay, climbing in next, responded good-naturedly, “I wouldn’t worry. You’re not hairy enough.” 

“Oh, ha-ha.”

The last two coaches suffered no delays. The last one was probably loaded the fastest as it only contained four Marines, a Talon, and the Mage Knight. Giraldi gave the Wind Knights carrying the coaches one last check before he raised a claw, signalling that everything was good to go. Gilda raised her own, shaking a closed fist once to acknowledge that she understood, and did a slashing motion towards the south, indicating that they had her permission to start flying. 

“Well, that went well,” Fortrakt muttered as he settled beside Gilda, watching Giraldi shout the order before he entered the last coach. The Wind Knights slowly stretched their wings, flapping it slightly, each coach flyer synchronizing their movements as close as possible.   

“Yeah, a fight didn’t break out yet,” Gilda replied with a slight chuckle. 

The wind began to pick up as the wing flaps grew steadily stronger and faster. In less than ten seconds, the first coach began to lift itself from the ground, followed by the second, then the third, and lastly, the fourth. Dust was kicked everywhere, and Gilda had to cover her eyes for a moment as the four Knights of the lead coach screeched and began to fly forward and upwards. 

Once the dust settled, Gilda and Fortrakt watched as the four coaches began to travel to the blue beyond, climbing slowly, steadily, so their passengers wouldn’t get jostled around by the rapid climb. Once the coaches reached a certain height, the tiercel looked at his superior and asked, “Shall we?” 

Gilda responded by stretching her wings and launching herself into the sky, with Fortrakt following closely. They easily reached the coaches and reduced their speed to join with them on the steady climb until all the griffins reached the optimum height for cruise travel. 

It had been a while since she was up this high, Gilda thought. She closed her eyes, feeling the wind course through her coat and feathers. She imagined Fortrakt and the rest of the Wind Knights were enjoying the sensation as well. There was nothing quite the feeling of flying so high up in the sky. 

All wings on the coaches stretched fully outwards, flapping only once or twice in steady rhythm. With clear skies, Gilda couldn’t see any problems that would delay them on their trip. She twirled in a spiral, tucking her wings for just a second to enjoy a small dip in height, something that was against protocol on cruise-height flights. She couldn’t help it though. Up there, she was free. 

The sun seemed to move at a rapid pace above them. With nothing but white clouds above and green and brown patches below, boredom quickly settled in. Fortrakt had already gone ahead, scouting for the convoy. A few Wind Knights also chatted amongst themselves, though they still maintained diligence; they cut through the sky with short, swift strokes, making good time as they travelled. 

Gilda too got tired of doing all the stunts she could remember from the  Junior Speedster Flight Camp back in Equestria. For a rare moment, she remembered Rainbow Dash and the end of their friendship, which she shook violently out of her head. 

You have a job to do, Gilda. Keep your head in the game, she thought. 

Trying to distract herself, she spotted Marco’s head rearing out of the small opening of the window the air coach had. Angling her wings, she lazily glided beside the coach, a trill escaping her beak to call on his attention. Once he spotted her, his hand poked out as he waved at her. 

“So, still nervous?” Gilda shouted through the blinding bellowing of the wind. 

“Not as much, though my stomach did do a bit of a tumble when we were climbing up,” Marco shouted back. “I gotta say, though, you guys are machines. We’ve been flying for almost two hours!” He looked down and back to her again. “When we were making our way to Arnau, the air coach took rests almost every half-hour.” 

The eagless nodded. “It was most likely because it was flying low, as to keep visual range with the ground coaches. That puts a strain on the sky-griffins pulling the air coach as it takes more maneuvering and effort to keep afloat. Do you remember that they used five sky-griffins to pull the coach going to Arnau?” 

Marco nodded. “Yeah, that was another thing I was wondering about. We only have four!” 

“Yes, well, at cruise-height—that is the height we’re in right now—the travel is much faster and easier. All the air coach pullers have to do is maintain height by doing just a few flaps. The rest of of the time, they just need to keep their wings open.” 

Marco chuckled. “Well, you learn something new everyday.” 

Before Gilda could reply, she heard a familiar screech. Eyes forward, her sharp eagle-eyes spotted Fortrakt flying back at her. 

“Sir!” Fortrakt called as he settled in beside her. 

“Hey Fortrakt,” Marco greeted. 

For a moment, the tiercel’s professional facade fell as he gave Marco a smile. “Hey.” He then looked at Gilda, his expression somber. “Sir, you’re not going to believe this. I’ve spotted dragons.” 

Gilda’s eyes narrowed. “Where?” 

“A few leagues ahead,” Fortrakt replied. 

“A migrating group?” Gilda muttered to herself. “No, it’s too early. Probably a lost group?” 

“Too small from what I’ve seen,” the tiercel advised. “Plus they were flying in spread-out pattern.” 

“How many dragons are we talking about here?” Gilda asked. 

“I saw three,” Fortrakt replied. “There could be more.” 

“If we maintain course, will we run into them?” 

The tiercel took a moment to think, then nodded. “I am sure we’d run into one.” 

“Alright, report this to Centurion Giraldi, and advise him that we’ll have to make a course correction.” Gilda looked at the ground. “Its a good time to take a rest anyway. We’ll land on a clearing below and—” 

Gilda stopped as she suddenly felt pricks of pins and needles travel all over her body. Judging by the way Fortrakt and the rest of the griffins stiffened, they felt it too. 

They just passed through a magical field—an active magical field. 

There was a flash of light. A crack and a roar exploded outwards, with the smell of burnt feathers hanging over the air. The wind whooshed everywhere, disturbing the airstreams that had Gilda almost stumbling over herself. She recovered quickly, only to discover the first coach was now falling out of the sky. It was partially on fire, scored with scorch marks all over the front. 

Up in the sky, she saw electrical lines beginning to form, building up to strike again. 

“Descend!” she ordered. The Wind Knights looked at her blankly. She barked, “Descend! Now!" 

Before anyone could say anything else, another bolt of lightning rained down upon them. 



> Chapter 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another flash of white, another crack of thunder—Gilda was blind, deaf, and unaware of what was going on around her. She couldn’t keep track of time. How many seconds had passed? How many minutes? 

Slowly, her vision returned. Whites slowly blended with blues, browns and greys. Her ears also began to respond, as she could hear the roar of the wind. At a distance, she could hear someone calling out her name. 

“Gilda! Gilda, wake up!” 

Gilda took a moment before shaking her head. She felt the wind hit her strongly. Too strongly. There was also an odd sinking feeling in her gut. She realized, a second later, that she was falling uncontrollably from the air. 

The eagless immediately spread her wings. Her eyes were still swimming in color, so she used her experience as a practiced flyer to right herself until she could finally see. 

The first thing she saw was an air coach doing a vertical dive and the Wind Knights at the rear trying their hardest to keep it from crashing towards the incoming ground. The front part of the air coach had one burnt griffin dangling lifelessly, and the other missing. 

Gilda immediately dashed forward, towards the front of the air coach. She felt a windstream coming up beside her, and a glance revealed Fortrakt to be the source. They nodded at each other as both grabbed ahold of the front air coach extensions and grunted as they tried to lift their side up. 

Fortrakt squawked with effort as he began to flap his wings hard. Gilda just clenched her beak, a trill of effort escaping her beak as she too tried to lift, to right the coach as quickly as she could. Glancing downwards, she saw the ground creeping up on them fast, the blurred greens slowly transforming to trees. 

There was screaming inside the coach. Marco’s voice was the most recognizable, but she could hear the others too. She could also hear and feel small impacts—the passengers were being thrown around. 

Time seemed to slow down. Gilda’s vision tunneled as she saw individual rocks, blades of grass, and the crack of dirt below. They were almost to the ground, and her gut was telling her they were coming in too fast. 

“Prepare to spread wings!” Gilda barked, sounding surprisingly clear, strong, and loud. “Now!” 

Four griffins opened up their wings wide, the wind dragging them backwards. All of them shouted with effort, their feathery limbs taking a toll as they approached the ground. 

“Brace for impact!” Gilda squawked. 

A sharp, electrical jolt climbed up her forelegs. The extension of the coach snapped, which flung her into the air. In her tunnel vision, she saw the sky, the ground, and the sky once more as she impacted twice before rolling to a stop. The whole thing lasted for just a few seconds, but for Gilda, it felt like an hour. 

By the time the eagless came to awareness, she felt her blood rushing everywhere and her heart racing so fast, she thought it would jump out of her body. She kept her eyes down on the ground, the tunnel vision slowly widening. With an effort, she slowly stood up on all fours, and noticed Fortrakt not too far away in front of her, lying on his back, all four legs up in the air. 

“Fortrakt, you okay?” Gilda asked rather roughly, her throat sore. 

“Hurt. Everywhere,” he replied. 

She was about to reply when she remembered the air coach. Grunting, she turned and spotted the air coach. The front extensions have been ripped off, with the bottom smashed and dented, the wood deformed and twisted. The Wind Knights on the rear were trying their hardest to get out of their harnesses. Right behind them, she also noticed the last two coaches making their way down. So far, they were undamaged. 

Ignoring the pain in her legs, she slowly made her way towards the downed air coach. When she was just a few paw-paces away, the door was kicked open by a human boot. The noise agitated the Wind Knights in the rear, one even grabbing for the crossbow on his side, but calmed down as Imlay slowly got out. He held the door open as one of the Fortus Knights came out, with a whimpering Brennan riding on his back, the human clutching his left leg. Marco came out as well, his arm around another Marine’s shoulder as both exited the coach. The Fortus Knight and Marines followed afterwards. 

“Okay, what the fuck happened?” Imlay demanded, staring at Gilda. 

Before Gilda could reply, a strong gust of wind blew around them as the last two air coaches landed. Giraldi was out of the coach, his eyes searching until he spotted Gilda and landed in front of her. 

“Sir! You okay?” Giraldi asked. 

“I’m fine,” Gilda replied. Her voice still sounded pretty rough, which had Giraldi frowning. The eagless pointed towards Fortrakt and the human civilians. “Have our mage check on the casualties.” 

Giraldi nodded. “May I suggest we establish a small perimeter while the injured recover, sir?” 

Gilda grabbed her head with one of her claws. She should have thought of that. Nodding towards Giraldi, she replied, “Yes, establish a perimeter while we get our bearings. If we have any available Wind Knights, have them scout the area. Find out where exactly we are and the status of the magical field. Last thing we need is another surprise lightning bolt coming at our rears.” She looked back. “Also, we need to know where the first air coach crashed.” 

“Aye-aye,” Giraldi replied, saluting. He flapped his wings, barking orders as he moved towards the newly-landed coaches and began to gather the griffins to assign them various duties. 

A small groan grabbed Gilda’s attention as she spotted Fortrakt as he finally made his way towards the first coach. Marco and Brennan were already lying down when Fortrakt followed suit. The eagless caught up with him and checked on his legs and wings. 

“Nothing seems broken,” she said. 

“I’ll be fine,” Fortrakt muttered. “But I hope you don’t mind me staying here.” 

Gilda shook her head in response. She too wanted to just collapse. Her wings wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t flap freely. She sighed, wondering how she would catch up to Giraldi when she heard footsteps approaching her. She turned, and saw Imlay standing there. 

“What happened?” he asked quietly. 

Gilda looked at him. His face was devoid of emotion, but his shoulders were hunched, arms holding that black tube across his chest. For some reason, she realized she wouldn’t get away with a non-answer. She motioned towards the damaged coach, and towards the sky. “We passed through an active magical field that rained down lightning bolts.”

Imlay frowned, his neutral face transforming to a more contemplative look. “So someone shot us down?” 

“Not exactly,” Gilda replied. She looked up again. “The field was more of a Defensive spell.” 

Imlay frowned before nodding. “That’s the kind of spell that takes time to build? The Lynch?”

The eagless blinked. “Lynch?” 

“Sorry, Layered Enchantments,” Imlay replied. “That’s what Equestrians call it, I think.” 

Gilda nodded, impressed. “Yes. Huh. Thought you humans didn’t know about Tellus magic?” 

“We studied up,” Imlay replied. “So, basically, we entered a minefield, and stepped on one.” Gilda just nodded, taking note of the word ‘minefield’. “Did we take a wrong turn somewhere?” 

“What do you mean?” the eagless asked. 

“I’m assuming that the spell we triggered was one of yours.” 

“No!” Gilda exclaimed. “That spell shouldn’t be there at all! And most of our border spells just detect trespassers. We don’t call down lightning on them!” 

“Then someone just placed an unauthorized Lynch here? I mean, I don’t know about you, ma’am, but the implications scare me,” Imlay muttered. 

Gilda looked at him. “What do you mean?” 

“As far as I’m aware, Lynches only have limited uses,” the human muttered. “They have certain parameters to follow. Up there, it was shooting out lightning, yet down here—” 

“We’re safe,” Gilda finished. She looked up again, her mind quickly realizing the implications Imlay had spoken about. “The Defensive spell is acting as a barrier for high-flyers. Its preventing anyone from entering in a hurry.” 

“Or from escaping,” Imlay added. 

Gilda nodded. “Either way, it makes for getting reinforcements harder. That means something’s happening in the Southern Lands.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Imlay said. “Also, I might add, is it true that you have sent a scout out ahead before we were shot down?” 

“Yes, I did,” Gilda replied, only for another thought to hit her. Why wasn’t Fortrakt attacked when he went ahead? 

“I see you are also realizing another implication,” Imlay said, nodding. 

“Someone activated the Defensive spell, ensuring maximum casualties,” Gilda muttered. 

“Exactly,” Imlay replied. “We may not be alone, ma’am.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Corporal,” Gilda replied. She gave him a sharp nod. “Thank you.” 

“No problem, ma’am,” Imlay said. He took a moment and looked around. “One coach is missing.” 

Gilda felt the bottom of her stomach take a dive. She nodded again. “I’ve sent additional scouts to find the limits of this Defensive spell and the downed coach. We will rescue the missing passengers.” 

Imlay’s lips thinned, but nodded. Gilda thought he was about to say more when a group of Marines walked up behind him. 

“Corporal Imlay, what’s going on?” one of the Marines asked. 

Imlay gave one last look at Gilda before facing the group. “It seems we might be seeing some action. Lock and load, and stow the combat-jack. Time to go to work, boys and girls.” 

Gilda watched as Imlay gave the group more instructions. Oddly enough, the group seemed to get more and more excited, even giddy, as Imlay told them to expect hostiles. Comforted that the Marines weren’t hesitating or even reluctant with the whole situation, she made her way towards the injured. 

Marco was being checked by a dark-skinned Marine, who was asking him a few questions. Marco responded by either nodding or shaking his head. 

Once she was close enough, she could hear the Marine say, “You are very lucky.” 

“Sorry if disagree, doc,” Marco muttered. 

Gilda heard a few footsteps, and a glance revealed Imlay. “How are they, Doc?” 

“Mister Brennan is suffering from a broken leg,” ‘Doc’ replied, not even looking at Imlay. “I placed it in a splint. Mister Lakan here is luckier, suffering from milder injuries.”  

 “And said I disagree,” Marco mumbled. 

“He also might be suffering from a mild concussion,” Doc added. 

“I called in a mage to have a look,” Gilda said. “He’ll heal both of them.” 

“I really appreciate that, ma’am,” Imlay replied, giving her a nod. 

The eagless nodded back. Doc then moved towards one of the Marines sitting down and began to check on him. Imlay left, probably to check on the other Marines, leaving her alone with Marco. He gave her a frown. 

“Gilda... Chris, Tara?” he asked. 

Gilda sighed, and for the first time, felt very bone-tired. She laid down on all fours, gently placing a claw on Marco’s chest. 

“We’ll find them, Marco,” she replied. “I promise.” 

The human closed his eyes, one of his hands patting her claw. “Thanks,” he muttered. 

Gilda watched Marco for a moment as he began to breathe steadily, sleeping. She groaned for a moment. She tried to stand up, only for her legs to disobey her. Forcing them to respond didn’t help and she soon found herself falling back on the cool comfortable ground. The eagless sighed, closing her eyes for just a moment. 

Just for a bit, she thought, until the pain moves away. 

Warmness encompassed her. She shuddered as she felt her limbs slowly relaxing, the pain fading to a more comfortable soreness. There were a few murmurs, but nothing really stood out until she heard Fortrakt say, “She’s going to be fine.” 

Gilda opened her eyes, only to see a tiercel and an eagless looking down on her. 

“Sub-Tribune,” the eagless spoke, slowly, “are you feeling better?” 

Gilda grunted and tried to stand. Her legs responded more naturally. She felt for her wings, which flexed at her command. She took a glance at the eagless, noting a levitating staff on her side, and realized what had happened. She gave the Mage Knight a nod. 

“The soreness will fade in half an hour, but you will have full control of your limbs,” the mage continued. “Also, drink a lot of water and eat more red meats for the next couple of days.”

“Will do,” she replied towards the mage, then turned towards Fortrakt. “How long was I unconscious?” 

“About an hour, sir,” Fortrakt replied. “The scouts are back. That human Corporal and the Spear Centurion are awaiting your presence.” 

Gilda looked around and spotted Brennan, Marco, and two Marines lying on the ground. She motioned towards them and looked at the mage. 

“The civilians have been looked over, sir,” she replied. “The one with a broken leg will be able to put his full weight on it after a while. The other is unconscious, which is normal after healing a head injury. The human soldiers will be looked after at once now that you’re back on your fours.” 

“Marines,” Gilda corrected. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir?” 

Gilda opened her beak, then closed it, shaking her head. “Nevermind. Where’s the Spear Centurion Giraldi and Corporal Imlay?” 

“By the Third air coach,” Fortrakt replied. “I’ll lead you there, sir.” 

“You are not leading her anywhere,” the mage muttered. “It is your turn to get looked at.” 

“I’m fine!” Fortrakt insisted. 

Gilda blinked, then slowly stretched her wing to gently hit Fortrakt in his foreleg, which immediately got him to clam up and shudder. He gave her a look. 

“Get yourself looked at first,” Gilda ordered. Expecting a complaint, she gave him a glare. “Are we clear?” 

Fortrakt sighed. “Yes, sir.” 

Nodding, Gilda stretched her legs a bit, feeling the mild discomfort from the soreness, but otherwise was able to move around less stiffly than before. Step by step, she left the gathered injured laying down in circle around the damaged Second air coach, watching a few griffins patrolling the air, while a few Marines were posted around in a perimeter, their tubes pointing outwards. 

 The Third coach was not too far away, tucked in between the Second and the Fourth. Giraldi had moved the coaches closer to each other while she was unconscious. Awaiting her around the Third coach was Imlay and Giraldi in the center, two Fortus Knights, and a clawful of Wind Knights and Talons around them. As she neared, the griffins saluted and bared their necks, some of them moving out of the way. 

“Nice to have you back, sir,” Giraldi muttered as Gilda approached the center. 

“What do we have, Spear Centurion?” she asked. 

“Not a lot of good news,” Giraldi replied. “The Wind Knights were able to ascertain the expanse of the Defensive spell. Travel higher than fifty perches from the ground, you enter the magical field and get rained down with bolts. And as far as we know, it extends for maybe fifteen more leagues.” 

Gilda frowned. While that height would still allow griffins to fly, it’ll be useless when it comes to carrying the air coaches effectively. Then, looking around, she realized that the coaches themselves wouldn’t help. They were down to two, and even if they repaired the Second one, she’d just be tiring out the rest of the Wind Knights—not a particularly good idea when there might be enemies about. 

“The magic bolts also interfered with our comms,” Imlay declared. “We’re getting nothing but static.” 

“Comms?” Gilda asked. 

Imlay took a moment, his expression deep in thought for a moment before he nodded. “Radio. We have certain technology in Earth where you can communicate with someone far away via voice.” 

Gilda remembered something similar in the movie, Warrior. “Like those telly-bones?” 

“Telephones,” Imlay corrected. “And yes, ma’am. It’s something like that.” 

Gilda and Giraldi clenched their beaks. They both thought of the same thing, wanting to ask how that ‘radio’ worked. Instantaneous communication like that was only found using Dragonfire Gems, which they had, but they daren’t risk sending a letter now, especially when there might be an antagonistic mage nearby. The letter could be intercepted, or worse. 

“When can you fix the problem on this radio?” Giraldi asked. 

“I don’t know,” Imlay replied. “The radio is pretty sensitive to bursts of magical energies. But it should be working again once we clear from the area.”

“Alright,” Gilda said.  

“Corporal Imlay also said that he had talked to you earlier, and that a conclusion was drawn that we have entered a hostile territory?” Giraldi asked. 

“A conclusion that is getting more likely,” Gilda replied, trying not to sigh. “Earlier, Fortrakt had spotted a few dragons ahead in a spread-out formation. We are unsure yet if they are even part of this, but it's worth noting.” 

There was a murmur among the griffins. 

“He also came back unharmed,” Giraldi muttered. “Someone activated the field when we were nearby.” 

Gilda nodded, impressed that he caught on that rather quickly. 

“Then we have an enemy mage griffin nearby,” Giraldi muttered. 

“How can you be sure it’s a griffin?” Imlay asked. “It could be a unicorn.” 

“An Equestrian?” Giraldi almost scoffed. 

Imlay raised an eyebrow as a response. 

“No, this is a griffin spellwork,” Gilda assured. “Trust us, Corporal, we have known our Equestrian allies longer than you humans.” 

Imlay frowned but nodded. Gilda accepted that and looked back at Giraldi. 

“Any news on the missing coach?” she asked. 

“There’s an indication of a crash site a league south-west of our current position,” Giraldi replied. “I dare not spread our forces thinly, especially when there are potential hostiles around.” He sighed. “While we cannot confirm, there are things moving under the tall grasses.” 

“It could be grass lions,” Gilda said. 

“Grass lions?” Imlay asked. 

“Native animals to the South,” Giraldi explained. “Not really lions. More like big cats with large canines.” He turned to Gilda. “Sir, I doubt it would be grass lions. The movement indicated at least three or more hiding and traveling under the grass.” 

“And grass lions hunt alone,” Gilda completed, frowning. “Okay, it doesn’t matter. We know there’s something out there, so let’s be prepared for hostiles. What matters right now is that we have to find the missing coach and its passengers before they fall into the claws of whoever attacked us.” 

Imlay nodded again. “So, ma’am, what’s the plan?” 

Gilda pondered about it for a moment. “Can we move the injured?” she asked Giraldi.

“From what I’ve heard, most of the injuries are simple,” Giraldi explained. “However, we only have one mage, and we’ve overworked her a bit. We can probably leave after an hour, once she fully recovers.” 

Gilda shook her head. “Too long. Once she heals everyone, and once she can walk, we’re moving out. Take whatever we can. We’ll move forward as a group. I need a few Wind Knights to patrol the air, and make sure no one is creeping towards or behind us. I want Fortus Knights covering our flanks with Talons supporting them.” 

The eagless expected Giraldi to say something, but after a moment, the centurion nodded. Facing towards the surrounding griffins, he shouted an order. All of them saluted and began spreading out, some going through the coaches, while others patrolled the area. 

Once they cleared, Imlay turned to Gilda. “Once we get a clearer signal, we’ll try and get the word out of what’s going on here. Meanwhile, I’ll have my men ready to move when the time comes.” He walked away. 

Once he was out of sight, Gilda sighed and looked at Giraldi. “Well?” she whispered. 

“Not bad,” Giraldi replied with a small smile. “I still think we ought to wait for our mage to recover, but you are also right that we need to catch up to the fallen coach.” He looked around. “Let’s just hope we don’t come across a mage.” He looked at her again. “I’ll give you a call when we’re ready. I suggest you take a rest, Behertz.”

Gilda gave Giraldi a nod, though she was unsure whether to follow his suggestion. Right now, she wanted to move, to do anything. Something was coming, something big, and it scared her that she had no idea what it was.  

Passing through the damaged Second coach, she saw Fortrakt chatting with Marco and Brennan, both sitting up. They didn’t see her. Not feeling the need to join in, Gilda began to walk around the perimeter, watching a few Marines chatting with the griffin soldiers, though still maintaining due diligence by keeping their eyes forward. 

Walking towards the Fourth coach, she spotted the sleepy-looking Magus Knight meditating, staff glowing in front of her. Giraldi was walking around giving a few more orders. She half-wondered if the centurion ever got tired. 

After walking around in a circle for the second time, she finally gave in and joined Fortrakt, Marco and Brennan on their conversation. For almost half an hour, they engaged mostly in small talk, with everyone seemingly avoiding the topic of the missing coach, until a Wind Knight approached and advised her that the Magus Knight was ready to move. 

“Tell the Spear Centurion that we’ll have everyone travel in five minutes,” Gilda replied. The Wind Knight saluted and bared his neck, then moved away. 

“What was that?” Marco asked, shifting his body a bit. 

“We’re moving in five minutes,” Fortrakt translated in Equestrian.  

Marco blinked. He took a deep breath. “We’re going to look for the first coach, right?” 

Gilda gave him a sharp nod. “Of course.”  

The human sighed. “Thank you, Gilda.” 

Gilda just gave him a smile and patted him on the back. She looked at Brennan. “Can you stand?” 

Brennan gave her a nod before slowly getting on his feet. After putting pressure on his just healed leg, he winced, but was able to move, if not slightly limp, around. 

Gilda looked at Marco, who was already standing and slowly pacing around them. One of the passing Marines said, “Hey, look who’s up. What’s the hurry, Flip-Boy?” 

Marco grinned. “Didn’t you hear? We’re Oscar Mike in five.” 

“For real?” the Marine replied with a grin. “You ain’t playin’ me, right?” 

“You can always ask Imlay,” Marco said, shrugging. 

“Well, it’s about goddamn time.” 

When the Marine walked away, Brennan was smiling as he took his sixth step. “Okay, this is getting weird. But good weird. The pain is fading.” 

“You drank plenty of fluids, right?” Fortrakt asked. 

“Pretty much, yeah. That’s what that griffin told me.” 

As the two continued the conversation, Gilda’s eyes drifted towards Marco, who seemed to block out the everything else as his eyes stared towards the South. 

It was a little more than five minutes once the everyone started moving. Giraldi had changed the formation slightly, using only two Wind Knights to scout forward, and three Wind Knights to guard the rear. The two Fortus Knights and one earth-griffin Talon carried most of the supplies, while the rest of the Talons covered the group’s flanks. The Magus Knight was at the center of the group, accompanying Fortrakt, Marco, and Brennan. 

Gilda was in the front, something she had insisted, even with Giraldi suggesting she join the human civilians. Giraldi advised her that the command structure was very important to the griffin morale, and couldn't risk her in the front unless necessary. 

“I won’t ask a griffin something I wouldn’t do,” Gilda had said, which finally convinced him, though he had insisted that she should not act like a regular soldier at the first sign of trouble. 

“Let us do our jobs,” Giraldi had replied. 

The Marines were spread out, though they were concentrated in the center. Imlay joined her in the front. 

The trip itself was pretty routine. They walked for more than half an hour, with the forward scouts reporting a clear path, though they have spotted movement along the fields and some of the woodland areas. The rear Wind Knights were also reporting something moving behind them as well. Yet as alert as the griffins and humans were, nothing happened. There was a point, where both rear and front scouts approached, just to tell that they spotted movement on both sides. 

“This feels like a horror movie,” Imlay muttered. “A bad one.” 

Gilda looked at him. “Never watched those yet. Why? What would make it less ‘bad’?” 

“It would be dark,” Imlay replied with a grin. 

Gilda shook her head. “I’ll probably ask Marco to play one for me once we get back to Arnau.” 

Imlay chuckled. “There can only be one reason for a boy to watch a horror movie with a girl.” 

She blinked. “Which is?”  

Before Imlay could reply, they heard footsteps coming from behind them. Both Gilda and Imlay looked and spotted a Marine that had a backpack with a flexible rod emerging from the backpack, reaching towards the sky. He was holding a black box that looked like a telephone, attached to coiled rubber. Imlay’s eyes widened. 

“You have a signal?”

“Not clear, but I think we can send something through,” the Marine replied. 

“About fucking time,” Imlay muttered. He placed the phone on his ear. “This is Warwolf-3 Alpha...”

“Sub-Tribune!” Giraldi called.

Gilda blinked and tore her eyes away from Imlay. She spotted Giraldi pointing towards the sky ahead, and she noted a Wind Knight scout coming back, though this time, he was raising his claw. Gilda took a breath. They had just reported five minutes ago, which means they found something new. 

The Wind Knight landed just a few claw paces away from Giraldi. His beak was open, wheezing, trying to get as much air as he could. He gave them a snap salute and bared his neck before saying, “Downed... coach... twenty minutes.”

“Any activity?” the centurion asked. 

“No... sir,” the Wind Knight replied. 

Gilda’s eyes narrowed. A thought went through her head, but after a moment, she shook it out. 

“Behertz?” Giraldi whispered. The eagless looked at him. “Something bothering you?” 

She almost scoffed. Nothing seemed to escape the centurion. “Just a thought,” she replied. 

“What is it?” Giraldi asked. 

“We are very close,” Gilda began, “and a part of me wants to quicken the pace.” 

“Aye, have to admit, I’m tempted to ask you to give the order,” Giraldi muttered. “No reported activity near the downed coach doesn’t bode well with me. There should at least be some, with either the surviving Wind Knights or the Fortus Knight in the carriage.”

Gilda nodded. “However, if we hurry without thought, we could tire ourselves out and be unprepared if an assault comes. And we wouldn’t be useful to anyone at the downed coach.”

“We’ll make do,” Giraldi replied. “It’s the Marines, though, that I can’t vouch for.” 

“Vouch for what?” Imlay spoke up. Gilda glanced at him, and noticed that he wasn’t talking on the radio. 

“Have you gotten through?” she asked. 

“I sent word out, but we haven’t gotten a response yet,” he replied. “Now, vouch for what exactly?” 

Gilda explained what the scout found out, and their current dilemma. 

“Well, we’re okay with a quicker pace,” Imlay replied once the eagless stopped explaining. “I mean, I doubt we can run as fast as you griffins, but we won’t tire out. However, I can’t say the same for the civilians.” 

Gilda clicked her beak. While she was sure Marco would probably be able to keep up, Brennan was a different story. She had no real way to judge if a human was fit or not unless she had seen them in action. 

“That said, we can send someone ahead, establish a perimeter, while the rest of the group catches up,” Imlay suggested. 

Giraldi blinked. “Break formation?” he asked. 

Imlay looked at him. “I’m guessing you’re not a big fan of that.” 

Gilda shook her head. “We rarely break formation, especially with such small numbers at our disposal.” She paused, then looked at Giraldi. “How many earth-griffin Talons do we have?” 

“Around three. You had one carry the supplies. Why?” the centurion asked. 

“We can still move at a quicker pace,” Gilda replied. “Let the two earth-griffins carry the two civilians, and have the rest of them run at a steady pace with the Marines. The sky-griffins can take to the skies ahead, make sure they won’t be running blind.” 

Giraldi gave her a look, frowned, then nodded. “That may work.” 

“Good.” Gilda rotated her shoulders. “Let’s turn this twenty-minute trip into ten.” 

It took two minutes for Giraldi to reorganize the griffin soldiers. It took only a minute for the Marines to organize themselves. Gilda liked to think that miffed the centurion a bit, but she had a bit more worrying issues. Giraldi was an earth-griffin, thus leaving the leading of the sky-griffins to her disposal. The thought of choking up once trouble appeared, thus getting the griffins under her command killed, plagued her mind. 

Thankfully, five minutes into the trip, nothing happened. The sky-griffins passed through more plains of grass, with the woodland areas getting farther and farther away. A few of the Wind Knights began to slow down once they reached the seven minute mark, but Gilda kept pace, somewhat proud that her nightly flights had definitely paid off. And even if she had felt tired, she wouldn’t have slowed down. 

She finally saw it: the fallen coach. 

It had crashed in a middle of a depression, crushing a few tall grasses underneath. There was a fallen tree nearby, probably having taken a blow from the coach as it came down. With her sharp eagle-eyes, she saw the extent of the damage on the coach: the wood had been burnt black with scorch marks and the four extensions were smashed, with no signs of life anywhere. And as she finally came closer, she felt ice sliding down her back. 

There were two lumps on the ground, the grass around them tinged with red. 

“Sir!” Fortrakt called. 

Gilda turned her head back towards the Wind Knights, and realized they were trying to catch up with her. 

“Sir! You’re going way too fast!” Fortrakt called, finally catching up with her. 

Gilda thought about it for a second, then nodded to herself. “I need four Wind Knights with me. We’ll go ahead and establish a perimeter, while the rest catch up.” 

“Y-you mean break formation?” one of the nearby Wind Knights advised. 

“Yes,” Gilda replied. 

“Sir, I don’t know about you, but we could we flying into a trap,” Fortrakt muttered. 

Gilda nodded. “I know. That’s why we’re going in as a small group. If we do spring anything, we can easily escape.” 

“Ancestors, I hope this isn’t about me giving you grief about your age,” Fortrakt whispered. 

The eagless looked at her partner for a moment, shaking her head. “We’re so close, Fortrakt,” she whispered. “And I am not liking what’s going on so far.” 

“Well, hope you don’t mind me joining,” the tiercel muttered. 

Gilda gave him a small smile before darting her eyes forward. She fought the urge to go even faster, and remained steady and calm while staying in formation. Three minutes felt like three hours, but at a steady pace, they were able to reach the fallen coach. 

Three Wind Knights landed first, crossbows out. They scanned the area, and when they squawked an all-clear signal, Gilda and Fortrakt landed next, and the two Wind Knights joined the fifth one in the sky, circling the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. 

“Check the inside of the coach,” Gilda ordered. 

Fortrakt saluted in response and called one of the Wind Knights to help him. 

Gilda ran towards one of the lumps in the grass, and the smell of blood and bile told her what it was before she could see it. A dead griffin laid on the grass with one of his wings ripped apart. She frowned. There was something wrong here. 

“Sir,” one of the Wind Knights, an eagless, called, “we have a dead Wind Knight here.” 

It was a second moment before she realized what was bothering her. She checked the body again. She sniffed again, noting something missing. After a second, she noticed it. 

“Is the body burnt?” Gilda asked. 

The Wind Knight frowned, took a look again before shaking her head. “No, sir. He’s missing his wings though.” 

Before Gilda could think about it deeply, Fortrakt called her attention. 

“Uh, sir, the door is stuck,” the tiercel muttered. “We may need an earth-griffin here.” 

Gilda looked towards the sky. “How far is the rest of the group?” she shouted. 

One Wind Knight descended just low enough to reply. “Five minutes out.” 

Gilda nodded her thanks, and looked back at Fortrakt. “Do you hear anything from inside the coach? Breathing? Crying?” 

Fortrakt looked towards the open slit, sniffed, then looked back at Gilda, confused. “I smell blood. And... there’s a griffin blocking the door.” 

The eagless frowned. Something odd was definitely going on around here. Still, it seemed that nothing was popping out to attack them, so she she joined Fortrakt near the fallen coach. 

The group appeared two minutes earlier than expected. The earth griffins came first, running down the ramp with Giraldi in the lead. He looked none too pleased. The Marines came in later, those of paler color looking flushed, red. They were breathing through their mouths, panting just a bit. 

Before she could say anything, Giraldi walked forward and whispered, very evenly, “Sir, I don’t meant to be disrespectful, but what the crows were you thinking?”

Gilda wasn’t fazed. “I made a call, centurion. And we can talk about this later. Right now, we need the door of the carriage opened.” 

Giraldi looked like he wanted to argue more, but ever the professional soldier, just nodded. He barked out orders once more, having the Talons spread out, with Gilda pointed out where the two dead griffins were laid. The Marines, surprisingly, looked healthy once more, just taking a few sips from their odd dark-green colored ‘waterskins’, and joining the the Talons in establishing a perimeter. 

Near the fallen coach, Marco and Brennan were watching as the Fortus Knights tried to pry the door open. After failing, they took out their warhammers and began to hit both sides of the door. Wood chipping flew with every impact, and soon, the door gave way. Prying it away, the first thing that greeted them was a bloodied Fortus Knight, who put his whole weight on the door, as if to block it. Close behind the Knight was a Marine. 

Gilda couldn’t tell if the griffin and human were alive, but judging by how the Magus Knight was nodding, she hoped it was good news. Next, the Fortus Knights lifted the coach to widen the opening, just enough for a few Marines to crawl in and slowly extract the injured. 

Raleigh came out first, his spectacles smashed, with a few cuts his face. The Marine, Doc, gave him a look, and the Magus Knight approached him. The two talked, with Doc pointing out specific places in Raleigh’s body, probably giving her a run-down of the injuries, before the mage waved her staff over Raleigh’s body, where it glowed brightly. 

Gilda had to admit, the Magus Knight was made of tough stuff. Any normal mage wouldn’t have much magic to spare by now. 

Still stealing glances as Talons began to report back to her, she saw Doc grab out a few bandages, cotton, and some bottles. He overturned a bottle over the cotton and wiped Raleigh’s face. 

Brennan approached once a Marine was able to extract Henderson out. Another Marine had the rounder human keep his distance as Doc took a look at her. Again, the human and the mage worked in tandem, with her healing injuries, while the Doc grabbed out a few bandages and cotton. 

Marco approached when Tara came out. Gilda craned her neck upwards, trying to check and see if she could confirm if she was alive when she heard a flap of wings approach. 

“Sub-Tribune,” Giraldi called. 

Shaking her head, Gilda looked at the approaching centurion and nodded. “Yes, Giraldi?” 

“We have to move soon,” he muttered. “We’re spotting more movement following us, getting closer.” He looked around. “And we’re not exactly in a good fighting position. That ramp we just passed will assist whatever is following in their charge. What’s worse, we only have two Fortus Knights, so we can’t form an effective shieldwall.” 

Gilda nodded. “I know. Once we get all the injured out and looked at, we’ll have to move out of here—”

“Chris!” 

Marco’s shout sent shivers down her spine. Turning around, she saw the brown-skinned human trying to overpower the Marine stopping him from reaching the now-extracted Chris. Both the Doc and Magus Knight were shaking their heads. 

Gilda immediately rushed towards the downed coach. “Give way!” she barked, and the griffins followed suit. Even from afar, she could only look in horror as Chris seemed to be bent... wrongly. 

“What happened?” Gilda asked, a little louder than necessary. 

Doc looked at her, frowning. “Damage to the vertebrae. Mister McClain is still alive, but he won’t be able to move anything below the chest.” 

“Chris! Fuck you, let me go!” Marco shouted, still trying to force his way through. 

Gilda turned to the brown-skinned human, her mind trying to form words of comfort, only to die down once she heard a death scream. 

Everything went to the crows then. 

The scream came from a Talon. One of the dead Wind Knights suddenly stood up, jumped over her, and snapped its beak towards her neck. Taken by surprise, she was utterly defenseless, and her death only served as the first warning. 

The second warning came from a Wind Knight, yelling as he was shot down. The second dead Wind Knight had stood up as well, grabbed its crossbolt, and taken the shot.  

The third warning came as a roar. Above the ramp, a pack of grass lions of various state of decay emerged from the foliage. They stared directly towards the group surrounding the fallen coach before they began to run down the ramp, jaws open, sharp overgrowing canines gleaming dangerously with the sun. 

There was no time to mount a defense. There was no time to retreat. All of Gilda’s fears came true. The griffins would die under her command. The humans would soon follow afterwards. She thought back to Equestria, with Rainbow Dash, and back at Marco, Tara, and Chris as they watched the human movies in the latter’s room, back in Arnau. 

She found some sort of steely resolve. She immediately went for her steel claw gloves. By the time the grass lions reached them, she’d have worn the pair, and she hoped to take out at least one. A part of her wondered if they’d be able to buy time for Giraldi to order the civilians out of there. 

“Light ‘em up!” Imlay shouted. 

It took Gilda a second before she realized that the Marines had taken a step forward. It was a second later when she realized why. 

Cracks of thunder filled the air, the noise deafening as the black tubes the humans pointed towards the grass lions flashed with fire. An acrid smell of dirt and burnt metal filled the air as the grass lions fell down one by one. 

It was odd that Gilda felt some clarity as she observed the human weapons deal in death by numbers. Her sharp eagle-eyes could see all tubes breathing out fire, the smaller ones at intervals, while the bulkier ones fired almost continuously. For some reason, she could see glinting pieces of yellow metal expelled out from the sides of the tubes. 

Black rectangular metal pieces started falling from the bottom of some of the black tubes. Gilda wondered if the human weapons were breaking. However, the Marines holding the affected tubes just grabbed another rectangular piece from their vests and quickly replaced the one that fell, joining their brothers-in-arms with more bursts of fire until the last grass lion was down to the ground. 

Gilda could not believe her eyes. She counted at least ten grass lions, and they barely made it halfway. Even with a working shieldwall, the best thing the griffins could do facing that would be delivering death by inches. The humans, the Marines, had all but destroyed them. 

“Holy fucking shit!” one of the Marines shouted, smiling. “Did we just light up a bunch of sabretooth tigers?!” 

Imlay was frowning. “Stow that shit, Stavrou. The little bastards are still moving.” 

“Fucking hell, they aren’t dead yet?” another Marine asked. 

Gilda blinked and watched as two grass lions emerged, limping, still coming at them. Three more followed afterwards, crawling. 

“In the head,” she shouted. Imlay looked at her. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Hit them in the head!” 

Imlay nodded. “Well, you heard the lady!” 

The Marines pointed their weapons towards the approaching grass lions. More cracks of thunder roared around them, though unlike earlier, came at single bursts. 

“Boom! Headshot!” 

“Holy shit, did you see that!? I splattered its brains all over the place!” 

There were more single bursts and a few instances of laughter. “Fucking A, this is fun!” 

“Anderson! Stop wasting your fucking ammo or you’re stuck on police call!” Imlay ordered. “Kill the goddamned thing already!”  

Another shiver ran down Gilda’s spine as she felt magic stirring in the air. Before she could shout a warning, a ball of lightning formed right above the Marines, and sent down one destructive bolt down on their heads. 

The Magus Knight behind them jumped to the air and intercepted it with her staff. With a shout of effort, she moved her staff in an arc, and returned the lighting towards a slight haze in the sky. A sickly green shield emerged, redirecting the lightning upwards. 

“Mage griffin!” Gilda shouted. 

It landed on the ground on all fours, scabs and red blots and bald spots all over its coat. The griffin mage held a glowing broken staff with its beak, spreading his unkempt wings as he stared at the Marines blankly. 

“Fuck that griffin’s day,” was all Imlay said. 

More deafening bursts of thunder spread out in the air as the Marines focused on the griffin mage. But whatever weapons they had, they couldn’t seem to penetrate its sickly green shield, which sparkled with bursts of fire. 

“Shield!” one of the Marines shouted. 

Imlay nodded, and grabbed something from his vest. It looked like a thick cylinder with a yellow curved tip and inserted it into the bottom length of his black tube. Gilda couldn’t follow what happened next. All she heard was a thumping sound, like a hiccup in the air, and the next thing she knew was there was a small flash of light and a deafening explosion that had her recoiling backwards. Dust flew everywhere, making her cover her eyes, as more bursts of thunder echoed for a few more seconds before it finally died down. 

“Holy fuck, did you see that griffin’s face when it ate that grenade?” she heard one of the Marines ask. 

“I don’t think it registered at all,” another Marine replied. 

Gilda opened her eyes and saw a dead griffin, charred and blackened. It was still biting its broken staff. She turned towards the ramp and saw the grass lions lay still, dead and unmoving. Gilda couldn’t find the words, finally remembering to breathe. She watched as the Marines began laughing and giving each other high-fives. 

It was a second later that Gilda realized something, and turned around, only to find a collection of griffins stabbing lumps on the ground. It seemed that the Marines weren’t the only ones busy. Giraldi had rounded up a defense, and they were able to bring down the two Wind Knights that had come back from the dead. Said centurion was now actually flying towards her, his eyes wide as platters as he stared at the destruction a few Marines had caused.  

“Ancestor’s Past,” he invoked. 

Gilda frowned. “I know.” 

“In just minutes, they destroyed a group of grass lions and a griffin mage?” Giraldi shook his head. “What are these humans?” 

Gilda shook her head. “Well, I’m just glad they are on our side.” She looked at the dead mage and the grass lions. “Especially now. Giraldi, we’ve heard the stories… but I never really thought I’d witness it.”

Giraldi nodded. “Aye. Corpses coming back to life… animals not acting like animals… griffins not acting like griffins.” He paused. “The Cloven of the Sun.” 

“After more than a thousand years,” Gilda muttered, shuddering. The worst enemy the griffins have ever faced, the enemy that united the griffin tribes, responsible for forming the Gryphon Kingdom, have returned. 

Ancestors preserve us, she thought. 





> Chapter 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fucking police call,” one of the Marines—Anderson, if Gilda remembered his name correctly—muttered as he walked back towards the gathered group of griffins and humans, carrying a cloth bag. 

“Well, you had to take potshots,” his Marine companion replied, his shoulders shrugging. He looked towards the gathered group. “Know what’s going on?” 

“Fuck if I know.” He looked at the sky. “Do you see that shit?” 

“Yeah. Fucking crows, man.” 

Gilda watched as they took their place nearby a group of Marines that were gathering around a rather surprised—though not displeased—Mage Knight who was looking a bit lost with the attention she was getting. 

“—and she fucking jumps in the air, and bats the damn lightning away!” one of the Marines that was standing declared, exaggeratedly slashing the air with his free arm. “Back to the caster too!” 

“Oh, it was nothing,” the mage muttered a little softly.

“Nothing shit, it was totally ninja,” another Marine replied, offering his fist. The Mage smiled a little wider as she bumped that with her own. 

“Totally fucking badass ninja,” another Marine added. 

The conversation faded as Gilda looked towards the sky, noticing the increasing number of crows that were gathering where the grass lions had been laid. She was actually expecting them to show up, just not this late, and half-wondered if that was an omen. 

“Sir!” 

Her train of thought was broken as she noticed an incoming party made of a few earth-griffins bringing one of the dead grass lions—the least rotten and the least smelly, she hoped—followed by Giraldi, who spoke out, and Imlay, who was frowning. Gilda’s eyes then went towards the dead grass lion, and for the first time, she could see the damage the Marines had wrought on it. She could see holes all over its neck and body, guessing the one in its eyelids was what finished it off. 

The presence of the corpse got the attention of a few Marines. Brennan even stood up to get a better look, though Marco seemed content to just stare neutrally. After a few minutes, Giraldi and Imlay finally appeared, the Corporal joining his fellow Marines while the Centurion joined her. 

“Sir,” Giraldi began, “Scouts are back.” 

Gilda nodded. “Anything new?” 

“Not much, thankfully,” Giraldi replied. “There is no additional movement in front of us or behind us, so I think we’re safe for now. However, the defensive field is still up. Killing the mage really didn’t do much to it, but our Mage Knight advised if no one else maintains the spell, it should vanish after today.” He paused. “I think it’s unlikely.” 

Gilda nodded. “You believe there are more Corrupted mages.” 

“Undoubtedly,” Giraldi replied. He looked at Imlay. “Sir, the Corporal has a little trouble believing what I told him about the Cloven. He might have a lot of questions.” 

“That is to be expected,” Gilda said, looking towards Imlay and giving him a nod, then walking towards the grass lion corpse. The Corporal’s lips thinned, and he ordered the rest of the Marines to come with him as he followed suit. Brennan and Marco joined as well.

Once they reached the corpse, he turned towards the rest of the humans. “Okay, listen up, boys and girls,” he began, “Sub-Tribune Behertz will be explaining who, or what, the hostiles are, so pay attention.” He turned to Gilda. “Ma’am.” 

Gilda took a breath. She looked at the gathered humans and said, “We believe whoever attacked us, whoever set up the field above us is an ancient enemy of the Gryphon Kingdom”—she spat out the last few words like a curse—“the Cloven of the Sun.”

There was a murmur amongst the humans while the Mage shivered at the name. Gilda gave them a few moments before clearing her throat. They immediately quieted down. She motioned towards the downed grass lion. 

“Notice anything in particular?” she asked. 

Brennan crouched, looking at the corpse, sniffed, then frowned. “That’s not right. This animal’s already… rotting.” He looked at Gilda. “Do these types of animals decompose quickly? 

Gilda shook her head. “No. It was dead already before it attacked us.” 

“Damn right it was,” a Marine muttered. 

Brennan frowned again as what Gilda said grabbed his attention. “What do you mean it was dead before attacking us?” 

“I think it’s better to show you,” Gilda replied, nodding towards Giraldi. The Centurion motioned towards the earth-griffin Talon, who unsheathed his sword and scalped the corpse with a rather sickening sound. 

“Hard-fucking-core,” one of the Marines muttered towards another.  

Gilda had to give the Talon some credit. It was an accurate scalping that removed the top-most of the skull. Once the Talon removed his sword, showing what was inside, Brennan quickly frowned and slowly backed away. “Wha… what the hell!?” 

Seeing it herself, Gilda felt a little sickened. Around the grass lion’s brain was the Parasite, a long thin black insect-like being with its spindly legs digging into the grayish matter.  

“What. The. Fuck?” Anderson whispered. 

“That is a Parasite,” Gilda advised. 

“Nydia,” Giraldi called. The Mage Knight nodded and stepped forward, her floating staff glowing. Light surrounded the parasite, which was then slowly tugged outwards, making a few sick noises. It wasn’t completely detached, its long legs still puncturing the grass lion’s brain, but it was more exposed for everyone to see.

“Oh, that’s not right,” Brennan muttered, looking a little green. 

Imlay blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “How long are its legs?” 

“Depends on how long it has infected its host,” Gilda replied. “Apparently, before it enters a body, it’s an ell long.” 

“Ell?” Imlay asked. 

“Sorry. As long as a half of my foreleg,” she clarified. “It enters its victims through either their mouth or nose, gnawing its way towards the head. Once it attaches itself to the brain, it grows until—” Gilda nodded towards the mage.

Nydia closed her eyes. With effort, she produced a small spark of electricity that made the floating Parasite twitch a few of its legs. The Marines immediately pointed their tubes towards the grass lion corpse as its hind leg began to move. 

“Fascinating,” Brennan muttered. “And disgusting. Here I thought bot-flies were bad enough.” He looked at Gilda. “So, that’s what the Cloven are? Mind-controlling parasites?” 

“No,” she replied, frowning. “The Parasite is just one part of a larger group.” She took a breath. “A very large group.” 

“Who are they?” Imlay asked. 

“We don’t know much about them,” Gilda replied. “Probably because the first and last time they appeared was a little more than a thousand years ago, back when the griffins were separated and led by the four Tribal Leaders we called ‘Blessed’.

“They came like a bolt in the night, silent, fast, and deadly.” Gilda pointed towards the Parasite. “They started using Parasites first to infect griffins of power, maybe even the Tribal leaders themselves, creating distrust and chaos amongst the followers. It wasn’t until our Primo Basileus Fortis realized something was amiss and warned the other Blessed.” 

“Primo Basil-what?” Brennan asked. 

“Basileus,” Marco replied. Gilda blinked, realizing this was the first time she’d heard him speak for a long while. “It means First King, I think.” He looked at Gilda. “If I remember correctly, you told Tara and… Chris that he was the one that united the griffin tribes after defeating the enemy. This Cloven… was that the enemy you were talking about?” 

Gilda nodded. 

“This enemy doesn’t seem too hard to detect, though,” Brennan said, hand on his chin. “These Parasites obviously aren’t going to stay hidden for long if they can’t stop the body from rotting. Plus you griffins look plenty strong and have a good handle on weapons. A hit in the head is all that it takes, right?” 

The eagless shook her head. “If Parasites were the only thing to worry about, I’d agree. Like I said, they are only one part of a much larger group. 

“When King Fortis had spread the word, the Cloven stopped using subterfuge and began to amass a force that attacked all the Four Territories. They established small bases that could produce hundreds of soldiers at a time.” 

One of the Marines whistled. “Well, fuck.” 

Imlay didn’t seem perturbed. In fact, his face took an even more neutral. “How?” 

Gilda sighed. “We don’t know. From what we gathered, they give birth fast and grow quickly. Give them a few days, they can overrun the fields, marching steadily until reaching their destination.” 

“What do the soldiers look like?” one of the Marines asked. 

“Big insects,” Gilda replied. “That is probably the closest description I can give you. History records the Cloven Soldiers changing after every battle. 

“When they first attacked, they looked like giant black-shelled hornets. Then, they slowly started resembling griffins. They began to walk on all fours, develop larger claws, and unnaturally sharpened beaks. During the last battles, they even started differentiating their fliers and their ground troops.” 

“How so?” Brennan asked. 

“Flyers had two spikes for forelegs, wings sharp enough to cut, and a barbed tail,” Gilda replied. “Ground troops didn’t even have wings anymore, replacing them with two sharp spikes, like the flyers, which they could manipulate. However, that was not the reason why they were hard to fight off.” 

Imlay and the rest of the Marines seemed to approach closer. “How did they fight?” the Corporal asked. 

“They were unemotional and merciless,” Gilda replied. “It gave them unparalleled discipline and unmatched morale. They march over their wounded, crushing them mercilessly as they chase after you. While they break down your barriers, they also climb over your walls, using their own bodies to build bridges or ladders if they have to.” 

“Sounds like Army Ants,” Brennan muttered, a little awed. 

One Marine scoffed. “If they sound like Marine Ants, then you got me shaking in my boots.” 

“Quiet,” Imlay declared, shutting him up. The Corporal then looked at Gilda. “So, what you are saying is that we can potentially have an army of this Cloven marching to us as we speak?”  

“Possibly,” Gilda replied. “However, our scouts are reporting no movement. I don’t know how long that’ll last, but at least we have time until all—most of the wounded recover,” she corrected herself.

Marco frowned, his eyes going towards the ground. He mumbled, “Excuse me,” before going away. 

Imlay and a few Marines watched the brown-skinned human move towards the camp where the wounded had been lain, then back to Gilda again. 

“Any way to stop them? Any weaknesses?” Imlay asked. 

“Their strength is also their weakness,” Gilda replied. “What gives them the unnatural discipline is the one giving them directions—Cloven Overlords. Apparently, they were very different from the soldiers, bigger. They also have some sort of magical capabilities of expressing thoughts outwards. That was the theory on why they can control the Cloven soldiers. Kill them, and the rest become nothing more than a disorganized mob.” 

“Great,” Anderson said. “Giant insects, and a telepathic bug boss—and we’re the Mobile Infantry.” 

“Yeah, except this is more fantasy shit with zombie kitties,” Stavrou added. He looked at Imlay. “Maybe you should change your name to Rico, Corporal.” 

“Fuck that, Flip-boy is an actual Filipino. We should call him Rico,” another Marine replied. 

“I’d lose my shit if he shouts that fucking line.” 

The rest of the Marines laughed. Even Imlay broke into a small smile. Gilda and the rest of the griffins looked at each other for a moment, confused. She was sure she’d get the reference if she asked Marco, but right now, she was a bit impressed how unimpressed they all sounded, until she noticed their eyes taking on a harder edge. The laughter faded as Marines seemed to mutter amongst themselves, some even patting the bulging pockets of their vests. 

Imlay looked at Gilda. “Anything else, ma’am?” When Gilda shook her head, he turned back towards the Marines and said, “Okay, boys and girls, you all know what to do.” 

“Fucking A,” a Marine muttered as the rest began to scatter. Imlay himself was about to join them when Gilda stepped forward. 

“Corporal, can we talk to you?” 

Imlay looked at Gilda. “What is it, ma’am?” 

The eagless paused for a moment, trying to form the right words in her mind. After a few seconds, she took a breath and said, “Corporal, considering we are possibly about to face off against very strong enemies, I think it is time that we are made aware of your fighting capabilities.” 

Imlay frowned. “What do you want to know?” 

Giraldi stepped forward. “We’d like to know your preference on formations,” he began. “Where and how do you usually position your troops, that way we wouldn’t accidentally bump into each other.” 

Imlay nodded. “I think we can make arrangements on that.” 

“We also need to know more about your weapons and—”

“No,” Imlay said. 

Giraldi frowned. “No?” he asked. 

Imlay shook his head regretfully, frowning. “I’m sorry, but I am under orders not to divulge any sensitive information about any human weaponry.” 

“Under orders?” Gilda frowned. “From who?” 

“People with higher pay grade than mine,” Imlay replied with a shrug. He was already half-turning when Gilda called him to stop. 

“Hold on,” the eagless said. “We don’t need specifics. We just need enough information to see how we’d adjust our formation to fight alongside together.” 

Imlay frowned again. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he repeated, then began to speak a bit more slowly. “Military personnel are not allowed to divulge any information, unless ordered otherwise by the right authority.” 

Gilda blinked. Was Imlay reciting orders given to him? And why the emphasis? “Who would be the right authority in this case?” she asked. 

“That would be Mr. Raleigh,” he replied. “Who is still unconscious, I believe?” 

Gilda looked at Giraldi, who nodded. She sighed. “And if he’s not available, who is the next one we can turn to?” 

“My Commanding Officer,” Imlay answered. “Who is in Arnau. And I would love to get him at the comms and see if we can get that changed if it wasn’t for the fact that the lightning bolt that the mage unleashed earlier had screwed any chances of getting a clear signal.” 

Giraldi muttered something under his breathe, and Gilda couldn’t blame him. “Then it is left to you to decide on this, then Corporal.” 

“On anything else, I would have been more forthcoming,” Imlay replied. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t just concern us, but with my government’s agreement with Equestria.” 

Gilda frowned. What did Equestria have to do with this? “The circumstances are a bit extreme though,” she reasoned. “Surely, you can make exceptions?” 

“Ma’am, I wish I could,” Imlay said. Again, he spoke the next few words slowly. “Military personnel are not allowed to divulge any information about human weaponry unless ordered—”

“Yes, yes, we get it,” Giraldi cut Imlay off, but the Marine continued unabated. 

“—otherwise by the right authority.” Imlay’s eyes shifted slightly, which got Gilda’s attention. He motioned towards his side. It took a moment for her to realize what he was pointing out. 

She sighed. “Thank you, Corporal.” 

“For what, ma’am?” Imlay replied, walking away even before Gilda could reply. 

Giraldi looked a little lost. “What was that about?” he asked. 

“A loophole,” Gilda replied. She nodded. “Talk to Imlay, and see if you can get any information about how they fight, see if we can combine their formation with ours or just make a way we don’t accidentally cross claws. And don’t ask him about human weapons. I’ll get back to you on that.” 

Giraldi looked at her for a moment before giving her a sharp salute and baring his neck, then walking away, barking orders to the nearby Talons to dispose of the corpse. As Gilda was about to leave, she spotted the Mage Knight looking at her and Giraldi. 

Giving her a nod, Gilda said, “Good job on defending our allies.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Nydia muttered, a little shyly. 

“Get some rest,” Gilda ordered. “We’re going to move soon.” 

The Mage Knight nodded and looked towards where the Marines had left, then shook her head. She muttered something Gilda couldn’t quite hear before turning towards a quiet corner and meditating, her glowing staff floating above her. 

Nodding one last time to Giraldi, Gilda made her way towards the injured camp, passing a few patrolling griffins with a human counterpart coming along with them. A few of them greeted her as she made her way towards the downed coach. 

The grass around the area was either cut or stomped flat to make beddings for the injured humans. She also spotted a few griffins, probably having sustained injuries while fighting with the Corrupted Knights. While not serious enough to warrant bothering the Mage Knight, it seemed that the Marine, Doc, was doing a fine job of patching them up. They chatted amongst themselves like nothing was wrong. 

Gilda spotted Marco sitting between the prone Tara and Chris, the former now awake and patting the brown-skinned human on the knee. As she approached, she caught a bit of their conversation. 

“—ould have made you guys take the Second coach,” Marco whispered. “Should have bitten the bullet and sat with Raleigh.” 

“Marco, I swear to God, if you don’t get off the emo-train, I’m going to slap you real hard,” Tara replied,her exasperation pretty strong considering that the last time Gilda saw her she was unconscious. “You didn’t know. Just like the time you flirted with me. Remember that?” 

Marco smiled a bit. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” 

“Of course not,” Tara replied easily. “Got the video uploaded to YouTube and everything.” 

Marco chuckled for a while before immediately frowning. His hand found hers, and squeezed it bit as he looked towards Chris. 

“He’ll be fine,” Tara declared. “Remember what you told me? That they can heal his broken spine?” 

“Yeah, that Mage—what was her name?” Marco looked down for a moment. “Nydia, I think. Yeah. Anyway, she told me all they need is more mages and some potions. Basically, we need to get back to Arnau before they can work on Chris.” 

“She’s right,” Gilda interjected, getting both human’s attention. Tara gave her a big smile. 

“Hey!” she greeted. 

“Am I interrupting?” Gilda asked. Both humans looked at each other, with Marco turning away first to look at Chris, while Tara shook her head. 

“No, no! Not at all. Come join us!” 

Gilda nodded and settled down a little bit in front of Marco, who gave her a small smile of greeting before turning back to his friend. Tara meanwhile offered a weak fist which the eagless bumped gently. 

“How are you holding up?” Gilda asked. 

“Okay,” Tara replied. “A little sore everywhere, but I guess I’m one of the few lucky ones. You missed Fortrakt, by the way.” 

“He was here earlier?” Gilda asked. 

“Yeah. He said about joining the scouts now that the sky-griffin numbers went down by six.” Tara frowned. “I’m sorry about them.” 

Gilda nodded. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t be. They did their jobs and made their Ancestors proud.” 

Tara just nodded, didn’t say anything for a moment before looking to Chris. “He’ll be okay right? Magic and everything?” 

Gilda nodded. 

“Cool,” Tara muttered.  

“I hope it works,” Marco whispered. He looked at Gilda. “I mean, how are we sure it’ll work with humans? We’re not the same species.” 

“I’m not exactly an expert,” Gilda replied, “but I do know the spell hasn’t changed much since it was first used. And it has worked with every species we met so far.” She paused for a moment, a thought forming in her mind. “In fact, we use almost the same spell as the Equestrians, something we found curious when we first met them. I’m quite confident that we’ll be able to help Chris.”    

Marco nodded, his stance finally relaxing. His smile widened a bit more as he nodded repeatedly. He looked at Chris a bit longer before a thought hit him. 

“Not that I don’t want you here, Gilda,” he began, “but what are you doing here? Taking a break?” 

Gilda shook her head. “I need your help on something.” 

Marco blinked. “Uh… sure. I have no idea what I can help you with, though.” 

The eagless looked around for a moment, then leaned a little closer. “We need information about the human weapons.” 

Tara frowned. “Uh… can’t the Marines give you that info?” 

“No,” Marco replied, shaking his head. “I think the Marines were ordered to keep quiet about guns and other weapons.” 

“Guns?” Gilda asked. 

“That’s the general name of the weapons they use,” Marco replied. “Well, we use,” he corrected. 

Gilda looked at him thoughtfully, remembering the conversation she overheard of him and Reyes. “You use guns too?” 

“Yeah,” Tara replied. “Both Chris and Marco here spend at least a weekend a month at the shooting range back on Earth.” She rolled her eyes. “Boys.” 

“Hey, I join your bar scenes at times,” Marco teased. “It’s not my fault I steal all the ladies from you.” 

Tara snorted, then groaned in pain as she grabbed her stomach. “Oh, damn it, Marco. Don’t make me laugh.”

Gilda cleared her throat before the two could go off in a tangent again. “Um, Marco? About guns?” 

Marco nodded. “Yeah, sorry. What did you want to know about them?” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tara interjected. 

“What?” Marco asked. 

“Are we allowed to even talk about it?” Tara asked. “I mean, if the Marines can’t, then how can we? You’re in enough trouble as it is.” 

The eagless frowned, remembering that particular conversation with Fortrakt, realizing what she was asking him to do. She was about to tell him to forget that she asked when a voice surprised all of them. 

“Strictly speaking, no one ordered us to keep quiet about our weapons,” Chris said weakly. 

“Chris!” Marco almost shouted as he leaned towards his fallen friend, grabbing his shoulder. “Hold on, I’m getting Doc. Don’t move, alright?” 

“With a broken spine, I don’t think I’m going to go anywhere,” Chris replied with a stiff smile. “Oh, for God’s sake, stop the waterworks. You’re making it gayer than it looks.” 

“F—screw you,” Marco replied, voice hesitating slightly as he wiped his eyes with a free hand, smiling through his pained expression. 

“You know?” Tara asked slowly. 

“Drifted in and out of consciousness, really,” Chris replied with a sigh. “Heard Marco shout, heard that I have a busted back. Honestly, thought it was a dream… until I couldn’t feel my legs.” 

“You’ll be okay,” Marco declared strongly. He tightened his grip on Chris’s shoulders. “They said they can fix your spine.” 

“Yeah, heard that part too,” Chris said softly. “Otherwise, I think you’d be looking at a blubbering version of myself who’d be more than happy to dispense waterworks.” He sniffed. “Hell, I think I might still do that.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Marco muttered. “You’ll be fine.” 

“I’m just glad you’re okay, Chris,” Tara whispered, her voice breaking a bit as tears flowed freely from her face. 

Gilda watched with fascination and trepidation, witnessing the three friends comfort each other. She felt a bit like an intruder, even if she had come to look at Chris as something a bit more than an associate. Reyes once said the three had a history, and it was now showing in droves. Part of her wanted to sneak away, while another part of her was remembering her own loss back in Equestria. 

Before she got any farther with her thoughts, she heard approaching footsteps, and spotted Doc. Once he was nearby, he saw Chris awake and knelt beside him, asking questions. 

After answering two, Chris looked at his friend. “Marco,” he began, “go with Gilda. If anyone raises a stink, tell them to go to me.” 

Marco looked at him for a moment before giving a solemn nod. He gave his shoulder one last squeeze, doing the same with Tara’s hand before he stood up. Gilda, too, went on all fours before the two strolled out of the area, with him grabbing his backpack, before both went towards a somewhat secluded spot. 

“I’m glad Chris is awake,” Gilda started, “though I guess I wish it could have been at better circumstances.” 

“Chris is stronger than he looks,” Marco replied a little stiffly. “He’ll be fine.” 

Gilda nodded. “I believe you. Besides, he’s being looked at by that Marine.”

Marco stopped and looked at her. “What Marine?” 

“Uh, Doc,” Gilda replied. 

“Doc’s not a Marine.” 

The eagless blinked. “Huh? Really?” 

“Yeah,” Marco nodded, continuing forward. The two finally reached their destination, and he began to look for a place to sit down. “Doc’s from the Navy, lent to the Marines.” He looked around. “Okay, this looks like a relatively isolated spot. So, what do you need to know?” 

Gilda had wanted to know more about the human armed forces but realized she could ask that later. Shaking her head, she replied, “Honestly, just combat-related things. Hey, over here,” she added, pointing towards a small boulder just a few lengths away. The two walked a bit more, and Marco settled on the stone, while Gilda just sat on her haunches. 

“Okay, like what exactly?” Marco asked. “I know how a gun works, mostly. I can tell you some statistics like penetrating power and effective range.” 

“Let’s start with that,” Gilda offered. “I mean, I know that those black tubes aren’t melee weapons as we had initially thought, so I’d rather know a bit more about it so we can plan our formations correctly.” 

Marco gave her a lopsided smile. “Melee weapons? Really?” 

“We didn’t see arrows,” Gilda pointed. 

“True,” Marco conceded. He opened his mouth, but immediately frowned. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

He sighed as a reply. “Okay, I know, technically, I’m not bound to not say anything, but I don’t want to get Chris in trouble. Not after what just happened to him.” 

Gilda nodded. “You can remain silent, Marco. I’m not going to take it badly.” 

Marco sighed again. “If anyone asks, tell them I told you, and it was my decision alone,” he said. His face hardened. “Nothing goes to Chris.” 

“Like I’d let you take the blame,” Gilda said with a snort. “I can always tell them that I theorized everything by everything I’ve seen today.” 

He blinked. “Really?” 

“Honestly, all I need to know is their effective range, maybe even some limitations,” Gilda replied. “I can say I got that from observation, which is true. Granted, more than what I currently saw, but still technically true.” She paused. “Though, a little more information would be nice.” 

Marco chuckled. “Why? I thought you just needed range and stuff.” 

“Because I’ve never seen or heard any kind of weapon in Tellus that would come close to describing what the Marines are holding right now,” Gilda replied. She shivered as she remembered the acrid burning smell of the air, the deafening sound of thunderous crackle, and the falling of the many grass lions coming at them. “It is…” she trailed off. 

“Impressive?” Marco supplied. “Amazing? Stupendous?” 

“Terrifying,” Gilda finished with a soft whisper. 

“I guess it can be,” Marco said, nodding. “The gun itself is a relatively new weapon. Or at least, the concept is.” 

 Gilda leaned a little closer. “How new?” 

“First known evidence of a gun was around one thousand years ago.”

Gilda blinked. “One thousand years ago? Relatively new?” 

“Considering we’ve been using swords, knives, bows and arrows, and other non-gunpowder weapons for thousands of years, I’d say, yeah, its relatively new,” Marco replied. 

A question of how old the human civilization came to her mind, but she put that away for another time. “Gunpowder?” she asked. “What’s that?”

“What do you know of explosive powder?” he asked back. 

Gilda frowned. “Minotaurs use them to make fireworks. Expensive stuff, though, considering its only used for making bursts of light, which we could do with magic. Plus a little unstable. There were stories of fires created by the stuff. And as expensive as a firegem is, I’d rather prefer something stable to make fire.” 

“Okay, basically, that’s how guns work. Hold on.” Marco rummaged through his bag, and for some reason, Gilda felt a small stirring of magic emanating from it. Before she could ask what it was, he offered his open hand to her, and resting in his palm was a small metallic cylinder with a  domed tip. 
 
“What’s that?” Gilda asked, giving it a cautious look.

“That is a bullet,” Marco explained. “A gun is basically a tool that launches a projectile”—he shook his hand—“in this case, the bullet, towards an intended target.” 

The eagless gave Marco a look. “That small thing? Even if I put that in a crossbow, it doesn’t look like it’ll damage an armored griffin. Its not even sharpened!” 

Marco grinned. “Well, when it travels faster than the speed of sound, it doesn’t need to be sharp.” 

Gilda blinked. “Wait… faster than the speed of sound?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I forgot the exact number, so I don’t know if I can really give you the right impression about it.” 

“I’m aware of the speed of sound,” Gilda said. 

That got Marco to look at her. “Really?” 

“I had a friend back in Equestria,” Gilda began, looking away. “She trained hard so she could do a… well, to fly as fast as that.” 

“Really? Wow,” Marco replied. “Did she succeed?” 

“Yes she did.” Gilda sighed. 

The human frowned. “Is… this a bad topic?” 

She sighed again. “A little bit.” She shook her head. “Sorry. So, this thing can travel faster than the speed of sound? How?” 

“Well, inside the bullet is a bit of that explosive powder. The gun ignites that powder, which causes a small controlled explosion that sends this”—he pointed towards the domed part of the bullet—”flying outwards.” 

Gilda frowned. “You are telling me that you use explosions to throw a small piece of metal outwards faster than the speed of sound?” 

“Yup,” Marco replied, nodding. 

The eagless shook her head. “That’s…”

“Cool?” he suggested. “Awesome?” 

“Insane.” 

That had Marco laughing. “Well, I guess it can be a little insane. But then again, humans invented stuff that people thought were crazy or impossible until we got it working.” 

She could only frown at that, but realized it wasn’t important right now. “Okay, so these tubes, these guns the Marines are holding, work like that?” 

“Yeah,” Marco said. “The Marines have rifles, which use a different kind of bullet that travels faster than this one. And the rifles can shoot them out repeatedly without pause. ” 

“How far do the bullets reach?” 

“Uh, well, technically they can reach three kilometers, but no one can accurately shoot that far,” he replied. “I say, around half a kilometer when trying to hit a single target. A little further if they just want to cover the area.” 

Gilda frowned. “What’s a kilometer?” 

Marco frowned as well, and began to look around. “Hmm, let’s see… see those trees there?” he asked, pointing towards a woodland area to her left. 

Gilda’s eyes easily saw the woode, and she ascertained it was a little less than a twentieth of a league out. “Yes.” 

“That’s around a kilometer,” Marco said. “Well, more or less. So, yeah, half the distance, and you get the rifle’s effective range for a single target.”

One of Gilda’s eyes widened. Their crossbows could travel a tenth of that length, if the griffin was in a stable firing position. But that distance? 

“Of course, most of the time, they’d just engage in fifty meters or so,” Marco added. “I think because they are usually on the move. And that’s only the standard issue rifles the Marines are given. I’m pretty sure there’s a M40 or Mark 12 somewhere, considering Imlay’s a designated marksman.” 

“What are those?” 

“The designated marksmen? Or the M40 and Mark 12?” 

“I’m guessing that a designated marksman is someone who can shoot far?” Gilda guessed. 

“Hah, yeah,” Marco replied. “The M40 and Mark 12 are long range rifles. Those are designed to hit the half a kilometer mark, even longer. Heck, we have people called snipers, that can hit that treeline and beyond.” 

“I… see,” Gilda muttered, getting a little lost. She shook her head, trying to remember what she needed to know. “How many of those bullets can they fire?” 

“Well, for the rifles they are carrying, thirty per magazine. Depending on how many they have, then that’s really up to mathematics.” 

“Magazines?” Gilda asked. What did reading material have to do with their weapons?

“Black rectangular pieces you see underneath the rifles.” 

Gilda nodded. She remembered those. “Okay, so how powerful is it exactly? These bullets?” 

“That really depends on what kind of bullets,” Marco said. “For the rifles the Marines are using, they can penetrate more than a quarter of an inch of steel.” 

“Quarter?” 

“One fourth,” Marco replied. 

Gilda nodded. “And just to clarify, how long is a human inch?” 

Marco made a length between his thumb and finger, a little longer than a griffin inch, which had Gilda swallowing. She didn’t know how different human steel was compared to griffin steel, but if it was the same, then those bullets could penetrate armor without problem. Ancestors, they would have gotten through shields as well. 

“Then there’s also the other weapons they brought,” Marco continued. “I think I heard an explosion earlier?” 

Gilda remembered and nodded. “Was that also a bullet?” 

“Well, no. That’s a grenade,” he replied. “Remember when I said bullets use small explosions to launch a bullet out? Grenades are basically devices that causes a large explosion near the target.” 

Insane. That was the only thought she could come up with. Still, she shoved that aside for now. Talking with Marco proved to be very fruitful. Giving him a small smile, she said, “Thanks, Marco. I needed that. Maybe now we can find a formation that won’t have Marines shooting us by accident.” 

Marco nodded. “No problem. I don’t know if you guys can find a formation that will work with both of you, but I’m not exactly a soldier or Marine.” 

“We’ll work that one out,” Gilda replied, standing on all fours again. Marco also stood from his position and walked to her. Once he was near, Gilda offered a fist, which Marco gladly bumped with his own. As the two walked back towards the camp, another question popped to her head. “Marco?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Imlay said that they were under orders not to reveal any information in regards to human weaponry,” Gilda said. “He also said it was because of an agreement that your government made to Equestria.” 

“I’m guessing you want to know more about that,” Marco said. 

Gilda nodded. 

“Well, not much to say really,” Marco began. “Since the Portal is in Equestria, a lot of what goes in and out is in the Equestrian Government’s hands. Or hooves, in this case. First thing they barred from entering through the portal was human weaponry.”

“Guns and the like?” she asked. 

“Eh, more than that,” Marco replied. “Guns aren’t really the only weapons we use. We have a bit more… advanced weaponry.” 

Gilda glanced at Marco. If it was any indication, what the Marines brought here were already quite advanced. She couldn’t imagine what their newer weapons were like. 

Marco continued, unaware of her thoughts. “Anyway, when this expedition was first proposed, the US Government had to deal extensively with the Equestrian Council to get quite a lot of Marines and their weapons through.” 

Gilda scoffed. “The negotiations must have taken a while then.”

Marco grinned. “Yeah. Actually, it came to the point that they weren’t going anywhere until Princess Celestia intervened. She proposed an agreement that both parties agreed on.”  

“Which is?” 

“Marine personnel can only bring weapons they can personally carry,” Marco replied. His smile widened. “Marines took that literally, and brought quite an assortment.” He paused. “And I guess the Equestrian Government added that talking about guns is a no-no. Something about how it would disrupt the delicate balance and some other stuff. Honestly, though, I doubt they could really tell us what or what not to say. If we kept silent, it was because of our own volition.”

Gilda looked at him. “What do you mean?” 

Marco pondered for a moment before nodding. “Okay, let’s say you meet a new species or new civilization.” 

She wondered where this was going. “Okay…?” 

“And they don’t have crossbows,” he continued. “You aren’t too sure whether they will be your allies or not. They live pretty far away, and you’re sending a few civilians in to negotiate and a few armed soldiers as escort. If asked, would you even talk about your crossbows in detail?” 

Gilda shook her head. “Maybe not until I’ve confirmed that we’re going to be allies.” 

“Well, that’s what we have here, really,” Marco said. “Except the humans are the ones with the crossbow.” He paused and made a face. “Well, you know what I mean.” 

Gilda just nodded. “Yes, I know what you mean.” The two remained silent as they continued to walk back to the camp, Gilda’s thoughts in a little turmoil.

Out of all the races in Tellus, Gryphons were known to have the most advanced weaponry. They may not have had as many magic users as Equestrian Ponies, or expansive Alchemic studies like the Free Zebra Nations, or even the advanced machines like the Minotaurs, but when it came down to weapon development, they were the most reliable and innovative. 

To be told that they may be thousands of years behind was a bitter pill to swallow. In fact, she wasn’t too sure she had swallowed it yet. 

“Sorry,” Marco whispered. 

Gilda blinked and looked at him. “For what?” 

“For being the one to change your world,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You kinda looked a little lost, so I’m assuming you’re trying to come to terms of everything I’ve told you.” 

The eagless nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s a little hard to take.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Marco said, smiling. “Once the idea settles in, I’m pretty sure it’ll be just a normal day for the griffins. Except now they have a few new ideas to experiment with. Just”—he chuckled—“try not to blow yourselves up.” 

Chuckling as well, Gilda shook her head with a small smile. Then again, another thought entered her mind. “So, Marco, by the fact that you told me about guns and all, does that mean you trust us griffins? Do you see us as allies?” 

Marco looked at her for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t know about the griffins as a whole, but I know you and Fortrakt. I trust you. Both of you.” 

Gilda looked at him. “Thanks, Marco.”  

He replied by bumping his hips on hers, surprising her so much she walked a few steps away, looking at him with a confused expression. Marco just grinned and he stuck his tongue out to her, which had her narrowing her eyes. She waited for the moment he turned around before she pounced at him. 

It wasn’t a good pounce, judging by how he heard her approach and scrambled out of the way. The next few moments were nothing but laughter and running, with Gilda trying to find a way to get to Marco, who was running left and right. She finally caught him when a Marine shouted, “Hey, Rico!” 

“Who—ouch! Hey!” Marco giggled as Gilda bumped him roughly enough to get him to stumble. She hit him gently in the head with her wing when he was trying to balance himself. 

The eagless found herself smiling. “You deserved that,” she said. 

“Did not!” 

“Hey Rico!” the Marine called again, approaching. He was round faced with a lighter brown skin than Marco. Gilda remembered him from before the trip. “As much as you like to mingle with the locals, Corporal Imlay needs the Sub-Tribune.” 

“Oh, shut up, Guerrero,” Marco replied. “And seriously... Rico?” 

Gilda ignored Marco’s question. “Why does the Corporal need me?” she asked. 

“Comms are back online,” Guerrero replied. “Ma’am… you may want to hear it.” 

Gilda looked at Marco, who gave her a nod. “Go.” 

Nodding, she rushed back towards the camp. She spotted Imlay, Giraldi, and that Marine with that radio backpack, and around them were a few agitated looking griffins and Marines. The Centurion and Corporal were frowning. As she approached, Imlay, motioned his hands to come quickly. 

“Warwolf-3 to Warwolf Actual, I have the Sub-Tribune with me, over,” Imlay declared towards a green box that was on the make-shift table. To her surprise, after some crackling, she could hear a clear voice coming out of it. 

“Copy that, Warwolf-3,” the voice from the box declared. 

There was a slight crackle before, to her amazement, Captain Narada’s voice came forth. “Hello? Sub-Tribune, can you hear me?” Then, softer, “Is that close enough?” 

“Yes, just talk normally,” came an even softer reply. 

Imlay gave Gilda a nod. She took a breath. “Yes, Captain,” she said. “I’m here. I don’t know if you were informed, but we have just been attacked by Cloven.” 

“I am aware of the situation, Sub-tribune,” Narada replied. “In fact, the whole Kingdom knows. We have reports of attacks coming from the West, East, and North. The bulk of the attack, it seems, is coming from the West.” 

“West? But the Cloven were originally from the South,” Gilda muttered. 

“That’s not the only concern,” Narada continued. “It seems they have brought a variety of Corrupted with them. We received reports of Corrupted dragons, Corrupted diamond dogs, and Corrupted elder rams as well.” 

Gilda shivered. The elder rams were another race that gave the griffins a challenge as well. However, before she could get completely lost in that train of thought, Imlay pointed towards the injured. She gave him a nod. 

“Sir, we have injured civilians, one needing intensive healing,” Gilda said. “Requesting permission to return to Arnau.” 

“I don’t know if I can give you permission, Sub-Tribune,” Narada said. “The Cloven have brought a lot of flyers between towns. They are forcing us to use the roads. Some reported seeing defensive spells that shoot out bolts of lightning.” 

Gilda nodded. “Yes, we’ve hit one of those.” 

“If you try to come back to Arnau by air, you’ll get slaughtered,” Narada said. “And we’re not quite sure how secure the roads are yet.” 

“Any suggestions then, sir?” 

“I spoke with your Spear Centurion earlier, and he said that you were around ten leagues north-west of Tierra?” 

Giraldi immediately flattened the map in the makeshift table, which had a charcoal-marked area in the South. Checking it for a moment, calculating the distance of their travel in her head, she nodded once more. “Yes, sir,” she replied. 

“There should be a garrison town of Aricia nearby,” Narada advised. “Bring the wounded there, and assist the Tribune of the garrison in mounting a defense. We will work on getting reinforcements to your location as soon as we can.” 

“Yes, sir,” Gilda replied. 

Imlay scooted closer. “Warwolf-3 to Warwolf Actual, over.” 

“Lieutenant?” 

There was a small crackle once more before another voice, the one that first spoke, came in. “This is Warwolf Actual. Send traffic, over.” 

“Roger. Requesting change in rules of engagement,” Imlay said, “in regards to advisement of weapon capabilities. Over.”

There was a pause before the voice came back. “Change approved, Warwolf-3. You are permitted to advise of only combat-related capabilities of our weapons, over.” 

“Interrogative: what do you mean only combat-related capabilities, over?” 

“No details of how it works. That’s all. Out.” 

Imlay nodded towards the Marine with the backpack, who immediately stepped away. The Corporal looked at Gilda for a moment, nodding. “Any questions in regards to human weapons, we can provide information only on combat effectiveness. Though I’m guessing at this point”—he looked towards the injured camp—“it’s moot.”

“Maybe not,” Gilda replied. “At this point, I can only go by my observation. Having more confirmation ensures that we’re taking the right steps in our planning.” 

“I understand, ma’am,” Imlay replied with a nod, and walked away. 

“What was that about?” Giraldi asked. 

“Not much,” Gilda replied. “I have some information about the weapons they use, but it’s a little unbelievable. You may have a hard time trying to find a way to mesh how we can both fight together.” 

“A solution always presents itself to those that look hard enough,” Giraldi advised. 

“I hope so,” Gilda said. She looked towards the map, taking a deep breath. “You heard the Captain. We need to plot a course to Aricia.” 



> Chapter 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate you,” Fortrakt muttered, for maybe the tenth time. Gilda wasn’t so sure, as she lost count after the fourth. Again, as a response, she rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you have anything else to say, Fortrakt?” she asked. 

“May the Ancestors curse all your feathers off,” he continued muttering, steadily flapping his wings to maintain his height. Gilda snorted, which slowly turned to a soft laugh. 

“Okay, that’s new,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you remember our conversation back in Arnau? About how you kept insisting you weren’t getting jealous of Marco spending more time with me?” 

“May the Ancestors speed your aging, so that you’ll be left doing nothing but lying down on a bed, eating nothing but soup and sucking on soft-boiled eggs.” 

“You didn’t convince me then,” Gilda continued without missing a beat, “and you’re not even remotely convincing me now.” 

“And those soft-boiled eggs? May the Ancestors make them overcooked.” 

“So, Fortrakt, as your, well, admittedly older and most definitely wiser partner, let me give you a very helpful piece of advice: don’t woo more than two partners at the same time. Not even Equestrians do that.” 

Fortrakt grumbled under his breath, which only served to widen Gilda’s smile. For a few moments, the eagless found herself blessed with peaceful silence as the two partners, along with two more Wind Knights trailing behind them, flew slowly through the air, heading towards Arcia. 

“It’s unfair that Marco talked only to you about their weapons,” Fortrakt muttered a few minutes later. “I mean, you’ve seen them in action already.” 

“You can always ask him to tell you,” Gilda said. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” she replied easily. “He told me, personally, that he trusts you, so I don’t see why he wouldn’t share the information about human guns with you.”

Fortrakt sighed, nodding. He looked contemplative for a few more moments before he looked at Gilda. “Do you think the Marines will show me how those guns—” 

“Nope,” Gilda immediately declared. When he glared, Gilda shrugged. “I have no idea why you’re being a stupid cub about it. I’m pretty sure you’re going to see them in action soon enough.” 

The tiercel sighed as a response. “Yeah. I know. But…”

“What?” she asked, looking at him. 

“I’d rather not see it in action at their cost.” 

Gilda blinked. “Who do you mean by they?” 

“Chris, Tara, Marco, and the rest,” Fortrakt replied. “As much as I’d like to see how those guns work in action, I’d rather not have non-combatants involved.” 

“Wishful thinking,” Gilda said, looking forward. “Not that I don’t wish that too. If we could get to Arnau, have them safe behind her walls, I’d be all for it. Besides”—she looked back at him—“I’d like to think of it this way: the more these guns are used, the more protected the civilians are.” 

“Heh, true,” Fortrakt replied. He then frowned. “But where does that leave us?” 

Gilda looked forward, unable to answer. So far, discussing how to merge human and griffin tactics had been almost impossible, much to her chagrin. Marco was almost right in a way, though she should have come to the same conclusion when she realized how long these humans had been using guns. 

Refining such deadly weapons would have been for nothing if the tactics weren’t adapted around them. For example, the Gryphon Shield had been nothing but a useless defensive weapon that was relegated to the most expendable units, the lowest in a Blessed’s ranks—hatchlings, civil guards, and auxiliary defenders. When King Fortis had succeeded in winning against the Blessed who ran the Eastern Territories and his ideas of living free from Blessed rule began to spread, most who pledged to his leadership were just those: the lowest of Blessed ranks, armed with mostly just shields. The rest was history. 

Applying that particular thought, she could see why human tactics wouldn’t mesh well with Gryphon ones. In each Marine’s hands were very powerful, very advanced versions of rapid-fire crossbows that could easily penetrate through armor and shield. The last part was important. If such weapons existed, Gilda was pretty sure that the Kingdom would start making tactics around such weapons, maybe slowly phase out the armor and shield. 

If she had to guess, the Gryphon would slowly move from defensive positioning to maneuvering quickly from one place to another, finding the enemy’s weak spots to exploit. Not too dissimilar from how Wind Knights were trained to fight without shieldwall support, really, which reminded her of Marco’s comment on how Marines kept moving in battle. 

Sometimes, I wonder how much information he actually revealed, Gilda thought with a shake of her head. 

“Gilda? Sir?” 

The second word got her attention. Looking at Fortrakt’s direction, she saw that the tiercel was pointing towards—if her sharp eagle eyes weren’t fooling her—a settlement less than a league ahead, surrounded by a stone wall. Studying the wooden structures and pathways, she realized it was a large steadholt, probably one of the garrison’s suppliers. 

“Should we go there?” Fortrakt asked. “For a rest, I mean. We’ve been traveling for more than an hour already.” 

Gilda tried to look for any activity that would help her decide. At this distance, she couldn’t see anything clearly, but the lack of movement definitely seemed ominous. She began to think of possibilities, consequences of her decisions, and a lot of factors. In the end, she decided on getting advice from Giraldi. 

“Get visual confirmation of that steadholt,” Gilda ordered. “Check for activities, signs of battle, anything. I’m going to see Giraldi, ask him if we’re going to need to stop.” 

“Yes, sir,” Fortrakt replied. He gave a signal towards the Wind Knights, which had Gilda smiling a bit. While Wind Knights had a more respectable position in the Gryphon military compared to the Auxiliary Guards, Fortrakt’s rank was a little higher than theirs. 

Here’s to hoping it doesn’t go to his head, she thought, turning around. With a strong flap, Gilda dashed through the air, and reached the ground convoy a few moments later. She squawked a signal at the Wind Knights leading them to let her pass, and she dove down once she saw Giraldi and Imlay. 

The Spear Centurion was shaking his head, in a middle of a discussion with the Corporal, when he spotted her arrival. He faced her, saluted and bared his neck when she landed, while Imlay gave her a nod. 

“Sir.” 

“Ma’am.” 

“You two look like you're having fun,” Gilda said, walking towards them. She looked at Giraldi. “I’m guessing by the way you’re shaking your head, we’re still nowhere close in finding a way to mesh our formations together?” 

“We're making a bit of progress on that, actually," Giraldi replied. "However, sir, the Corporal here was just telling me a few stories about his time in the Corps. You won’t believe what he went through as a recruit.” 

“Actually, I may have an idea,” Gilda replied with a slight smile. Then, she remembered why she was here. “Centurion, Corporal, there’s a steadholt not too far from here. I was wondering, how are the injured and civilians? Do they need rest?” 

Imlay looked back, towards the middle group made up of a few Marines surrounding the grounded Wind Knights carrying a modified air coach, in which the immobile injured lay, while the rest of the civilians were walking at the brisk pace that Gilda had set up earlier. Brennan was already panting. Marco looked a little winded as he supported Tara, who was clutching her side gently, wincing a bit at every step.

It once more reminded Gilda of the earlier events. Whatever little elation she felt sobered immediately. 

“How far are we from the the garrison?” Imlay asked. 

“If we continue the pace, we should be there in an hour and a half, maybe a bit more,” Giraldi replied. 

Imlay looked at civilians once more, then back again to Gilda. “How far is this steadholt?” 

Gilda looked at him blankly. “Ten to fifteen minutes,” she said softly. She used her claw to point the direction. “Yeah. Should be ten, fifteen minutes.” 

Giraldi frowned. “Sir? Is there something wrong?” 

Gilda shook her head. “Nothing. I’ll establish a perimeter, make sure there won’t be any surprises for us there.” Then, she immediately launched herself to the air once more. 

A few minutes later, she rejoined Fortrakt and the rest, ordering them to do an aerial sweep of the area. The steadholt was far too big to fully secure, but they didn’t really need the full facility, just the main hall, the largest and most defensible building near the center of the settlement. 

Gilda felt the weight of the crossbow as she carried it. Taken from the dead Wind Knight, she had needed a few moments to reacquaint herself with it, as she hadn’t used one since her training back in the Gauntlet. Taking hold of the notching rod, she pulled it back experimentally. The internal mechanism took care of the rest, pulling the heavy string back more than a quarter of a full notch. Pushing the rod back to its initial position, Gilda then squeezed the trigger to release the taut cord.

Ensured that her weapon was working, she, Fortrakt, and the Wind Knights entered the steadholt, spreading out to look for any downed griffins or animals. Gilda found a downed griffin a few moments later. She looked at the body, spotting a missing wing and its coat and feathers caked with blood. She got her crossbow, pulled the notching rod once, placed a bolt in place, and aimed. 

“Are you injured?!” she shouted. A few moments pass, she shouted again. “Do you need assistance?” When there was no response a minute later, she fired her weapon. A soft thrum vibrated through the air and the downed body sported a bolt through the head. 

She wasn’t alone. She heard a few more squawks, and afterwards, a soft thrumming in the air. Glad to be too far away to hear the ugly sounds of impact, she continued to patrol the air, trying to spot a few more bodies. There were two more, one with a missing claw, and another eviscerated. They too didn’t respond to her signals or calls. She was two bolts lighter afterwards.  

After three minutes of more searching, she returned to the designated meeting place, the roof of the main hall. Fortrakt and the rest of the Wind Knights were waiting for her. “Any survivors?” she asked them. 

The Wind Knights shook their heads. “No, sir,” one of them replied. 

“None on my end, either,” Fortrakt said, face scrunched up in distaste. “I hate this doctrine, sir.” 

“I’d rather not lose anyone to a surprise Corrupted attack like earlier,” Gilda replied. “The fact that this place has not attracted the crows even with obvious corpses is telling.” 

“Still,” Fortrakt argued, “those that have passed deserve more respect than having getting desecrated further.” 

Gilda looked at him. “I know. Why do you think we’re doing this? We are ensuring that their bodies aren’t used for more nefarious means.” 

Fortrakt sighed. “I get it, sir. I just… don’t like the idea.” 

“I don’t think anyone here does, Fortrakt,” Gilda replied. She then looked at the rest of the Wind Knights. “Okay, back to business, everyone. Our work ain’t done yet. Keep your eyes and ears open. I need you two,” she pointed towards the Wind Knights, “to go back to the convoy and guide them here.” She looked at her partner. “Fortrakt, pair up with a Wind Knight and secure the well. We’ll be needing more water, so bring back as much as you can. You two, to the skies. Patrol the area until the convoy arrives.”

“Yes, sir,” was the clear and loud response. Fortrakt grabbed a tiercel and both went to search for the nearest well, while four Wind Knights launched themselves to the sky, leaving her with the last two standing in attention. 

“Sir?” one asked. 

“We’ll secure the main hall and make sure there are no surprises for us inside,” Gilda replied. 

“Yes, sir,” the two griffins declared, saluting. 

Gilda couldn’t help but sigh as she flapped her wings and jumped downwards. Readying her crossbow again, she stood in the entrance of the main hall and looked back to see the Wind Knights following suit. They were right behind her. With a nod, she took a breath and bumped the door open. 

Silence greeted her. Looking around for a few moments, Gilda studied the hall entrance that led to a large enclosure, pretty similar to any audience chamber found in any town hall in Equestria. There was an elevated stage in the center, surrounded by semicircle of seats, ascending higher as they moved away from the central area. The large spacing seemed odd to her for some reason, but she shook her head, remembering they had a job to do. She looked back, motioned with her claw towards her left, then towards her right. The two Wind Knights nodded, and the three griffins fanned out in a search formation. 

Gilda couldn’t help but worry as she landed on the central area, her eyes scanning everything. There were no slithering shadows, stirrings in the air, or ominous movements. There were no downed griffins or signs of Cloven. The hall was just eerily empty. At this time of day, it should be full of farmers or hunters, with the steadholder calling for order in the center as they related the news they’d receive from their High Lord. 

She half-wondered if she was better off patrolling outside with the other Wind Knights. She didn’t know if they were aware of the stories of how Cloven would produce new corpses as bait. She hoped that they kept to protocol, making sure that all the unmoving and downed bodies had bolts in their heads. 

“Clear,” one of the Wind Knights called, derailing her train of thought. She blinked, spotting the griffin who spoke out walking towards her. A few moments later, the second one came to view as well. 

“Clear here as well,” she said. 

Gilda frowned. “Keep your guard up,” she ordered. “Shout out if trouble pops up.” 

“Yes, sir,” one of Wind Knights said. 

Gilda jumped off the central stage and made her way to the entrance. She observed some faint cracks on the ground and a few rotten wooden chairs as she walked by, her head going left and right, trying to listen to the cawing of crows. Their absence stayed with her. A lot of Fortis’ military doctrine in regard to Cloven advised that the lack of crows in a place that reeked of death and decay were prime indicators that the Cloven were nearby. So, they were here. But where exactly? Silence was the the only answer she received. 

As she opened the door, she heard one of the Wind Knights mutter, “We should get to the garrison soon, get a real Tribune to lead us.” 

“Quiet! She can hear you,” the other replied. 

Gilda closed the door, sighing. “Dweebs,” she said, rolling her eyes. Not that she could argue with their sentiment. She felt that she was scrambling overtime just to keep the damage to the minimum, and she wasn’t too sure she was handling it.

“You are looking very intense.” 

Gilda didn’t bother to look at Fortrakt as he settled down to her left. “Secured the water?” 

“Yup,” he replied. “Brought as many containers as we could find.” 

The eagless looked at her partner offering him a bowl of water. As she took a few sips, she looked towards the water containers placed nearby. The tiercel that helped Fortrakt was settling besides them, grabbing his own bowl to scoop the clear liquid, and hungrily drinking from it. 

“Good job,” Gilda said after completely finishing her water. 

“Thanks.” There was a pause. “Anything bothering you?” 

Gilda said nothing for a few minutes, her eyes scanning the area. Everything was still. She couldn’t decide whether she should be grateful or annoyed that nothing was happening. 

“Being all quiet-like is very suspicious,” Fortrakt continued. 

She sighed. “Captain Narada shouldn’t have made me sub-tribune.” 

Fortrakt looked at her for a moment before shaking his head. “Maybe. Honestly, though, you’re doing fine.” 

“Fine?” Gilda spat out. “My first day leading griffins resulted in six deaths. Six, Fortrakt, all of them Wind Knight hatchlings who were just starting out their careers.” 

“We are Gryphon soldiers,” Fortrakt countered. “They knew what they were getting into, Gilda. They did their jobs. Ancestors bless them.” 

Gilda sighed, remembering saying almost the same thing to Tara. Except for now, she didn’t feel conviction but embarrassment for sounding so nonchalant, so arrogant.  

“They died because I’m not good in doing mine,” she muttered. 

“They died because we stepped into a trap that no one, not even the most experienced or most vaunted Tribunes or Captains, could have predicted,” the tiercel declared, his tone surprisingly hard. “And I think you reacted better than any Tribune would.” 

“You’re just saying that,” Gilda replied. 

“No, I’m not,” Fortrakt said. “My father was an Auxiliary Guard.” 

Gilda looked back at him in surprise. Fortrakt never really spoke much about his family. Judging by the way he was looking away, he still wasn’t comfortable speaking about it. 

“It was the time when we were facing absolute frigid winters year after year,” he continued. “The crops were delayed. Mother tried to persuade a few additional earth ponies away from the Southern lands. Father joined the Guards for extra money.

“One day, two Spears, including his own, were assigned to escort a senator and her son, who was just promoted to Tribune. Naturally, he began ordering the whole lot of Guards and Talons around.” 

Gilda broke into a small smile. “Naturally.” 

Fortrakt chuckled at that. “Most of soldiers didn’t mind. The escort job was until the next town. They were mostly worried about the blizzard that came in early.” 

“Your father was still in the North?” Gilda asked. 

Fortrakt nodded. “His second Rotation brought him back to the North, though not back home. Anyway, they trudged through the whitened skies, snow and wind blinding them enough that they had to land a few times to get their bearings. I think it was the fifth landing when the harpies attacked. 

“Boulders rained down on the the two Spears. In a second, four griffins were killed. The Spear Centurion did her best to get a formation out quickly, to protect the senator.” Fortrakt frowned. “When she turned to ask for orders from the Tribune, he was unresponsive at first. They thought he was forming a plan. But as more rocks fell, the Tribune began to scream about how they were about to die, ordered everyone to flee for their lives.” 

“Was your father… taken?” Gilda asked with a frown. 

“No, but my father had to retire after that day.” Fortrakt looked towards the horizon. “A boulder landed on his wing. He couldn’t fly straight, and couldn’t hold formation. He was given compensation, which I guess was enough to pay the earth ponies to help us out.” 

Gilda stayed silent, not knowing what to say. 

“So, yeah,” the tiercel finished, “I don’t think you’re doing a bad job.” 

“Your way of cheering me up is to compare me to a coward?” the eagless asked, her smile taking out the sting of her words. “I feel better already.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Fortrakt replied softly. “What I’m saying is you’re not giving yourself enough credit. And if you keep doubting yourself, you're going to lose it like that idiotic senator’s son, and burden the rest of us.”

“Heh,” Gilda muttered, shaking her head. She thought of teasing him a bit more, but decided to just say, in all honesty, “Thanks, Fortrakt.” 

The tiercel rolled his eyes, beak opening, probably to say something to break the sombre mood when something caught his eye. “Convoy’s here, sir.” 

First thing she saw was the Wind Knights she had sent to guide the rest of the party to the steadholt. They had their bows out, eyes looking around. If she had to guess, Giraldi had reassigned them as the vanguard. Behind them came the rest of the convoy, Giraldi and Imlay walking hurriedly through the entrance gate. 

“Time to go to work,” Gilda whispered, more to herself. As she walked to meet them, the Marines and Gryphon soldiers fanned out behind the two figures, human rifles pointing in an outward defensive position. “Centurion, Corporal,” she called. 

Giraldi saluted once more, while Imlay gave her that familiar nod. “No trouble?” the Corporal asked. 

“None so far,” Gilda replied. That’s when she noticed the rearguard walking slowly, both crossbow and rifles at the ready. She pointed towards them. “What’s going on?” 

“We had reported movement following us a few moments after you left,” Giraldi explained. “I had to assign a few Wind Knights to ascertain what’s chasing us.” 

“Hopefully, it’s nothing,” Imlay added, “but considering how the day has gone so far, we might have to establish a defensive perimeter. Have we secured a building, ma’am? I’d rather not have the civilians caught in a possible crossfire.” 

“Main hall has been cleared,” Gilda replied immediately. “Door’s a little narrow, but we can bring in the immobile first.” 

Imlay nodded, looking back towards the civilians. He raised his hand, and motioned them to come forward. A few Marines began to assist Brennan, one carrying his bag easily, while another—Guerrero, if she remembered correctly—approached Tara, gently putting her arm around his shoulders. Together, the Marine and Marco almost lifted her forward. Nydia hovered after them, frowning. She sniffed at the air, closed her eyes, then grabbed her staff, which immediately began to glow. 

Spotting the little light show, Gilda approached the Mage Knight. “Something wrong?” she asked. 

“Defensive spell, sir,” Nydia replied. 

Gilda frowned, looking around. So far, she felt nothing. “I don’t feel it.” 

“It’s too subtle,” Nydia said, slowly pointing her staff towards a her left. “It’s… not aggressive, but holding something in place. Feels familiar somehow.” She opened her eyes, her staff pointing towards the main hall. “It’s a Shelter.” 

Gilda frowned. “Well, yeah, it is the most defensible building in a steadholt.” 

Nydia shook her head. “No, sir. I’m talking about a spell.” 

Giraldi approached. “Shelter spell you say? Is that a defensive spell that creates an underground pocket, used to hide extra food or items?” 

Nydia nodded. “This steadholt might have had a mage, and they made Shelter spell. It had been used just recently, a past few hours maybe.” 

Gilda realized something. “Can these Shelters hide griffins?”

“Uh, yes, sir, but it’s not really recommended,” Nydia said. “Depending on how big the pocket is, whoever is inside will slowly suffocate.” 

Giraldi looked at Gilda. “Sir, you don’t think…?” 

“There’s a possibility,” she replied. “If this place was attacked, a Shelter spell could be what stands between the survivors and the Cloven.” 

Giraldi shook his head. “Slow suffocation or certain death—not a lot of grown griffins would chose to go for the former.” 

Nydia suddenly gasped. Without warning, she ran towards the main hall entrance, pushing the doors aside roughly as she made her way inside. Marco, Brennan, and Tara, who were hungrily drinking from their own flasks, watched with a bit of confusion as the Mage disappeared from view. 

“Go, sir,” Giraldi said. “The Coporal and I can take care of things from here.” 

Gilda was about to protest when she saw Imlay directing some of the Marines to help the downed civilians drink from their bowls, while the rest began to establish a perimeter. 

“And someone set up a fifty-cal!” Imlay ordered. 

Realizing Giraldi had a point, she didn’t argue. Instead, she looked at one of the Talons and said, “Give me a full bowl of water.” 

Hovering through the entrance, Gilda saw Nydia pacing around the gap of the semicircle, studying the ground. The mage tapped the ground once with her staff, her claw rubbing the side of her neck uncomfortably. Gilda shook her head, and softly landed beside her. 

“Drink before you do anything,” Gilda ordered, offering her the bowl. Nydia looked at her for a moment before she nodded, taking it with her free foreleg and drinking from it slowly. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said after she finished, handing it back to Gilda, who readily took it. The mage then went back to looking at the ground, muttering something Gilda couldn’t quite hear. 

Before she could ask why Nydia seemed so aggrivated, she heard Marco call her. “Gilda.”

The eagless turned around, spotting him and Guerrero assisting Tara inside. Following them were Brennan and more Marines carrying cots where the immobile wounded lay.

“Ma’am,” Guerrero began, “where can we place the wounded?” 

Before Gilda could reply, Nydia immediately declared, “Got it!” 

“Got what?” Gilda asked. 

“The Node,” Nydia answered. She slammed her glowing  staff on the ground, and the cracks Gilda had seen earlier on the floor began to glow. “Those lines indicate how big the opening is.” 

 Gilda noticed immediately it was as big as the gap around the semicircle of seats. The odd spacing was apparently intentional, and her eyes followed the cracks of light spread throughout the floor, forming a rectangle. She pointed at the shape. “Basically, no one should be standing on top of that?” 

Nydia nodded. Gilda looked at Marco and Guerrero, and said, “Take the central stage. I think that’s big enough for everyone.” 

The Marine gave her an understanding nod. He turned back towards the rest of the Marines carrying in the injured. “Alright, you heard the Sub-Tribune. Let’s make them comfortable,” and the Marines began to move around the mage, avoiding the glowing box. 

Nydia seemed oblivious to the movement. The squeaks of their steps and chatter didn’t break her concentration as she stared at the area in front of her. She closed her eyes, growling in effort as her staff glowed brighter and brighter, the wave of magic coursing around her. 

“Is there something wrong?” Gilda asked. 

“Resistance,” Nydia replied softly. “It’s fighting me. But not hard”—she shouted the last word—“enough!” 

Gilda braced herself as the magic blew through her like a gale, making her feathers and coat hairs stand on one end. Everything went blinding white for just a few seconds before the light faded. A whoosh of stale-smelling air wafted around as the solid ground began to give way, slowly turning the flat surface into a descending ramp that could easily and comfortably allow two griffins to walk side-by-side. 

“Holy crap,” said a voice behind Gilda. At a glance, the speaker was revealed to be Marco, joined with Brennan and Guerrero, as the three watched the mage grunt, effort evident as she poured more of her magic through the staff. 

“Can’t keep it open,” she said, breathless. “Someone is trying to keep the Shelter closed.” 

“Might be the mage who opened it,” Gilda replied. It made the most sense for her, factoring that being trapped in a small space with limited air would have made them delirious. “I’ll go down and tell them that we’re here to help them.”  

“Ma’am,” Guerrero interjected, raising his rifle, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to accompany you.” Before she could say something, he added, “Are we completely sure that it’s friendlies that are down there?” 

Gilda frowned, but realized the Marine had a point. She wore her steel claws, then told Guerrero, “Let’s go.” 

“Please. Hurry,” Nydia muttered. There was a groaning and cracking of wood. It took a moment for Gilda to realize it was Nydia’s staff. They needed to do this fast. 

Walking side-by side, Guerrero aimed his rifle forward, eyes sweeping the corridor. Stone ground gave way to earthen ones the deeper they went. Light began to fade as they reached a certain depth. Gilda looked at the human, about to ask if he could see when he tweaked a small tube attached to his weapon. After a moment, it emitted white light. 

“Huh,” Gilda muttered. 

Guerrero looked at her. “What is it, ma’am?” 

“Nothing,” the eagless replied, eyes forward once more. In a louder voice, she called out, “This is Sub-Tribune Behertz! Our Mage Knight is trying to keep the pathway open. Cease resisting. I repeat, this is Sub-Tribune Behertz! We are here to help!” 

Again, she was met with silence. Frowning, she paced herself faster, with Guerrero following suit. Slowly, the two made their way deeper and deeper into the shelter until she spotted another light source that shone brighter than whatever Guerrero had on his rifle. 

“Ma’am, what is that?” the Marine asked. 

“No idea,” Gilda replied. She looked at the light source worriedly, hoping it wasn’t hostile. The last thing she needed to end her day was to turn deaf. 

A few more steps later, she saw what caused the light: an upright staff, slammed to the ground, feeding the whole area with magic, while an emaciated tiercel held onto it tightly. He didn’t seem to be breathing. 

“Are you injured?” Gilda shouted. When there was no response, the eagless shouted once more. “Do you need assistance?” 

Again, no response. She tried to check for any obvious signs of death, but other than his very thin frame, the tiercel looked relatively whole. Taking a breath, she took a couple more steps forward. 

“Guerrero, right?” Gilda asked, not looking at the Marine. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. 

“I’m going to check for vital signs,” Gilda said. “If he moves aggressively, shoot him. In the head, if you can.” 

“Uh, ma’am, are you sure?” Guerrero asked. 

“Positive,” she replied, slowly moving forward. For the first three steps, she thought the tiercel moved, but later proved to just be a trick from the light. By the time she reached the staff, the first thing she did was take ahold of the extended foreleg. She shook it a bit, but it held on to the staff tightly. Thinking the wooden tool might be an easier target, she took ahold of that, and jerked it a bit. To her surprise, it readily moved. With a grunt of effort, she pulled it out from the ground. 

Once it left the earthen surface, it stopped glowing. She felt the wave of magic collapse, and at the same time, heard a faint shout coming from the tunnel. She put that out of her mind. Her focus was solely concentrated on the downed tiercel. Now that he didn’t have a potential weapon, she grabbed his neck and checked for a pulse. 

Nothing. She sighed, relief and regret flooding into her. 

“Is he alive?” Guerrero asked. 

“Dead,” Gilda replied. She looked at the tiercel’s gaunt body. “Gave his life to keep the Shelter sealed.” She grabbed her crossbow. “May Ancestors guide your soul to the stars,” she whispered before shooting him directly in the head. This time, she couldn’t escape the sick sound of the bolt penetrating the skull. 

“Holy shit,” Guerrero muttered. Gilda saw him looking at her. “Was that necessary, ma’am?” 

“Protocol,” Gilda replied weakly, turning away. “Had to be done.” 

Guerrero said something inaudible before he aimed his rifle around. Gilda looked at the downed tiercel for a moment, shaking her head. The only thing she could think of was that it had to be done. 

“Ma’am… I think I know why he gave his life,” Guerrero said, shining his light deeper in the shelter. Gilda blinked, looking at where the Marine was pointing his light and saw three cubs sprawled on the floor. 

Ancestors, let them be alive, Gilda thought as she ran towards them. Relief flooded in her as she saw their bellies expanding, and touched their necks with her claw. Each of them still had a pulse, though quite weak. 

“We need to get them out of here,” Gilda declared, gently biting on the nape of the cub’s neck. With a quick motion, she lifted him just high enough that she could place him on her back, adjusting her wings to keep him balanced. 

Guerrero nodded, releasing his hold on his rifle, letting it hang on his side as he approached another cub. It took him a moment, probably thinking how to carry her, before he bent over and scooped her with his arms. “How about the other?” he asked. 

Before Gilda could reply, she heard footsteps coming from the ramp. White light began to emanate from the entrance, alerting the Marine. He was about to gently lay the cub down, maybe go for his weapon when she said, “Wait. It’s Marco.” 

She was proven right when Marco called out, “Gilda? Guerrero?” 

“Fucking Rico,” Guerrero muttered. Sighing, he shook his head and replied, “We’re here. Goddamnit dude, you almost gave me a heart attack.” 

The brown-skinned human came into view, carrying a small tube that was emitting a white light not too dissimilar from what the Marine had on his rifle. He took a step forward, and before Gilda could say anything, he stepped on the fallen staff, almost falling down. 

“The hell was—” He shook his head and stepped over the staff. “Guys,” he began, “Nydia collapsed. And Giraldi says the scouts are back.” 

That got Gilda’s attention. “When?” 

“Just now, I think,” Marco replied. “All the Marines and griffin soldiers are being called outside though.” 

That didn’t sound good. “We need to go,” Gilda said towards the Marine. 

“Yes we do,” he replied. He motioned towards the last downed cub. “Are they safe? Infected by that insect thingy?” 

Gilda shook her head. “Corrupted don’t exactly need to breathe. Nor do they generally have a pulse.” 

“Fucking zombies,” Guerrero muttered. In a louder voice, he pointed towards the third cub. “Rico, make yourself useful and grab that kitty.”

“I still don’t get why you’re calling me Rico,” Marco replied, but wasted no time and immediately moved towards the downed cub. He grunted as he bent down to carry him. “Okay, I think this little griffin is a guy. And no, I wasn’t looking intentionally.” 

Guerrero chuckled. “Rico the Pedo.” 

“Fuck you,” Marco replied good-naturedly. 

Gilda rolled her eyes. As usual, most of the context was lost on her, but now wasn’t the time for any dallying. “Let’s move it,” she said loudly. 

The three exited the Shelter, bringing their bundles towards the elevated central stage. The human civilians were already settled down, with Brennan talking to the now-awake Henderson while the unconscious Nydia was being looked at by Doc. Upon spotting them, the human said, “Guerrero, Imlay needs you outside.” 

“Got it, Doc,” the Marine replied. He then looked at Gilda, motioning at the cub he was carrying. “Where do we put them?” 

Gilda pointed towards a bare space near the seats. “That seems to be a good place. Now, let’s put them down and see what—”

She stopped when she heard muffled shouts coming from the outside. Giraldi was screeching out orders, and before she could wonder what that was about, loud and familiar sounds of the human rifles echoed through the air. 

“Shit,” Guerrero muttered, gently laying the cub down on the ground. Gilda followed suit. 

“Marco,” the eagless began, “stay inside!” 

“Got it,” the human replied. 

“Time to get some!” Guerrero shouted, readying his rifle. Gilda joined the Marine as they made their way towards the exit, her claw going for her crossbow. The Marine looked at her, one of his hands on the door. “You ready, ma’am?” 

Gilda pulled the rod, notched her crossbow, and placed a bolt in place before nodding. “Let’s do this,” she said. 

Guerrero could only grin, then pushed the door open. Both of them pointed their weapons outwards, eyes scanning for enemies. With all the racket that was going on, she was expecting quite a few enemies to face against. 

They only saw one: a Cloven ground warrior, a grotesque imitation of a griffin. It was as Gilda imagined it to be. Covered in a black-green shell, spikes where the wings should have been, she thought the Cloven was without eyes, until she saw two small black orbs in its head. 

There were also three spears struck through its neck. Dark green gore poured out of it freely as it took a drunken step forward before collapsing to the ground. A Fortus Knight came forward, finishing it off with a smash of her warhammer to its head. She looked at Giraldi, who was ordering a few Talons to stab a few more fallen Cloven warriors around him. 

“Clear,” the Centurion announced.  

“Clear here as well,” Imlay, who was standing right across Giraldi, surrounded by Marines pointing their rifles towards more Cloven. They didn’t even get to reach the humans. 

“Goddamn missed it,” Guerrero muttered with a sigh. He gave Gilda a nod, saying, “Ma’am,” before walking towards Imlay. 

Gilda nodded back, watching the humans as she walked towards Giraldi. She noticed them surrounding three Marines setting up what looked like a very large gun. She also noticed a few gemstones on the ground, some transparent, while the rest were amber, sparkling unnaturally, indicating that they were magical in nature. Leaving them to their work, Gilda approached Fortrakt, who was staring at the Marines’ side of the battle. 

“Ancestors,” he muttered. “They—what just...” 

Giraldi came by, grabbing his centurion baton and raking it on Fortrakt’s armored shoulder, garnering his attention. “Keep your beak closed, Gletchser,” he ordered. “It’s going to attract flies.” 

Fortrakt’s beak audibly clicked shut, making it hard for Gilda to keep a straight face as she asked Giraldi, “What happened here, Centurion?”

“Cloven thought they could surprise us by coming up from the ground, sir,” Giraldi replied. He looked at the fallen foes. “They were wrong.” 

Gilda chuckled. “Good work then.” Giraldi didn’t even smile, which worried her a bit. “Something wrong, Centurion?” 

“Sir,” he began, “the surviving scout came back.” 

“Yes, I heard,” Gilda replied, then blinked as the wording registered. “Wait… surviving scout? How many did you send?” 

“Sent three,” Giraldi clarified. “Only one came back. It’s bad, sir. They spotted at least a century of Cloven flyers and ground forces coming our way. They also spotted some new Cloven. Big ones that were just flattening plains and even taking down trees.” 

“Great,” Gilda muttered. Louder, she asked, “How long until they get here?” 

Before Giraldi could answer, a buzzing sound made itself known. Five black Cloven flyers landed on the rooftops of a few settlements near the gate. Their presence got a few Marines and Wind Knights pointing their weapons towards them. However, they didn’t even act aggressively, just staring at the griffins and humans before taking towards the air once more, flying away. 

Before anyone could question their presence, an ugly wail echoed throughout the air. Even the humans stopped whatever it was they were doing, looking at the air, as if trying to find out where the sound came from. 

The Centurion frowned for a moment. “That sounds like an Elder Ram warcry,” he whispered. 

The next thing Gilda heard was wood creaking. Her eyes immediately went towards the gate, which she just now noticed was shut. A few seconds later, something slammed into it from the outside, strong enough to crack it. Then again. And again. And again. 

“Something big is coming,” Giraldi declared softly. 

“I can see that,” Gilda replied in almost the same volume. 

“Reload, people,” Imlay ordered, and Gilda could hear a few snaps and clicks. “Stavrou, please tell me you’re almost done.” 

“Just a little more, Corporal,” the Marine working on the big gun replied. 

There was that wail again, accompanied by a short snort before another slam hit the gate. That proved to be the final straw as the wooden gate broke way, crashing to the ground. Dust flew up, blocking Gilda’s view, but nevertheless, she readied her crossbow, pulling the rod to notch it, and locked a bolt in place. Aiming towards the gate, she noticed that she was not alone; the Wind Knights and the Marines had the same idea, training their weapons towards the breach in their defenses. 

A shadowy figure began to emerge from the curtain of dust. Little by little, it took a more solid form. It was huge, with a round body, reaching almost five ells in height, towering over both human and griffin. The shape was familiar to Gilda, and she wondered a moment where she had seen it. When it it snorted strongly enough to move the dust out of the way, revealing more details, she realized what she was looking at. 

An Elder Ram—or, at least, the closest thing she could associate the Cloven at the breach with. It stood, hunched back, on two thick black legs, the roundness was actually caused by its large arms on its side, curved and bowed. Instead of a griffin beak, it had a large snout with multiple small holes for a nose, expressionless eyes, and sharp, wicked horn on top of its head. It opened its mouth, revealing jagged teeth, and roared in a deafening volume that seemed to stop everyone on their tracks. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Guerrero muttered. 

“Marines, take it down,” Imlay ordered. 

Cracks of thunder echoed in the air once more as the human rifles began to work on bringing death and destruction. However, unlike the Corrupted grass lions, the huge Cloven took the brunt of the attacks without pause. Green blood and gore spurted out of its chitin, but it still took a few steps forward, using its arms to shield its body from the bullets. 

Gilda shot her bolt out as well. She was joined by more thrums of bass as the Wind Knights joined the defense. However, most of it got deflected, with only a few penetrating the thick chitin. Yet, it still did not slow down. 

“Triple notch your crossbows!” Giraldi ordered. “Aim for the legs! Treat them as Elder Rams, Gryphons!” 

Gilda wanted to protest. While this was a good tactic against Elder Rams, she wasn’t so sure if it was going to work this time. The Rams usually overwhelmed enemy forces by running towards them, using their thick arms and horns to block projectiles to protect themselves. The Cloven, however, while taking the form of the Elder Rams, had thickened the legs. That could be the reason why it hadn’t run up to them. 

Still, she had no other ideas. Hoping that Giraldi was on to something, she pulled on her notching bar thrice, watching her string stretch almost painfully back before placing a bolt in place. With careful aim, making sure she hovered steadily, she unleashed one of the many bolts shooting out towards the Cloven’s left leg. Unbelievably, the bolts did penetrate the thick chitin and more thick green blood poured out. Yet, it didn’t seem to notice, or even slow down. 

“Fuck this,” Imlay muttered, and went towards his vest once more, taking out a familiar tube, though colored in olive and green, topped with a yellow dome. He placed it into the attachment at the bottom of his rifle, looked at Gilda and shouted, “Get down!” 

When the Marines did the same thing, she relayed the order. “Everyone, down!” 

“Down!” Giraldi shouted as well. 

Gilda had to push Fortrakt—who was blankly staring at Imlay—down with her. She heard that familiar thump, like a hiccup in the air, and an explosion much louder than the last time, the air smelling of burnt metal and fire. She heard a death cry echo through the air before she felt the ground slightly shake.

Coughing, Gilda dared to slowly climb back to all fours. The dust picked up again, but slowly settled down, revealing a lump of black and green, unmoving, and undoubtedly dead.

“Wow,” Fortrakt declared, standing up as well. “Ancestors, wow!” 

Before Gilda could say anything, a wail reverberated in the air. And another. And another. The dust cleared over, revealing three more large Cloven coming through the gate. At the very sight of it, Gilda suddenly felt very tired. She looked at Imlay as he grabbed another one of those explosive things—grenades, if her memory served her correctly. 

“How many of those do you have?” she asked loudly. 

“On my person? This is the last one,” Imlay replied. 

“Maybe you should get more?” Fortrakt offered unsurely. 

Imlay was about to reply when Stavrou called, “Corporal Imlay!” 

The Corporal looked towards the big gun the Marines were working on earlier. Gilda could only describe it as a large rectangular body with a smaller, but longer tube expanding out from it. Judging by the black tripod keeping it upright, it wasn’t a weapon that the Marines would use while carrying. 

Imlay seemed to sigh, nodding. “Good work, Marines.” He looked at Fortrakt. “Maybe we won’t need anymore.” He looked at the Stavrou. “Let’s see if we can give these big guys more breathing holes.” 

The three large Cloven wailed once more, making Gilda look at them for a moment. They were already taking a few steps forward, arms shielding their body and faces as more Wind Knights began to shoot their bolts, hitting their thickened legs and arms to no avail. She then looked back at Imlay as he grabbed one of the gemstones laid on the ground. A second later, she felt magic flaring out, the same one she had felt when Marco grabbed the bullet from his bag earlier that day. Slowly, green metallic boxes began to materialize on the ground in front of the Corporal. 

“What are those?” Fortrakt asked. 

“Storage Gems,” Gilda replied automatically, looking at Fortrakt oddly. “I know they are very expensive, but you should know about those.” 

The tiercel rolled his eyes, and pointed towards the green boxes. “I meant those.” 

Guerrero grabbed one of the boxes and unlatched the top, revealing very long bullets, longer than what Marco had shown her. Oddly, they were all attached side-by-side to each other by some sort of small black chain. Offering one end to Stavrou, the Marine opened a latch on top of the large gun, inserted a bullet, and clamped it shut. He then finished off by pulling a handle, almost similar to the crossbow notching rod, making an audible click. 

“Let’s get some!” Stavrou shouted. 

“Get wha—?” 

Fortrakt didn’t get to complete his sentence, his voice drowned at the sound of the gun firing. Gilda was already prepared, placing her claws over her ears, but even that couldn’t block the sound that seemed to punch through the air without mercy. If the Marine rifles sounded like cracks of thunder, this gun sounded like a thunderstorm. 

And looking at the Cloven, it hit like one too. 

Their thick chitin and large bodies stood little to no chance. This gun did the jobs the smaller rifles couldn’t. The thick black arms didn’t even seem to stop the bullets flying at them, exploding into green and black pieces. When one Cloven fell, the gun went silent, making Gilda look at Stavrou. Seeing him frown, she wondered if something went wrong, but after pulling back on that handle once more, he continued firing. One by one, the Cloven fell, and only a few seconds after the last one collapsed did Stavrou finally stop. 

There were no additional wails, or even a cry of victory from the Marines. The griffins were silent as well, looking pensive at the death brought forth by the human weapons, their first time seeing them in action. The only griffin who didn’t look dumbstruck was Fortrakt, and Gilda had to say, that was only because he was more awestruck than anything, beak opened so wide, she wouldn’t be surprised if she could stick her whole fist through it. 

“I want one of those,” he whispered. 

Gilda looked towards the dead Cloven Rams, then towards the sky, remembering that there was still a century of Cloven unaccounted for. The griffins and humans had already announced their presence loudly and there was no doubt they were coming their way. 

“I hope they have more,” she replied softly, “because it’s far from over.” 



> Chapter 9
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marco grunted as he dodged to the left, almost falling as two quick shadows chased after him. He took a quick look behind him, eyes widening as he saw his chasers approach with another attack. He barely escaped it with a quick jump to the right. Unfortunately, concentrating on who was chasing him, he didn’t see another shadow looming in front of him, watching, waiting. It arched its back, a soft growl escaping its throat, then jumped right at him before he realized his mistake. 

The human gasped, losing his balance. He forced his hands up to defend himself as the shadow looming on top of him clawed him. The two other shadows joined in, pinning his legs as the three began to squeak in a language he couldn’t understand. 

Gilda, alongside the Marines watching the scene, did though.

“Don’t let him up!” the female cub said as she held on to Marco’s leg. 

“Pin him! Pin him!” one of the male cubs declared. 

The third, who was clawing Marco, declared, “He’s not giving up!” 

Rolling her eyes, she whistled sharply, getting the cubs’ attention. She wiggled her claw and placed it on her side. The male cub clawing on Marco took a moment to understand, and when he did, his smile widened. When he moved his claws at Marco’s sides, the human’s eyes enlarged. 

“Oh, no, no, no, no!” Marco muttered. 

Gilda smirked. Too late, she thought as the cub began to tickle him. The human burst out laughing, now really trying to fight the cub off. He actually succeeded, but only earned more attackers as the cubs holding his legs jumped up to assist their friend. 

“Okay, I give, I give!” Marco exclaimed, laughing as he bared his neck. The cubs desisted after a few seconds, raising their right forelegs in victory. 

“We beat the giant! We beat the giant!” 

Marco sat up, a small smile in his face as he watched the cubs jump up and down excitedly. He patted his shirt, a similar motion when a griffin wanted to dust themselves, Gilda noted, before extending his right fist. The three cubs immediately returned with their own before they continued celebrating, running around in circles around the human as he slowly got back on his feet. They even followed him as he walked towards Gilda and the Marines. 

“You think you know a guy,” Guerrero declared loudly when Marco was in hearing range. “He has enough jack-off material to last him until the fucking end of the world, materials that consist of women with big fucking titties and baby-bare pussy… and it turns out, he’s just a pedo-fag tail-chaser.” 

Gilda watched Marco as he rolled his eyes, raising a fist with his longest finger pointing upwards. It must have been a rude gesture because when the cubs started copying it, he began to shake his head, telling them in Equestrian not to do it. The Marines just laughed as he failed to stop them from raising their two claws with the gesture. Shaking his head, Marco grabbed a few clean bowls and scooped up water from the water basin and offered them to the cubs. They took it, and after a few sips they seemingly lost interest in Marco as they began to chase each other. 

“Remember the good old days?” another Marine added. “We all thought Rico was just a weird-ass perv who did nothing but stare at pony ass, thumping his hips on the table when one went past him?” 

That had Gilda looking at the Marine who spoke. She found that image entertaining. “Is that true?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, smiling. 

“Don’t believe a word they say,” Marco interjected, approaching them. He gave the Marines a meaningful look. “It’s nonsense. All of it.” 

“Fuck it is,” Guerrero replied. He looked at Gilda. “Rico here is the Mare Chaser. That’s the title he fucking earned.” 

“No I didn’t,” Marco said. “You guys just started calling me that when—” 

“Hey, hey,” Guerrero cut him off. “Who’s telling the story here, huh?” 

Marco rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything anymore. Gilda shifted slightly, focusing on Guerrero. Mare Chaser? Usually, it was the mares that did the chasing. Add to the fact that Gilda, over the course of knowing Marco and his friends, heard quite a few snippets of their stay in Equestria. So far, she had never really had much to go on other than Marco facing some trouble before they got here. She never asked, but that didn’t really mean she wasn’t curious. 

“What happened?” Gilda asked. 

“It was back in Baltimare,” Guerrero began. “Which, honestly, is a fucking stupid name, but I won’t go on about it.” 

“I think your grievance with Equestrian city names being similar to American city names is far more interesting,” Marco interrupted.

“Nah, next time,” Guerrero replied. “Now, this was a week before we left Equestria. We were all assigned to one area near the Baltimare port… what the fuck was that shit called?” 

Marco rolled his eyes. “Horseshoe Bay.” 

One of the Marines laughed. “Of course Flip-Boy would know the name. Dog got laid there.”

Before Marco could say anything, Guerrero continued, “So, there we were, waiting for our orders, visiting bars, and guess who we see?” He motioned towards Marco. “Mare Chaser himself, talking to this mare who looked like she had been drinking heavily. Rico was probably drunk too because the next thing we know, he was on his knees.” Guerrero then motioned his hands, as if both were cupping something. 

 “Great. Not only are we getting bullshit, we have to watch it get shit out too,” Marco groaned before taking a sip from his own bowl.

Guerrero paid no mind. “Grabbed that fucking pony ass, he ate her pussy like there was no tomorrow! You should have heard him lap her up. It was like he was eating nachos with sour cream dip.” 

Marco coughed, spitting out some of the water he was drinking, earning a loud laugh from the Marines. One of them patted him on the back, roughly. 

“Nachos with sour cream dip?” Marco asked when he finally stopped coughing, a smile forming in his lips. “That image is shit. I’m glad you’re not a writer.” 

Gilda felt a blush creep on her cheeks as she looked at Marco. She didn’t know what nachos were, but sour cream definitely gave her a crude image. “Wait, you… really?” she asked. 

“No!” Marco exclaimed immediately, shaking his head. He paused. “Okay, the bar part is true, and yes, my hand may have went somewhere inappropropriate, but I didn’t, as eloquently put, go down to my knees and… well, whatever.” 

“You keep saying no,” one of the Marines replied, “but all I hear is—” he spoke in another accent, “—I solemnly swear, I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” 

“Mare in this case, dog,” Guerrero added. “Mare Chaser. Fucking Rico getting some alien pussy! Give him time, he’ll start spanking ass of those weird ass insect zombies. Maybe he’ll fucking end this war before we can even kill them fuckers.”

“We ought to call him Kirk,” another Marine declared. “Peace through booty calls.” 

“Screw you guys,” Marco declared, walking away. The Marines jeered even louder, laughing when Marco repeated that same gesture with his hand, not even deeming it worthy to face them as he walked back towards the injured. 

Once he was out of hearing range, Gilda turned to Guerrero. “Okay, seriously, what you said… was it true?” 

Guerrero gave her a smile. “Can’t really confirm ma’am,” he replied. “All we know is a day before we left Equestria, he went missing. Made quite a few people nervous. And furious, too. They had a few us look for him. You know where they found him?” 

“Where?” Gilda asked. 

“Exiting some pony’s house, having messed hair, and a mare waving goodbye,” Guerrero replied. 

“Fuck,” another Marine replied, “I heard they actually saw him banging that mare. They thought his moans were of distress. Must have been fucking weird when they went in, guns at the ready.”

“Nah, dog, I heard it was three mares.” 

“I heard it was a mare in heat. Tried to get naughty with the Marines that came in to get him.” 

Gilda blinked as more Marines pitched in, which made the story of Marco’s discovery getting more unbelievable every second, punctuated with even louder, more exuberant laughter. After a moment, she realized that either none of them knew the whole story, or that her hind leg was being pulled. 

Leaving them to their tales (Marco apparently slept with Princess Celestia as well), Gilda followed Marco’s steps, until she saw him chatting with Nydia. He pointed towards the staff Gilda found inside the Shelter, and the two began conversing. It looked like Marco was asking a few questions, and Nydia herself looked a little too eager to answer. Then, to Gilda’s utter surprise, the mage began to blush. 

Suddenly, the stories of him bedding three mares actually seemed a bit more plausible. 

“So,” Gilda announced, coming forward, smirking. With just that word, that mage suddenly took a more professional stance and looked a bit abashed, as if someone caught her claw in the meat storage. “When did this happen?” 

Marco looked at her, confused. “When did what happen?” 

“You two?” she motioned at both of them. “When is the Round?” 

“The what?” he asked, even more bewildered. 

“It’s nothing like that, sir!” Nydia immediately declared, face flushing once more.  

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Gilda countered, smile getting wider. She half-wondered what excuse she’ll be hearing as she turned to Marco, who still looked completely lost. “Flirting with griffins now, Mare Chaser? Equestrian’s weren’t enough to sate your lust?” 

“Oh come on, Gilda, not you too,” Marco said. Gilda laughed, gently bumping her fist on his side, making him wince a bit. 

“So, what’s going on?” Gilda asked. One of her eyes widened, jokingly continued, “Why are you disturbing my mage?” 

“Oh, he wasn’t disturbing me,” Nydia replied. That just widened Gilda's smile. “He just had a few questions about my new staff.” She looked towards her old one she kept beside her, once a proud stave made of polished wood, now cracked, useless and broken. 

“I still have no idea what happened to your old one,” Marco said. 

Nydia looked away, embarrassed. “I, um, got careless. I poured a bit too much magic into it when Sub-Tribune Behertz cut off the source that kept the Shelter open.” 

“Huh… so, what, there was some kind of feedback? Or maybe the magic energy exploded out since you built it up and didn’t have anywhere else to go?” Marco asked. 

Gilda and Nydia looked at each other for a moment. The former turned to Marco. “You studied Tellus Magic too?”

“Nope,” he answered with a small smile. “Only experience I have with magic is with a card game and Warcraft. Why? Was I close or something?” 

“Very,” Gilda replied, half-wondering what Warcraft was. 

“The second thing you said,” Nydia continued. “That’s what happened. The magic that had built up exploded outwards, tearing up the staff.” 

“Considering you needed assistance to walk, I’d say there was a little feedback too,” Gilda added. “How are your legs? Still sore?”

“They’re… fine, sir,” Nydia mumbled, hugging her new staff. Gilda scratched her neck nervously, regretting her words. She forgot that mages tended to be a bit weird when anyone pointed out their mistakes, and she was pretty glad when Marco spoke up. 

“Well, that’s not going to happen anymore,” he said. “Nydia was just telling me how awesome her new staff is.” He looked at Nydia, who perked up. “What did you call it again? Focal Stave?” 

“Focus Staff,” Nydia corrected. 

Gilda whistled. “You sure?” 

“Positive, sir.” 

Marco looked at both of them. “So, what, it’s a better staff or something?” 

“Way better,” Gilda replied. 

“How so?” Marco asked. “I mean, what’s the difference between the old one and the new one?” 

Gilda looked at Nydia, the latter nodding. “My old staff is a straightforward tool. Crafted in high standards, mind, but like a regular staff, it needs a certain amount of magical energy before I can use it to cast spells.” The mage motioned towards her new staff and continued, “Focus Staff like this uses focal elements that allow energy to flow and circulate freely, allowing me to cast spells almost immediately and with less effort.” 

Marco nodded. “Okay. What’s a focal element, though?” 

“It can be a lot of things,” Nydia replied. “Nowadays, we use gemstones from the North.” 

Marco looked at the staff once more, smiling wistfully. “Nowadays, huh?” 

Gilda looked at him. “What’s on your mind?” she asked. 

“Just… I don’t know,” he softly replied. “It’s honestly fascinating to hear about some sort of progress that is so alien from what I learned growing up. Magic? Focal element?” He grinned. “The next question I’d ask is how did you guys discover focal elements.” 

Nydia made a small noise and Gilda sighed, scratching her foreleg. Marco seemed oblivious.

“I mean, was it by accident, or did it take years of research—” he looked at the two griffins. He frowned. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s… not something young griffins like to talk about,” Gilda replied hesitantly.

“The history and discovery of focal elements isn’t something we’re particularly proud of,” Nydia added. 

Marco bit his lower lip. “Um… how so?” 

“It was discovered during a war,” Gilda said. 

“Ah.” He nodded. “I think I can understand. Humans discovered a lot of things during our wars too. Not all of them, I can say, we’re proud of either.”

Before Marco could add more, gunfire began to roar outside the main hall. The carousing of the Marines stopped immediately, hands going for their rifles. The cubs immediately ran and gathered around Nydia and Marco, the human absently patting their heads reassuringly. 

The sounds sounds stopped after a few seconds, but it felt like minutes. Gilda’s claw automatically grabbed her crossbow, only relaxing when she heard a clear signal cry from the outside. She looked back at Marco, frowning as his eyes stared straight towards the entrance of the hall. 

“It’s getting more frequent,” he said softly. 

Gilda nodded. “I think they are testing our defenses.” She looked towards Nydia, Marco, and the shivering cubs. She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she was feeling the attack was coming soon. 

Marco looked towards the entrance of the hall, looking a bit wistful. “You think Fortrakt made it through?” 

Gilda remembered Fortrakt’s smiling face as he volunteered to lead a three-griffin team to quickly fly towards the garrison, to get reinforcements. She was the fastest sky-griffin and would have volunteered herself, but protocol wouldn’t allow her to leave the battlefield without any officers to lead. 

“He’s fine,” she replied solidly. “He’s probably on his way back.” 

“Yeah,” Marco nodded. He sighed, and said once more, “Yeah.” 

“Lakan!” 

Gilda, Nydia, and the cubs looked up and saw Raleigh making his way towards them. He sported an annoyed expression which got Marco to sigh. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up. He took a deep breath before walking to meet with Raleigh. 

The griffins watched the two humans talk in hushed tones, Raleigh’s frown turning ugly as he jabbed an accusing finger at Marco. The latter shook his head, his lips transforming to a thin line before he said something, face blank, and walked away. Raleigh shook his head, then turned to face them. 

The cubs muttered something ugly in Aeric before running away. Nydia glanced at their direction for a second, then back to the approaching human. 

“Sub-Tribune Behertz, Miss Nydia,” Raleigh greeted once he was close enough. “I’m sorry that Lakan has been bothering you. It won’t happen again.” 

“He wasn’t bothering us,” Nydia said in Equestrian, earning a look from both Gilda and Raleigh. The former looked at the latter. 

“She’s right,” Gilda added. “Marco’s been a good influence on the cubs, keeping them calm with everything going around them.” 

“Nevertheless,” Raleigh continued, “I understand you and Miss Nydia are resting from today’s events. I’d rather not have Lakan hamper both of you from your duties.” He nodded. “If he bothers you again, please inform either Corporal Imlay or myself.” 

Raliegh didn’t even wait for them reply, turning around and walking away. Nydia watched him for a moment before saying, in Aeric, “I don’t like him.” 

Gilda snorted. Before she could say anything, there was another burst of gunfire that had both griffins frowning. 

“That was way too soon,” Nydia muttered. After a moment, another sharp cry rang through the air, but that didn’t relax the mage. “Sir, should I check?”

Gilda shook her head. “No. You need to rest. You’ve been expending magical energy non-stop and you’re our only mage. I’ll take a look.”  

Once Nydia nodded, Gilda made her way out of main hall. First thing she saw as she emerged from the doors was two Marines behind the big gun they had used earlier against the Cloven Rams. It had been moved to almost at the center of the road, just a few paces away from the entrance of the hall. The Marines also erected a makeshift cover in front of it, made from parts of the gate that once covered the breach. It had been destroyed by the Cloven Rams, whose corpses were now used as a temporary barrier. Even Gilda could appreciate the irony. However, there were more pressing matters. She looked to her left and saw a sight that was becoming all too common: Imlay and Giraldi talking. 

“The last attack came too fast,” she commented, approaching the Centurion and Corporal. Giraldi automatically saluted, while Imlay gave his usual nod.  

“Sir,” Giraldi replied quickly. “I don’t know if we can call them attacks, really, but agreed.” 

“Giraldi and I are suspecting that they are going to come at us soon,” Imlay added. 

Gilda nodded. “I thought the same. Has he briefed you on how most of the Cloven operate?” 

Imlay nodded. “Troopers, or the ground forces, are the infantry, while the Flyers are their transport and anti-air.” He frowned. “Seems like a waste, though. Give the flyers a ranged weapon, it could bolster their offensive capabilities.” 

“Let’s not give the enemy any good ideas,” Gilda replied drily, earning a smile from Imlay. She returned it with her own before looking towards Giraldi. “Any word on the scouts?” 

“The usual,” Giraldi replied. “More trees, plains, and a few Flyers.” 

“No century of Cloven marching our way?” Gilda asked. 

“No, sir.” 

“Which makes me nervous,” Imlay interjected. “A century is almost a hundred right?” When Gilda nodded, he continued, “Then it makes me wonder where they are. I mean, they obviously know we’re here. And considering we already have our flanks covered, we know they aren’t trying to sneak behind us. I’m not trying to sound too eager, but I have to wonder why they are taking their sweet time.” 

“Maybe it’s you humans?” Giraldi guessed. 

Imlay looked at him for a moment, then at Gilda, who looked thoughtful. “It makes sense,” she replied. “Cloven fight after they have gathered sufficient information on whoever they are engaging. They don’t just amass numbers and march their forces straight to the enemies. Studying our defenses could be a way of studying you.” 

“That, or they could be trying to to see how many more times we can fire on them,” Imlay suggested. He chuckled. “If so, they are going to wait for a while then.” 

One of Giraldi’s eyes widened, then he looked at Gilda. She gave him a short nod. “Glad to hear it then. Maybe they will wait long enough for Fortrakt to come back. Which reminds me… any news on him?” 

Giraldi shook his head. “None yet. Considering he’s been gone for almost two hours, I’m pretty sure it won’t be long.” 

Gilda nodded. “I’m sure.” 

Imlay grunted. “Two hours.” He looked at Gilda. “Any of the civilians getting listless?” 

“A few,” she replied. “Marco keeps moving around a lot, talking to griffins, even befriending the cubs.” 

Imlay frowned. “Is he bothering any of them?” 

She shook her head. “Mister Raleigh asked the same thing,” she replied. Then, her tone hardened. “And the answer is no, Marco hasn’t been bothering any of us.” 

“Just making sure, ma’am,” Imlay replied calmly. “The question wasn’t a slant against him specifically. It’s been two hours, and the civilians have nothing to do except sit and wait. It wouldn’t surprise me if a few of them got a bit stir-crazy.” 

Gilda sighed, nodding. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fin—” 

The sound of gunfire cut off Imlay. The three of them looked towards the west, the direction where it came from. They waited for the silence to come, for the shout that indicated the area was clear, but nothing. Rifles continued to thunder out. Then, unbelievably, another set of gunshots came from the southeast. 

Imlay frowned, his hand going towards the side of his helmet. He then said, “How many again?” His eyes widened. He looked at Gilda and Giraldi. “I may have spoken too soon. A large amount of ground forces are being dropped on both western and southeastern walls. They are requesting for reinforcements.” 

Giraldi looked at her. “Sir, maybe now’s a good time test that little tactic we thought of.” 

Gilda looked at him and at Imlay. The human nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it,” she said. 

Quick arrangements were made. Almost all available forces were split into two groups, leaving a few griffins and Marines behind to support both the big gun that guarded the breach and the civilians. Giraldi and Imlay led their group to the southeastern wall, which left Gilda’s group to support the western wall. 

Wind Knights flew in formation behind her, crossbows ready, while the earth-griffins dashed right below them, carrying the Marines on their backs. This was the first suggested tactic that Gilda, Giraldi, and Imlay had thought was simple enough to implement; it combined the firepower of a Marine with the ground coverage of an earth-griffin. 

The group quickly spotted the guards of the western wall, both Marines and griffins, falling back from the incoming mob of Troopers chasing them. Gilda shouted an order to the lead earth-griffin—a Fortus Knight carrying Guerrero. He raised his claw, which signaled all the earth-griffins following him to fan out, taking to the air before landing on the rooftops of the nearby settlements. The Marines unloaded themselves from the griffins they rode, took a moment to aim their rifles at the charging black wave, then opened fire a second later. 

The roaring sound of gunfire that spat out metal death produced green and black gore as Troopers fell one by one. The retreating Marines, realizing what was going on, stopped running and aimed their own weapons at any of the Cloven that were too stubborn to fall. 

As the wave began to falter and lose momentum, there was a buzzing sound, a little overwhelmed by the roaring thunder of the rifles. Gilda didn’t need to hear it though as she could see clearly what was coming: flyers, carrying ground troops as reinforcements. They made their way towards the Marines and griffins in the rooftops, maybe hoping to drop Troopers on top of their heads.  

Not today, she thought fiercely. She aimed her notched crossbow and yelled, “Aim for the Flyers! Fire!”

Thrums of strings came next. Metal bolts whistled into the air before they hit the Flyers. Most of them fell to the ground, and those that didn’t felt the momentum of the Wind Knights’ charge. Gilda weaved through the air, her metal claw aiming for a flyer’s thin razor-sharp wing, cutting it just enough to incapacitate it. She let gravity do the rest. She almost missed a Cloven coming behind her, but a Wind Knight stopped it. 

More and more Flyers fell, clearing the skies, while down below, Marines stopped firing their rifles as the earth-griffins took charge, smashing, slashing, and stabbing any of the Cloven forces that were still moving. 

Witnessing all of it, Gilda felt a victory cry building up from her chest. The strangest thing was, unlike earlier, she didn’t feel tired but alive. Facing off against the enemy herself, not letting anyone else fight, had been absolutely exhilarating. She didn’t know if it was adrenaline or something, but she was fully alert. Her eyes could see small gestures of celebration between the Marines and the griffin soldiers on the ground; she could feel tiny wind streams flowing through her feathers; and she could hear another set of buzzing sounds getting louder and louder. 

Focusing towards the outer wall, she saw a few more flyers coming to them, oddly, not carrying any ground troops. The Wind Knights spotted them too, judging by the way they all loaded their crossbows. Gilda prepared hers as well.  

“Aim!” she ordered, raising her crossbow to level. She smiled a bit as she saw that the flyers weren’t even dispersing. In fact, they were stopping just in range, their beaks opening slightly. However, before she could even order them to shoot, she spotted something coming at her. 

Something fast, something dangerous. 

She didn’t even have time to blink as she dodged, but even then, she wasn’t fast enough. Fire engulfed her neck, sharp and painful as crimson blood sprayed out into the air. Her eyes widened as she saw something long, black, and sharp striking the Wind Knight behind her. He looked at her blankly, as if not realizing that he was hit. His eyes then widened as understanding crossed his eyes before they became lifeless, before he fell to the ground. 

“Disperse!” Gilda ordered, firing one shot towards the nearest flyer. As she flew at an angle, she could see that her shot flew true, striking the flyer in the chest with enough force to drive it down. 

Wind Knights fired their own shots as well before taking evasive actions. Some screamed as black spikes hit them, bringing them down. Gilda cursed, stealing a glance at the very still flyers in the sky, beaks open as they fired towards the dodging griffins continuously, not allowing any of them to notch their crossbows. 

We can’t dodge forever, Gilda thought desperately, wondering when did the Flyers started to use ranged weaponry. Whatever they were shooting out was fast and accurate, with a few almost clipping her wings. 

Fortunately, the Marines on the rooftops seemed to understand the situation because next thing she knew, she heard Guerrero shout, “Bring those fuckers down!” 

Gilda couldn’t really tell what happened next as she made her way towards the roof where Guerrero and the Fortus Knight were. Her ears picked up something whistling nearby, and she rolled in the air one more time before she landed on the rooftop, badly. The impact jostled her, and everything seemed to tumble around. She saw the sky one moment, and the rooftop surface the next. It didn’t help that the deafening sounds of human rifles disoriented her further, which was why she was so glad when they finally stopped. 

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” 

Gilda shut her beak, hoping the moan in her throat wouldn’t escape. She opened her eyes and saw Guerrero’s face, still a bit blurry. She felt for her claws, her legs, and her wings. So far, they seemed responsive. Nodding at the question, she slowly made her way to all fours before looking at the Marine, his form now solidifying. 

“Thanks for the support,” she said, voice a bit hoarse. 

The Fortus Knight came forward, offering to help her, but she waved him off. She shook her head for a moment, looking at the sky. No Cloven on sight. On the ground, there was nothing but a pool of green and black. 

“Casualties?” she asked. 

“Marines all accounted for,” Guerrero replied. 

“We have three injured Wind Knights,” the Fortus Knight added. “They can still fly and fight. However…” 

“I know one fell,” Gilda nodded. She sighed. Another griffin under her command, gone. “Have someone take his body. We’re not leaving him with our enemies.” 

The Fortus Knight saluted and walked towards the edge of the roof, shouting an order. Gilda sighed once again, sitting down on her haunches. She took a few deep breaths and stretched her wings a bit to get the kinks out.  Guerrero looked at her oddly, and motioned towards her neck. 

“You’re cut,” he said. 

“Is it bad?” 

He shook his head. “No, but you might want to get it looked at. What did that?” 

“Their Flyers have some sort of ranged weapon or something,” Gilda replied, frowning. “Shot out something faster than our bows. Pretty accurate as well.” 

Before Guerrero could reply, the familiar sound of the big gun firing echoed in the air. Gilda shifted slightly, towards the direction of the main hall, and her eyes widened as she saw the part of the sky blotted out. 

“Holy shit,” Guerrero muttered. “That’s a lot of flyers.” 

“We have to go,” Gilda muttered. “With the flyers having ranged weaponry, those defending the main hall won’t stand a chance.” 

“Go, ma’am. We’ll catch up as soon as we can.” 

Gilda nodded her thanks, then squawked an order. With effort, she flapped her wings hard enough to lift her, soreness and fire spreading throughout her flight muscles. Her earlier rapture of battle seemed to have faded, leaving her feeling a bit exhausted. She ignored it, concentrating on keeping herself afloat, and when the surviving Wind Knights joined her, she dashed through the air, towards the main hall. 

As the got closer, the blot of the sky became less solid; the shape of the flyers got more more defined. She could count at least thirty flyers, maybe a bit more, which was staggering compared to what they had just fought off earlier. 

She realized that she might be looking at the main attack force, the missing century of Cloven that the scouts had reported earlier. And if that was the case, the main bulk of the ground forces were either here or on their way. 

As they got closer, Gilda finally spotted the few Marines and griffins assigned to guard the main hall. They were desperately trying to find cover, dragging any injured with them. Two of the Marines she had seen operating the big gun hid well behind the makeshift cover they made, using their own rifles to fire back at the Flyers. The destructive weapon lay silent, probably unable to fire at the airborne Cloven. 

“Ready your crossbows,” Gilda ordered, notching her crossbow. 

“Sir?” one of the Wind Knights called nervously. “I don’t think we can—” 

“We don’t need to kill them all,” Gilda cut the Knight off, her voice deceptively calm, which surprised her. “We just need to distract them long enough so the Marines can reposition and start supporting us.” 

“Then what?” 

Gilda looked at them before replying, “Then we can try and kill them all.”
 
The Wind Knights looked at each other, doubt and fear etched to their faces. A few of them took a few breaths, making Gilda wonder if they were going to protest or even run. However, they proved to be true griffin soldiers when they finally nodded, beaks clamped shut as they began loading their weapons. She gave them a nod back, notching her own crossbow.
 
“Take aim,” Gilda commanded as they approached. “Once we fire, take evasive maneuvers and get to some cover. Are we clear?”
 
“Yes, sir!”
 
“Good. Fire!”
 
Bolts flew true, hitting Flyers. That was enough to distract the rest of them, screeching hatefully as a few of them shifted their positions, facing the incoming Wind Knights, their beaks open. A thought absently went through Gilda’s head as she banked to the left, wondering if whatever projectiles they were shooting were coming from their mouths. She thought no more about it as she absently adjusted her flight and landed on a nearby rooftop.
 
Oddly, her crossbow was already loaded. She didn’t remember doing that, but what was more, her exhaustion disappeared. Not one to question good fortune, she just aimed towards one of the flyers that were shooting towards the Marines and griffins on the ground, took a step to the right, barely dodging a black spike coming at her, before she made her shot. She didn’t bother to look if she hit her target, immediately jumping to another rooftop, one with a neck-high barrier, as more spikes whizzed towards her direction.
 
Rolling on her landing, she ducked under cover and notched her crossbow. She could hear the cracks of the rocks as the flyers shot out their deadly spikes. She half-wondered how good Southern masonry was, but shook that out of her head as she heard short burst of rifles firing out. She turned her head towards the direction of the gunfire and saw the rest of her group finally arrive.
 
Earth-griffins jumped towards the rooftops, trying to position themselves to counter the numerous flyers. Some griffins got shot, leaving the Marine riding them to try and drag them to cover. In some cases, it was the Marine that got caught. Most of them did get behind something and they began to fire their weapons, scattering Flyers as they repositioned themselves to respond to the new threat.
 
Something landed beside her. She readied herself in case it was Cloven, but it was just one of the Wind Knights she was leading. The two griffins looked at each other, readied their crossbows, and then nodded. Without a word, the Gilda and the Knight popped out of their hiding places, aimed, and shot down two flyers before ducking down once more. More gunshots rang out, but the enemy attack never seemed to cease.
 
“Sir, I’m out of bolts,” the Wind Knight beside her said. Gilda checked on her own pouch, only to see she had only two left.
 
“Here, last one,” she said, handing it to the Knight. “Make it count.”
 
The Wind Knight looked at it blankly before taking it. “Yes, sir.”
 
Gilda nodded. She looked at her last bolt before she notched her crossbow. “On three,” she ordered. “One. Two.” She took a breath. “Thre—”
 
She stopped when she felt the hairs of her coat stand on end as the magical energy washed around her, building up nearby. Her first instinct was to look up, see if there was anything building up from the sky, to indicate another Corrupted mage nearby. Nothing. Before she could think of anything else though, bright light flashed outwards, and the pungent smell of burnt Cloven corpse wafted around her.
 
Gilda heard Cloven screech. When she peeked out, she saw the surviving Flyers retreat in a hurry. Below, she saw a pool of flyer corpses—fifteen, maybe twenty—smoking, some of them on fire. Without anyone firing at them, the Marines came out of their own cover, aimed their rifles, and fired on the retreating forces, even hitting a few of them.
 
Nydia was definitely proving her worth, Gilda thought, her eyes searching for the mage. Nydia’s attack was Ancestor-sent, potentially giving them enough time to mount a defense. Without that… Gilda didn’t want to think about the outcome. 
 
She saw the mage near the entrance of the main hall. What surprised her was Marco’s presence nearby. Without another word, Gilda jumped from the rooftop and glided towards the human. As she closed the distance, she could see Marco holding Nydia’s new staff, his hand clutching her claw. Gilda flapped her wings a bit, spreading them in the air to slow down her descent before landing on all fours.
 
Marco turned around, and after seeing Gilda, he looked relieved. “Gilda! Thank God. I need help to get Nydia back insi—hey, your neck is bleeding.”
 
Gilda studied him. “Are you hurt?” she asked.
 
Marco looked at her, confused. “What?”
 
“Are you hurt?” Gilda repeated, a little louder. Her claw clamped on his arm and forcefully turned him to his side. He didn’t seem to be bleeding.
 
“No, no, I’m fine,” Marco confirmed, jerking his arm strongly, trying to make her let go. She didn’t, and she made him turn to his other side. “Ow! Hey! I’m fine, really!”
 
“What were you doing outside, Marco?!” Gilda demanded, releasing her hold on him. “Crows take it, do you know how dangerous it is?”
 
“Of course I do,” he replied. “I’m not stupid, Gilda.”
 
Her eyes narrowed. “I beg to differ.”
 
Before Marco could reply, Nydia spoke up, weakly. “Sir, please, his presence is my fault.”
 
Gilda looked at the mage. “How so?” she asked.
 
“He was assisting me outside the main hall,” Nydia replied. “I, um, couldn’t…” and she trailed off.
 
Gilda blinked. “Couldn’t what?”
 
“She couldn’t walk straight,” Marco answered for Nydia. “She was stumbling around. I tried to stop her, but she insisted. I only brought her to the door, opened it just wide enough so she could pass through. I swear I wasn’t outside until she did her thing and heard her collapse.”
 
Nydia nodded. Gilda frowned, looking at both of them before she reluctantly sighed. “Next time, just stay inside, okay? Even if we’re in trouble, you stay inside.”
 
Marco frowned. “I can’t promise that.” Gilda’s eyes narrowed again, and he raised his hands in a placating manner. “Fine, I’ll stay inside.”

Gilda sighed and looked at the mage. “How much energy do you have?” she asked, impressed. 

“Not a lot anymore, I’m afraid,” Nydia replied in a whisper. 
 
Before Gilda could respond, she heard someone land behind her. Stealing a glance, she saw a Fortus Knight and Guerrero walking right at them. The Marine blinked as he saw Marco. “The fuck you doing out here?” he asked.
 
Gilda could only sigh, and then looked at the Knight. “Help the injured, take a look at the casualties,” she ordered. He saluted, and stepped away. She looked back pointedly towards Marco. “You bring Nydia inside. And you stay there.”
 
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. He walked towards the mage and slowly helped her stand, slowly leading her towards the entrance of the main hall, closing the door behind them.
 
The sound of wings flapping got both Guerrero and Gilda to look up as the Wind Knights of Imlay and Giraldi’s group began to land. Imlay, riding an earth-griffin, and Giraldi came to view next. The Corporal dismounted and the two looked around, towards the Cloven corpses. When they spotted her, they approached. 

“I guess we missed it,” Imlay declared. 

“Nice job, sir,” Giraldi added, sounding very impressed. Gilda shook her head. 

“We didn’t do much,” she admitted. “Just took their attention long enough to have Nydia do most of the work. Which reminds me, I’m writing a commendation letter to Captain Narada once we return to Arnau.”  

“Very well, sir.” 

“Casualties?” Imlay asked. 

“I’ve assigned someone to look into that.” 

“Good,” Imlay said, frowning. “Also, remind me never to run my mouth, Sub-Tribune.” 

Gilda blinked. “What do you mean, Corporal?” 

“Remember our conversation, where I said Flyers would be more effective with ranged weapons?” Imlay shook his head. “I didn’t think they’d actually take it to consideration.” 

“None of us did,” Gilda replied. 

The Corporal nodded, then motioned towards the sky. Giraldi and Gilda both frowned as they spotted a small black cloud, slowly growing in size.  “Ride never ends, huh?” Imlay said. 

“Sub-Tribune!” 

Gilda turned to the Fortus Knight calling out. He was accompanied by Stavrou, clutching his abdomen, and a few Wind Knights. The Marine winced in pain with every step while the Wind Knights looked worn, feathers ruffled and coat disheveled. 

“Those are the scouts we assigned to observe anything beyond the breach,” Giraldi said softly. 

Stavrou quickened his pace until he stood in front of the three. He gave them all nods. “Corporal.” 

“What happened to you?” Imlay asked, frowning. 

“Got hit by one of them fuckers,” Stavrou replied, the hand clutching his stomach motioning towards a black spike stuck to the ground. “New armor stopped it cold, but still hurt like a fucking bitch.” 

Gilda looked at Stavrou’s stomach, noticing a slight indent, but no actual damage. She reminded herself to ask Marco about their armor as well once they have the free time. 

“Anyway, the forward observers came back,” Stavrou continued, motioning towards the haggard-looking scouts. “None of them spoke English, but it seems pretty bad.” 

Giraldi stepped forward. “Report,” he ordered in Aeric.  

One of the Wind Knights nodded. “Sir, Cloven troops numbering more than a century are coming at us.” 

“Crows,” Giraldi cursed, looking towards the sky. 

“What is it?” Imlay asked. When Gilda related what the scout said in Equestrian, he too looked grim. “Are you saying there may be more than a hundred Cloven on our way?” 

“Judging by the skies, that’s not so far off,” Giraldi muttered. He looked at Gilda. “Sir, I don’t think we can hold out.” He looked at Imlay. “No offense, Corporal, but while your weapon is unbelievably powerful, I don’t think they’d be helpful against that many flyers.” 

“I agree,” Imlay replied. He frowned, looking towards the main hall. “If we can neutralize the flyers, we may have a fighting chance. Can Nydia repeat her performance?” 

Gilda shook her head. “I don’t think she’ll be able to. She had been expending magical energy non-stop, and still a bit sore from a previous feedback. She must be Ancestor-blessed to still be awake.” 

Imlay frowned. “I’d say push forward to Aricia, but Flyers would catch up quickly. And I’d rather not leave the civilians exposed.” 

Gilda was about to agree when a Marine shouted, “Contact!” before gunfire crackled once more. She looked at the Marines, all now pointing their rifles to the sky as the Flyers finally arrived. 

“Fuck, they are fast,” Imlay said, raising the volume of his voice. He looked towards main hall. “Are the main hall walls strong enough to  hold off their ground forces?” 

“What do you mean?” Giraldi asked. 

“We can use the main hall as cover against the Flyers’ ranged attacks, allowing us to concentrate on ground forces coming in,” Imlay explained. 

Before Gilda could reply, the loud and ugly wail of the Cloven Ram’s warcry echoed through the air. 

“Well, shit,” Imlay said. He looked at the two griffins. “Will the building hold against those?” 

Gilda frowned, unsure what to say. However, with the growing cloud descending on them, she wasn’t so sure there was a right answer. It didn’t help that the gunfire, as loud as it was, was getting overwhelmed by the buzzing sound of the flyers. “It’s the best we got!” she shouted over the noise. “Whatever plan we come up with, we have to do it now.” 

Giraldi nodded. “Agreed. It’s the best we have. Let’s fall back inside the hall.” 

“Guerrero!” Imlay shouted towards the shooting Marine, getting his attention. “Tell Watkins and Briggs that we’re bringing the fifty-cal inside the hall! We’ll also need covering fire for both of them!” 

“On it!” Guerrero replied, running quickly towards his brothers-at-arms. A slight whistle and Gilda had to duck as small pieces of rock flew everywhere. Black spikes punctured the walls and ground nearby the hall. 

“We need the get any injured inside,” Gilda told Giraldi. The Centurion nodded, and shouted an order. Earth-griffin Talons began to move while Wind Knights took the air, the thrums of their crossbows mingling with the human gunfire. However, soon, it was clear that for attrition, the Cloven were getting the upper hand. Gunfire rate began to slow down as Marines began take cover for longer periods, and the Wind Knights concentrated more on dodging than shooting. 

A clang of metal echoed nearby, and Gilda saw a Fortus Knight raising his shield to protect Giraldi as he opened the door of the main hall. “Get inside! Inside!” the Centurion shouted. One by one, earth-griffin Talons carrying the injured dashed through the opening, outrunning the black spikes stabbing the ground in their wake. 

“Goddamnit,” Imlay cursed. Gilda glanced at his direction, seeing him watch two Marines carrying the parts of the big gun pinned down by the Flyers. Worse, dust flew, punctuated with as the Troopers were dropped off. They roared in victory. “Shit!” the Corporal shouted. He looked at the nearby Marines. “Cover Watkins and Briggs! We need that fifty-cal back inside! Now!” 

Cloven Ram warcries echoed throughout the air once more. Gilda could now see their outline behind the Troopers, running at full speed. They smashed through anything in their path, mercilessly crushing the corpses of the downed Flyers under their hooves. 

We’re going to be overrun, she thought defeatedly.  

Gilda could only look up to the darkening skies. A cold gust of wind blew around her, and even with her thick coat, she shivered. Everything else seemed to move slowly, from the retreating Marines, running from cover to cover, to the Wind Knights trying to fly in the sky. She wasn’t the praying type, and Gilda wondered, eyes closed, if at her final moments, she would call out for the Ancestors to help. 

A roar of fire made her open her eyes, and unbelievably, the first thing she saw was crimson flames raining down from the sky. They hit the screeching Flyers, fires enkindling them with dancing orange light. 

Then the sound of the Southern Drums came next. 

Fortus Knights in full armor came down from the sky like a striking hammer, ramming their shields on the enflamed Flyers before slowing down long enough to land on their fours. A centurion followed them, shouting, ordering the Knights to form a shieldwall. 

Metal clinked as the shields linked together, meeting the incoming Cloven tide without losing ground. Every once in a while, two shields would open up, just long enough for the Knights to swing their warhammers, smashing chitin with the force of their strokes. Then, on signal, the frontline smashed their shields forward strong enough to push the enemy back, giving them enough time to hover in the air, falling backwards, letting the next line put up a fresh shieldwall. 

A signal came from the sky, and Gilda watched with awe as Wind Knights glided behind the Fortus Knights, and in a synchronized manner, aimed their crossbows towards the Flyer reinforcements and let loose their bolts. As if knowing that the flyers could return fire, they scattered immediately towards the nearby rooftops. 

Cloven Rams wailed out, their steps making the ground shake as they approached the shieldwall, arms raised high to smash the defenses down, only to meet their deaths as lightning struck down from the darkened skies. After a little searching, Gilda finally saw four Magus Knights just above the roof of the main hall. Their staves glowed brightly as they pooled all their energies together to unleash their spectacular offensive. 

“Gilda!” Fortrakt shouted. 

Gilda blinked, looking at the direction of his shout. He was accompanied by a few Talons, waving his arm merrily before pointing towards the Fortus Knight, smiling brightly.

“Well, what do you know,” Imlay said softly, awed. “Live to fight for another day.” 

Marines and griffins finally came out of their cover, sure that they were fired at, watching the Gryphon Shieldwall mow down the incoming Cloven. Guerrero could only whistle. 

“Heh. Damn griffins finally getting some,” he said, before raising his arm, shouting, “Yeah! Get some!” 

Imlay smiled for a moment before shaking his head. He looked at the Marines watching the griffin war machine at work, and shouted, “We ain’t done yet, Marines. Reload, and make sure the little fuckers aren’t going to flank us. Besides, you ain’t gonna let the Griffies do all the work, are you?” 

Gilda looked at the Corporal. “Griffies?” 

“Yup,” Imlay replied with a smile, taking out the magazine from his rifle. “What can I say, you guys earned it.” He looked at the shieldwall smashing the enemy forces charging at them. “Damn earned it.” 


> Chapter 10
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A jolt woke Gilda up from her slumber, much to her surprise. She didn’t remember falling asleep. First thing she heard was indistinct shouts of Wind Knights as they tried to right the air coach she was riding. Curious at where they were, yet still yearning for slumber’s tempting embrace, Gilda just decided to look outside. It was still bright. 

A groan escaped her beak as she stretched her claws and wings, still feeling sore from everything that had happened back at the steadholt. Memories blurred together. She remembered Fortrakt’s timely arrival with Gryphon soldiers from Aricia, which drove the cloven off. She remembered air coaches being brought to carry the humans, the wounded and the exhausted. She remembered the pyre to burn the griffin dead.

Whatever tempting notion there was to go back to sleep had vanished as the memory of the fire burning the dead griffins under her command came to her mind. Gilda felt guilt gnaw her chest, once more questioning her competence of command. All she could think of were their names, and even then, it didn’t seem enough. 

“You okay, Gilda?” Marco asked. 

The eagless turned towards the brown-skinned human. He was sitting down opposite of her, gently stroking the heads of the three sleeping cubs that made his lap into a makeshift pillow. Gilda couldn’t help but smile. 

Marco blinked. “What?” 

Gilda chuckled. “Nothing, dad.” 

Marco looked at her, confused, then when he looked down towards the three cubs, he too chuckled. “They had a rough day. We all did, I suppose. Though I guess you guys took the brunt of it.” When Gilda lost her smile, he immediately added, “Sorry.” 

Gilda shook her head, sighing. “It’s… okay. I’m just glad that it’s over.” 

“Yeah, for now,” Marco replied. When the eagless just hummed her reply, he gave her a look. “Something wrong?” 

“No,” she replied, a little too quickly much to her chagrin. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

Thankfully, Marco didn’t say anything more and settled on stroking one of the cubs’ sleeping heads. That allowed her to look around. There were two injured griffin soldiers, their closed eyes and still bodies making her wonder if they too had succumbed to sleep. She also spotted two alert Marines, one staring out the window. Other than the rhythmic flapping of wings and the slight whistle of rushing air, it was quiet. 

Gilda had almost fallen asleep once more when a greeting signal was cried out. When the confirmation code shouted out a few seconds later, she also felt a subtle shift of level in the coach. Whoever was carrying them up knew what they were doing because none of the humans reacted. It was only when Aricia came from view from the window that Marco seemed to realize that they were descending. 

“Whoa,” he muttered. “Awesome!” 

Gilda smiled, remembering his initial reaction looking at Arnau. She was willing to bet he reacted the same way when he first arrived at the steadholt they had just escaped from as well. Half-wondering if he would react that way to all Gryphon towns, it struck her as strange that a being quite alien from Tellus seemed very impressed with something so spartan compared to Equestria, architecturally at least.
 
The last time she felt at awe at anything griffin made was long ago. Maybe because she had lived long enough in the Kingdom. Or maybe she knew that all garrison towns rarely distinguished from one another, designed to be familiar to all Rotating griffin soldiers. Or maybe her excitement was just dulled by the simple fact that they were currently fighting for their lives. 

The aircoach landed smoothly. First thing she heard were the shouts of orders, followed by more flapping wings, clanging metal, and grunts of soldiers at work. Someone opened the door of the coach, and Giraldi’s head popped in. Upon spotting her, he gave her a nod. 

“Sir,” he began, “we’ve arrived.” 

Gilda nodded her thanks, stretching her limbs a bit before she finally exited the coach. Aricia looked liked any garrison town, if not smaller compared to Tierra’s or other garrison cities in a big city. It was surrounded by a rectangular enduring stone wall, each side with three guard towers. Square houses, similar to the ones found in a steadholt, were placed in a spiral formation. It surrounded the central garrison, a tall building that acted as the Main Hall and barracks of the town, complete with its own defensive walls and towers.

That was where they had landed, just outside of it. She noted that they were being watched by more than just soldiers. There were unarmored griffins, all looking either tired, lost, or numbed as they watched the grounded coaches, whispering amongst themselves too softly for her to hear. If she had to guess, they were refugees from the surrounding steadholts that were able to escape the initial Cloven attacks. The unkempt look they all sported hinted on the usual problems of having additional beaks to feed while waging a war. She hoped the supplies of Aricia were up to the challenge. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Marco said gently. Gilda turned around just in time to see him coach the cubs into going out. “Come on, guys. We’re here. Safe and sound.” 

The three still looked a bit sleepy and apprehensive, one even yawning as they climbed out. A shout came through the crowd; five griffins began to shuffle forward, pushing the crowd away—three tiercels and two eaglesses. When the cubs saw them, their sleepy expressions faded, replaced with wide smiles. 

Gilda couldn’t help but watch with satisfaction as the three cubs were united with their families once more. Nibbles of affection were given freely, tears flowed, combined with warm hugs that had her forgetting almost everything, her weariness, the looming war, for just a moment. 

Marco stood beside her. “It’s times like these that make everything worthwhile,” he muttered, only loud enough for her to hear.  

“No doubt,” Gilda replied, watching the cubs as they introduced their parents. 

“I don’t know whether to be sad or—ai, ai!” Marco sputtered as the cubs began to lift their claws, extending their longest talon upward at each other. He placed his open hand and rubbed the side of his head, partially covering his face. “Okay, right now, I’m relieved the parents don’t know what those meant.” 

“Yeah,” Gilda chuckled. “Mare Chaser and Cub Corruptor. You are racking up quite the reputation.” 

Marco was about to say something when both of them heard a strained grunt. Turning to their left, Gilda could see the griffins that were under her command and the Marines wasting no time in getting out of the coaches, helping bring out those too injured to exit the vehicle. Imlay was part of the crew that helped the prone Chris, who was secured in a flat board. Marco’s face turned pensive before giving her an apologetic look.

“Go,” the eagless said, then watched him go towards his friend, probably to give words of encouragement. 

 “Sir,” Giraldi called, getting her attention. Gilda looked at him motioning towards an approaching spear of griffin soldiers. The crowd parted like a curtain as they approached, clearing the way and giving her a better look of the group. She recognized some of the soldiers, having worked with a few of them before she was Rotated out of the Southern Farmlands. She was just an Auxiliary Guard when she had left, though. Judging by the shocked look they wore when they spotted her Command Chain, they didn’t expect her to come back as an officer. 

Understandable, since she, herself, at times couldn’t believe it either. 

The very seasoned First Spear leading them was someone she also recognized. Much older than Giraldi, he sported grey hairs that concentrated on numerous old wounds, but that didn’t seem to slow him down. Quite the opposite. He moved purposefully and confidently, though he wore an unreadable expression as they approached. “Sub-Tribune Behertz,” he called. He bared his neck before saluting. Those around him did the same, though slower. “This is a… surprise.” 

“A recent development, First Spear Fillius,” Gilda replied, saluting as well. She stepped forward, with Giraldi following suit, staying just a bit behind her. “I was ordered by Captain Narada of Arnau to bolster garrison defenses any way I can.” 

Fillius looked towards the the coaches. “Well, it’s not a legion, but we’ll have to make do.” He motioned towards the humans. “Those the apes, sir?” 

“Humans, yes,” Gilda corrected. “Those in green-patterned clothing are the Marines.” When Fillius gave her a confused look, she added, “Human soldiers.” 

The First Spear seemed to study them for a moment. “How do they fight, sir?” 

“Unbelievably effectively,” she replied. “I’ll give my report to the Tribune about their fighting capabilities, and also some new effective tactics we have developed to combine formation.” She looked around. “Who’s the Tribune of Aricia?” 

Fillius took a breath. “Sir… as of now, you are.” 

That answer stunned Gilda to silence. She looked at Fillius, studying his somber expression, hoping to see anything indicating jest. All he did was stare back, unreadable. 

“How?” Giraldi asked. 

“Cloven struck him down even before we were aware that they had Corrupted the guards,” Fillius replied. “Like it was written in the history books. Their initial attack cost us at least five spears, but in one effective stroke, they killed the Tribune, her Sub-Tribunes, and the Count of Aricia.” 

Gilda felt breathless. That left her as the acting leader of Aricia, the highest authority of the town. She would be tasked to defend the town, lead even more soldiers to battle. Everyone was going to defer to her. Everything was on her. 

Doubt of her competence rose once more, the memory of those dying under her command swimming through her head. It transformed the little nagging nudge to an overwhelming weight that sunk in her stomach. It seems that the world was suddenly on her shoulders. She was numb. She was mute. 

She couldn’t do this. 

“Sir, you okay?” Fillius asked. His voice barely registered to Gilda, his question sounding hollow in her ears. She looked at him blankly, wondering what she was supposed to say, only for Giraldi to come forward and rescue her. 

“First Spear, can you set a meeting later?” the Spear Centurion asked. “We can exchange inquiries and give Sub-Tribune Behertz time to gather her thoughts.” 

“Good idea,” Fillius agreed. “We’ll give you word once we set up council. Meanwhile, I’ll have centurions guide our ape guests where they can stay and recover.” 

There wasn’t really anything Gilda could say. At Fillius’ word, griffin soldiers gathered and listened to him intently. She felt a bit jealous of how easily he seemed to handle himself around them. 

“Sir?” Giraldi asked, getting her attention. He looked at her for a moment. “Something wrong?” 

Gilda looked towards the centurion, said, “I’m—” and stopped, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Let’s see if we can get the Marines and non-combatants settled.” 

“Aye, sir.” 

The next hour, Gilda and Giraldi began making arrangements, with the latter talking to the centurions of Aricia. She was glad he was stepping up because she had no idea if she could think straight. The last news had left her reeling, and she couldn’t afford to look so absent-minded when there was still work to do. 

The humans and Marines weren’t exactly welcomed to stay in the central garrison, but Imlay didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he just requested a place for them to settle down, and arrangements were made so that they were placed in an inn not too far from the garrison. Giraldi needed to make a few more arrangements with the local Peacemakers to distribute the already disproportionate number of refugees, which meant kicking some griffins out of the space. 

There were some really vocal complaints, but considering that all of those relocated were just the richer griffins who hoarded more space than necessary, Gilda felt absolutely no guilt in getting them placed somewhere else. As the humans began to settle in, Gilda ordered Fillius to spare any available Mages to look over the injured. With that done, and Giraldi insisting that he’d take care of the rest of the duties, Gilda made her way towards the garrison. 

The walk up to the building felt weird, especially when more soldiers seemed to stop and stare, only saluting at the last minute, as if just remembering protocol. When the garrison came to view, she took a moment to admire the three-level building. The first level was an enormous open field, where she saw Gryphon soldiers practicing their formations, using heavier wooden shields, spears, warhammers and swords as centurions began ordering them to position. The third level was a flat-roofed area which contained the Storm Coils, large metallic spiral structures that served as the primary aerial defenses of the building. 

After a short flight, Gilda reached the landing area of the second level. She passed a few more familiar-looking griffins, who looked at her for a second, recognizing her, then looking at the Chain she wore. They stiffened, saluting before giving her a wide berth, all quiet. She actually had to approach a soldier to direct her towards the Tribune Chambers. He didn’t seem to know how to react, quickly leaving after giving the directions. 

The room was bare, but with comforts she had been used to since staying in Winged Hall Inn. Unstrapping her armor, she hung them on the armor stand, took a moment to look outside her window, then moved towards the bed. 

Gilda didn’t know how long she lay on the bed or how many times she rolled around before her restlessness got to her. She got off the bed and wore her armor once more. She exited the garrison, nodding towards the griffins that saluted as she went on her way towards a crenel, and leapt up to the sky, high above the town. 

Maintaining height, she stared out towards the surrounding area, wondering if she could see the cloven from her position. As the sun was slowly sinking from the horizon, thoughts began to coalesce in her mind. She wondered how much harder it was to fight the cloven at night, or how the humans would adapt, considering they had weaker eyesight than griffins. She also wondered the numbers they would face, or if they would finally fight more unconfirmed Corrupted, like the dragons Fortrakt spotted earlier. 

Most of all, she wondered how she was supposed to lead a whole town against the enemy. 

Sighing, she began to descend, eyes flickering all over the town. She tried to get a gauge of what was going on, and what problems would pop up once the cloven came to them. She saw griffins gathering near the blacksmiths, maybe forging weapons to defend themselves in case the cloven breached; cubs chasing each other around corners, supervised by older griffins; marines forming some sort of overwatch in the building they have been assigned to; and Marco dancing around near a small park grassland. 

The last bit caught her attention. As she descended to meet him, Gilda watched with fascination as Marco twirled with practised steps, his arms holding wooden sticks as he struck a hidden enemy with a flurry of strikes. It was a mix of slow but powerful blows, to faster, overwhelming strikes. 

Before she landed, Marco turned to face her, positioning himself as if to strike. His moist face relaxed when he spotted her. Giving her a nod, he greeted, “Gilda.” 

“Marco,” Gilda addressed back. “Practising?” 

Marco turned back to his unseen opponent, arms moving in a series of blows before replying, “Thought it would be prudent.” 

“As much as I appreciate receiving help from wherever I can get, I don’t think a stick is useful in killing cloven,” she said, earning a chuckle from the human. 

“Maybe. But it’s better than hitting them with my fist,” Marco grunted. “I tend to avoid that ever since I broke the little bones in my hand for missing a punch, and hitting my knuckles on a hard wall.” 

Gilda winced. “Ouch.” 

“Yeah,” Marco grinned. “They say I screamed so loudly, so shrilly, that people around me had headaches that lasted the whole day.” 

“Maybe it’ll distract the cloven enough for us to counterattack,” Gilda said mock-flippantly, making Marco laugh as she made her way to a quiet area, sitting down and out of the way so he could complete his dance. He gave her a small smile before moving once more, feet sweeping the ground as his hands moved in circles. He would occasionally stab his invisible opponent, before doing more power strikes. 

At some point, he stopped using two sticks and everything in his attacks changed. Instead of powerful strikes, he began to twirl one stick around him, while his free hand seemed to snake around the unseen enemy. The movements were odd and jerky. At first, Gilda thought Marco was doing random strokes, but the way his face kept still and concentrated made her think otherwise. Then, he struck the ground, apparently having tripped his opponent, before slamming a deathblow to a critical area. She guessed it was either the head or the neck. 

“You know, we can spar if you like,” Marco said after settling down, his arms relaxing on his side. “Don’t be scared. Hell, I’ll go easy on you.” 

“Right,” Gilda said, smiling slightly. “I seemed to recall your rear getting kicked so easily.” 

“True, but that was me unarmed,” he countered, chuckling. “I’m more in my element now. And besides, I was talking about something more friendly.” 

One of Gilda’s eyes widened. “Are you… flirting with me, Marco?” 

Marco went absolutely, almost comically still. He blinked for a few moments, stared at her confused. “What? Flirting?” 

She raised a claw and chuckled. “Nothing. Sorry. For griffins, asking someone for a friendly spar is close to asking them for a Round.” 

“Round… yeah, I heard you say that once,” Marco said. “What is it, exactly?” 

“It’s… ancestors, how to explain,” she whispered the last part. “A Round is traditionally a means to measure another griffin for, uh… compatibility.” 

“Compatibility?” 

“Yeah.” Gilda absently scratched the side of her head. “How do they fight? How much do they hold back? What kind of styles and tells do they have?” She paused, looking at him meaningfully. “How much stamina do they have?” 

Marco snorted. “You serious?” he asked. He received a nod in return, which had him chuckling. “Wow. Uh… well, sure. Why not?” 

“Don’t joke about that,” Gilda replied, though she couldn’t help but grin. “It’s one thing to stop hard-headed idiots who want to see how strong you humans are. It’s another to hold off frustrated griffins because you challenged them to a Round, and suddenly changed your mind when they accept.” 

Marco chuckled as he went towards his backpack and placed his sticks beside it. Grabbing a clear water bottle inside, he took a swig before looking back at her. “Who says I’d change my mind? I’m the Mare Chaser, remember? Apparently, I have the taste for the bizarre.” 

“Equestrians are tame compared to griffins, Mare Chaser,” she said, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t survive an amorous griffin.” 

“You know, with that tone of voice, it’s like you’re challenging me.” Marco gave her a wide grin. “And I do so love challenges.” 

Gilda couldn’t help but laugh. “Then you better learn how to fight us off before you go challenging us.” Shaking her head, she watched him take another swig before asking, “Those jerky movements earlier… what were those?” 

Marco glanced at her, silent as he gulped down his water. When he finally placed it down, he replied, “Those were grappling moves.” 

She blinked. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling. “Surprised me too when I first learned it. I mean, when you see a stick, the first thing that pops in your mind is bludgeoning the enemy, right? Apparently, you can also lock limbs and disarm opponents when you know what you’re doing.” He looked down a moment, as if to remember something, then nodded. “When we get back to Arnau, I’ll show you some videos I got about baritsu and canne de combat.” When she gave him an inquiring glance, he explained, “Self-defense using a walking cane. That ought to be a good eye-opener for you.” 

Gilda frowned, nervously scratching her arm as Marco grabbed the second stick and continued to practise. “Sure. That sounds fun,” she said, softly. 

Marco’s head turned slightly to his left. She looked at him impassively and the two stayed quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she replied, a little too quickly judging by how Marco raised his eyebrow. 

“Right,” he said, tone telling her he didn’t buy her answer one bit.  

Wincing, she changed the subject. “So, what brings you out here?” 

“Well, as of right now, I’m a waste of space,” Marco replied with a small smile. “Literally. The Inn we were assigned barely has room for three people, and I gave my space to the Mage that was assigned to look after Chris and Tara.” 

“How is Chris?” she asked. 

“He’s doing fine. Hell, he’s acting fine.” Marco grunted. “Stopped me from being an asshole.” 

Gilda inwardly chuckled. That was a word she hadn’t fully understood in terms of human context, but with just the words, she imagined a donkey donut. “What do you mean by asshole?” she asked. 

He paused, just long enough to scratch the back of his head. “Stopped me from acting stupid, I mean. I may have been a bit… short-tempered with the mage.” 

“Why?” she asked. 

“Well,” Marco replied, twirling his arms around in a circle, making the sticks strike in a continuous manner, “I kinda asked him why they couldn’t heal Chris. The mage said that all types of healing potions have been rationed and were only to be used on life threatening cases.” 

Gilda nodded. “Yes, that makes sense.” 

“So, yeah, anyway, before I could say anything bad, Chris told me to shut the hell up.” He laughed. “So, I said sorry and let myself out. There was no point of me being there, grumbling and bitching on those helping, you know.” 

“Marco, I can probably authorize getting the potions for him.” 

He stopped immediately, facing her. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Chris is going to kick my ass, thinking I made you do that. Tara would probably join in. Besides, I get it. Chris isn’t in danger of dying, and with what’s going on, shortages are to be expected. Especially in the frontlines. The soldiers definitely need it more than we do right now. ” 

“That’s not all they need,” Gilda found herself mumbling. 

“What was that?” Marco asked. 

She sighed. “It’s… nothing.” 

“Right,” he replied, surprisingly keeping the same disbelieved tone he used earlier. He went back to his fighting position again, standing immobile for a few seconds before deciding to take a neutral stance. Dropping the sticks near his bag, he walked towards Gilda, making her wonder what he was up to as he sat down in front of her. “Okay, seriously, what’s wrong, Gilda?” 

She stared at him for a few moments before shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Well, of course I wouldn’t,” he replied. “You won’t talk about it.” 

Her eyes narrowed at him for a few moments, but he just faced her without flinching. In the end, she scratched her arm once more before saying, “As of now, I am the acting Tribune for Aricia.” 

Marco blinked. “You mean… you’re leading them?” When she nodded, he added, “That’s a bad thing?” 

Gilda gave him an annoyed look. “Of course it is. I was only supposed to lead a few spears and supplement Aricia’s forces. I’m only a sub-tribune, promoted just a few days ago. How am I supposed to lead more griffins to battle?” She shook her head. “The soldiers need a proper tribune to lead them.” 

“Proper tribune?” Marco scoffed. “You make it sound like you were a horrible leader or something.” 

She sighed, remembering her conversation with Fortrakt. She had thought she was over it, but apparently not. “Maybe a bit,” she admitted. 

“Well,” Marco said, “in my opinion, you did a good job leading.” 

“Right.” 

“Hey, you got us here, right?” he asked. 

“Fortrakt got us here,” Gilda countered. “If that’s your example on how good of a leader I am, maybe you should be congratulating him.” 

Marco shook his head, his face showing, if he was a pony, amusement with a mix of exasperation. “Okay,” he said, “I think I understand.”

“Do you?” she scoffed. 

“You’re new at being an officer,” he replied, slowly, as if deliberately picking his words. “The weight of command is not something you're used to yet, especially if you were given the position to spy on us.” 

Gilda blinked, staring at the human as if he had grown a pair of wings. The ambassador’s question on whether or not the humans have discovered her assignment came back to her. She had been so sure that they weren’t, but now?  

She kept her face neutral as she replied, “What are you talking about? I was assigned to you because we had a fight, and we were supposed to make nice.” 

“Right,” Marco said, though this time with teasing tone and a small smile, which disappeared moments later. 

Gilda unconsciously rolled her shoulders, her claws scratching the ground slightly. She found herself tensing up, ready for his next words, which were sure to be accusations. Instead, she got something else. 

“I asked Robbie one time about his LT. In his words, he had never met any greener CO in his life.” 

She blinked. “Nantz?” she asked. 

Marco shook his head. “No, though technically, Robbie is under his command. I’m talking about Lieutenant Rook.” He chuckled. “Straight out of officer school, unblemished uniform, fresh-faced, young, and lots and lots of questions. Not someone you’d expect to lead his own platoon. Yet, in just a few days, Robbie came to respect him more than some of the more experienced COs he had served under.” 

Gilda looked at him, disbelieved. “A few days. Really?” 

He shrugged. “Extenuating circumstances. You tend to form bonds quicker when you’re in combat.” 

Well, that’s true. But… “Marco,” she began, “where are you going with this?” 

“Just giving you my thoughts on the matter,” he replied. “Anyway, I asked him what made his LT such a good leader. And you know what he said?” 

Gilda leaned forward. “What? Great tactical mindset, able to lead forces correctly to achieve victory with no losses? Inspirational figure that could rouse morale of his Marines?” 

Marco chuckled. “Those help, I guess. But if you met Rook, you’d know those aren’t really his strongest qualities.” He paused for a second, before adding, “Not saying that he was a poor leader. Reyes would have said otherwise. But the topic made me curious. So, I asked him about what he looks for in a CO.” 

“What did he say?” she asked. 

“Well,” he began, “Robbie said there are officially fourteen leadership traits that the Corps look for, but for him, it was simple. A good CO for him is someone who can decide on a course quickly.” 

She frowned. “Rushing decisions seems like a disaster in the making. What if the leader makes the wrong choice?” 

Marco smiled. “I said the same thing, actually, and Robbie explained. Decisive, for him at least, is being aware of all available tactical options, and deciding on what course to take. It’s different than just picking blind.”

“I guess I lack that,” Gilda muttered. 

“Really?” He shook his head. “Looking at everything, your first confrontation against the enemy didn’t cost any civilian casualties. Hell, you added three more to it by rescuing them from hostile territory.” 

“I lost a lot of good griffins,” she countered. 

“You kept half of your soldiers,” Marco replied. “And you suffered the most casualties only in the first ambush, when no one knew anything. After that first encounter, you moved them from one battle to another,  suffering minimally.” 

Before Gilda could say anything, she heard someone reply in Aeric, “He’s right, sir.” 

Marco blinked, mouth slightly opened before closing it immediately. He moved to the side, as if removing himself from the conversation, Gilda noted as she went to all fours and glanced at the approaching centurion. 

“Giraldi,” she greeted in the same language. “What are you doing here?” 

“Looking for you, sir,” he replied. “Meeting’s in fifteen minutes. I’ll be bringing you there.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Give me a few minutes.” 

Giraldi gave a sharp salute before taking a few steps away. Gilda looked towards Marco, who packed his things back in his bag. Seeing her approach, he gave her a small nod. “I’m assuming the enemy’s here?” 

“No,” she replied in Equestrian, shaking her head. “It’s just a meeting. Though I think it’ll be safer for you to get indoors.” 

“Gotcha,” Marco said. “That healer should be done by now anyway.” 

As he inserted his arms around the bag straps, she asked, “How long?”

“How long, what?” 

Gilda gave an annoyed trill and looked at Marco, hard. That had him chuckling. 

“It was a guess, and you just confirmed it,” he replied. “In all honesty, I suspected it two days after we met.”

“Oh?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I remembered the first time I met you, recalling, distinctively in fact, that you had less armor pieces and no chain. It didn’t really mean anything to me until Fortrakt explained how your armor pieces denoted rank, and that chain indicated that you were an officer. Afterwards, it was all about connecting the dots.” 

“Like?” 

“Well, the whole trip was designed to learn more about each other,” Marco began. “The whole trade agreement was the ultimate goal, but you can’t trade with people you don’t know right?” When she nodded, he continued, “Then there’s your culture of meritocracy. Griffins respect strength, and they deal with others the same way you deal with yourselves. Correct me if I’m wrong, but if the roles were reversed and you were visiting earth, your people would have been insulted if my people provided untrained soldiers to act as bodyguards, right?” 

Gilda stared at him. 

“So, with that in mind, what better way to know us better than to use our, uh, little disagreement, to insert you to get to know us better? Then, they would promote you in a position high enough not to be insulting, but low enough not to give you power you’re probably not ready for. Am I close?” 

She wanted to laugh. Shaking her head, she said, “You’re dangerous.” 

Marco grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Well, that explains your selection of movies.” 

He blinked. “What do you mean?” 

Gilda rolled her eyes. “Don’t pretend. There’s a reason why a lot of the movies you shown me and Fortrakt didn’t have any of those guns and modern human weaponry.” 

The human laughed. “Actually, I thought you guys would appreciate the sword and spear type of movies more than something from a John Woo flick.” 

“What’s a John Woo?” 

Marco’s smile widened. “Oh, we’re definitely going to have some fun when we come back to Arnau. I’m going to show you my abundant testosterone-filled over-the-top rip-roaring gun-galore movies that will make your eyes bleed and ears ring.” He gave her a solemn look. “So, you get out of your funk, Gilda. Lead the defense, kick some insect ass, and bring us home.” 

Gilda stayed silent, a little bewildered by Marco’s confidence in her as he gave her a wide grin before leaving. As she walked towards the waiting Giraldi, she half-wondered where it was coming from, as it seems almost everyone found her leadership acceptable, maybe even admirable. When she reached him, she asked, “How long were you listening in?” 

“Proper tribune,” Giraldi replied. “My apologies for eavesdropping, sir.” 

Gilda sighed. “Accepted, centurion, if you give me an honest opinion.” 

He looked at her for a second before staring back forward. “Sir, I think your lack of faith on your ability to lead and command is detrimental to both you and those under you. In this salty griffin’s opinion, you did a fine job. And this is not even considering that you weren’t fully trained as an officer.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Gilda said. “If I were better trained, or even a better leader, I could have done something more. Decided on our tactics better. Moved faster. Anything.” 

“That’s a load of droppings, sir.” 

“Is it?” she challenged. “Giraldi, I’ve read a lot of our history books. There were always better decisions that could have been made if the Tribunes or Captains knew all the information.” 

“That kind of thinking is the worst thing you can apply in a battle, sir,” Giraldi replied, tone going a bit harder. “No one gets all the information completely. It changes as every second passes. Even if you could possibly get all your information right, the time wasted on not deciding on a course of action while you wait will mean the life and death of those under your command. And most of the time, it’ll be their deaths.”

Gilda shifted her eyes downward. 

“What I do suggest, sir,” Giraldi continued, “instead of just pondering on who you lost, remember those who you have saved and realize that those that died did so for those that still live.” 

Gilda took a moment to contemplate on Giraldi’s words before shaking her head. “I still don’t think I’m ready.” 

“Not a lot do, sir,” he replied. “That’s why you have centurions, career soldiers. You can rely on their experience to help you decide on a course of action.” He smiled. “Which you have been doing quite well, I have to say.” 

The eagless took a breath before nodding. “Alright. Has Corporal Imlay been informed of the meeting?” 

“Told him myself before I picked you up, sir,” Giraldi said. “While a bit irregular, I thought you’d like his presence and input.” 

Gilda nodded her thanks and looked towards the heavens. The afternoon sky was now slowly giving way to nightfall as the sun began to sink in the horizon. The enemy was out there and they had to plan out their defenses until the reinforcements would arrive. 

“Let’s go,” she said, before launching herself to the air. 


> Chapter 11
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Gilda, the War Room in Aricia looked almost identical in the one on Arnau. It was an enclosed circular room, with banners representing Southern Colors hanging down at angles to form pseudo-walls, and windows only just big enough to let light in. Designed to allow the most privacy without the use of magic, the War Room was considered the safest place in a garrison from roaming eyes and ears. 

Of course, the familiarity of it was more important for Gilda, as it was a small and much needed comfort for her, especially when she was given the responsibility of leading the current meeting. She tried to recall the times she had been present in any previous meetings, tried to remember how Captain Narada seemed to carry herself. Gilda went even deeper, recalling her time as a cub as she peeked through the crack of her father’s door as he, too, led a similar meeting.

She was just glad she didn’t flinch when the all of the centurions’ eyes were at her when she entered the room. She could hear Giraldi whisper a small praise of her acting professionally as he slowly and subtly led her forward. The centurions cleared the way as they reached them, making a path towards the center of the circular room, where she could see a raised rectangular platform filled with sand. 

Behind where Aricia was supposed to be represented in the platform was Fillius, who was staring at Corporal Imlay, whose face seemed to be carved in stone. Giraldi gave her a sharp nod before he placed himself beside Imlay, while she situated between the First Spear and the Corporal. 

“Is everyone present?” Gilda asked in Aeric. She looked around and saw all griffins nodding, except for Giraldi, who translated her words to Imlay. 

“All centurions are accounted for, sir,” Fillius replied, looking at her for a moment before staring at Imlay. “Spear Centurion Giraldi insisted in bringing our… human guests to the meeting. He said you approved.” 

“I did.” 

“No offense intended, sir, but are you sure that’s wise?” Fillius asked. He looked at Imlay again. “This meeting is about planning our defensive strategies. The humans, I believe, are not yet our allies.”

There was a murmur amongst the centurions, agreeing with the First Spear. Gilda looked towards Imlay, who gave her a subtle nod and a small smile. She didn’t know whether to be glad or nervous that the Corporal was trusting her to represent him and his Marines to her people. 

“While I appreciate your candor and vigilance,” she began, “you’re wrong, First Spear. The cloven have indiscriminately attacked them, bringing their non-combatants within our walls. Whether you like it or not, they are here to help. And considering the situation, I doubt they will betray us.” 

Fillius frowned, only to nod a few moments later. “As you say, sir.” 

“Good. Then, what’s the first step of our defenses?” 

“We have to regroup our ranks,” Fillius replied. He nodded to a eagless centurion beside him, who handed him a rolled parchment. “As I said earlier, the initial attack had cost us all of our officers. Until the Captain returns, I suggest we temporarily assign centurions as acting Tribunes for Logistica, Tactica, Auxiliaris, and Medica.” Fillius handed her the parchment. “I recommend these centurions.” 

“No Knight Tribune, or one for Strategica?” Gilda asked as she unrolled the document. 

“The garrison doesn’t have a full legion, and our numbers are small enough that we don’t need Knight Tribunes. As for Strategica… well, there’s no need for any long-term strategies because if reinforcements don’t arrive before the month is over, I doubt we’ll still be standing.” 

Gilda nodded as she continued to read the parchment. She recognized a few names. “Centurion Aelia.” 

The eagless that handed the parchment to Fillius straightened. “Yes, sir?” 

“If I remember correctly, your father is a tradesgriffin.” 

“Yes, sir,” Aelia replied. “I have been taught early on how to assign supplies where needed. I am also familiar with the steadholders in Aricia.” 

Gilda nodded. Aelia was a good choice for a Tribune Logistica. “I’m giving you authorization to handle the logistics that are needed for our defense. You are also assigned a maximum of two griffins to help you with your duties.” 

Aelia nodded, saluting, leaving Gilda once more to look at the parchment. She read out an unfamiliar name. “Centurion Faustus?” 

An older tiercel stepped up and saluted. “Sir,” he said, with a heavy accent that was common in the Southern Farmlands. Considering how muscled he was, he could have been a local earth-griffin. In addition, his age was obvious, and Gilda hoped that it translated to experience. He’d be good as a Tactica. 

“You are assigned a maximum of one helper.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The last two candidates as temporary Tribunes for Auxiliaris and Medica on the list were both centurions Gilda had known as well. Varinius was one of the centurions that commanded her and the rest of the Auxiliary Guards when she was assigned to the South. Looking at him, she said, “Centurion Varinius, you are assigned two helpers.” 

When the tiercel nodded, Gilda looked at Floriana, the one suggested to take in as the Medica. Her family had been a long line of healers, even producing one or two mages who also concentrated on the healing arts. She was no different, with an intense interest in healing herbs, as well as being level-headed enough to lead. Turning to her, Gilda said, “You are assigned a maximum of five helpers.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Floriana replied modestly. 

Turning to the First Spear, Gilda had to admit that Fillius hadn’t lost his edge. The tinge of jealousy she experienced earlier had come back, but muted as she felt relief that she had griffins that were competent enough that in the case she made a mistake, it wasn’t going to kill them all. Rolling up the parchment once more, and handing it to him, she asked, “Alright, First Spear. What do we have?” 

“Before Auxiliary Guard Gletscher had advised us of your situation, our scouts have been gathering information on Cloven Clusters that have been established before we could initiate scorching protocols,” Fillius replied, motioning towards Faustus.

The tiercel nodded, and with an extended claw, he began to mark the surface with a single digit. He began to draw circles a few paces away from Aricia, slowly fanning it farther away. 

“With quick deployment, we were able to burn down the nearest steadholts to our location,” Faustus began, crossing out the nearby circles. 

“Burn down?” Imlay asked Giraldi. “Why would you burn down steadholts?”

“Scorching protocols were laid down after our first fight with the cloven,” Giraldi explained. “Remember when I explained to you that they reproduce fast? They do so by by establishing Clusters in places where they can absorb sustenance from soil or plants. Steadholts are primary targets they will use to establish bases, so we burn down crops and salt the soil. We also poison the wells.” 

Imlay nodded, but frowned at the same time. “That’s… a little self-destructive. But I think I understand.” 

“Can we get on with it?” Fillius asked. Giraldi gave him a look and didn’t bother to translate what was said to Imlay. 

“Continue,” Gilda replied calmly. 

Faustus nodded. “However, we weren’t able to stop the cloven from establishing Clusters in these steadholts,” he said, pointing towards six circles, which formed a loose diamond shape. “These three”—he pointed towards the three nearest Clusters from Aricia—“are steadily producing cloven soldiers. We are unable to gather intelligence on the central Cluster, but we believe that this base may be holding the Overlord leading the cloven in this area.” 

Gilda frowned. “And we’re sure that there won’t be any other cloven forces outside these four Clusters?” 

“Ancestors, I hope not,” Varinius muttered. When she gave him a look, he immediately saluted, stepping forward. “Sir, to clarify, any outside cloven forces should be busy fighting other remnants of the Southern Legions.” 

That was pretty much leaning on hope, but Gilda didn’t want to demoralize Aricia’s defenders, especially when she could only speculate. Maybe fortune would finally be on their side, and that any outside Cloven were too busy to get interested in them. Turning to Faustus, she asked, “So, what are our options in running a defensive campaign?” 

Faustus began drawing the three-line symbol of a griffin claw in certain areas. “Our intended plan was to establish a five defensive lines. However, we don’t have enough soldiers to maintain something that long. We also lack enough Wind Knights to act as our flankers.” He then began to draw diamond shapes between the Clusters and the griffin claws. “Best I could come up with are traps meant to delay their arrival, weaken them before they arrive at our gates. If we also spread out the defensive lines enough, we can crush the first wave that passes through the traps, plant more, and wait for the second. That is, if they don’t overwhelm us on the first try.” 

“There is also an alternative,” Imlay suddenly spoke up.

Gilda and Giraldi blinked, surprised enough that it took a while for the latter to translate what he just said for the rest of the griffins. 

“What do you mean, Corporal Imlay?” Gilda asked in Aeric. 

When Giraldi finished translating, Imlay replied, “Playing defensively when we have an opponent that could zerg-rush—”

“Wait, zerg-rush?” Giraldi asked. 

“Overwhelm us in numbers,” Imlay clarified. “As I said, playing defensively against an opponent like that is tantamount to suicide.” 

When the message was expressed in Aeric, Fillius looked at the Corporal. “And what would you suggest? To attack them?” 

“Yes,” was the simple reply. 

Fillius scoffed. He wasn’t the only griffin that did. The First Spear looked at Gilda for a moment, face in disbelief. “Sir, you didn’t tell me humans were stupid.” 

“Don’t translate that, Giraldi,” Gilda declared quickly, earning her a look from the Spear Centurion, as if asking her if she thought of him stupid. 

“He speaks madness, sir,” Fillius continued, shaking his head. “Why would he order an offensive campaign with our numbers with an opponent like the Cloven?” 

That got translated. “It sounds crazy, yes,” Imlay replied, not looking remotely offended. “And understandable, considering how you guys fight.” 

“And, pray tell, what do you mean by that?” Fillius asked. 

“Your soldiers fight with tight formations, using discipline to stem tides, cutting down those in front of you with efficiency,” Imlay replied. “We fought like that, thousands of years ago. I will admit, it is, defensively, your biggest strengths. However, offensively, you still need numbers to keep switching those in front lines.” He looked at Gilda. “We don’t need numbers, and you can attest to this, ma’am.” 

Fillius looked at Gilda for an explanation. “First Spear, the Marines fight quite differently from us.” She motioned towards the black rifle that Imlay was carrying. “That is a gun, their weapon. It is like a crossbow, except more powerful and can hit farther targets. They can also shoot out projectiles much faster.” 

The tiercel looked at the tube-like weapon for a moment before shaking his head. “Is that true?” 

“I have personally witnessed them stopping a group of charging grass lions. They died even before reaching us.” 

Fillius looked thoughtful for a moment. “A powerful weapon… however, still, with a limited number, what hope could we achieve in taking an offensive role? We cannot eliminate the Clusters, especially in such short distances from each other. It’ll take too much time to raze one to the ground before we get surrounded.” 

“You are under the impression that I’m suggesting on laying siege to their bases,” Imlay said, shaking his head. “While uncontested, my Marines could probably do that, what I’m proposing is to disrupt their movements.

“Like you, these cloven seem to fight in formations as well. They may not use phalanx tactics or shieldwalls, they still rely on their numbers to overwhelm. That takes planning and time.” Imlay extended his own finger, looking at Faustus. “May I?” 

When the tiercel nodded, Imlay began to draw on the sand as well. “While we are of small numbers, we’re trained to cut through enemy lines and disrupt their plans.” He drew an arrow towards the east-most cluster. “We hit the Cluster, fast and hard enough to surprise them. Whether they can muster up a formation or not, we can cut down their numbers quickly and efficiently, even raze the ground until up to a certain point. And when that point is reached…” he then drew an arrow going away. 

Fillius blinked, studying the plan. “You are applying Wind Knight flanking maneuvers. To hit something, creating a sort of weak spot. However, you are aware that they will cover it up immediately. The way the clusters are positioned, they will send reinforcements easily.” 

“Yes,” Imlay nodded, then continuing from the arrow that moved away from the cluster, he then drew two arrows, both going to the nearby clusters. “Once the enemy is committed to defending that certain breach, we move to the next. We hit them again, hopefully on the Cluster that sent more troops, and do more damage.” 

“If this can be done, I can see the merit of this tactic,” Faustus said. “It is like setting up mobile traps. This can weaken the enemy, delay them so they won’t overwhelm our defenses.”

“How many Clusters can you hit in a day, Corporal?” Gilda asked. 

“It depends on the lay of the land, how fast the cloven can respond, and how big the area we’re talking about,” Imlay listed. 

“This will take some doing,” Fillius muttered. “You will need a scouting party fast enough to warn you of the other Clusters’ movements.” 

“I can take care of those details,” Imlay replied. “We have a means of communicating almost instantaneously.” 

Fillius frowned. “Even so… I still can’t believe with small numbers we can cause enough damage to disrupt them.” 

“True, griffins would not be able to do this,” the Corporal said neutrally. “However, we Marines are different. We’ll disrupt them enough that hopefully, they won’t mount an offensive long enough for us to get our reinforcements.” 

The First Spear shook his head. Looking at Gilda, he gave her a inquiring look. She responded with a smile. Shaking his head, Fillius then said, “I shall leave the decision to you, sir.” 

“We’ll see how it works out,” Gilda replied, “then we can expand on that proposal. However, I’d still like to hear your defensive plans.” 

Faustus nodded. “Setting up defensive lines isn’t really a problem. While we haven’t fought in a real war for years, we have kept our training and made mock campaigns over the years. Our training is very much sufficient. It’s the numbers that will give us problems. That’s why we’re trying to set up traps. Unfortunately, that’s not going well on our end.” 

“What do you mean?” Gilda asked. 

“The traps we will need will be mostly magical in nature,” Fillius explained. “And we already have a limited amount of mages to work with.” 

“We can try and make more conventional traps,” Faustus continued, “but they won’t be as effective.” 

“Better than nothing,” Gilda replied. “Maybe we can deploy a mix of both, as not to tire out our mages.” 

“Yes, sir,” Faustus said, nodding, before moving out of the way, thus ending his report. For a moment, Gilda silently wondered if the Marines were to enact their plans, would that give them more time to set up the traps?

Aelia came next. Standing forward, she bared her neck and saluted. “Sir, my report.” 

“Go ahead.” 

Handed a rolled parchment, Gilda immediately unrolled it and read. It was an enumeration of supplies, as well as number of workers, either blacksmiths or farmers. There was also a helpful summary after each group of related items. At first, Gilda worried that they hadn’t enough weapons for defending Aricia; it wasn’t the case. However… 

“We can’t be that low on food,” Gilda said, disbelieving. 

“Unfortunately, sir, we are,” Aelia replied. “Aricia hadn’t been slacking, but with the unexpected increase of refugees and the losses of our steadholts, our food supply won’t last for a month.” 

Gilda frowned. “Was our presence also accounted here?” 

Aelia nodded. “Yes, sir. Though Spear Centurion Giraldi informed me that the humans have their own food supplies with them.” 

“I love Storage Gems,” Imlay commented. Giraldi chuckled, but stayed silent, opting not to translate what he said. 

“So this is what you meant that we won’t last a month if the reinforcements don’t come,” Gilda asked Fillius, who only nodded in agreement. Sighing, she looked back at the list, and thanked the Ancestors that the city had two wells and a nearby stream for water. 

Soldiers could survive weeks without food. They wouldn’t last days without water, though. 

“We can try and organize a hunt for game meats nearby,” Aelia said. “However, I doubt we’d be be able to expand our food stores in a way that would be truly beneficial.” 

“Every little bit helps,” Gilda said. “See if you can get that done without cutting efficiency, though. I’d rather not have our soldiers tired because they are playing both hunters and defenders.” 

“Understood.” 

Floriana stepped forward this time. “I’m happy to report that our stores of medical supplies are full,” she began. “We also have an adequate amount of apprentice mages to assist us. As per protocol, they are the ones that have yet to learn to summon elements.” 

Gilda nodded. Mages were pretty valuable in any battle, but it took a certain skill level before they were Knighted and brought to the battlefield. Having potential mages safe and behind front lines while giving them training to use their magic was a good long-term plan of investment. 

Varinius,  the acting Auxiliaris, was the last to step forward. He gave Gilda a small grin as he saluted, probably a silent way of reminding her that he still had some good stories to tell the others if she went after him for any reason. The eagless just rolled her eyes, as if to tell him that he might have forgotten that she, too, had stories to tell about him. He wisely chose to just give his report. 

“Auxiliary Guards are a working as temporary Peacekeepers as well as our secondary scouts. Noncombatants have all been relocated, even those that were displaced since our new additions. There were small, vocal protests, but nothing to worry about. However, sir, I’ve been approached by our Equestrian Liason, and the limited earth ponies we have want to help with the defense.” 

Gilda frowned thoughtfully, then looked at Aelia. She stepped forward, and said, “Unfortunately, sir, our blacksmiths are already focused on working on shields and weapons. We do have some armor we can improvise to fit Ponies, but…” she trailed off, looking at Faustus. 

“Incorporating them to our formations is risky,” the tiercel replied. “We have been making use of their talents, having them push carriages to help move old and injured refugees around, but from what I heard, they seem to want to get more involved.” 

Varinius nodded. “I can vouch for that.”

Before Gilda could think or comment on that, Imlay spoke up once more. “That could be useful.” 

Giraldi faced him. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“If these earth ponies want to get involved, I may have a plan.”
 
Okay, that got her attention. “What is it?” she asked, speaking in Equestrian. 

“Maybe later, when this meeting is over,” Imlay replied. “I’m still working on it in my head.” 

The eagless nodded and turned back towards the rest of the griffins. Fillius looked a little curious, but he didn’t say anything. Gilda then glanced at the acting officers and asked, “Any more to report?” 

All of them shook of their heads. Nodding, she reviewed the whole meeting in her head, and realized that she had gotten through without any hiccups. Barring a few spoken words, everything was as professional as she’d imagined. Fillius was on top of things, and he wasn’t actively trying to defy her, which was good. There had been many examples of armies doing poorly if the Captain and First Spear were antagonistic to each other. She was also thankful for Imlay’s presence. His suggestions could potentially open a few options unavailable to them, and he was professional enough to not rise to open baits Fillius was leaving. 

Hopefully, Fillius would learn to respect the Corporal as a fellow warrior. If not, well, she could make sure that they wouldn’t work together long enough to cause any friction. 

The meeting ended with a small reverence towards the Ancestors before Fillius and the rest of the Centurions saluted to Gilda, baring their necks as well. Gilda returned the salute. Faustus and another centurion began to erase the drawings in the sand, then afterwards, the First Spear began to march the rest of the Centurions out. 

“Sir?” Fillius asked when he noticed Gilda, Giraldi, and Imlay staying in their places. 

“I need to speak with Corporal Imlay in regards to his plans,” Gilda replied. 

“Shall we stay, then?” 

Gilda shook her head. “Maybe another time, First Spear. I’ll have you briefed if we ever employ them.” 

Fillius nodded, and soon enough, the room was empty save for the two griffins and one human. After a silent moment, Gilda looked towards Imlay, and said, “This plan of yours… will it work?” 

“That really depends on how well we scout the area,” he replied, “and how fast we can get my Marines around. I meant it when I said that we don’t use tight formations, but we still need to create situations for crossfire.” 

“Crossfire?” Giraldi asked. 

Imlay pointed towards the sand. “May I?” 

Gilda nodded, and the Corporal began to draw a circle. 

“Crossfire is basically a situation where where we attack the opponent from two or more directions,” Imlay began. He drew a line south of the circle, then on the east. He began to draw arrows from those lines going towards the circle. “This is a basic scenario. Though we got enough practise to work on others, like this.” He then erased the two straight lines, and created two slanting lines, southeast and southwest of the circle. He too added arrows coming from the lines, pointing towards the circle. “There are many more, but you can understand where I’m going with this.” 

Gilda nodded, the formation being somewhat similar to Wind Knight attack patterns using crossbows. The humans probably also had the same rule of not creating a situation where they’d shoot each other, more so when these guns are far more powerful than a crossbow, and with further reach. 

“However, like I said earlier, we need to know the area,” Imlay continued. “We need to know what formations we can viably use, potential traps, and areas for ambushes.” 

“We have maps that you can use,” Giraldi offered. 

“Thanks,” the Corporal replied. “Depending on how you draw your maps, however, we’ll still have to check the area. That means we need to carry my Marines in place, like what we did back on that steadholt.” 

Giraldi frowned. “That could prove more difficult in this situation. The area is much bigger than the steadholt. We haven’t even tested the tactic for long-distance scenarios. Carrying a Marine back and forth, while planning an attack on more than two places at once would be draining.” 

“That’s why I think the earth pony contingent can help us,” Imlay said. 

Gilda nodded, understanding. “Use them to transfer Marines from place to place.” 

“This will keep griffins fresh just in case we need a quick evac, or to place Marines in hard-to-reach areas,” Imlay added. 

“Okay, this may work,” Giraldi said, staring towards the drawings in the sand. “Scout the area, place the Marines, do this… crossfire, as you say? Then, what exactly? I’m still curious on what you have planned to work as an offense.” 

“We’ll mostly start out with guerilla tactics,” Imlay replied. 

“Guerrilla?” Gilda asked. 

“Tactics which rely on ambushes, hit-and-run, and mobility. The idea is that if the army is larger than yours, then they are slower. More so since the Cloven still rely on formations,” Imlay replied. “The main objective is to delay the their big push—their big attack—and make them work on regrouping. We can do this by either attacking weak spots on their formations, or by incapacitating their supply lines, which is basically their bases.” 

“The latter is what you suggested earlier, correct?” Gilda asked. 

Imlay nodded. “I’d normally start by taking out the nearest Cloven forces marching here. This will give us a good test on how we could work together, especially with the pony transporters. On that point, I hope that whatever griffins assigned to us are the ones we fought with in the steadholt.” 

“Makes sense,” Giraldi said, “especially since Fillius called you stupid and said your plans were madness.” 

Gilda glared at the Spear Centurion. “Giraldi!” 

At the same time, Imlay broke into an amused smile. “Really?” 

“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s the truth,” Giraldi shrugged before looking at Imlay. “And yeah. Filius is very traditional. That’s what makes him as a very effective First Spear.” 

“He actually said my plans were madness?” Imlay shook his head. “Don’t let Flip-Boy hear that. He’ll start quoting that movie.” 

“What movie?” Gilda asked. 

Imlay smiled. “Ask him when we’re back to… Arnau,” he replied, though the last word seem to sober him up, making the smile disappear. Shaking his head, he looked towards the sand, as if to remember what had been drawn there earlier. 

Gilda understood. While he carried himself well, Imlay knew what lay ahead, and he was probably as nervous as she was. For a moment, there was a tense silence before the Corporal nodded towards Gilda. 

“Ma’am, I’ll talk to my Marines,” he began, “and see who’s up for this. Though considering they just got a taste, they’ll want to be kept sated. We’re not going to have shortages here.” 

“We’ll work the ponies and the griffins on our end,” Gilda replied, returning the nod. “Corporal Imlay, thank you for your assistance.” 

“It was my genuine pleasure,” Imlay replied before making his way back towards the entrance. Gilda watched his back, green-patterned uniform moving slightly as he made his way outside, closing the door behind him. 

“He’s nervous,” Gilda said, with a sigh. 

“Of course he is,” Giraldi replied. “He’d be stupid to not be.” 

“I thought he’d be implacable, like Filius.” 

“Filius is nervous too,” Giraldi said. “He’d normally not shun any help, but losing his commanding officer, and not having the Captain present, he’s under a lot of pressure to keep everyone in line. Lashing out slightly to a convenient target was part of that.”

“Is that what it was, really?” Gilda asked. 

“In my honest opinion,” Giraldi replied. “Thankfully, a replacement officer arrived, who was smart enough to realize the effectiveness of his suggestions. You let him do his job, when most hatchling officers would try to do everything themselves. You did good, sir.” 

“Thanks,” Gilda said, though not honestly feeling she had done much. Still, if Giraldi thought so, then she’d continue on the way she did. Hopefully, they’d all make it out of this one alive. 

Giraldi told her to get to rest, and this time, she wasn’t feeling restless anymore—just tired. Walking towards her room, she hung her armor on the stand, removing the command chain and placing it on a nearby stone table. She stared at it for a moment before turning towards the bed. Laying down, she closed her eyes. She could hear shouts of centurions and grunts of griffin soldiers in unison; she could hear the noise of metal hitting metal. The grunts of hard work, sweat, and blood created a cacophony of lives preparing for battle. 

Staring at the ceiling, she remembered all the defensive plans their Tactica explained, the suggestions Imlay gave. They had a maximum of one month to hold down the fort, facing against an army of cloven coming their way. There weren’t guarantees that reinforcements would even arrive. Even if she led the Aricia defense perfectly, was she only condemning those under her to starvation and exhaustion? 

In that moment, she decided to be there on the frontlines. She wouldn’t be an officer that would ask others what she would not dare to do. Whether leading the defenses with Filius, or even overseeing the Imlay and his Marines, she was going to see this through. 

Her earlier conversation with Marco came up, almost as clear as day. She remembered his quiet confidence as he looked at her, smiling as he said those words. 

“Lead the defenses, kick some insect ass, and bring us home.” 

No one was around to see her nod, her claw clenched, ready. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I will.” 


> Chapter 12
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gilda watched with fascination as Fortrakt and Marco were once more locked in combat. She had to admit, the rematch between the two was far more entertaining than their first match they had back in Arnau three days ago. She couldn’t decide whether it was because Reyes wasn’t there to demand minimal rest between bouts, or because Marco was a fast learner. 

She decided it was the latter. She couldn’t exactly comprehend why, but she had been getting curiouser and curiouser about the human under her care. Maybe it was the change of how they viewed each other, or maybe her natural inquisitiveness about a race she had yet to fully understand. Either way, she had found herself watching him closely the past few days. 

Once again, Marco surprised her. She almost expected a repeat from before, with Fortrakt beating him easily. He was now holding his own. In fact, Marco won the first match by locking Fortrakt’s foreleg into what he called a Kimura. Judging by how quickly Fortrakt submitted, it was something rather painful, and the tiercel had been cautious ever since. 

Fortrakt won the next three bouts; this was their fifth. 

Marco, Gilda had to admit, was in fantastic form. He was tired, and yes, slower, but he still controlled the flow of the battle, dodging a lot of the tiercel’s strikes, and seemingly using his longer legs to create distance between them. Her partner, though, wasn’t completely useless, and was getting acclimated to Marco’s new strategy and slowly getting through the human’s defenses. Oddly, the two smiled at each other just right before the tiercel closed to claw-distance. 

Fortrakt’s foreleg went to the left side of Marco’s head, but the human’s arms were faster. His left arm formed a triangle, hand covering his ear, while his right hand held it firm from the elbow. Not only did he block Fortrakt’s attack, but it also, apparently, counter-attacked, judging by the way the tiercel’s head snapped backwards. It took a moment for Gilda to realize that it was the raised elbow during the defensive motion that did the damage. 

Marco grunted as he stepped forward, both his arms raised to the sides of his head, before his fists rocketed forward in three fast strikes. Fortrakt took one hit, but dodged the last two by rolling away. Marco followed aggressively, continuing his attack, dodging the two clumsily thrown claw strikes, before one finally hit him. 

Feeling the change of momentum, Fortrakt charged in hard, butting his head into Marco’s stomach. A loud groan escaped the human’s lips before the tiercel’s arms encircled Marco’s sides, overpowered him, and threw him off his feet. 

It wasn’t the first time Fortrakt had done that today. However, Gilda noted, it was the first time that Marco hadn’t rolled away. The tiercel seemed to have noticed that, and seizing his advantage, jumped up towards the downed human, hoping to pin him down. 

Marco’s only response was to raise his legs, catching Fortrakt’s left foreleg and head between them as the griffin landed. He then smiled as his arms snaked around the trapped foreleg. Gilda suddenly sat straighter, recognizing that Kimura lock maneuver. And judging by the way the tiercel’s eyes widened, he hadn’t forgotten that either. 

Fortrakt began to peck on Marco’s stomach with his beak, earning a pained growl from the human. That saved the tiercel and gave him enough time to move his foreleg out of reach as he began to try and jerk himself free. 

In response, Marco’s fists shot out towards Fortrakt’s head repeatedly, earning a wince from the griffin. In an amazing show of flexibility, Marco used that distraction to hook his right leg under Fortrakt’s neck, grabbing his head with both his hands, forcing him downwards. 

The response was immediate. Fortrakt’s eyes widened, his beak opened and he was gasping for air. His claw began to tap on the ground immediately, and Marco let go of his hold. Both of them rolled away, taking deep breaths as they laid on the ground. 

“You both okay?” Gilda asked, approaching. 

Fortrakt responded first, after a minute or so. “Fine. I didn’t… expect that.” He looked at Marco, who seemingly thought the ground the best bed he’d ever laid on. Looking back at Gilda, he asked, finally regaining his breath, “Are you sure you didn’t teach him anything? Didn’t tell him how I fought?” 

“Nope,” she replied truthfully. “He just continued his morning runs and practised some moves in the past few days.”

“No one improves that fast,” Fortrakt muttered. 

“Please,” Marco finally responded, though still out of breath. “I just… beat your… candy ass. Whiner.” 

“You only beat him twice in five rounds,” Gilda corrected. “So, Fortrakt still wins.” 

“For now,” Marco said. “I can still go on.” 

“Please,” Fortrakt responded, “even my grandmother would run circles around you now.” 

“Right,” Marco bit back, “and mine would do the same. Except she’s dead.” 

Gilda and Fortrakt stared at him for a moment. Marco raised his hands in defeat. 

“Okay, not my best comeback, but still.” 

Fotrakt only chuckled. “Okay, another bout then?” 

“Yeah, just… give me a few,” Marco responded. 

Gilda caught sight of a shadow, and scanned the sky. It took her a moment to realize that a griffin was approaching. It took her a second later to recognize him—Giraldi. That could only mean one thing. 

“Sorry, Marco,” she said, almost absently. “Time’s up. Maybe next time.” 

“What are you—oh,” Fotrakt said, seeing the Spear Centurion approach. “You think this is it?” 

“Ancestors, I hope so,” Gilda replied. 

Marco was already sitting up and looked rather curious, while Fortrakt did some basic self-grooming to look at least presentable when Giraldi landed. Like a staunch professional, the latter immediately saluted, baring his neck as soon was he was able to. 

“Sir.” 

“Any news, Centurion?” Gilda asked. 

“The best, sir,” Giraldi replied with a small smile, handing a rolled parchment to her. “It took a few days, but we found a place. Scouts have found a small Cloven outpost. It’s not a cluster, but it’s still a strategic location.” 

The eagless unrolled the paper and studied the map area. She compared the relative distance between the outpost and the nearest cluster, and quickly calculated the time reinforcements would arrive once they initialized the attack. It was perfect. 

“Time to give Corporal Imlay the good news,” she declared, rolling the document and hiding it a pocket of her armor. “I need to set up a meeting with him in the usual place. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

Giraldi saluted again. “I’ll give the word, sir.” With that, he flew away. 

“You know,” Fortrakt began, “I sometimes wonder if I should thank you, or hate you.” 

One of Gilda’s eyes widened. “Why’s that?” 

“I’m part of the Auxiliaris,” he replied. “I’m just supposed to be a support, mostly just guard the city. But since I partnered with you, who decided to put herself on the frontlines, that little dream seems to be fading and fading.” 

Gilda laughed. “I’m sure that the accumulated stories of Fortrakt the Fearless would entertain the many, and bless his family for generations.” 

The tiercel seemed to stand a little straighter at that, but then laughed as well. “If I live that long,” he said. “Fortrakt the Fearless, eh?” 

“While it has a certain ring to it,” Marco joined in, finally recovered, “I think Fortrakt the One Who Fell to a Brown Ape would be more accurate.” 

Fortrakt’s fist shot out fast, but Marco was ready, dodging it as he laughed. The tiercel rolled his eyes. “I am sure you need a little embellishment to numb those stings of defeats you usually suffer,” he replied loftily. 

“But of course, Fearless,” Marco replied with a mock flourish, even barely baring his neck with deliberate slowness. “I am but a lowly human who choked you out just earlier.” 

“If you two are done flirting,” Gilda interjected, which earned an irate glare from both of them, “we have work to do.” 

“Most of us, at least,” Fortrakt added. And with a sly smile, his fist shot out again, this time hitting its mark. Marco groaned as he held his side, smiling slightly as he wagged a finger at Fortrakt. “I’ll be ready,” the tiercel continued, spreading his wings before launching himself in the air. 

“Yeah, you better run!” Marco threatened, smile never leaving his face. 

Gilda shook her head, chuckling at the display. Looking at the human, she gave him a nod. “That was a much better showing than Arnau.” 

Marco scratched the back of his head, shuffling slightly. “Thanks. Having good motivation does wonders.” 

Gilda blinked, remembering their last conversation. She laughed. “Why you sly little human,” she said. 

Marco blinked at her, confused. “Huh?” 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me,” the eagless replied. “Trying to be good enough for a Round, eh? Who’s your prospective griffin?” 

His lips parted just a few seconds before they closed. Then it formed to a mischievous smile. “Why, you are, Gilda,” he replied, poking her side sharply enough to make her almost yelp. Gilda’s wings automatically went high and slapped him gently in the face, but that didn’t stop him from laughing. “Am I good enough for that Round, yet?” 

“In a thousand years, maybe,” Gilda replied, shaking her head. “If you work at it long enough, you might have a chance.” 

Marco mock saluted her. “Yes ma’am.” 

He moved away, grabbing the towel and bottle of water he brought with him. Gilda, in some fascination, watched as he wiped the sweat off his face, and began to take a long drink. 

“Okay, so what is your motivation?” Gilda asked. 

“If I slacked off, and Robbie found out, what do you think will happen?” 

The eagless blinked. “That is good motivation.” 

“The very best,” Marco replied. He then gave her an inquiring look. “Aren’t you going to be late for that meeting?” 

“Not really,” she replied. “Are you going back to the inn?” 

Marco nodded, placing the towel in one of his shoulders. “Yeah. I have to take a bath too.” He took another drink. “Busy later,” he finished before joining at her side. The two began to walk back towards the garrison. 

“You’re busy?” Gilda asked. 

“Yeah. Arnulf, Tertia, and Leonitus wanted to play with the tall ape today.” When Gilda blinked at the names, Marco explained, “The three cubs we picked up? Yeah. Them. Did you know Tertia has a good grasp of English even if she doesn’t speak it? I thought I was going to be stuck using sign language.”

The eagless rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sign language. Like that rude gesture you taught them. Are you planning to teach them anymore?” 

“Not yet,” he replied with wide eyes. “But now that you’ve suggested it, I should teach them to twerk.” 

Gilda blinked. “What’s a twerk?” 

“It’s the act of bending your back slightly to expose a larger curvature of your rear, then shaking it like there’s no tomorrow.” 

“You humans are weird.” 

“Part of our charm, Gilda,” Marco replied, winking at her before laughing. “Nah, no rude gestures or anything. They don’t want to say it, but I think they just want to try and pin me down and tickle me to death once more.” 

“It is a guaranteed winning move,” Gilda agreed. “Odd that Fortrakt still hasn’t caught on.” 

“He knows not to do so because I would have threatened him with my shovel.” 

That got Gilda laughing. Giving him a smile, she watched Marco take another sip before she realized something. “Hold on. We spoke in Aeric. How did you know I have a meeting, or the title I gave Fortrakt?” She took a moment to think about it, and found something else odd. “The cubs don’t speak Equestrian as well. How did you know their names? And how did you know that they wanted to play?” 

Marco smiled, and leaned a bit forward, showing her his left ear. She didn’t notice it earlier, but now she could see a small gemstone studded in the soft flesh hanging underneath. 

“Translation gem?” Gilda asked. 

“Yup,” Marco replied, smiling widely. “Nydia said it was something basic and didn’t cost much energy to make, so I thought, why not?”

“Nydia?” the eagless asked. 

“Yup. The Marines were consulting her. Something to do with the comms, and when she was free, I asked her for any suggestions. She gave me this gem. It’s not perfect though. You guys sound like Yoda when you speak your language.” 

“Yoda?” 

“Star Wars reference,” Marco replied. “We’ll add that to a list of movies for you to watch. Anyway, what I mean is that it just sounds odd to me.” 

Gilda nodded. “That’s normal. That’s a reason why no one but tourists use those. So, you humans pierce your ears too?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Nydia did a good job too. Sometimes I am jealous that you guys have claws.” 

She blinked. “Wait, she pierced your ear? And then gave you the gem?” she asked, feeling slightly annoyed. 

“Yeah. Uh, why?”

Gilda exhaled slowly before waving him off. “It’s nothing.” 

Marco didn’t seemed convinced. “She didn’t really hurt me,” he defended, which just annoyed her more. 

“It’s not that,” she sighed. “Look, forget it.” 

“If you say so,” he said. “She was a little skittish about it. And I had to tell her to pierce my left ear because she went for the right one first.” He then laughed, as if he just finished telling a joke.

“Uh, why? What’s wrong in putting it in the right?” the eagless asked. 

“It’s a… human thing. You know what, nevermind.” 

Gilda shrugged. “So, other than using a Magus Knight for a translation spell, you’re also taking baths, drinking water—I’m so glad that our upcoming war hasn’t limited your use of our water supplies.” 

Marco grinned. “I’m a Filipino, Gilda. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s at conserving resources,” he replied. 

“With bathing?” 

“Depends on how you do it.” Marco looked at her. “How do you bathe? And I do mean that in the most platonic, friendliest, and most non-perverted way,” he added quickly when Gilda raised her wing. She smiled at that. 

“We fill a tub with water, maybe add some soap, dip in, shake, and get out,” she replied. 

“Ah, okay. Me, I get a small bucket and a towel. I moisten the towel, rub myself with it, soap if I want to, and I’m done.” 

Gilda contemplated on that for a moment before nodding. She could see how Marco could do that. “Must be nice to have a flexible body. Like that last move you used on Fortrakt. We griffins are not that pliant. ” 

“I actually thought I wasn’t going to be able to do it,” he admitted. “I felt a slight sprain on my ass—sorry, rear, when I got my leg under him. If things had gone bad, you’d see me walking a little funny.”

Gilda chuckled at the image. “But you were able to do it,” she said. “That’s the important thing. I can just imagine the great potential griffins would have if they were flexible as humans.” 

“I’m guessing you won’t be as strong as you are now ,” Marco said. “More flexibility actually can limit pure strength.” 

She blinked. Was that true? Still, she shook her head. “Maybe it’ll be a fair trade to be able to bathe with just a small bucket and a towel. Ancestors know we griffins need to bathe more without consuming more resources.” 

Marco smiled mischievously. He made a show of sniffing loudly. “Huh. So that’s what I’m smelling. Joking! Joking!” he exclaimed as he dodged Gilda’s charge. He laughed when she missed, which turned louder when the eagless extended her longest digit upward. “Nice,” he finished, smile wide. 

Gilda shook her head, still feeling the temptation of pinning him down the ground for that bath joke when she saw the inn a few paces away. That reminded her of her two other charges. “How’s Chris and Tara?” she asked. 

“Tara’s being her normal self,” Marco replied. “Chris, though, is in much higher spirits.” 

“Really?” 

“Yup,” he said, shortly. 

“You sound annoyed,” Gilda said. 

“Yeah, well, Chris can be the most demanding guy,” Marco muttered. “He’s actually telling me to get soil and plant samples. Honestly, I think he just doesn’t like the idea that I’m goofing off with kids, or just hoping no one accuses me of being a pedophile. I didn’t want to tell him that the Marines are already having a go at that, so he’s late to the party.” 

“Hey, Pedo Rico!” one of the Marines at the entrance of the inn greeted. 

“See what I mean?” Marco replied. 

Gilda chuckled, and nodded at the Marine before turning back to Marco. “Don’t go out of the town gates for your samples, Pedo Rico” she said. 

“Oh shut it,” he replied with a small smile. After a moment, that disappeared. “Also, you don't have to worry about me. I'm not going to be stupid. Promise.” 

Gilda watched as Marco went up the flight of stairs, and only moved after he disappeared from view. Shaking her head, she walked to the left, towards the conference room. 

She had no idea what the inn’s name was, nor was she interested. The past few days had kept her relatively busy with more meetings with the First Spear and the temporarily-assigned officers as they planned their defenses. She was acutely aware of the enemy movement so far, and thankfully, her fears of waking up the next day to a sea of Cloven hadn’t happened yet. 

She turned to the right, the corridor leading towards a wide door with two more Marines guarding it. They gave her a nod, and she entered the doorway to the conference room, which was transformed into something she would normally see in a barracks. 

The tables were moved to the side, and she saw a few Marines in less elaborate uniforms. In fact, they wore shirts like Marco usually wore, except in solid olive green color. They were working on their weapons which, to her surprise, were dismantled into smaller parts. The Marines looked a bit greasy, but showed no outward signs of emotion as they began to reassemble them in a series of clicks. 

Fortrakt would have loved to see that, Gilda thought before looking at another area. There were stacks of metallic boxes in a corner, and two Marines studying them. One of them was Imlay. Approaching them, she waited until their discussion was over before she called the Corporal’s attention. 

“Ma’am,” Imlay replied. 

“I’m assuming Giraldi sent word?” 

“Yes ma’am. We’re preparing as we speak.” 

Gilda nodded. “Was there any trouble with the ponies?” 

“No trouble, really,” he said. “They were motivated, and the men got along with them. We taught them the commands we usually use, and so far they’ve responded well. I am actually more worried about how they will act under pressure, but we’re ready for that.” 

“And how did the modifications work?” she asked. 

“They work perfectly.” 

Imlay led Gilda to the back of the inn, which had quite an open space. In fact, Gilda wondered why Marco insisted that they train a little further off when there was a perfectly usable training area just a few paces away, only to file that thought away when she saw how full it was. There were a few Marines sparring in one corner, and another group chatting with Nydia. Seeing her, Gilda felt her annoyance return. Turning to another direction, she spotted a few more Marines taking it easy under a few trees. She even saw one with his back turned, sitting on a large stone a little ways away, facing the wall, and doing something with his hands. 

Imlay approached the Marines with Nydia. “Anderson,” he called, “any solution to unfuck our comms once magical shit flies everywhere?” 

“Actually, yeah, Corporal,” Anderson replied, smiling. He offered his palm, and showed them a small gem. “All we need is some fucking bling.” 

Gilda looked at Nydia. She half-wondered where was she getting those gemstones. “Are those—?” 

Nydia nodded. “Training gems.” 

“How do they work?” Imlay asked. 

“They isolate any outside magical energy around a small area,” Nydia explained. “While it won’t work if magic is directly aimed at the gem-holder, it should be enough to stop any stray magical energy from interfering with the, uh…” 

“Radios, or comms,” Anderson helpfully inputted. 

Nydia just nodded, smiling slightly.

“Great,” Imlay said. “We’re going to need a few of those. Are they expensive to make?” 

The mage griffin shook her head. “They are actually pretty cheap and easy to create. I’ve already have four ready. The rest will be done shortly.” 

Gilda smiled. “Good job, Magus Knight.” 

Her smile went even bigger. “Thank you, sir.” 

Imlay looked to his left, and Gilda spotted more Marines entering the area. She recognized them as the ones who were working on their weapons. The Corporal, in an interesting move, placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a very loud trill that got the attention of every Marine. Those that were sparring stopped; the ones that were resting went  up immediately; and the one that had his back turned seemed to curse, stood up, and lifted his pants. 

“My first combat-jack,” the Marine muttered when he approached. 

“Told ya should have been faster, Lenihan,” Anderson said, smiling slightly. 

“Alright, gentlemen,” Imlay began. “I’m not much of a speech-giver, so let me give it to you straight. We have some good news and some bad news. Bad news, vacation’s over. The good news? You get to kill bad guys.” 

All of them grinned. 

“We got a target, Corporal?” 

“Yes we do,” Imlay replied, nodding towards Gilda. Understanding, she grabbed and unrolled the parchment she had, and let the Marines around her look at the map. 

“We’re going to assault this outpost a few leagues west of the nearest Cluster. Judging from the distance, we’ll have an hour, maybe less, before any reinforcements come at us.” 

“What are we expecting in the outpost?” Imlay asked. 

“Scouts reported thirty, maybe forty Cloven. There could be more, though, considering they have spotted a few birthing pods. Minimum flyers, though there might be a few Corrupted mages.” 

“Oh yeah,” one of the Marines—Guerrero, if she recalled correctly—declared. “Leave it to the Griffies to give fourteen Marines that many kills.” 

“Thirteen,” Imlay corrected. “Dunbar’s still recovering from the crash. And I’m still thinking of leaving one or two here for the civilians.” 

There was a murmur amongst them, before they nodded. 

“So, what’s our objective?” 

“Every Cloven outpost or cluster has this sort of creeping sludge around it,” Gilda replied. “It takes nutrients from the soil and plants around it, which in turn the Cloven use to feed. It also acts as a sentry that alerts them if anything steps on it.” 

“Fucking Zerg, I tell you,” one of the Marines whispered. 

“There’s some sort of structure that produces it,” she continued. She paused for a moment. “According to our history, it looks like some sort of large bulbous heart.” 

The Marines looked at her oddly. “Heart?” one asked.

He wasn’t the only one. Even the usually calm Imlay had an incredulous look in his face. Gilda could only shrug, not knowing how else to explain it. 

“Well, fuck, at least that’s easy to spot, yeah?” Anderson said. 

“The tactics the griffins used were to form a fast pushing shieldwall to get a Magus Knight close enough to use a spell on it,” the eagless continued. 

“So,” Guerrero muttered, “basically, fight forty or more griffy clones, clear the way for The Nyds to bring down the motherfucking thunder?” 

“The Nyds?” Gilda asked. 

“Um, that’s what they call me, sir,” Nydia replied, almost shyly. That made one of Gilda’s eyes widen in surprise. 

Imlay was deep in thought. “Let’s say we do bring it down, how long will it take for the Cloven to build another up?” 

“Maybe a few days, that is, if they rebuild it,” Gilda replied. When given a questioning gaze, she shrugged again. “Apparently, they sometimes don’t rebuild their outposts or clusters in the same area.” 

“Sounds like a good plan,” Anderson said. “Deny the enemy, fuck their shit up.” 

“Hopefully, they won’t fuck ours first,” Lenihan replied. “Forty to sixty against thirteen of us plus a few griffins? Those are long odds.” 

“Get used to it, Lenihan,” Imlay gently rebuked. “Odds will always be against us, especially when fighting an enemy that can apparently build an army in a matter of weeks. However, we’re Marines; we make do.” He looked at the rest of them, and spoke with a deeper, harder tone. “Be prepared to come heavy. We’ll have griffin support, but I want us to do the heavy lifting. This here”—he pointed towards the outpost—“is a test. The griffins in this garrison don’t expect much of us. They think that we Marines are a bunch of braggarts, and in their infinite wisdom, believe that this is all we can handle. We will prove them wrong.” 

“Fuck yeah!” Guerrero declared. 

“Let’s go win them the war, gentlemen,” Imlay finished. “We’re Oscar Mike in two hours.” 

Cheers broke out, and the the rest of them began to fan out. Gilda looked at the Corporal for a moment, a small smile making its way to her face. Imlay looked at her for a moment, and asked, “What?” 

“‘I’m not much of a speech-giver’?” 

“I never said I wasn’t good at it,” the Corporal replied. 

She rolled her eyes. “As you say, Corporal.” 

He laughed. “I’m going to check on the wagons. Would you like to see them?” 

Gilda wanted to say yes immediately. She had been hearing about the modifications done on the pony wagons, especially from the First Spear who found it annoying that she reassigned some blacksmiths to help the Marines with the metalwork. Even then, she hadn’t really seen them yet. Giraldi also seemed to be devoid of any words when trying to explain what was being done. However, seeing Nydia, she looked at Imlay and said, “Give me a few minutes.” 

The Corporal nodded, and she went straight to Nydia, who was still talking to Anderson. Waiting for them to finish their conversation, she swiftly approached to the mage’s side. 

“You have been busy,” she said in a neutral tone. 

Nydia almost jumped, turned to her and saluted. “Sir. Uh, yes, sir?” 

“Can we talk in private, Knight?” 

The mage griffin slowly nodded, a little apprehensive. They walked a bit towards the wall, away from the Marines, before Gilda looked at her. 

“While I am impressed that you’re taking initiative to help our allies, what is this I’ve been hearing you Marking a human under my care?” 

Nydia’s eyes practically popped out of her head. “Mar—sir, it’s not like that!” 

“So, you did not use your claw to puncture Marco and give him something for him to display?” 

The mage blushed deep red. She mumbled something Gilda didn’t quite catch. 

“What was that?” 

“He insisted, sir,” Nydia replied. “And he wouldn’t take it that way, would he?” 

Gilda’s expression softened. “No, maybe not. But that won’t mean the other griffins wouldn’t read it that way. Next time, if he’s about to ask something awkward, don’t be afraid to tell him. He touched the base of my wings once.” 

The mage stared. 

“Yeah,” Gilda continued. “I attacked him. Making him a little less ignorant is not only convenient for us, but also a good way to ensure his safety.” 

“Yes, sir. And… uh, sorry sir. I didn’t mean to, uh, intrude.” 

One of Gilda’s eyes widened. “Intrude?” 

“Nothing, sir!” She saluted, before suddenly dashing away. 

Gilda watched the mage, a little confused by what she said before shaking her head. 

“What was that about?” 

The eagless turned to her right, seeing Imlay watching her with a curious expression. She waved him off. 

“It’s nothing.” 

Imlay kept his face neutral as he replied, “Right, ma’am.” 

Gilda wondered what was it about humans and not believing her. Straightening up slightly, she asked, “So, Corporal, about those wagons?” 

He smiled. “Shall we, ma’am?”

“Sure, let’s go.” 

Surprisingly, the wagons were nearby, though a little out of the way from view. Just outside the building, turning right to a narrow pathway between the inn and the building next to it, Imlay and two other Marines led the way until they came up to a clearing, where she saw them: two wooden wagons standing in a middle of a clutter of cut metal. 

“Wow,” was all she said. 

The wooden pony wagons were usually enclosed, but the roof was removed, and the sides were reinforced metal plates. The wheels were also reinforced and, while normally attached directly underneath the body, were connected to what looked like some sort of bent metal that raised the body slightly higher. The front of the wagons had a metallic structure which looked like an emplacement of some kind, along with a curved metal shield. Underneath that was a small dip, like a bucket. 

All in all, the wagon a griffin would normally find carrying harvests looked ready to fight a war. 

“First Recon had to work with Humvees,” one of the Marines beside her declared. “We pimped out fucking wooden wagons.” 

“Not bad for three days of work and planning,” Imlay agreed. 

Gilda walked around the wagon, inspecting every angle. Her gaze went to the emplacement. “What are you putting there?” 

“We’re mounting our fifty cal on that,” Imlay replied. 

The eagless blinked, remembering the gun that devastated the heavily-armored Cloven. “You have two of them?” 

Imlay grinned. “I wish. No, the second was to ensure that even if we lose a wagon, it won’t take days to build another mount. All we have to do is transfer the fifty cal from one wagon to another.”

“Wish we had a proper ring-mount, though,” the other Marine muttered. 

Imlay was unperturbed. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. We’ll just have to improvise.” 

“What’s a ring mount?” Gilda asked. 

“It’s something that allows the gunner and the fifty cal to turn around in a complete circle,” Imlay explained. “It allows them to cover multiple direction.” 

“When can you build one?” 

“I don’t know if we can,” the Corporal replied. “We’re kinda stuck using oversimplified designs to do basic jobs. Even getting the mount to move at small angles proved to be almost impossible, and we’re not really engineers. But, like I said, we’ll make do.” 

Gilda nodded, then looked back at the wagons. “And what are these?” she asked, pointing at the wheels. 

“Leaf springs,” the other Marine replied. When Gilda still looked confused, he continued, “They allow the wheels to bounce up and down when they hit something. So instead of damaging the wagon, it’ll just take the bump, and flex back when it’s back on more even ground. With the metal reinforcements around it, this baby can go off-road to a limit.” 

Gilda looked at the wheel in awe. “That’s… genius!” And it really was. One of her fears was getting to each target location slowly because the wagons would have to strictly follow a fixed pathway. Any strong bump could shatter the wooden frame and that would strand the Marines. She didn’t want to think if that happened while they were being chased. However, if the modifications and this leaf spring could allow them to take shorter routes, then they could definitely be more flexible on where to strike. 

Any doubts she had on Imlay’s plan faded. Impossibly fast strikes against the enemy was proving to be more viable than she thought. A little hope surged into her as she realized that they wouldn’t just be waiting for the enemy to march on their footsteps. They could take the fight to them. 

 The Cloven wouldn’t know what hit them. 
> Chapter 13
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been just after lunch when they finally moved out, something that annoyed the crows out of Gilda, especially when the delays were on the Gryphon side. It was pretty embarrassing to see the human Marines already standing ready with their modified wagons, while their griffin counterparts seemed to scramble around trying to finalize the assigned soldiers for the scouting expedition. 

Expedition, Gilda thought. Even flying a few leagues out, she still couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed by how most of the griffins in Aricia felt this was more to give the humans something to do. For me to do something as well, she added. 

She couldn’t feel too bitter on the last thought, though. She was an inexperienced officer, thrust probably too soon to a command position almost akin to captaincy. If Fillius had his way, he would have put her behind the walls of Aricia. It wouldn’t do well for morale if the only officer that led the defense died on them. 

That thought made Gilda smile. Maybe it was better that the griffins in Aricia thought this was a simple expedition. Plus, it would be priceless to see Fillius’ face when we successfully started an offensive against the Cloven.

Of course, it would have been even better if she was assigned all the griffins that she came with, those that were familiar with how the Marines fought. Unfortunately, a lot of those that came from Arnau had to be rotated to guard duty, to familiarize to Aricia’s walls and its defense teams. Giraldi had cautioned her in rocking the boat too early, and advised that showing unity with the First Spear would boost morale better than objecting to the reassignment. 

So, she agreed. She could tell herself she did the right thing in the long run. Maybe she could show these griffins from Aricia how the Marines could help them turn the tide on the defenses. She nodded to herself, feeling a little better about the situation when she heard a mutter behind her. “How much longer will we have to fly? We should have been there by now.” 

Gilda rolled her eyes. Of course, the scenario going through her head didn’t have Bricius. Almost all of the Aricia griffins assigned to her had been courteously professional, with that tiercel being the most vocal exception. She was sure there were a few grumblings and mutterings, but Bricius’ moaning was by far the loudest. 

Giraldi heard it too apparently, because he looked back and shouted, “Quiet in the ranks!” 

Gilda glanced at her centurion. His facial expression showed that he was most likely more annoyed than she was, and as bad as she felt about it, there was a small lingering sense of satisfaction of not being alone in dealing with the overbearing tiercel. As an officer, she still had that separation from the soldiers. It was not her job to discipline them, but the centurions’. 

Well, unless they did something immensely stupid in front of her, which she was waiting for.

“Sir,” Giraldi called, taking her out of her train of thought. Looking at him fully, he motioned towards his left, and Gilda spotted a few griffins flying towards them. Near crossbow range, they squawked the proper signal, letting her know the scouts they sent ahead were back. 

“Signal the wagons,” Gilda ordered. “We’ll stop to meet with the scouts, see what they have for us.” 

“Aye,” Giraldi replied, and squawked loudly. Two griffins immediately flanked his sides, and the centurion began barking orders. One of their fastest Wind Knights flew to meet the approaching party. 

Gilda stole a look at the approaching scouts, looking for Fortrakt. When she spotted him riding in the middle, following a senior griffin’s lead, she breathed a little easier. Scouting trips were generally safe, but a bad encounter with the enemy could change all that. 

 Moving with practised ease, the two groups of griffins began to converge on wagons below, which had now stopped in a small clearing surrounded by odd patches of trees and tall grass. A marine in each vehicle were on the look-out, judging by the sleek binoculars they were using. Oddly enough, she hadn’t spotted any of the glare those tools were notorious at producing, especially in such sunny conditions. That piqued her curiosity. 

Gilda’s group arrived first. When her claws touched the grassy ground, she followed her practise of looking around. Others didn’t, most especially the few Fortus Knights that relished the feel of the earth. She couldn’t blame them, as they had been flying non-stop since they left Aricia. That was akin to her not flying for days. 

The air smelled of crisp grass, with a weak wind flowing from the east. With no whiff of death or decay, the absence of crows didn't bother her. It was good sign. That meant that there were no Cloven around to spy on them, pretending to be dead or otherwise. 

She saw Corporal Imlay talking to Pathfinder, the mare leader of the wagon drivers. As she approached, Pathfinder pointed in her general direction, and Imlay stole a glance. Giving the mare a nod, the Corporal walked towards her, followed by two other Marines flanking his sides. Giraldi and another griffin immediately went to hers, while the rest seemed to tense a little, but stood steady. 

“How was the ride, Corporal?” Gilda asked in Aeric. 

Imlay blinked a bit, but nodded with understanding. “A little more uncomfortable than we’re used to,” Imlay replied easily, with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “Better than walking, though.” 

“No doubt,” a marine on his left muttered. “My ass still hurts though.” 

A faint smile appeared on Imlay’s face before he looked at Gilda. “Guess Marco was right. You guys do sound like Yoda with the Translation gems.” 

Gilda nodded. It was probably one of her better ideas, considering that only a few griffins could speak or understand Equestrian. Unfortunately, with the time limit they had, Nydia could only prepare just enough for the Marines.

Imlay looked towards the sky, with Gilda following the gaze, just in time to watch the scouting party land with a whoosh of air. Giraldi automatically moved towards the lead, who saluted on his approach. 

“Report!” the Centurion barked. 

“Sir! We’ve confirmed the location of our target. It’s a little over five leagues northwest from our current location.”

“I’d say good job if it wasn’t for the fact that you took your time,” Giraldi replied steadily. 

“Apologies for that, Centurion,” the lead scout declared. “It was my call. We found a good area to scout and map the surroundings, and counted how many troops they had in position as well.”

Gilda blinked. That was a piece of good news. Imlay also seemed to realize the importance of the intelligence as well because he looked towards the two Marines, and said, “Tell the fireteams to set an overwatch.” 

“Giraldi,” Gilda called, and the centurion nodded. 

“Aye, we’ll set up a temporary camp.” 

Gilda felt a bit of amusement when she saw Giraldi ordering griffins to start setting up a rest-area around the wagons. While age and experience definitely helped him, she couldn’t help but remember that he wasn’t even the most experienced centurion in Arnau, and led mostly Auxiliary units. Now, he had to contend with Knights and soldiers of Aricia, and he was fitting quite well. 

It took quite a while before everything was ready, and in that time, Gilda realized she missed doing hard work. Any time she tried to even lift anything, another griffin took over, with a respectful ‘Let me do that, sir’ for her trouble. In the end, she coordinated with Giraldi to ensure every griffin was doing something. 

The center of the camp was cleared, while the perimeter was watched over by patrolling griffins and Marines. The ground was cleared of any grass, and the soil was softened enough to allow the scouting leader to draw a crude model of the cloven outpost. 

“The intelligence of the outpost was mostly correct.” 

“What do you mean?” Gilda asked

“The perimeter has been prepared for assault. We counted at least fifty troopers, backed by ten Spikers arranged around the perimeter.” 

There was a slight murmur amongst the griffins, though Imlay looked slightly confused. “I’m sorry, it could be a translation mistake, but did you guys just say Spikers?” he asked. 

Gilda nodded, and said in Equestrian, “History described them as bulky, slow-moving cloven with huge spiked tails. They were used to counter King Fortis’ shield-wall formation, using their tails to stab shield-holders from above, but were too slow for offensive marches.” 

“Dangerous, but can be worked around,” Giraldi added. “Besides, we won’t be depending on a shield-wall.” 

“Maybe,” the scout leader continued. “We have confirmed Corrupted mages present. However, their numbers are a bit more than we anticipated.”

“How many?” the centurion asked. 

“At least one per ten troopers.”

That got a louder reception, and Gilda couldn’t blame them. Even after almost a thousand years, mages were still considered the best counter for aerial attacks. Even the newer Kingdom defenses—like the the lightning orb—still depended on mages to activate it. 

Imlay and his fellow marine looked thoughtful as well. Considering the one corrupted mage they had fought was formidable until they used an explosive weapon, and the show of action of the Arician mages back in the steadholt was quite something to behold. After few moments, the corporal spoke up. 

“How about their flyers?” 

The senior scout looked at him, before turning to Giraldi. When the Centurion translated the statement to Aeric, the scout replied, “Surprisingly, none at all. Either they have left, or our initial assessment of their presence was wrong.” 

“Odd,” Giraldi muttered. “Maybe they are using the Flyers on the offensive to Aricia?”

“It doesn’t matter. With defenses like that, they won’t need it,” Bricius muttered, and for once, Gilda agreed. Spikers, backed by troopers with mage support was quite a solid defense. 

So, when Imlay said, “The corrupted mages won’t be a problem,” almost everyone who understood Equestrian was staring at him like he grew a second head. They turned to the second marine when he nodded in agreement. 

“What do you mean?” Giraldi asked. 

“I can take down the mages,” Imlay replied. 

It came out so easily and casually that Gilda couldn’t help but ask, “How? As powerful as your guns are, the last corrupted mage defended well against them.” 

“True, but mostly because it was aware of us,” Imlay countered. “Giraldi explained to me that corrupted mages are basically still griffin mages, but controlled by the cloven, is that correct?” Gilda wanted to add that they seemingly feel no pain, but she nodded. Imlay continued, “A lot of magic you griffins use seems similar to unicorns. You need a focus, like your staff or a unicorn horn, and time and concentration to cast a spell.” 

One of Gilda’s eyes widened. Nydia unconsciously nodded, while gripping her focus staff a little harder. Giraldi looked impressed. “You’ve been studying magic?” he asked. 

“Our government did,” Imlay replied. “More of observation on it’s practical aspects than the theories, which I believe was enough to combat against it.” 

“Combat against—? Wait, aren’t we just the scouting expedition?” Bricius asked. Other griffins nodded silently, agreeing with him. That seemed to spur Bricius on because he looked at Gilda and added, “Sir, we’re less than half a century. And most of us are sky-griffins.” 

“I am aware of that,” Gilda replied, so deceptively calm that it surprised her. Looking at Giraldi, she asked, “With our current numbers, what’s your thoughts on attacking this outpost?” 

Giraldi looked at the two Marines for a moment before shrugging. “First, that depends on how we attack; and second, it depends on neutralizing the corrupted mages.” 

“We can take them down, no problem,” Imlay replied firmly. 

“This is insane,” Bricius declared, the volume in his voice growing steadily louder. “You’re going to lead us all to the crows!” 

Once more, Gilda’s own calmness surprised her as she looked at Bricius steadily. Her annoyance at him was gone, replaced with a mix of pity and disappointment. Giraldi looked properly incensed, though, especially when the more griffins began to murmur with agreement. He was most likely about to order Bricius to shut it when Imlay beat him to it. 

“Who knew there were cowardly griffins.” 

The griffins that understood Equestrian stiffened at those words. Bricius included. Their gaze snapped to Imlay, who was staring at tiercel neutrally. 

“Wha-you!” he sputtered, his claw gripping the loose soil, feathers ruffling in anger. “How dare you—!” 

“Bricius, shut that crow-damned beak of yours before I break it!” Giraldi snarled. “Embarass us again, and I’ll make sure to brand you as a useless coward!” 

That got to Bricius. From outraged, he seemed to physically shrink at Giraldi’s anger, something Gilda thought was quite impressive. The other griffins fell in line as well, those beside Bricius moving subtly away. Satisfied, the centurion looked at Imlay and asked, “How do you plan to do that?” 

The corporal crouched down, and began to draw on the map. “I can shoot the mages from far away, kill them before they can prepare any sort of defensive spell. How big of a shield would they be able to cast?”

Gilda looked at Nydia, their only mage present in the party, who nodded and stepped forward. “Nothing big as unicorns that specialize in shield spells can,” she replied. “Our standard shield can cover one or two individuals, three if they are very close.” 

“Even better,” Imlay said with a nod. “Let’s say I can take out two mages before they catch on and put up a shield. That’s when we can use the wagon and a few Marines to shoot up those not covered with the spell.” 

“That will leave you open for any magical counter-attack,” Gilda countered. 

“Yes, and that would mean they wouldn’t be shielded anymore,” Imlay said. 

Gilda was impressed. When Imlay said they had studied magic enough to combat it, he wasn’t kidding. While almost common knowledge that not even the more magically flexible unicorns could cast two spells simultaneously, the fact that the humans got that from mere observation in that short amount of time was telling. 

“We can also prop up the fifty-cal for extra firepower,” Imlay added, “add some grenades as well, and we’ll get some toasty bug salad. We can pour in the lead, then move to another position where they are vulnerable.” 

While most of the griffins looked lost, those that saw the humans in action nodded. 

“If we do enough damage to the mages and Spikers,” Giraldi began, “we can punch through their defenses, open up a path to get to the Heart.” He looked for a moment, and began to draw on the ground. “We can converge in three groups. The wagon, their support, and the main battle group that would allow the wagons to reposition themselves.” 

Gilda looked through the plan. It was a solid attack, even without a shield wall present. “We’ll have to pick a spot very near the heart. We can’t maintain such pressure for long.” She looked at Imlay, about to ask his thoughts when she saw him and his companion looking at each other. Imlay seemed to be frowning, while the other looked somewhat… disappointed. “Is there something wrong, Corporal?” 

He looked at her for a moment, a little confused. “Why are we posturing?” he asked. 

Gilda blinked. “Posturing? What do you mean?” 

Imlay looked at her for a moment, pondering over his next words. After a few seconds, he replied, “Where I come from, when two people—males, mostly—have a little confrontation, they posture; both stand in front of each other, looking menacingly and shoving each other to get the other to back down.” 

“And?” Giraldi asked. 

“Well, when coming up with battle plans, we don’t posture. We act like predators.” 

“How’s that?” Gilda wondered, trying to find out where this was going. 

“Well, in my example,” Imlay replied, “the predator would smile at his antagonist, wait for him to turn around, then hit him hard on the back of the head with a chair.” 

One of Gilda’s eyes widened. “A little dishonorable, don’t you think?” 

“When it comes to life and death situations, an interpretable notion like honor isn’t really in our best interest,” the Corporal answered easily. “I’d rather get the job done and bring my Marines back home alive.” 

“Goddamn right,” the other marine muttered. 

Giraldi seemed to snort. “Understandable. The question still remains, though: how are we going to do that, act like predators in this case?”

Imlay laid out his plan on the ground, much to the interest of the rest of the griffin soldiers, and in the end, a bit of horror. What he proposed was nowhere near any of the codex of how griffins waged war. There were more than a few disbelieving looks on the griffin’s faces in the end, with Gilda wondering if they were thinking that this human in front of them was either a genius or just crazy . She didn’t know what to think of it either, so she waited for Giraldi’s more experienced opinion. He studied the drawing repeatedly, trying to find a crack in it. 

In the end, he gave a rueful smile, a shake of his head, and said, “It’s crazy enough to work.” 

There was a mumbling amongst the rest of the griffins, most likely complaints, but with Giraldi’s dressing down of Bricius earlier, they weren’t too vocal about it. Said terciel was actually completely quiet. Gilda looked at her centurion, and he gave her a reassuring nod. Taking a breath, she then said, “Rest up. Once we divide the groups, we’ll move out the outpost and destroy the Heart.” 





“Are you sure this is the right way to do it?” Gilda looked at Giraldi. “I can understand leaving Bricius as support for the wagon group, but having me lead the assault group?” 

“Is there a problem with that?” the centurion asked. 

“They trust you more than they trust me,” she replied. “Granted, most you put with me are those that came with us from Arnau, but the rest of the Aricians would rather not have an unblooded officer leading them to enemy territory. Especially with such an unconventional plan.”

“Unconventional?” Imlay interrupted, a smile on his face. “This is pretty standard stuff.” 

Gilda rolled her eyes. “To you maybe.” 

“No, I agree,” Giraldi added, giving Imlay a nod. “Wind Knights and their recruits use these tactics as part of their drills.” 

“As an exercise and a means to keep up with tradition, not to do battle with,” Gilda countered. 

“Only because we lack firepower, which these Marines have,” the centurion replied. “As for you leading them, you have to understand that putting you there is the right move. The soldiers will follow your command, and you are right that they may not trust you. However, the fact that you’re going in with them speaks significantly of your confidence in the plan, and the willingness to be with them, and not just command from the back.” 

“That’s true,” Imlay said. “Keep up the morale and all. Plus my Marines respect you enough to follow your lead as well. You won’t have a problem with them.” Imlay seemed to ponder over something, before nodding. “Just try not to get killed. You’re the only officer present who likes us humans. Your Sergeant Major doesn’t seem too fond of us.” 

Gilda blinked. “Sergeant Major?” 

“Fillius is like your senior lead centurion, right?” Imlay asked. When both Giraldi and Gilda nodded, he continued, “So, yeah, he’d probably be the Sergeant Major for us.” 

Gilda looked at the centurion, who just shrugged. Looking at the plan once more, and the group division, she sighed. “Lead a few soldiers and Marines to their deaths, try not to get them and yourself killed. Okay. That won’t be hard. At all.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Imlay said with a youthful grin. 

“This will be the most spectacular victory, or the most embarrassing defeat,” Gilda muttered. She looked at Giraldi and said, “We’re moving out in ten minutes.” 

Giraldi saluted. “Yes, sir,” he replied, then flew up to the air. Imlay and Gilda watched him for a moment before the corporal began to move as well. 

“Alright, I’ll pass the word to my guys as well. We’ll be ready to move at anytime.” 

“Wait,” Gilda called. “Can I walk with you?” 

Imlay looked at her for a moment before nodding, and Gilda began walking beside him, thinking of a way to broach the subject she had on her mind. They passed by a few marching griffins that saluted her, and only when they were alone did she speak up again. 

“Corporal, I want to thank you for all the support you're giving us.” 

“No need, ma’am,” he replied easily. “Just doing our jobs.” 

“My job was to be a bodyguard for Marco and his friends, not lead soldiers to war,” Gilda said.

Imlay seemed to smile. “There’s a certain quote we have in the human world. It says that some are born great. Others will achieve greatness. And then, there are those that will have greatness thrust upon them.” 

Gilda looked at him. “As insightful as that is, it doesn’t help my nervousness, especially when I have to lead the Marines as well.” 

“You doubt us, ma’am?” Imlay asked, his tone almost devoid of emotion. 

Startled, she replied, “I don’t doubt your word or capabilities, Corporal. I just realized that I’m not part of your chain of command, and I’m also not too ignorant to realize how big of a responsibility, as well as trust, you are extending to me.” She sighed. “However, and I’m not trying to sound ungrateful or anything, I can’t exactly be completely sure that your Marines would just follow my orders, considering we’ve only been working together for the past couple of days.” 

“They trust you,” Imlay stated with such complete confidence that it almost took Gilda aback. “We fought together to defend the convoy, and held them off together back in that steadholt. You’ve shown to be a competent leader, ma’am, and we try not to get them killed since they’re so rare in the Corps.” He paused, as if to ponder. “Also, considering the stories Flip-Boy talks about, I’m pretty sure we’ve gotten to know you outside combat as well.” 

Gilda stared at him. “What stories?” 

Imlay smiled. “Good ones, ma’am. Nothing to worry about.” 

“I’ve been around you Marines long enough to know good stories always seem to sound too fantastical.” 

“You can’t blame us, ma’am. It keeps the betting pool interesting.” 

“What betting pool?” Gilda asked. 

“It’s nothing,” Imlay replied, his smile getting bigger. Before Gilda could insist, he seemed to sense something to his right. Following his gaze, she saw a few Marines and a few ponies sitting together. From the looks of it, they were singing. “Huh. Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m going to have to tell them the news. And probably stop my Marines from teaching the Equestrians more explicit songs. God knows we’ve taught them enough on the way here.” 

That was probably one of the least subtle dismissal she ever experienced, and she couldn’t help but glare daggers at Imlay. “Corporal,” she called, “I won’t be forgetting this conversation anytime soon.” 

He looked at her, and gave her a small smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, ma’am.” 

“I bet you don’t,” Gilda muttered, watching as Imlay joined the rest of the Marines. Left alone, she thought of Marco and wondered what stories Imlay was referring to. Part of her began planning to corner him to demand nicely for an explanation. A more rational part told her to just get some rest so she could focus on the upcoming task.

By the time Fortrakt came to advise her that it was time to move out, she had already settled in a more isolated part of the camp, silent, eyes closed, and still thinking of ten ways to corner Marco once she got back to Aricia.
	
> Chapter 14
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, uh, Gilda?” Fortrakt asked.

“Excuse me, Gletscher?” Gilda asked back in a cold tone. 

Fortrakt grimaced and corrected himself, “My apologies, Sub-Tribune.”

Gilda sighed before looking behind her. Her group was flying a bit of ways behind her, so maybe she was overreacting a little. Still, she couldn't let them—mostly the Aricians of her team—think of her as anything less than an authority figure, especially since in a few moments, she would be ordering them to the claws of their enemies. Fortrakt, at least, seemed to understand her position, and went back to his professional stance. 

She let a moment of silence pass, concentrating on the comforting warm wind travel beneath her wings, before asking, "What is it?"

Fortrakt looked behind them, and said in a volume that made sure that only she could hear, "Are you okay?" 

Gilda looked at him, watching the expression of worry in his face with a bit of confusion. She replied, in almost the same volume, "Yeah. Why are you asking?" 

“It’s just that… you’ve been very focused since we left the camp.” 

Gilda almost laughed. “And that’s a bad thing?” 

Fortrakt opened his beak for a moment, but just as quickly he closed it. One of Gilda’s eyes widened in surprise, but kept quiet as the tiercel seemed to gather his thoughts. After a moment, he finally said, “Please don’t kill Bricius.” 

That got her confused. Looking at her partner, she asked, “I’m not going to kill him. He’s not even part of our group.” 

“If not him, then who?” 

“Why do you think I’m going to kill someone?” Gilda asked, annoyed. 

Fortrakt looked at her with a disbelieving expression. “I haven’t been your partner for very long, but I know the signs.” 

“What signs?” 

“You tend to have an expression when you’re very mad at someone,” Fortrakt finally explained. “I saw it before you drove me through the table when we first met, and when Marco touched your wing base. Now, you’re about to go to battle, and you’re wearing that face again.” 

“Maybe because I want to kill cloven?” Gilda replied, rolling her eyes. “Ever thought of that?”

“You have a different expression for that.” 

“Really? You can tell?” 

There was a small smugness in his tone when he replied, “It’s a very distinct expression.” 

“Whatever,” Gilda said before shaking her head. “I don’t want to kill anyone.” 

Fortrakt nodded. “Okay. But who are you mad at?” 

“Is this really a conversation we should be having before we go to battle?” she asked, her annoyance coming back. 

“I just want to make sure you’re clear-headed,” the tiercel explained, raising his two claws defensively. “You know, since we’re all going to battle soon. I don’t want you to get conflicted. I still have glorious stories to tell my cubs, after all.” 

Gilda smiled. “You’ll survive, I’ll make sure of it. You getting cubs, I can’t promise.” 

“Well, that’s good at least,” Fortrakt said. “So, who are you mad at?” 

“Again?”

“Well, you didn’t think I’d let that go so easily, did you?” the tiercel replied with his own smile. “If it’s not Bricius, who? Other than me, I haven’t seen any other griffin annoy you recently.” 

Gilda looked at him for a moment, before looking forward again. “I may have heard that Marco’s been telling stories about me to the Marines.” 

“Ah… that’s okay then.” 

Gilda blinked, and looked at him again. “That’s okay? How’s that okay? The stories apparently spawned a mysterious betting pool, and you don’t know this, but these Marines have a tendency to blow stories out of proportion.” 

“It’s probably not as bad as you think,” Fortrakt replied. 

“Maybe it is,” she countered, “that’s why when I’m back at Aricia, I’m going to find out what the crows Marco was talking about.”

“See, that’s why it’s a good thing,” he explained. “You’re probably planning some sort of ambush, which means you actually have plans to return, which means you’re going to do your best to win the battle.” 

That got her to chuckle. “That’s a very simplistic way to look at things.” 

“We’re going to battle,” Fortrakt explained. “Keeping things simple is the best thing to do.”

“Whatever,” Gilda replied. “Also, I thought of twelve ambushes.” 

Fortrakt laughed. “I believe that.” 

Gilda shook her head, a little more thankful for the conversation. They were probably only a league out from the cloven outpost, and it helped to ease that heavy feeling in her stomach. A million thoughts seemed to travel through her head as she went over the plan once more. She felt apprehensive, knowing that any battle plan crashes when you face the enemy, but also hopeful thanks for the support she got from Imlay and his Marines, Giraldi, and even the Aricians that were fighting with them. 

“Sub-Tribune,” Fortrakt called. “We’re here.” 

Gilda nodded, and gave a signal clear to those following her. They slowly began to descend, meeting with a nodding Giraldi half-way down before once more converging on the wagons the Marines were riding. However, unlike the small rest they had earlier, everyone was still moving when they met on the ground. 

“Okay, Marines, you know what to do,” Imlay shouted as five Marines got off their respective wagons. “Carry only what you need! You can’t weigh your partner down!” 

“Yes, Corporal!” was the unison reply as the Marines began to rummage through their backpacks, grabbing whatever they needed before throwing them back into the wagon. Then, as if synchronized, five sky-griffins, all of whom had fought with the Marines in the steadholt, stepped forward. 

Giraldi joined them, and Gilda watched as he checked each griffin one by one, most likely to see if their movement was hampered in any way that would affect their flight. Some even began to hover off the ground to check on the weight, and when that was done, they gave Giraldi a nod. 

“Ma’am.” 

Gilda blinked, and realized Imlay had just approached her. Facing him, she asked, “Yes, Corporal?” 

“My guys will have their radios, so we’ll be able to keep each other coordinated on the assault,” Imlay said. “The skies are still clear?” 

Gilda nodded. “Still no Flyers. Mages will still be the greatest threat to us.” 

“Let us know if that changes.” 

Again, Gilda nodded. She felt a rather odd sensation. The pit of her stomach seemed to announce itself once more, but along with it was an odd sort of warmth around her limbs, something she usually associated when racing against Rainbow Dash during their Flight School days. 

Imlay seemed to have read her, and smiled. “You look ready.” 

Oddly enough, she did. The thoughts of her leading soldiers and Marines to their deaths was still in her mind, but along with it was a sense of purpose, the sense of doing what was necessary. Defending their homes, fighting with allies, she could do all these because she needed to do them. 

Nodding, Gilda returned back to her group as Imlay returned to his wagon. Just before she could give the order to move out, Imlay said, loudly, “We have a job to do, gentlemen. You all know what to do.” And he looked around towards the unmoving Marines. “Let’s squish some bugs.” 

Gilda expected some sort of rambunctious laughter, a joke. However, the response was complete silence. It was unnerving. It was, however, very reassuring. Gilda couldn’t help but smile, and shouted, with an even louder voice, “Move out!” 

With that, the wagon sped off to one direction, with Giraldi and his group following after them. Gilda’s group took towards the sky, flying towards another. 

The trip was notable for its utter silence. Gilda could only hear the flapping of wings and the gentle gust of wind. Even the scout leader didn’t verbally acknowledge that her group was going to fly ahead. She just gave Gilda a nod, and sped forward, with Fortrakt placing himself in the middle once more. 

Looking back, she saw the Marines relaxed, probably not to burden their partners. While the latter looked slightly strained, their eyes were focused and keeping pace. 

Gilda didn’t know how long they were flying, but soon, they spotted the scouting group, flying lower and in circles in front of them. Raising her hand to signal descent, her group began to dive slowly towards the scouts, and when they were near enough, the circling griffins converged on the thicket below them. 

Landing was smooth, and Gilda took her time to do her usual checking of surroundings before she relaxed. The Marines dismounted from their partners, also taking surveillance of their surroundings, while Gilda’s whole group began to regroup around her. They looked at her for a moment, most of them looking at ease, while the smaller Arician faction looked at her with trepidation. 

“I need four griffins moving ahead in a spread formation as we move towards our destination,” Gilda ordered. “We need the element of surprise for this attack to work. Kill anything suspicious. Remember the stories of cloven using Corrupted wildlife as their eyes.” 

Everyone, even the Marines, nodded. Five sky-griffins, Fortrakt included, began to trek forward in a fanning formation, climbing up the small incline, while the rest of the group began to follow behind them. 

Slowly, they marched forward, and Gilda could imagine them listening for odd sounds, smelling the air for decay. The rustling of the grass, the whistle amongst the trees, and the clanking of metal seemed to be their only companion, creating some sort of illusion of the group being alone. 

As they traveled, the scent of the air began to change. The rotting smell of death began to slowly permeate around them. Gilda’s feathers bristled. Cloven were around. The griffins knew it. She even saw the Marines take a more cautious outlook to their surroundings. Everyone seemed to be listening, watching, and waiting for something to come out. 

The whole group stopped when they heard a small thump in the air, and the sickening sound of an arrow thrusting to something soft. Then came another. Gilda sighed. As glad as she was about their scouts doing their jobs well, she was getting agitated again. They were far enough from the outpost that wouldn’t garner a large Cloven patrol. However, she couldn’t help think, what if the codex was wrong? 

Shaking her head, she kept moving forward. In the end, it didn’t matter whether there were a clawful or a legion of Cloven, they still had to move forward. 

By the time they arrived at the peak of the hill they were climbing, the woodland gave way to tall grass. There, the scouts were all accounted for. They didn’t need to say anything, just nodding at the group’s arrival. Even Fortrakt seemed a little quiet. Gilda gave them a thankful nod, before moving towards the edge of the hill. 

It was a good spot. There was a rather steep drop, which gave her a clear view of the front area. She could finally see the outpost with her own eyes. It was as the scouts had described it. The Cloven had created a small clearing in the field, with the Heart ominously in the center. The tall grass was absent in favor of the croach. It even conquered some tall trees, slanting them into sickly angles that made them look like melting wax figures. She could see patrolling figures and the large massive Spikers scattered around the perimeter. 

Part of her mind wondered if she was crazy to even follow the plan. 

Gilda heard a Marine chatter behind her, recognizing some of the wording used, and assumed he was on that very useful radio. He also seemed to describe the Cloven outpost before taking a pause, then called her. 

“Ma’am.” Gilda turned to face him and recognized him as Guerrero, the Marine that crudely talked about Marco’s supposed misadventures in Equestria. He wasn’t smiling or laughing. “Corporal Imlay advised us that they have arrived at their designated area.” 

Gilda nodded. She knew Imlay and Giraldi would find it harder to locate an optimum position to attack, not having an elevated position unlike their group. They probably had to take out some Cloven scouts as well. Looking back forward, she tried to focus on the outskirts of the outpost, trying to see if she could find the wagons or Giraldi’s group. It took a moment, but she saw a slight movement on the western side of the outpost, and was about to inform the group when another Marine beat her to it. 

“Found them,” he said, his eyes on those binoculars. His left arm pointed in the same direction Gilda was looking, and the rest of the group nodded with affirmation as they too seemed to watch the scene below them. 

A group of griffins flew a high, stayed in that position for a minute or so before they dove back down. Gilda could guess they were confirming the information Guerrero sent them. Looking back at the Cloven, Gilda didn’t see any odd movement from the patrol. Either the Cloven didn’t see the griffin spotters, or they didn’t care. She watched as the wagons paused, then began to move forward, while the griffins began to fly to another direction, before traveling in parallel to the wagons. 

“Ma’am, they are moving to attack position,” Guerrero declared. Gilda could only nod silently, taking a deep breath as a means to lessen the weight that suddenly seemed to settle on her throat. 

Then, it started. One shot from a gun echoed, surprisingly loud at the distance. From the soft gasp coming from a griffin, probably an Arician, they too seemed surprised at the noise. 

Before anyone could speak, another shot rang out, then another. It was not the continuous firing she was used to, but she guessed it was because Imlay was meticulously trying to make sure he got each shot to kill a Corrupted mage. It was working. She saw the smaller figures going down, before a bright blue-ish light of a shield spell popped up. The Cloven defense started moving, probably trying to find where the attack was coming from. That’s when the wagons came into play. 

They didn’t charge forward as she expected, but rather traveled parallel to the Cloven defensive line. One wagon went ahead of the other, and both stopped with a distance between them. She could make out a few griffins flying either beside it, or behind it. Before she could focus more on that, the blue dome was suddenly engulfed in a rather spectacular explosion of dust and fire.  

“Heh, yeah! Get some!” one Marine said. 

Gilda focused, seeing the shield collapse and the wagons start firing. While she knew that gunfire was still loud enough to be heard in their location, the continuous firing echoed in the air with sharp pops. The Aricians seemed to be conversing with each other. 

“That’s why we ordered every griffin to have the—” she looked at Guerrero “—what did you call those again?” 

“Earplugs,” he responded neutrally. 

“Thank you,” Gilda replied, before digging her claw into one of the compartments in her armor. She pulled out a pair, before looking back at the scene below them. “That’s why you were ordered to have those earplugs. If you can hear it from here, it will definitely deafen you when we start attacking.” 

There was another mumble amongst the Aricians, but it soon began settling down. Gilda could hear some movement behind her, probably the griffins getting them out to wear them when the signal was given. She reflected on the things the griffins and humans were sharing with each other as she watched the Cloven began to move towards the wagons. Part of her wondered if this was just a small preview of things to come, maybe a trade agreement. Another part of her told her that it wouldn’t matter if the Cloven killed them all. 

She watched as Giraldi’s group began streaking towards a weak formation of the Cloven’s defense, then letting out a stream of bolts that caught a few before they banked away sharply. The wagons were also moving, getting further and further from each other. One of the louder vehicles seemed to focus on one of the Spikers, before it quickly fell on the onslaught of the Marine’s attacks. 

“Ancestors above,” one griffin swore. 

“Now is not the time to be impressed,” Gilda declared loudly, calmly. “We’re about to go in.” 

If it were any other race, the outpost would have been in chaos. The Cloven however, acted as they always did. As their numbers fell, more and more of them began to march where they were needed, calmly, in line and formation. More and more Corrupted mages began to converge, probably to combine their shield spell to protect their forces. Watching them move, she  then knew it was time to strike. 

Plugging in her ears, she raised her claw and ordered, loudly, “Let’s go!” 

The Marines moved quickly towards their partners, mounting up before their whole group took to the air. The rush of wind seemed to call on Gilda as she moved in a much more quickened pace than earlier. Looking behind her, she saw her group following with the same speed. They all looked ready. She internally smiled. 

Banking towards their left, she decided to strike at an angle, right between the formation of two moving Cloven groups that were spaced apart. As she drew closer, she spotted a mage traveling with them, and automatically grabbed her crossbow. Pulling the notching rod, she waited, drawing nearer, before she pulled the trigger. 

Everything seemed to slow down around her. Her eyes focused on the Corrupted mage, seeing her in vivid detail. She was already half-rotting, with the staff she carried already worn and burnt with use, her wings almost bald, exposing the sickly green flesh underneath the feathers. She seemed to turn her head, her blank eyes spotting Gilda’s approach. She raised her staff, about to call a powerful spell to kill her group, when Gilda released the bolt. 

It flew steady and true, spinning on an arc as it flew directly to the mage’s left blank eye. 

The Cloven around the mage roared as they too turned to face Gilda. She spread her wings, slowing her flight, and allowed the group behind her to overtake her—the group with the mounted Marines. 

The griffins landed on the croach, breaking the surface with their sharp claws, making the ground bleed with green liquid. The Marines dismounted quickly, their rifles trained at the charging Cloven, before they opened fire. 

The earplugs muted the sound, but it was still loud. Some of the griffins on the ground flinched slightly, but didn’t move their eyes away from their own targets as they took out their own crossbows and began firing. 

Gilda took a moment to check if there was any change of movement on the defenders. It seemed the Cloven realized what the plan was, and were now ignoring the wagons and traveling towards them. If they didn’t move quickly enough, they’d be surrounded before they could reach the Heart. 

“Charge!” Gilda shouted, emphasizing her command to the still-flying group by pointing her foreleg forward. They understood, splitting into two groups, traveling parallel with the Marines in the ground, with only Fortrakt and Nydia staying behind. She gave them a nod, which she got in return, before they dove towards the center, making sure they didn’t get into the Marine’s line of fire. 

Landing on the croach felt really odd. There was some sort of resistance to the surface, which instead of being solid, felt more flesh-like. It was warm and it bled with every step. It was so alien. Shaking her head, she approached Guerrero, and pointed towards the approaching Cloven. 

He just nodded with understanding, and motioned towards the Heart. She nodded back.  

The Marines mounted on their griffin partners while the rest of the griffins flanked them on both sides. Bolts flew from their crossbows towards the closest Cloven as they flew in a straight line towards the Heart. Gilda felt elated. The strike came in too fast for the Cloven Troopers to catch up. Gilda’s group would reach the Heart before they could get caught. 

That’s when she felt a slight shift in the wind. She didn’t know where it came from, but she knew, somehow, it was a danger. “Get down!” she shouted, and two Spiker tails whipped in an arc through the air, almost hitting three flying griffins. 

“Spikers!” Fortrakt called. 

“Double notch your crossbows!” Gilda ordered, her throat burning, either from worry or because of her shouting. Thankfully, the griffins around her heard and obeyed her command, pulling the rod of their crossbows fully as they continued to fly low. The two Spikers were accompanied by more Troopers, probably the last defense the Heart had, and when they were in range, she shouted, “Aim for the heads!” 

The bolts flew fast, and hit the the left Spiker dead on, having five bolts hit its head. Its tail swung wildly as it roared, hitting a few of its fellow Cloven before it went down when shot at again. 

The last Spiker was luckier, using its thick arms to block the incoming bolts. It roared, bleeding, but when it regained balance, its tail began to move. Gilda was about to order the group to disperse when another Marine, Anderson, if she remembered the name correctly, came forward, his rifle pointed at the Spiker. 

“Get down!” he shouted. Gilda saw that his weapon had the same bottom attachment as Imlay’s, and it shot out smoke before the ground suddenly shook as the air exploded in front of them. 

Dust fogged up their surroundings while croach started to shower down. The Marines didn’t seem to care for that as they began to shoot at the remaining Troopers, charging forward, almost leaving the shocked and confused griffins around them. 

“Nydia!” Gilda shouted, looking at their Magus Knight. The mage gave her a nod and followed the Marines before Gilda nudged Fortrakt. “Defend Nydia as she brings the Heart down! Form up on the left! I’ll take the right!” 

Fortrakt nodded, and together they grabbed the griffins near them. Shocked as they were, the Gryphon training was showing as they began to go to a formation as they followed the Marines. 

There were more gunfire as they approached, the Marines taking out Troopers with deadly efficiency as they too seemed to form a perimeter around Nydia. Fortrakt went to the left, angled away so they wouldn’t be shot by the Marines with them, while Gilda followed suit, and they too began to shoot bolts out with zeal, as if not to allow the Marines to get all the glory. 

When the Heart came to full view, Nydia stopped. Pulsing with green veins, pumping rather erratically, it seemed to realize that it was doomed. Trooper presence had increased as well, charging forward more rapidly than before. Bullets tore them to pieces, while the bolts struck them, slowing some of them down. 

Gilda felt a shiver run through her spine as Nydia began calling magic, powerful enough to make her feathers stand on end. She wondered how long before the mage could get the spell done, shooting at the Troopers that ran at them with an odd frenzy. Then came the lightning, a bright spark of light slamming down directly towards the Heart, striking it down almost exactly in the middle. Following that, a loud thunderclap, comparably as loud as the Marine’s big gun in intensity, but stirred the air as powerfully as an explosion. 

There was a second of stillness before it began pouring croach. Unlike earlier, this one came in hot and very heavy, as if Gilda and her group were in a middle of a storm. Unbothered by the slime covering them, the group still continued shooting at the neverending charging Troopers. Each fell one by one, but they continued to run towards them, as if to exact vengeance. There was even a roar of Spikers coming in from behind them. 

Then a roar of thunder echoed loudly in the air as one of the wagons with three Marines, one operating that big gun of theirs, rolled in to assist Gilda’s group. The continuous stream of fire almost ground the charging group to a halt, cutting a swathe through the large group. 

“Ma’am!” Guerrero shouted. Gilda looked at him. “Corporal says there’s a large group converging towards us, as well as Flyers coming in! We have to go now!” 

Checking the sky, she saw that was correct. A dark cloud was converging towards them, and she knew there was no way to fight them off. Nodding towards Guerrero, she gave the order, “Retreat! Retreat!” 

The Marines began to mount their griffin partners once more, while the rest of them took towards the sky. The wagon continued to pour out fire as it began to move back as well, keeping the Troopers off Gilda’s back. She waited until everyone of her group had left before launching herself to the sky. 

She didn’t look back. She ignored the roars that came behind her, or the sporadic fire of the wagon. Gilda just kept her eyes forward as she began catching up with her group. As the roars became softer, and the gunfire stopped, a sudden rush of tiredness began to seep into her muscles. The dryness of her throat was getting more pronounced. She found herself removing the earplugs, just in time to hear Guerrero talking on the radio.

“—Touchdown. I say again, Touchdown. No casualties.” 

Gilda blinked, then looked at her group. Some were bleeding, but no one dead. Her chest soared, the tiredness giving way to triumph. They destroyed an outpost with just a clawful, and they didn’t lose anyone. 

“Ma’am?” Guerrero called. Gilda blinked, and adjusted her flight to approach him and his griffin partner, feeling a slight dread.

“What is it? Was there any casualties from Giraldi’s side… or the Marines?” she asked. 

“Not really a casualty, ma’am,” he replied. “However, one griffin has been deafened. Some guy named Bri-shus?” 

Gilda blinked. “Bricius?” 

“Yeah, him,” Guerrero said. “Apparently, he didn’t put on the earplugs and got a little too close to the fifty-cal firing. Corporal Imlay wanted me to tell you for some reason. He also said Giraldi was trying to raise hell, but since the guy couldn’t hear, he didn’t bother.” 

She laughed. Not quite the response a leader like her should make, but at least Bricius hadn’t been seriously injured. Maybe he also learned his lesson not to underestimate the Marines. As she basked on that warm feeling of victory, she suddenly felt a cold dread hold her heart as she realized that they only got lucky this day. 

She looked skywards, and prayed to the Ancestors that their luck would hold. 
	

> Chapter 15
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gilda was in a somber mood as they slowly made their way back to Aricia. 

Looking back at her group, she saw she wasn’t the only one. The unusually chatty Fortrakt hadn’t said anything for almost thirty minutes. The earlier victory didn’t even seem to register to the group. Looking down, she saw the battle-wagon filled to the brim with the Marines, with a few earth ponies running alongside them. She couldn’t make out what the humans were saying, but they seemed to be smiling, joking with each other. 

She felt jealous of their cheerfulness. 

Aricia came into view, and she could hear a few sighs of relief from their group. Sending her claw up, she signalled the scouts to go right ahead. As they sped past her, she took a breath to calm down, then slowly descended. The group behind her followed in a solid formation. 

As she neared, she could see the scouts meeting with the centurion nearest to them. There were Talons and Guards, some patrolling the ground, the others working on rocks to create a barricade. She also spotted some Marines with them, pointing at some patches on the ground. Imlay had mentioned in a meeting—was it yesterday, or a day before? She couldn’t remember—that they wanted to add something called Claymore mines to bolster the defenses. The approaching ponies and the wagon needed a guide to the safe path so they wouldn’t be killed by the weapons. 

A few sky-griffins began moving as well, some going deeper into the heart of Aricia. Fillius ran a really tight legion, and always wanted to be kept informed of any developments. She half-wondered if he would know what had happened by the time he requested a report. Shaking her head, she led her group towards the the town, sinking lower and lower until they reached the designated landing zone near the entrance gate. It was an open square filled with a few elevated landing pads of softened ground, and ready to greet them was a party of a few Talons, Knights, Guards, and one centurion. The ponies and the wagon arrived as soon as her group landed.

It seemed her Ancestors were smiling down on her, as the centurion meeting them was Giraldi. He stood ready to greet her, saluting sharply as she landed. 

“Another good hunting, sir?” he asked. 

Not as good as it should have been, Gilda wanted to say. Instead, she went for a more neutral, “Mission was success.”

Giraldi nodded. “And that marks a week of continuous victory. A very commendable performance, sir.” He looked behind her. “Casualties?” 

“A few injuries,” Gilda replied.  “Nothing permanent.” 

“Then this week has definitely been kind to us.” 

“Maybe not too kind.” Gilda looked behind her. “As you can see, we lost a wagon.” 

“I’m sure First Spear would like to hear the details,” Giraldi said neutrally. “He is requesting to speak with you again, sir.” 

“Of course,” Gilda sighed. “As always.” 

Giraldi smiled at that. “Don’t take it personally, sir. He’s just worried.” 

“More like waiting for me to make a mistake,” Gilda muttered. She still remembered that first meeting, after Bricius tattled to the First Spear on the ‘recklessness’ of their group and requesting to transfer out. She felt it was only due to their successes that day that he never told her outright to stop the raids, though he still requested she stay at Aricia. She politely turned that request down . In turn, he had called for a meeting every time they returned to town.

Considering what had transpired, she felt he would now say a piece of his mind.  

Gilda looked towards the wagon, and caught Imlay’s eye. “Corporal, I would like to invite you to the meeting as well.” 

Imlay gave a small smile. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned back to face his Marines, and said, “Good work today, gentlemen. Go get chow; you all deserve it.” 

“Aye-aye, Corporal,” was the united reply. 

Giraldi took care of Gilda’s group while the Marines began to dismount their ride. Some began stretching their legs, then slapping each other on the back, chuckling. Some looked more serious, their lips pressed into a thin line. Imlay was a contrast as he seemed to embody the two groups. He wasn’t laughing or cajoling, but wasn’t as solemn the latter group. He looked confident and stalwart, a professional. 

Gilda waited for him to join her, as he seemed to look over one of the Marines disconnecting their fifty-cal from its placeholder before he joined her. The two then began to walk side-by-side towards the garrison. A few griffins saluted once they saw her, but let them pass uncontested. With nothing really going on, she began to drink the sights—the square wooden buildings with griffins and ponies relaxing, cubs and foals playing in the streets. 

“It is a rather odd sight,” Gilda said softly. 

Imlay took a moment before replying, “What is?” 

“The Cloven are still out there, still a threat. Yet it’s peaceful here.” 

“War hasn’t reached this place yet,” Imlay said. “We did good work for the past week, harassing the Cloven, keeping them on the defensive. You’re seeing the result of our work right here.” 

Gilda snorted. “We should have done better today.” 

“I disagree, ma’am,” Imlay replied steadily. “We did the best we could. Our luck lasted a week. It had to run out sometime.” 

“The Cloven will rebuild the Heart on that steadholt,” Gilda said. “It’s a valuable location for them, unlike the Clusters we previously raided.” 

Imlay nodded. “I expect them to.”

“All it cost us was a wagon.” 

“And it cost them time,” Imlay countered. “We didn’t lose anyone yet and we delayed them once more. I consider that a good trade.” 

Maybe it was, or maybe it wasn’t, Gilda couldn’t really decide. A comfortable silence followed soon afterwards as each step took them closer and closer to the garrison. 

A few more griffins saluted at her as they arrived, but made no verbal greeting, continuing on their way as they passed. It was pretty much a straight shot towards Fillius, who was sitting behind a desk filled with reports. He gave them a look as Gilda opened the door, snapping a sharp salute before making a move to clear his desk. 

“Thank you for meeting with me again, Sub-Tribune,” Fillius finally said. 

Gilda nodded, then replied, trying not to sound bitter, “We do seem to have a lot of these meetings, First Spear.” 

“And you have returned much earlier than anticipated,” Fillius commented. 

Gilda closed her eyes for a second before asking, “What do you need, First Spear?” 

Fillius actually shifted uncomfortably. “I think an apology is in order.” 

That caused her to blink. “An apology?” 

Fillius paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Sir, I made no secret that I felt your missions were too risky. The amount of soldiers in your ‘scouting’ group was far too small to cause any significant damage to the Cloven and we’d just be sacrificing soldiers for no gain. Yet these reports on my table tell me otherwise.” 

Gilda relaxed a little, but felt a little cautious. “What are they?” 

“Scouting missions, sir,” Fillius replied, “or the the real ones, anyway.” 

Imlay seemed to chuckle at that. Gilda gave him a stare before looking back at the First Spear. 

He continued, “The reports all seem to say the same thing: that the Cloven are in disarray. The marching group that was initially spotted coming to Aricia have either slowed or outright retreated.” He took a breath. “Sir, you’ve delayed them more than our defenses could ever have with just a limited amount of soldiers.” 

Gilda frowned. “It was mostly due to the creative tactics the Marines shared with us, First Spear.” 

He nodded in acquiescence and almost an apology. “Of course, sir. Credit due to where credit due. Still, you were able to lead a small yet very effective group of soldiers, with unknown and untested allies, and performed something just short of a miracle. That deserves to be written in the Codex.”  

Gilda felt warmth forming around her face. That was a very high compliment, something she felt that she didn’t deserve. “We merely delayed them, First Spear. We haven’t killed them yet.”

“Respectfully, sir, it was more than enough,” Fillius disagreed. “You bought us time we needed to bolster our defenses and kept the town morale up. We are more than ready when they show up to our doorstep. While I am still not fully agreeable to these raids, however, I can’t argue with results.” 

Gilda swallowed, before nodding. “Understandable, First Spear. And thank you.” 

Fillius smiled, first time since she arrived at Aricia as a Sub-Tribune. “Don’t let it get to your head, sir. It’s not over yet.” 

“No doubt,” Gilda sighed. 

“My curiosity still stands, though, sir. Why are you here early?” 

Gilda looked at Imlay for a moment, who gave her a subtle nod. Looking back at Fillius, she replied, “We made a run to the Target Bet—I mean, the Cloven steadholt nearest to Aricia.”

Fillius’ eyes gleamed dangerously. “Objectives?”

“The primary objective was to destroy the Heart. We also had a secondary objective to see if we could destroy the Overlord if present.” 

The First Spear closed his eyes for a moment. “That was incredibly perilous, sir.” 

Before Gilda could say anything, though, Imlay asked, “May I?” 

Gilda gave him a look, then back at Fillius. The First Spear studied the Corporal carefully, giving him his full attention. She gave Imlay a nod. 

“You are correct that the operation was a risk,” Imlay began smoothly. “However, it was the right move. For the past week, we’ve raided their Clusters successfully with minimal casualties. Yet with each success came stiffer resistance. They began to anticipate our movements, using different tactics to stop us.” 

Gilda remembered that. The first few Clusters they attacked, it was almost a repeat of the first one. Then, they changed their patrol positions, with the next one putting heavy numbers near the Heart; it made the usually successful quick and direct attack unfavorable. Imlay switched tactics on that day, favoring the more griffin approach, and laid waste to the outer perimeter, slowly marching inwards. The Clusters after that began alternating guard positions, as well as increasing their defenders. Some even had flyers that delayed their attack until they could punch a hole to get to the Heart. 

“I’ve read the reports, Corporal,” Fillius replied in Aeric. “Are you making a point?”

“The Clusters’ defenders were growing to a number that attacking them would be a lost cause,” Imlay replied. “So, we did something they didn’t expect.” 

Fillius nodded, understanding. “You attacked one of their strongholds instead.” He frowned. “Judging by your early return, the mission was unsuccessful?” 

Gilda shook her head. “We completed our primary objective, but the Overlord was not present in that steadholt. We were also caught unaware by their new defenses as well.” 

“Which is?” 

“They dug holes on the ground,” she replied, “covering it with a thin layer of croach. When one of our wagons went over it, it sunk, trapping a wheel. They came at us from almost all sides that we had to abandon it.” 

“Casualties, sir?” 

“Just wounded,” she said. “They are being led by Spear Centurion Giraldi to the Medica. They’ll be back to fighting form soon.” 

“Thank the Ancestors for small fortunes,” Fillius swore. He looked at them for a moment, beak tightly shut before saying, “This won’t dissuade your group, I presume?” 

“It will, actually,” Imlay replied for her. “Without two wagons, our fighting efficiency will be cut by more than half. The pony drivers will have to keep alternating to drag a double load of equipment, and if the next wagon gets caught, we won’t have an exit strategy. We’ll try to modify another wagon, but that will take a while.” 

“In short, First Spear,” Gilda finished, “we won’t be going on another mission anytime soon.” 

Fillius seemed to sigh at that. “I am somewhat ambivalent about that. If the Cloven realize your… raiding has stopped, then they might start to marshall their numbers against Aricia. However, it was still a blow to the enemy, and your group has come back safe. Thank you, sir.”

“Just doing my duty, First Spear,” she replied. 

Fillius accepted that with a nod, and turned to Imlay. “My thanks to you as well, Corporal, as well as my apologies if I came off rather rude when we first met.”

“No problem, First Spear,” Imlay replied almost magnanimously. 

Fillius seemed to have finally said all he needed to say as he gave another sharp salute and went back to his reports. An obvious dismissal, both Gilda and Imlay turned to the door and left. It was only when they finally exited the garrison that Gilda breathed easier. 

“Easier than you were expecting, ma’am?” 

Gilda turned to Imlay, who finally began showing some teeth in his smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Corporal.” 

“Of course not,” he replied. “After all, meeting with the First Spear will probably be infinitely easier than meeting with Marco.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting something, Corporal?” 

“Just that you have avoided him for the past few weeks with incredible efficiency?” Imlay asked, though there was definitely an undercurrent of teasing in his tone. 

“Preposterous,” Gilda denied. “I have just been too busy to meet with him.” 

“I’d normally say ‘likely excuse’,” Imlay began, “but then again, Marco has also been busy the past couple of days. His friendship with Fortrakt is getting stronger. Miss Nydia also seems to be spending her free time with him as well.” 

Gilda frowned. She felt something on that last sentence—annoyance, tenseness, but mostly confusion on why she felt those emotions. “Oh?” was all she asked. 

Imlay’s smile seemed to grow on that. He even paused for a moment, as if to think of a next reply, and after a few steps in silence, he said, “Come with me, ma’am.”

Gilda looked at him. “Where?” 

“My Marines should be there now,” he replied, before increasing his pace. It took a moment for Gilda to catch up with him. 

“Where exactly?”



 

Apparently, ‘there’ meant the Inn where the humans were staying. More specifically, the rear of the building. 

Last time Gilda had been there was a week ago, just before they started the first raid. The Marines had used the place as a barracks, overlooking the modification of the wagons, and also as a place to rest and practise fighting. Now, though, it looked like a restaurant. Tents were put up, with rows of low tables arranged in straight lines. There was… Gilda couldn’t describe the smell, but it wafted comfortably in the air before settling into her stomach, making it growl. 

She could see the griffins from Arnau sitting beside the Marines, drinking what she suspected was ale. There was laughter, giggles, and occasional accidents of upturned drinking bowls, much to the delight of the humans, who laughed with appreciation of drunken griffin antics. 

Gilda also suspected the Marines were inebriated too because there were a few that couldn’t seem to sit or walk straight. She looked at Imlay, who stared at the scene with some sort of satisfaction. 

“They are only this lively because no one was killed,” he said. “We led them to the enemies, and they came back alive to enjoy the victory. Hope you don’t mind them being a bit informal, ma’am.” 

Before Gilda could reply, she felt a griffin saunter at her side. “Hey, Gilda! Glad you could join us!” 

She looked at the griffin, one slightly tipsy Fortrakt, smiling at her widely. She frowned. “A little too early to get drunk, aren’t you, Gletscher?” 

“Off duty,” he replied simply. “All the griffins here are. No one is stupid enough to anger our commanding officer, after all.” 

Gilda smiled slightly. “Of course not. No one is stupid enough to get thrown through the table. Oh, wait.” 

Fortrakt just roared with laughter. “That’s the spirit! Come on, join us!” 

“Fortrakt…” 

“Come on!” he insisted. 

Gilda was led to a table that had Nydia and a few of the sky-griffins that were with her during that raid earlier today. Thankfully, not all of them completely lost themselves to the ale, and saluted as she approached. Some Marines were present as well, most notably Doc, who gave her a smile of greeting. Imlay joined in as well.

“Well, if it ain’t fearless green officer herself,” Doc said. “Finally decided to join us grunts?” 

“I didn’t know this was set up,” Gilda replied truthfully. 

“Yeah, well,” Fortrakt began, “someone thought it was a good idea to feed us and keep us away from disturbing the rest of the town. Plus the sharing of culture and things.” 

“Like what?” Gilda asked, curious. 

“Why don’t you ask Nydia?” Imlay asked, amused. 

Gilda looked at the mage, who suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. The Sub-Tribune could only give her an inquiring expression. “Yes?” 

“Well,” Nydia began slowly, then took a breath. “Did you know humans have a lot of ways to cook something?” 

“You were learning how to cook?” Gilda asked. 

“It’s really interesting,” Nydia replied, apparently getting her confidence back. “Humans seemed to have acquired a taste for complex flavors, using a lot of seasonings and spices for different desired effects.” 

“A little too much, if you ask me,” Gilda said. 

“Yup,” Fortrakt agreed. “In fact, the whole cooking thing was like a experiment. Nydia commented on the flavoring, and they finally found some sort of middle-ground when it came to cooking for both griffins and humans.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, though I still think it needs a bit more kick,” Doc replied. “Thankfully, we can add more seasoning to suit our taste.” 

Gilda nodded, beginning to see the picture. It was definitely a good idea to build camaraderie, which was especially needed now considering the circumstances. 

Then a familiar voice spoke up just behind her, making her freeze. “Too bad the ponies couldn’t join us. Apparently, the smell of cooking meat makes them somewhat uncomfortable. Oh, hey Gilda.” 

Gilda turned, seeing Marco nodding to her. He wore a white apron over his regular clothes, with the Equestrian word for ‘Chef’ written in gaudy red coloring. On his left hand was a large platter of steaming roasted meat, chopped into pieces, and on his other hand was a metal container with a spout. 

“H-hey,” Gilda greeted. 

Marco didn’t seem to notice her stutter, and proceeded to lay the platter in front of the group. “And there you go, some nice lechon kawali. Crispy skin, moist meat, and all the condiments I could get. That brown one is the lechon sauce, my mother’s recipe. It’s a little sweet. There’s also spiced vinegar and some sriracha sauce. And for the white heathens, there’s also ketchup and tabasco.” 

“Hmmm, this heathen gives you his thanks,” Doc replied, amused. 

Marco nodded, smirking, before looking towards the Corporal. “Hey Imlay. Want some sweet November Juliet?” he asked, lifting the metal container to view. 

“Thanks, Flip-Boy,” Imlay replied, raising his cup. Marco just placed the container on the table, earning an annoyed, “Hey!” from Imlay. 

“Pour it yourself, you lazy-ass,” Marco replied. “Next thing you’ll want me to do is to make you a damn sandwich before asking me to bend over.” 

“In your fucking dreams, Flip-Boy,” Imlay snorted, still smiling as he poured a familiar dark liquid in his cup. 

“Psh, in my dreams, you gave me a diamond-encrusted ring first.” Marco laughed. “Roasted chicken coming up, as well as some breads and rice. Enjoy.”

Without another word, he left the table. Gilda followed him with her eyes, noticing he took a spot a little aways from the tables. She also noticed the spot having a couple of fire pits already lit, and a collection of black cooking utensils around. She also saw a dead pig hanging from a wooden post, as well as a few chickens and game birds. She also spotted a few griffins with large knives cutting meat into pieces. Marco was actually directing them on what cuts to make. 

“So, Gilda, was that part of your ambush?” Fortrakt asked. “Because it looked like he ambushed you instead.”

Gilda blinked, then stared at Fortrakt, who was now taking a bite out of the meat. He gave her an indiscernible look. 

“What?” he asked. “It’s actually pretty good.” 

Gilda looked towards Nydia, who was now apparently finding the conversation she was having with Doc really interesting and never looked at her way. The Sub-Tribune then looked at Imlay, who was peacefully drinking his ‘November Juliet’ (though she could have sworn it smelled like coffee). 

“He’s the one cooking?” was all she could say. 

“Quite well, too,” Doc replied. “Better than MREs at any rate.” 

“I wish he could do pizza, though,” Imlay muttered. 

“Why don’t you ask that, then, Corporal?” 

“Because I don’t want him pissing on my food.” 

That got Doc laughing, along with a few of the Marines. 

Gilda looked around. “Was this his idea?” 

“He said he got bored waiting for you to confront him,” Fortrakt answered. When Gilda gave him a look again, he shrugged. “Yeah, I told him. He even told me he was planning to do some hide and seek to make it fun, but you never really came after him. So, he just grabbed Nydia and began showing her how to cook meat and asked her to taste it.” 

Gilda turned to the mage, who looked down on the table, peacefully eating, clearly embarrassed. She still didn’t know how to feel about that. Looking at Imlay, Gilda narrowed her eyes. “I won’t be forgetting this anytime soon,” she said to him. 

Imlay raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Hmm? Forget what?” 

Gilda growled. “Give me some ale,” she said to no one in particular. 

To be fair, it was an enjoyable lunch. She didn’t imbibe on much ale, opting to listen to Marines talk about their raids, each story, unsurprisingly, getting more fantastical after each telling. Griffins began to join in as well, some even commenting on how they dodged spells and flying spines with maneuvers that were only practical in a Wonderbolts or Silver Wings show.  

In-between the tales, Gilda looked at Marco going to other tables. Sometimes he served the food and drinks, sometimes he just sat down and listened to the other Marines and griffins tell their tales. He smiled, laughed, and even partook in the festivities for a bit. 

He never looked at her once. 

Again, Gilda didn’t know how to feel about that. 

It was around mid afternoon when the chatter finally seemed to die down. Griffins began to leave the place, and some Marines began to excuse themselves as well. Imlay was already gone, apparently wanting to check on the status of the pickets outside the town gates, leaving her with Nydia.

Well, Fortrakt too, but he was sleeping after probably drinking a little too much.

“Sir?” 

Gilda blinked then looked at the mage, who still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Yes, Nydia?” 

“I know I said I wouldn’t interfere—” 

Gilda internally grumbled. What was it with that whole interfering thing again? 

“—however, he asked for my help. He asked Gletscher first, but for some reason, he turned Marco down. And I was also… interested. In the cooking, I mean.” 

Gilda could only sigh. Yes, she could see Nydia wanting to try it, considering the interest she had with the humans. Fortrakt had some interest too, but Gilda guessed that was more about their weapons. 

“Did anyone bother him?” she asked. 

Nydia frowned. “Well, there was an incident or two.” 

Gilda’s eyes narrowed. “With who?” 

“Bricius,” Nydia replied. “He had another Talon eagless with him, and they blocked us when we went on our way around town to buy some supplies for the food.” 

Gilda straightened, wondering what that tiercel was thinking. “Did Bricius do anything?” 

Nydia shook her head. “He was just… well, trying to look intimidating.” 

“Trying?” 

“In all honesty, the Talon accompanying him looked more dangerous,” Nydia replied. “She had more armor than he did and looked blooded.” 

Gilda frowned. “Then, did Marco do anything?” 

“Well, he asked what Bricius wanted, and when he said nothing, we just left.” 

She hoped that wasn’t a sign for future trouble. Sighing again, she gave the mage a nod. “Thank you for watching out for him, Nydia.” 

“It’s the least I can do, sir.” 

“Least you can do, what?” 

Gilda almost jumped, and looked behind her to see Marco walking on to them, a questioning expression on his face. 

“Just thanking her for looking after you,” she replied. She tried to smile, but for some reason, her beak wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Ah, yeah,” Marco replied, grinning. “She’s been a great guide around town and as a translator as well. Which reminds me, Nyds, do you have any kind of gem that could let me speak Aeric?” 

“Um, that’s more complicated,” Nydia replied. 

“Really?” Marco blinked. “I mean, this Translation Gem seems to work on the same principle, and that was easy for you to do.” 

“The Translation Gem you have works by receiving a language and forming a basic image for you in your head,” Gilda answered this one, beating Nydia’s reply. “You’re not actually hearing anything in Equestrian, but forming a rough idea of what is being said. That’s why Aeric sounds so weird to you.” 

Marco looked at Nydia for confirmation. The mage nodded in agreement. “The Translation Gem basically can translate because it’s connected to you. What you are asking for is something completely different.”

“Huh. So I can’t just put a Translation Gem in my tongue and start speaking in Yoda Aeric, eh?” 

Nydia’s eyes widened. “Why would anyone want to pierce their tongue?” 

Marco smiled. “Some humans do.” 

The mage couldn’t speak for a few moments. “Humans are odd,” she finally said. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Marco replied, now fully grinning. He looked at Fortrakt’s sleeping form, then gently kicked his haunches. The tiercel grunted. “Hey, drunk-ass. I’m inviting you again for another supply run.” 

Fortrakt could only mumble in his state. Marco rolled his eyes then looked at Nydia. “Guess you’re with me again.” 

The mage looked at Gilda, who after a moment just gave her a slight nod. Nydia then looked at Marco and bobbed her head. 

Marco grinned. “Alright, I’ll just get out of this getup and let’s hit the town again. Later.” 

Without another word, Marco left them alone, walking towards the rear entrance of the inn. Gilda watched him go, a frown forming in her face. Part of her wondered why she felt disappointed, only to jerk up again when Fortrakt made his opinion known. 

“Wow. He didn’t even ask you.” 

Gilda responded like she was supposed to: swiping her wing at his face, then enjoying his muttering of complaints. “I’m sorry, what was that?” she asked. 

“Hmph, you’re only mad because he completely ignored you,” Fortrakt mumbled as he rubbed the side of his head. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “He didn’t ignore me.” 

“Right, that’s why you interjected on a conversation about magic between him and Nydia.” 

“Gletscher, don’t bring me into this,” Nydia muttered. 

Fortrakt mumbled something incoherent, then looked at Gilda. “Well, what are you waiting for?” 

One of Gilda’s eyes widened. “Waiting for?” 

“Go after him, stupid,” Fortrakt replied. “Apologize or ambush him already.” 

Her eyes narrowed again, a soft growl escaping her beak. A moment later, she breathed deeply, then looked at where Marco had gone. She sighed. “I’m going to confront him. I’ve delayed it longer than I should have.” 

“Yes, sir,” Fortrakt replied, smiling widely. 

Gilda stood up, then looked at her partner. “Also, Gletscher, call me stupid again, I’ll re-assign you to Logistica and have Aelia make you do latrine duties.” She left as soon as Fortrakt began to sputter a protest. 

Entering the rear entrance of the inn, Gilda looked around, trying to figure out where Marco ran off to. After a moment, she climbed up the stairs towards the room he was assigned to. She knocked on the door, then waited until a feminine voice replied, “Come in.” 

Gilda opened the door to a modest-sized room. There was no kitchen, just a small antechamber that lead to the living room area, where she saw Tara sitting on one of the couches. 

“Hey, Gilda,” Tara greeted with a smile. “Been a while.” 

“Hello, Tara,” Gilda replied back. She looked around for a moment, then asked, “Is Marco here?” 

Tara nodded. “He’s dressing up. I think he’s about to—” 

There was a click of a door closing, and a few seconds later, Marco appeared from the hallway leading to the rooms, dressed up in another set of clean clothes that no longer had the scent of smoked meat clinging to it. He looked at the eagless for a moment, surprised, then turned slightly neutral. 

“Gilda, hey. This is a surprise.” 

“Can we talk?” Gilda blurted out. Then after a moment, she added, “Please?” 

Marco paused, then nodded. “I reckon we should. Walk with me?” 

“Sure.” 

He turned to face Tara. “Hey, Chris is sleeping. Want anything?” 

“I’m fine. See you later.” 

“Yeah, later.” 

Gilda felt an awkward silence descend on them after they exited the room and climbed down the stairs. She wanted to say a lot of things, but for some reason, couldn’t find a way to start the conversation. Marco didn’t help, either, also staying silent. Once they reached the ground level, though, she decided that a simple opening was the best. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Marco looked at her for a moment, shook his head, then asked, “Sorry about what?” 

The eagless sighed. “For ignoring you the past week.” 

“It’s fine,” Marco said. “I understand, you were angry at me for some reason.” 

“Maybe I was angry for the first day or two, but afterwards… well—” Gilda grunted. 

After a moment, Marco asked, “But afterwards, what?” 

“It sounds silly.” 

“I promise I won’t laugh,” Marco said, then smirked. “Well, not too hard anyway.” 

Gilda stared at him. “You’re not making it any easier for me.” 

“I’m sure your ego will mend,” Marco said, smile widening. 

Gilda snorted. “Fine. I used you as my Return Talisman, okay? There. I said it.” 

Marco blinked then looked at her. “Uh, okay, you’re going to have to give me some context. Starting with ‘what the hell is a Return Talisman’.” 

“It’s… something of a good luck charm for safe returns,” Gilda explained. “I kept going on about confronting you when I returned, and I was looking forward to that. After that first day of raiding, when we came out almost unscathed after destroying three Hearts, I didn’t want to confront you yet. I thought… well…” 

“You know, I actually get that,” Marco interjected. “You thought if you kept putting it off, you wouldn’t die until you got that confrontation with me.” 

Gilda felt her face heat up. “Like I told you, silly.” 

“Not completely,” he said. “I understand people can get rather superstitious when facing danger. Marines have that too, you know. I know of one Sergeant that would throw out any Charms candy that came with their MREs.”

Hearing that term the second time, Gilda asked, “Okay, what’s an MRE?” 

“Meals Ready to Eat,” Marco explained. “It’s basically a ration pack filled with carbohydrates that gives energy to any marching soldier. Candies are part of that package.” 

Gilda nodded. “I’ve seen some Marines pulling out food in those brown packs.” 

“Yup, those,” Marco said. “Now, back to making me your Return Talisman.” 

“Can we not?” Gilda muttered, feeling her face heating up once more. 

“Well,” Marco ignored her, “I can see why you’re a little embarrassed. I mean, I’ve heard of soldiers and Marines looking forward to get back home to their loved ones, giving them that little push to fight harder, but really? Looking forward to confront me was your push?” 

“Marco, I’m going to hit you.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually honored,” Marco continued. “It gives a new meaning of ‘a guy worth fighting for’. Well, maybe in your case, remove the last word.” 

“I have my claws out,” Gilda warned. “And your back is very exposed.” 

Marco laughed before facing her, holding up his two hands defensively. “Okay, okay. Anyways, apology accepted, Gilda.” 

“Well, thank you,” the eagless replied with an undertone of sarcasm in her voice. 

“Though by telling me, won’t that compromise your Talisman-thingy?” 

Gilda sighed. “Considering I’ll be stuck here for a few days, I think the luck ran its course.” 

Marco raised an inquiring eyebrow. “What happened?” 

“We lost a wagon. Imlay says we can’t go out until we get another.” 

“Was anyone killed?” he asked. 

“No, thank the Ancestors.” 

They finally arrived at the entrance of the inn and Marco pushed the door open, letting the two out. Two Marines standing guard greeted them as they passed. As Marco and Gilda crossed the road, the eagless could see Nydia across the road, waiting. When the mage saw them, though, she froze. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re back safe and sound, Gilda,” Marco said as they reached the still-frozen Nydia. “Hopefully, you can visit more often.” 

“I’ll try,” Gilda said. 

Awkward silence descended on them again. Marco looked to his side, then scratched the back of his neck, while Gilda felt like wanting to scratch her wings. 

Marco broke the silence. “Uh, well, good-bye, I guess?”  

“Y-yeah.” 

He looked at Nydia, who was now alternating between looking at the two. “So, ready to go?” he asked.

“I’m sorry!” Nydia suddenly blurted out. “I was just called for duty. I can’t come with you! I’m sorry!” Then, without warning, she suddenly dashed away clumsily; she hit a passing griffin on her way. 

Both Marco and Gilda watched her escape with some sort of wonder and bewilderment. The human looked at the eagless and asked, “What was that?” 

Gilda shrugged. “I don’t know. She seems to get really weird at times.” 

Marco frowned. “Well, that’s… uh.” He looked at her. “Are you free?” 

Gilda looked at him for a moment, confused, then nodded. “Um, yeah. I’m free now, yes.” 

“Want to come with me?” he asked. 

It took a moment before she said, “Yes.” 

“Oh, thank God. I really ought to learn some Aeric expressions, though—huh.” 

Gilda blinked, seeing Marco staring at the space where Nydia ran off to. Looking towards that direction, she spotted Bricius as well as an armored Talon sky-griffin eagless at his side. It felt definitely odd to her. The two were just staring at them. 

“That’s the fourth time I’ve seen them this week,” Marco said. 

“I know,” Gilda replied. “Nydia told me.”

“You know them?” 

“I know the tiercel, Bricius. He was with us during the first day of raiding, but he transferred out. The eagless, though, I have no idea.” She paused. “Were they bothering you?” 

“Not really. Just found them strange, considering they never say anything to me. Come on. The markets will be full soon.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two began to walk away from the somewhat imposing griffin duo. Gilda mentally reminded herself to have Fortrakt or Nydia guard Marco if he ever went out alone. She felt Bricius was up to something, and she didn’t need another problem arising. 

When they were far from the inn, Gilda finally asked, “So, I heard you were talking about me with the Marines. What was that about?” 

He blinked, then looked at her. “Huh?” 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me,” Gilda said with a roll of her eyes. “Imlay told me you talked to them about me.” 

Marco turned away, looking forward. “Uh, yeah. I mean, it was just the usual talk.” 

“Define usual.” 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Normal?” 

Gilda stepped in front of him, turning sideways to block him. “Are you being deliberately obtuse?” 

Marco seemed to ponder on the answer for a moment before nodding. “Maybe a little. Hey, come on. The market is near, and I don’t want to miss on the good stuff.” 

Gilda gave him a deadpan expression before saying, “I’m not letting you pass until you tell me, Marco.” 

“Oh, come on. It’s a little embarrassing, okay?” 

“I’m sure your ego will mend,” Gilda replied with smirk.

Marco rolled his eyes. “Yeah, very clever. Look, they just asked me what I thought of you, and how you’re leading the griffins. I just said I thought you were doing great, and I… well…” 

They stood there, silent for a moment, until Gilda lost her patience. “Well, what?” 

Marco sighed. “I said that you were a cool griffin, okay?” 

The eagless blinked. While Sergeant Reyes had said as much, she never actually heard Marco admit it. For a moment, she wondered what to say next. In the end, she just chuckled before moving on. 

“What?” Marco demanded, taking a few steps to catch up to her. 

“You, saying such a dorky lie.” 

“No, it’s not!” Marco protested. 

“Whatever, dorky liar.” 

“This is payback for making you confess about that Totem thingy, isn’t it?” 

“Psh, what are you talking about?”

He laughed. “Now that is a dorky lie.”

“Whatever. You think I’m a cool griffin.” 

“Yeah, getting less cool by the minute. Come on, let’s see what the market has.” 


> Chapter 16
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If there was something Gilda had learned from leading a small legion, it was that meetings were absolutely boring. Oh, she knew they were essential to gauge the readiness of their legion, but she couldn’t deny that they were utterly tedious. 

It was a far cry from her imagination of a war council. She expected advisors drawing on the sand to indicate enemy movement, then a quick meeting of tactical minds which would suggest a variety courses of action. She expected strong words, a few raised voices, and an argument on what their next move should be. They were present, of course, but what she didn’t expect was that it came after a long list of other things. Like… 

“... the latrines are mostly getting the cleaning they need, but our projections were wrong. The refugee numbers were far too high, and the guards needed to do the maintenance are all busy digging up new latrines to…” 

Gilda wanted to groan. Logistics were essential to winning wars and she understood that. For example, she appreciated knowing that they finally received the last shipment of supplies from steadholts that haven’t been taken yet. However, she still failed to see why they were discussing latrine maintenance when there was an army of cloven probably marching to Aricia right now. Thankfully, it only lasted a few more minutes and they finally moved away from that and began to enumerate weapon and armor availability, something Gilda could follow. 

“... and finished making armor and weapons for any volunteers from the griffin and pony refugees. With the armory filled with replacement weapons, the blacksmiths now have nothing much to do except replace whatever bolts the Sub-Tribune’s, uh, scouting group had lost.” 

Gilda expected Imlay to chuckle again, but he remained silent. Fillius, though, responded, “I am aware that Sub-Tribune’s team isn’t a scouting group, Centurion Aelia.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, First Spear,” Aelia said with a teasing undercurrent to her tone. 

“As you say,” Fillius replied. “Thank you for your report, Aelia. Centurion Faustus, your report. I think the Sub-Tribune is getting bored.” 

Gilda blinked, then scowled towards the First Spear. Imlay finally let loose a chuckle, earning him an identical expression. Thankfully, no one else acted amused. 

The older and well-muscled centurion gave a sharp salute and stepped forward to the drawing sand. “The retreat we’ve been witnessing finally stopped,” he said, drawing a few Xs on the sand. “The Cloven have been seen regrouping and marching forward in six groups. Initial count put their numbers at least a full legion strong and it’s growing.” 

Gilda frowned. She shouldn’t have been surprised by Cloven’s rapid response since the destruction of the wagon three days ago, but looking at the grouping and hearing the numbers, she’d thought they had more time. That was almost three Cloven per griffin soldier. 

The numbers weren’t that alarming yet. As defenders, they had the advantage that could easily face off two legions of Cloven. Then there were the additional defenses the Marines had added, tipping the odds more to their favor. However, her raids taught her better than before on how fortunes changed quickly enough that a critical strike could send them to the crows. 

“There is another particularly worrying notion,” Faustus continued. “We have scouted the additional Clusters they have built in response to Sub-Tribune’s scouting group destroying those nearest Aricia. Their reinforcement numbers are a little low, though, considering how many new Cloven were reported birthed. And we haven’t seen any Corrupted other than the mages. From what I remember, there should be a few dragons and diamond dogs in this area.” 

There was a murmur in the crowd, and Gilda couldn’t blame them. Dragons had scales strong enough to block bolts, could fly, and breathe fire. If even two dragons came to bolster the Cloven marching towards them, it would be enough to put some doubt in their odds. The Diamond Dogs, though they weren’t as a big of a threat as the dragons, were still a good threat as they were just as strong as any griffin and could tunnel through any defense. 

Gilda could practically read the worry in Faustus’ mind. The lack of numbers and missing Corrupted could mean that they were about to strike somewhere they couldn’t see. Thankfully… 

“Centurion Faustus,” Gilda said, earning the attention of almost everyone in the room, “the newly birthed Cloven are being deployed towards the rear of their steadholts, away from us. The Corrupted dragons and diamond dogs have been spotted there as well. We shouldn’t have to worry about them.” 

Faustus blinked. “Why is that, Sub-Tribune?” 

Gilda looked at Imlay. “Corporal, if you would?” 

The Marine nodded, and stepped toward the drawing board. “We’ve been monitoring our comms and received a piece of good news yesterday. Arnau’s reinforcements have finally broken through the Southern Border. We have a company of Marines and about two legions of griffins fighting their way towards us. They got the attention of the Cloven, and are facing fierce resistance. Those dragons and diamond dogs were also present during the offensive.” 

There was a murmur, maybe a cheer from the crowd. Gilda smiled. She knew the feeling, considering that the last three days were almost unrestful. She had wanted to go out and continue their offensive, feeling that if they didn’t, the Cloven would suddenly strike back. It was a dread image that she couldn’t erase in her mind. It eased somewhat when Imlay gave her that piece of good fortune. Things were finally looking up. Reinforcements were on the way, leaving the Cloven in the middle of two fronts. Even Fillius seemed to realize that and seemed to breath a little easier. 

“However, it may take a few days for the our reinforcements to reach us,” Imlay finished. “These Cloven groups converging on us are still a significant threat. We need to strike them hard and fast, whittle their numbers before they reach our defenses.” 

There was a murmur of agreement in the War Council, which warmed Gilda’s heart. A little more than a week ago, Imlay’s tactics were doubted, maybe even belittled, but with their consecutive successes, they were given more credence. Even the First Spear seemed to be convinced, having an  expression of fierce appreciation. 

“Does that mean you have found a replacement wagon?” the First Spear asked. 

“Pathfinder got us three,” Imlay replied. “Apparently, they were part of the ones used to transport the last of the supplies to Aricia. Now that they didn’t need it, and with Centurion Aelia’s permission, we began the modifications.” 

Fillius nodded. “How long will it take, Corporal?” 

“With all of the blacksmiths available, we can have them ready by tomorrow evening.” 

Gilda couldn’t have read any of the griffins’ minds, but she was pretty sure everyone would have clapped if it wasn’t unprofessional.

“Providence,” she found herself saying. 

Fillius looked at her. “Excuse us, Sub-Tribune?” 

“If there was anything that could define providence, this is it,” Gilda continued. “I don’t know whether it was a culmination of our actions, or coincidences aligned by our Ancestors. All I do know is that we have reinforcements on the way, forcing the Cloven to fight between two fronts. And almost three days of fruitless search, wagons are now available at the same time there is a large number of available blacksmiths capable of providing rapid work on their modifications.” 

Gilda stood straighter on all-fours, looking at the War Council. Every eye seemed to watch her. Calmly, she said, “It tells me one thing: we’re going to win. Their initial assault may have removed capable officers and crippled us, but through hard work, we overcame our less than ideal start. Let’s not squander this opportunity. We will finish it. Make our Ancestors proud and send these Cloven to the crows.” 

There was no applause, no murmur. Instead, all of them saluted sharply, their claws hitting their metal plates with an echoing ring. 

That was enough for Gilda. 



 

“That wasn’t a bad speech, ma’am,” Imlay commented as they exited the room. “Did you see the First Spear? I thought he was going to burst into tears.” 

Gilda snorted. The mental image of a bawling Fillius amused her to no end, but she was professional enough not to laugh out loud, even if the three of them were alone. However, Giraldi hadn’t the same compunction. He roared with mirthful joy.  

After she gave the Centurion a small glare, silencing his laughter to a more tolerable volume, she looked at the Corporal and said, “Don’t be silly. The First Spear is too professional for that.” 

“It would have been quite a sight to see, though,” Giraldi replied. 

“Well, I’m glad he didn’t,” Gilda said. “It was already bad enough to see him more supportive of me and the Marines. Seeing him bursting in tears would have sent me running to the crows.” 

“That, I would love to see,” Imlay said, smiling. 

Gilda rolled her eyes. “Right. Now, about the wagons. When they are done, are we going out again?” 

“Of course,” Imlay replied, then looked around for a moment. She followed his gaze. They were now at the hall that led to the entrance of the garrison, and it was somewhat empty. Any passing griffin were focused on their tasks and, other than giving sharp salutes, completely ignored them. “I would have thought you wouldn’t be too eager to go out of town again, though.” 

“Oh, and why is that?” Gilda asked. 

“Hmm,” was all Imlay said. After a few moments, he added, “Marco’s seemingly happier the past few days.” 

Gilda blinked. “Really? He seems normal to me.” 

“Oh, aye,” Giraldi added as they finally reached the entrance. “He got back that missing fire in his eyes. It’s a little inspiring to see.” 

She frowned, wondering what they were going on about. In the past three days, there wasn’t really anything significant that happened. Mostly, they had settled onto the usual routine they had before she started the raids. She supervised his and Fortrakt’s morning bouts, talked about movies he’d show once they got back to Arnau, and shared culture and some history between the two races. Granted, they also did new things like him showing her how humans cooked, and also the enjoyable strolls in town to buy supplies. 

“Wonder what could have happened,” Gilda muttered, wincing as the sun’s brightness made itself well known as they stepped outside in the open field, just before the gate. “Nothing really came up.” 

She didn’t know if she was imagining it, but Giraldi seemed to groan. She looked at Imlay, and all he gave her was a wide smile, as if knowing a secret she didn’t know. Considering the past conversation she had with Marco in regards to that story he told the Marines, she was half a mind that Imlay was pushing her buttons somewhere, leading her on to something. 

She had had enough. 

“Okay, what is—?” she stopped short when she heard an argument at the gate. It took a minute or so before she saw three cubs talking to the two guards posted at the entrance. She recognized Arnulf, Tertia, and Leonitus, the three cubs they had rescued from the steadholt and had befriended Marco, trying to make their way inside. 

“What is going on?” she asked the guard as the three approached. 

“Sub-Tribune,” one of the guards said. The argument stopped, and the guards saluted. 

However, before any of them could say anything more, Tertia suddenly shouted, “He needs help!” 

“Quiet, cub,” one of the guards declared, though not unkindly. “I apologize ma’am, but they were insisting to see you.” 

Gilda gave them a nod, and looked at the three cubs. They looked a little harried, their feathers sticking out in odd places, as if they had flown there in a hurry. “Who needs help?” she asked. 

“Marcus!” Leonitus replied, also in a hurried tone. 

“Marcus?” Gilda asked, confused. She tried to remember the name, but there were at least ten Marcuses in the Aricia’s legion, nevermind any civilian in the town. 

Arnulf pointed towards Imlay, and said, “Marcus.” Then, to clarify, he raised his made to a fist, extending his longest digit up. Tertia and Leonitus did the same. “Marcus!” 

“I think they mean Marco,” Imlay said, frowning. 

That got Gilda frowning as well. A cold slither of fear seemed to settle in her stomach, but forced it down. “Explain it, please. What happened?” 

“Marcus was with us,” Tertia explained, “when three others came. One called himself Bricius.” 

“Crows take it,” Giraldi cursed. “What is that idiot up to now?” 

“He was with a mage and a Talon,” Leonitus continued. “He was saying something about how Marcus was weak without the exploding crossbows, and told him to prove him wrong. We tried to go somewhere else, but the Talon got Arnulf.” 

The mentioned cub now looked like he was about to cry. “My fault. I didn’t see her.”

“It’s not his fault, though!” Tertia defended. 

“It isn’t,” Gilda assured, now feeling the cold dread spread towards her back. She was imagining a few scenarios, and none of them were good. “What happened?” 

“He threatened to hurt Arnulf until he got Marcus to challenge him to a duel.” 

Gilda’s eyes widened. “Where?” 

“There’s a park near the markets! Please! Help him!” 

“Behertz, wait—!” 

Gilda didn’t hear what Giraldi had to say, launching herself up like a bolt to the sky. She probably passed a sky-griffin patrol, but made no effort to stop, turning towards the east where the markets were. Everything afterwards turned to a blur as she shot past a few residential houses, her eyes sharp and trying to remember the layout of the markets. If she remembered correctly, there were at least two parks, a few distances from each other. 

As she hovered above the marketplace, she darted from one park to another, hoping she guessed right. She didn’t need to. One of the parks had a transparent dome, tinted slightly white. She knew that was where she needed to go. 

Landing near the dome, she noticed a growing crowd. A few ponies and a lot of griffins were murmuring, pointing towards the dome. She bowled past them unapologetically until she came a few inches from the barrier. To her surprise, she saw Fortrakt there as well, frowning. 

“What is going on?” she asked in a firm voice. 

“A duel,” Fortrakt replied. The usual jovial tone he had was completely gone, leaving it oddly cold and clinical. 

“I’m putting a stop to this,” Gilda seethed. “I’m going to get that moron Bricius to stand down.”

“You can’t,” a familiar voice called beside her. She snapped to the left, and saw Bricius, a victorious smile on his face. 

“The crows I can’t,” Gilda growled. 

“Yes, you can’t,” Fortrakt replied, earning him a glare from Gilda. “Marco was the one that proposed the challenge. You can’t order the challenged to stand down, ma’am.” 

Gilda felt her claws digging on the ground. If that was true, then yes, she couldn’t legally get Bricius to walk away from this. Worse, as the challenged, Bricius had the option to use a champion in his stead, an option he apparently chose. That left convincing Marco to stop the nonsense before he got hurt. 

Looking past the barrier, she saw the mage that erected the shield. He was a young Knight, acting as the the Master in Arms. He seemed to be saying something towards the Talon and Marco, most likely the rules set in combat. The latter was showing the mage two black cylinders Gilda recognized as Marco’s collapsable batons, as well as the dagger Fortrakt gave him back in Arnau. The Talon, acting as Bricius’ champion, showed the mage her gladius. After a moment, the tiercel nodded, and directed both of them to move away from each other. 

“Walk with me,” Gilda ordered Fortrakt, and the two began to walk towards the same direction Marco was marching towards. 

The barrier wasn’t large, just slightly above twenty paces in diameter. By the time Marco had stopped, Gilda and Fortrakt arrived, much to the human’s surprise. “Hey,” he greeted them. 

“Marco, stand down,” Gilda ordered, her tone hard. 

“No,” was his quick reply. The hardness of his tone shocked her enough to silence for a moment. 

“No?” she asked, her own voice growing cold. “Marco, this isn’t a spar. This is a duel against a bloodied soldier, trained to fight. Look at her armor. She’s got more rank pieces than Fortrakt, which means she’s been doing this for some time already. You’re not going to win.” 

“Oh ye of little faith,” Marco said, turning his back to her, an action that made her suddenly want to tear her feathers out. 

“Crows take you, Lakan!” she shouted. “Why are you so stupidly stubborn? There is nothing to prove here!” 

“It’s not about proving anything,” Marco replied, his back still facing her. “This is about protecting them.” 

“Protect who? The cubs?” Gilda growled. “They are safe!” 

“For how long?” he asked, almost quietly. He glanced towards his side. Gilda followed it and saw Bricius talking to the Talon, his smile never leaving. “I know his type. He’s a fucking bully on a power trip. He doesn’t want me to just surrender without proving his point. He wants to see me beaten, to make me realize how right he is. If I give up without a fight, he’s going to try this again.”

“He won’t,” Gilda said forcefully. “I can have him demoted or thrown out of the legion. We have laws in regards to hurting cubs.” 

Marco scoffed. “I’m pretty sure he will claim it was just a ploy. That he never really meant to hurt them, just scare them a bit.” 

He made a move with his arms, and Gilda finally noticed he was wearing metal braces, one on each arm. They looked pretty new, unused, not the ones he used to spar with Fortrakt. Before she could wonder where he got those, he faced her and continued. 

“He also bragged that his family was from the Aigidius line. Well-connected merchant family with money and apparently has the ear of a Lord.” 

Gilda frowned. She may have recognized the name, but having stayed in Equestria most of her life, she couldn’t really remember details. She looked at Fortrakt instead, someone who grew up in Gryphon and also from a steadholt family, one that dealt with many merchants that threw around their names. He nodded in confirmation. 

Marco smiled sadly. “See? I don’t think you can demote or kick him out so easily.” 

“I can put him in the brig until it’s over,” Gilda suggested. 

Fortrakt frowned. “Ma’am, do you have enough power to pull that?” 

Gilda sighed. She wasn’t a Captain, and while she had been ultimately assigned to lead the defense, she was under no illusion that a lot of the commanding power resided in the First Spear as he was the most senior soldier of the legion. While he may be a bit more agreeable to her now, he wouldn’t have a soldier imprisoned for anything but solid reasons. It was part of his job to take care of his soldiers, to represent them. If she came to him with this, she’d only have a word of three minors, a newly minted officer with only a few accomplishments under her, and a human who was her friend. 

The last one screamed bias, maybe enough for the First Spear to doubt her credibility of the claim. And she dared not try and override him, which would be tantamount to losing his support, and along with it, the defenders’ as well. 

Gilda growled. She thought of using her family to support her, considering her sire was a High Lord, but with the present situation, she knew better than wait for the help that may never arrive. Part of her wondered if Bricius was telling the truth, but she knew no one was suicidal enough to use an influential family name on a duel. If he got a Talon and maybe a mage to work for him, it made even more sense. However…

“Even if that’s the case, I can still protect the cubs.” 

“It’s not just the cubs,” Marco said. “He can target someone else. Tara goes out sometimes. And Chris…” 

Gilda growled. “I can protect them too.”

“Gilda, you’re already fighting a war,” Marco replied. “Don’t waste resources on this.” 

“And what gives you the idea he won’t repeat this after the duel regardless of the results?” 

“Fortrakt helped me set the terms of the duel. If I lose, I’ll have to admit that humans are weaker or something along that line, and in his generosity, he won’t target anyone else or challenge any other human as long as I see through the duel towards the end. That last part is more important.” 

Gilda glared at Fortrakt, who shook his head. “Marco already had declared his challenge when I arrived. There was nothing else I could do.” 

“Besides,” Marco added, “I’ll just get beaten. I’ve enough experience on that it’ll just be a normal day, really.” 

“You’re wrong,” Gilda said softly. “He can legally have you killed. It’s a duel.”

Marco blinked, then turned to Fortrakt. The tiercel nodded in agreement. “Huh,” he said. “Really? I mean, buying power or not, killing a foreign visitor in a diplomatic visit will cause his family too many problems, right?” 

Fortrakt shook his head. “Duels are one of the oldest traditions in the Gryphon culture. If you die, he won’t get any repercussion.”  

Gilda’s face softened. “Marco, please.” 

Marco frowned for a moment, then looked at the Talon he was about to face before he took a deep breath and shook his head. “Well, okay then. I guess I’ll just… not die.” He turned to Fortrakt once more. “Thanks for the braces.” 

Gilda blinked, then looked at Fortrakt. The tiercel didn’t face her, and just gave Marco a solemn nod. “Remember, Marco,” he said, “angle it against the blade.”

 Marco gave him a small smile before it disappeared, his expression neutral. He turned again and began to walk towards the center, where the mage and the Talon were waiting on him. Gilda could only watch with stunned resignation. 

“They were my father’s,” Fortrakt said, turning to face Gilda. It took a moment before she realized he was talking about the braces Marco was wearing. “They were given by the Kingdom as appreciation for his service and sacrifice. I kept them in case one day I earned the ranks. I would have opted to wear them instead of the ones issued to me.” He faced away from her. “He needs them more than I do.” 

Gilda looked back, her mind still trying to figure out how to stop it. She couldn’t think of anything, and by that time, the duel started. The mage moved away from the Talon and Marco. The crowd became silent. 

Marco went to his usual fighting stance, with the difference that he had a collapsable baton on his left leading hand, and the dagger on his right. The Talon didn’t seem to react, slowly drawing out her sword, the metal ringing in the air sharply. Her wings flapped in steady rhythm, levitating her just high enough that her hind paws barely touched the ground.  

Gilda could hear her heart beating fast as the two circled each other, studying. Marco had the slight advantage here, having experienced fighting a griffin with all of his spars with Fortrakt. The Talon, though, was an experienced soldier, and it wouldn’t be amiss to think she was flexible enough to adapt to Marco’s fighting style. 

“I’m really curious,” Fortrakt suddenly said. 

“Curious about what?” Gilda asked. 

“Remember Marco saying he fought better with weapons? I wonder  how true that is.” He paused. “It’s starting.” 

It wasn’t a sudden clash of weapons. No, Gilda knew Marco fought smarter than that. He closed in the Talon’s range, shifted his body slowly, and baited the Talon to strike. She did. The blade came in fast, downward strike that would have connected to Marco’s shoulder, except he moved just a step away, perfectly dodging the strike, then he took two quick steps forward, and extended his right leg to kick at the Talon. It was a solid strike to the flank, strong enough to force her away a few paces. 

Fortrakt chuckled, earning him a look from Gilda. 

“What?” Gilda asked. 

“His pride got the better of him,” was the tiercel’s reply. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Gilda growled, watching Marco bait the Talon once more, earning her another solid kick.

“I’m talking about Bricius,” Fortrakt explained. “He may have cornered Marco into making the challenge, thus allowing him a champion, but he didn’t think it through. He was so confident in victory yet made no preparation at all. He even left the terms open on what would happen if Marco won.”

“How would that help?” Gilda demanded. 

“Look at her. That Talon is confused.” 

Gilda frowned, then looked at the eagless facing Marco. Fortrakt was right. Her expression was almost neutral, except her eyes were furrowed, and her beak was forming a slight frown. Instead of waiting for another bait, she flew forward, thrusting her gladius forward, to which Marco easily side-stepped, and snapped his foot forward to her ribs, hard, making her fly away again. 

“See, that’s a mistake I learned not to repeat after I fought Marco the second time,” Fortrakt continued. “I thought Bricius had been watching or studying Marco when we sparred every morning, but that Talon of his has no clue. She’s not prepared to face him.” 

Gilda agreed. If she were the Talon, she’d stick to the ground. While levitating gave her the option to use her gladius fully, the Talon didn’t know human mobility or their flexibility. Marco was surprisingly nimble on his feet and could dodge most attacks he could see coming. Plus the fact that his feet were firmly on the ground gave him enough strength and leverage to create space between them. In the air, the Talon was at the whims of any force done to her. 

“She doesn’t know what kind of weapon style he’s using,” Fortrakt finished, “or that they can grapple their enemies. She’s completely lost on how to face him.” 

“For now,” Gilda replied. “She didn’t gain her rank by being stupid. Don’t underestimate her.” 

The next bait wasn’t as successful as before. Stepping to the range of her gladius again, Marco took a step back when the Talon raised her foreleg, but to his surprise, she suddenly changed the angle to a forward thrust, which he barely dodged by rolling on the ground, passing beneath her. Gilda held her breath as the Talon did a perfect turn, and streaked to Marco’s back. Fortrakt stiffened beside her, his beak forming a very thin line but it broke to a smile when he saw Marco move. 

The human wasn’t completely balanced, sacrificing it for extra speed as he dodged the flurry of slashes the Talon unleashed. When he backed away from her far enough, he regained stability, and countered with a fast thrust of his own as the Talon followed up on his right. Metal rang as the tip of the dagger hit the metallic armor protecting her chest, leaving a fine diagonal line in its wake. 

The Talon backed away, eyes wide. She looked at her armor, for a moment, tracing the scratch with her claw, before looking at Marco, a small smile forming in her face. She gave him a respectful nod, to which Marco returned neutrally. 

“Ondrea!” Bricius suddenly shouted. The Talon turned to face him, questioningly. “Stop playing with him already!” 

Ondrea seemed to sigh, then looked at Marco. Her neutral gaze now turned predatory, a look that formed a lump in Gilda’s throat. Then, she was nothing more than a blur dashing towards Marco. Before Gilda could say anything, there was another spark of metal, and Marco flying away.  

The world seemed to still as Gilda watched the human fall in a heap. For a moment, her heart seemed to stop, her stomach turning ice cold as she thought that she just witnessed the death of the human under her care. To her relief, however, Marco slowly stood up, shaking his head. He went back to his stance, noticing that his baton was sliced neatly in half and a red line drawn on his arm. 

“First blood,” Fortrakt muttered. He moved his head slightly, as if noticing something. “Huh. Marco doesn’t even look fazed.” 

Gilda blinked, and realized Fortrakt was right. Marco just looked at the weapon and his bleeding arm for a moment. He then discarded the broken baton before reaching for his  other. With a flick, it extended to full length, and he went to position again, his face as if carved in stone.

Before anyone could say anything, Ondrea was a blur again. Gilda’s heart was beating fast, strong. Like when she first witnessed the Marines shooting their weapons, she could suddenly see things with utter clarity. She saw Ondrea’s gladius coming in a straight line, its surface reflecting the light from the sun, thrusting towards Marco. He looked completely still, unaware. 

No, wait. There was a shift in his step. His right foot went forward in an angle, his right arm coming right up to meet the tip of her sword. There was a flash as the dagger slid on the side of the sword, the friction creating sparks. 

It wasn’t a complete parry. The force of the thrust was so strong that he lost his grip with the dagger and it tumlbed away. If it wasn’t for the brace, the blade would have cut deeply into his forearm. Instead, the gladius slid through its surface, creating a fine line in the metal with only the tip of the sword reaching Marco’s shoulder, earning him a small bite. 

Apparently, it was enough for the human. His counter attack was absolutely brutal. His left hand snapped forward, the baton hitting Ondrea on the head, strong enough to hurt, to stun. He wasn’t done yet; his arms captured her extended foreleg, then used her movement, her momentum, against her as he forcefully shoved her down. Gilda heard an ugly crack before Ondrea’s screams. 

“Ancestors,” Fortrakt muttered as he watched Marco’s knee pinning the extended foreleg down. His left arm was free to brutally rain down baton strikes to the Talon’s head in a fast flurry of motions that only left the shadow of the weapon in its wake. 

He probably got ten shots in before she used her free foreleg to cover herself, but Marco was completely unrelenting. He changed angles, trying to find an undefended area, and busted the Talon open, coloring her white feathers crimson. Her wings fluttered, hitting Marco, and though it wasn’t painful, it distracted him enough that he took a swipe at that too. 

Gilda winced. For a sky-griffin, a hit on the wings was debilitating, and judging by Ondrea’s screaming snarl, it was agonizing. Her hind legs began to kick the ground, trying to find some sort of leverage. She did, and pushed herself away. Marco wouldn’t let go of the arm, so she settled on clawing his face. 

Blood flew from the strike, and Gilda feared the worst. Thankfully, Marco had moved out slightly, earning him three red lines that ran across from his forehead to his cheek, missing his eye. He seemed to know he was fighting a losing battle. With one last move, he struck down on her shoulder, earning another scream. It served to loosen the claw’s grip on the gladius, allowing him to easily tear it away from her reach, before rolling away with it. 

Gilda turned to Bricius, now looking awfully nervous, unhappy. She first thought it was because his champion was losing the duel, which meant submitting to Marco’s terms, whatever they were. However, his eyes weren’t on the duel but at the crowd. Looking in the same direction, she frowned as she heard a murmur and saw movement. 

Humans, mostly Marines, began to pour in. The Marines looked ready to fight and stopped just before the barrier. They watched with horror as realized who was inside. Imlay’s eyes darted around, then spotted Gilda, and ordered his company to march with him. Beside him was a face Gilda hadn’t seen for some time.  

“What is going on here?” Raleigh demanded. 

Gilda looked at Imlay for a moment. “It’s a duel.” 

“A duel?” Raleigh asked, blinking. “No, this can’t be happening. Tell your soldier to stand down.” 

“I can’t,” Gilda said, more quietly. “Even the Queen cannot legally order a challenged party to drop a duel.” 

“Challenged party?” Raleigh frowned. “Are you telling me that Lakan started a fucking duel, challenging that soldier?” 

“Essentially, yes.” 

“That little shit!” Raleigh shouted, spittle coming out of his mouth. “I knew he was a problem from the start! Nothing but a fucking brute!” He then walked away, shouting towards Marco’s back, hurling insults and orders to stand down. Marco seemingly ignored him. 

Imlay looked at Gilda for the moment, then asked, “I’m guessing there was a good reason?” 

Gilda nodded, then turned towards the duel. Imlay, and the Marines, did the same. 

“Is there any possible way this will end in lethal results?” 

“Yes,” Gilda said. 

“God-fucking-damnit,” Imlay muttered. He turned to his Marines. “Anyone with grenades, get ready.” 

Gilda turned to him sharply. “You can’t interfere.” 

“Fuck I can’t,” the Corporal growled. “I’m not going to watch as he kills Flip-Boy.” 

“She,” Gilda corrected. 

“What?” the Corporal asked. 

“That Talon is an eagless,” Gilda said. “And don’t worry. Marco’s won already.” 

Imlay frowned before looking at the two duelers more closely. “Holy shit,” he muttered. “What happened?” 

“He outclassed her completely,” Fortrakt replied, a little too happy. “He baited her to come at him directly, and when she overextended, he used her momentum to dislocate her shoulder. Then, his baton just went woosh and woosh, probably giving her a concussion and a sprained wing, then disarmed her.” 

Imlay shook his head. “Cornered enemies are dangerous.” 

“If she wasn’t so confused, I’d agree with you,” Gilda said. “Look at her. She isn’t focusing on Marco. Her eyes are moving all over the place.” 

“Definitely concussion,” Fortrakt interjected. 

Before Gilda could say anything else, Bricius suddenly shouted, “Ondrea! If you lose, you get nothing! You hear me? Nothing!” 

Gilda growled. “Someone shut him up before—!”

Ondrea screamed, and before Gilda could say anything more, the Talon charged towards Marco. She was surprisingly fast, considering she only had three working legs and a wing that wouldn’t respond. Marco just seemed to stand there for a moment, seemingly uncaring, and dropped the gladius from his right hand. As she came to his range, he deliberately raised his right leg, leaning back, as if to draw a powerful kick. She stopped her charge, her foreleg stiffening as if ready to block it. 

The kick didn’t come out. Instead, his right leg snapped backwards as he made a slight hop in the air. At the same time, his right fist thrusting forward, fast. Gilda found the move, the setup of it, beautiful. She wasn’t completely sure how intentional it was, but Marco used his earlier kicks to establish a pattern of his fighting style for the Talon to read. When he raised his leg again, she thought he was going for another kick. 

She didn’t expect the fist to her face. 

Stunned, the Talon stepped backwards. Marco followed her, leading with his right leg. In blind desperation, she went for a wild and easily read swipe of her claw. 

Marco raised his right arm in a defensive position, while twisting his body clockwise. His left arm was extended, following the motion of his body, lending speed and power to his own strike. 

The claw hit the right brace. 

The baton hit the undefended and bleeding portion of the Talon’s head. 

There was an ugly thud as Ondrea hit the ground flat, unmoving, most likely unconscious. That didn’t seem to register to Marco as he raised his left arm one more time. The Master of Arms, seemingly realizing it was over, dashed between them. Gilda saw the the mage saying something to him, probably telling Marco that it was over. The human just looked at the mage and for one wild moment Gilda thought he was going to ignore the the griffin, maybe attack him too. However, Marco just nodded, his legs giving way as he collapsed on his rear, breathing raggedly. 



 

“Crows,” Giraldi muttered as he finally finished ordering the Guards that accompanied him to disperse the crowd. The duel seemed to entertain the griffins into staying even after it was over. “I thought Bricius was smarter than this. We got Cloven marching towards us and he tricks a human to a duel because of stupid reasons.” 

Gilda looked at him for a moment, nodding, before looking at Marco surrounded protectively by a few Marines with unpleasant expressions on their faces. Fortrakt was there as well, though a little bit aways after one of the Marines told him to keep his distance. Marco was being looked at by a Medico mage, Doc, and Imlay, while Raleigh was shouting obscenities at him. Giraldi followed her gaze before sighing as well.

“This might cause problems,” Giraldi said. 

Gilda snorted. “It already has. It took Doc to convince them to let a Medico look over Marco. They aren’t letting any other griffins close.” 

“Have you tried approaching them yet, sir?” 

“Later,” Gilda replied, tone cold. “I want to have a few words with Bricius and his hired whore.” 

“Sir,” Giraldi said just as she took a step. She paused. “It was a legal duel. Lakan challenged Bricius and won. There won’t be any further repercussions.” 

“He’s getting blamed for this,” Gilda pointed out, motioning towards Raleigh, whose voice was growing more and more hysterical. “We can talk about legalities all we want, but it’s not going to help Marco.” 

Giraldi frowned. “Sir, I’m just urging you to not make it any worse. Besides, Lakan didn’t do anything wrong or illegal.” 

“The humans in charge don’t seem to care about that.” 

“That’s their problem, then,” Giraldi replied. “Lakan is strong, for a human civilian. He has shown that he can and will face down any trouble ahead. I’m more worried about what you’ll do.” 

Gilda closed her eyes for a moment before nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

She walked towards the Marines. As she approached, she could hear Raleigh’s shouts getting more and more incoherent, but she could knew there were threats judging by the tone of his voice. Marco was surprisingly silent, as if ignoring him—maybe in shock—which probably infuriated Raleigh enough to growl and walk away. 

She sighed with relief; she didn’t want to talk with him now. 

Just when she was a few paces away, the Marines seemed to cluster together. She looked at them watching her stonily, before they seemed to take a breath and moved aside. She gave them a thankful nod, and slowly approached Marco. 

“Marco,” she greeted. 

Marco blinked, then looked at her. He gave her a small, painfully tired smile. With the slash on his face, it gave him a rather edgy look. First thing that came to her head was that the wound had to go and that there was no way she would have Marco carrying the whore’s Marking. 

The Doc turned to her, frowning. He gave a look to Imlay, who regarded her carefully. 

“Ma’am, this isn’t the time,” the Corporal said. 

“I’m just here to officially congratulate him on winning the duel,” Gilda said neutrally. “I am also here to see if Bricius has come through with the conditions to be met when duel was won.” 

Marco blinked. “Um, I thought I just won’t have to admit humans were weak?” 

Gilda shook her head. “Those were the conditions set if he won. He lost. And Fortrakt tells me he left yours open.” 

Marco frowned. “Hey, does that mean he can start this crap again? Target or challenge someone else? Because that was part of his terms if he won the duel.” 

“As you haven’t set any conditions, you can still prevent him from doing that.” 

“Wait,” Imlay interjected, “what is this shit of targeting or challenging someone?” 

“Long story,” Marco replied. He looked at Gilda. “Okay, yeah, let’s do that.” 

“May I also suggest something?” Gilda asked, smile now widening. 

Marco blinked, then said, “I’m open to suggestions.” 

“It seems there’s a need of griffins to help maintain latrine cleanliness,” Gilda said. “Normally, I’d transfer him there, but he could protest that he was being transferred as an unjust punishment for participating a legal duel, especially considering our obvious friendship. However…” 

Marco matched her smile. “However, if it is part of conditions of said legal duel, he won’t have a leg to stand on.” 

“Exactly.” 

There was no hesitation. “Do it,” he said.

“My pleasure.” 
	

> Chapter 17
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gilda took a moment to breathe. She felt oddly nervous, like when she had snuck into her sire’s study; the feeling and memory annoyed her to no end. She stared at the door for a moment, counted to ten, then quickly knocked on the wooden surface. 

There was a moment before she heard footsteps, then the door opened. Tara’s eyes widened in surprise as she saw Gilda. “Huh,” she said. “We’re getting a lot of visitors lately.” 

Gilda smiled. “I’m not bothering you, am I?” 

“No, no,” Tara quickly replied. “Come in.” 

The eagless nodded her thanks, and followed the female human through the small antechamber that led to the living room area. First thing Gilda noticed was the smell of coffee permeating the room. The second was the barely audible conversation in the next room. She recognized all of the voices. 

“The Corporal is here?” Gilda asked. 

Tara nodded. “Raleigh sent him to give Marco a message. I think they are making fun of him.” 

Gilda blinked. “Who’s making fun of Marco?” 

Tara gave her a knowing smile. “I mean Marco, Chris, and the Corporal are making fun of Raleigh.” 

“Oh.” 

As they exited the living room, both of them came to a short hallway that led to what Gilda assumed to be two bedrooms and the latrine area. Here, she could clearly hear the conversation and the obvious tone of  amusement that it carried. 

“Doesn’t he even realize that you guys are busy fighting?” Chris asked. 

“I don’t think he finds the Cloven as big of a threat as Flip-Boy here,” came Imlay’s dry response, though Gilda could imagine a wry grin in the Corporal’s face. “In fact, if he was so inclined, I’m pretty sure Mr. Raleigh would want a fireteam to surround Mr. Lakan to make sure he doesn’t start a war with the Griffies.” 

“Well,” Marco interjected, “we can’t have that. After all, I don’t think Gryphon has any oil.” 

“I’m pretty sure the government can find a reason,” Imlay replied. “After all, the Griffies look like they need some good ol’ fashioned Freedom.” 

Apparently, that was a funny joke because Marco and Chris started chortling. Tara didn’t seem to agree, as she rolled her eyes in response. She motioned towards the door, smiling at Gilda, as if saying that that was her cue. 

The eagless didn’t disappoint her. Putting on her war face, she immediately announced her presence by opening the door, startling the three occupants, and exclaimed, “What is this about starting another war?!” 

Gilda looked inside, satisfied she caught all of them off-guard. All eyes were wide as they saw her, and for a few seconds, no one reacted. She saw Imlay sitting on a couch, one of his hands holding a drinking cup, while the other clutched the side of the couch rather stiffly. Chris was harder to read as he laid in one of the beds, almost unmoving. Only his head seemed to respond to his will, having turned to her, his mouth wide. Marco was there beside him, standing a little straight, one of his hands holding a pot of steaming coffee, and the other a drinking cup. 

After a moment, they recovered. Marco was the first, smiling as he poured himself a cup. The claw marks he received in yesterday’s duel were gone, much to her relief. “Well, you know how it is, Gilda. When one civilian beats a soldier in duel to the death, the winning party tends to get ideas.” 

“Some duel to the death,” Gilda replied as she made her way inside. Though it looked a bit spartan, it was clean and warm. Climbing on top of the empty bed, she arched her back slightly and pawed the bed gently with her claws before laying on her stomach. “No one died and you could barely stand in the end.” 

“Uh, that’s my bed,” Marco said. 

Gilda smirked. “So? Are you going to challenge me to a duel to get me off?” 

Imlay snickered, an odd sight that caught Gilda off guard, but before she could ask what garnered that kind of reaction, Marco replied with his own smirk. 

“Why, Gilda, we don’t need to arrange a duel for that,” he said. “I’m always available to get you off anytime you want.” 

The eagless felt her cheeks flush as the full implication of her words hit her. She opened her mouth to protest, to say anything, but she couldn’t. Heat began to build up around her face as she was unsure what to do next. Thankfully, Tara entered and saved her from further embarrassment. 

“See, this is why Raleigh is riding your ass,” Tara said. “Your toxic masculinity knows no bounds.” 

Chris snorted, while Imlay rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. Marco just grinned back at Tara. “It’s hardly toxic.”

“Oh?” she asked. “Did you not just challenge a griffin to a duel yesterday, beating up a female so badly that she needed medical attention?” 

“I think that was shows my strong belief of feminism,” Marco replied without pause. “I gave her an equal opportunity to kick my ass, after all.” 

“And now you’re trying your luck with another female, shamelessly I might add.” 

Marco took a sip, his smile never leaving his face. “Why, Tara, if you wanted me to try my luck again with you, all you had to do is ask.” 

“You have short memory, don’t you?” Tara asked, though she was smiling as well. “How badly did I reject you again?” 

“It wasn’t a kick in the balls, so not that bad,” Marco replied with a shrug. 

“No kick in the balls means a maybe, right?” Chris interjected. 

Marco chuckled, while Tara shook her head, smile widening. “It’s not a yes,” she corrected.

“Then let’s clear the air,” Marco said. He paused for a moment, then gave a rather obviously fake wide smile. His arms did an exaggerated flourish as he went to one knee. What impressed Gilda the most was that he didn’t even spill any of the coffee in his cup. “Tara, would you do me the honor of letting me get you off?” 

Tara gave him fake sweet smile and replied, immediately, “No.” 

“Ooh,” Chris said, shaking his head slightly as if sympathetic of Marco’s plight. 

“Ah, rejected again,” Marco said as he stood up. He gave Chris a confused look. “Chris, tell me, haven’t I just fought off a strong griffin? Doesn’t that indicate my worth as a bedwarmer?” 

“You wish, you neanderthal,” Tara replied. 

“Bah, my awesome masculinity is wasted on you,” Marco said. 

“Toxic masculinity.” 

“Toe-may-toe, toh-mah-toe.” 

The three chuckled after that, leaving Gilda pondering once more on their familiarity. The topic of the conversation between the three were a little confusing, but the warmth of their tones were not. Part of her wondered if she stumbled into something private, but she felt too amused to leave. She stole a look at Imlay, who looked utterly relaxed, as if he had already seen this type of conversation countless of times. 

“In all seriousness, Marco,” Tara began, “was it really necessary for you to challenge a griffin to a duel?” 

“Yeah,” Marco replied more softly, before stealing a glance at Chris and Tara. He smiled, almost sadly. “Yeah, it was.” 

“Because in all honesty, it seems to be giving you more trouble than it’s worth. I mean, Raleigh never liked you in the first place, and you’re just giving him more ammunition.”

“Well,” Marco replied, his accent slightly changing, “we all have a job to do. Mr. Raleigh's job is being an asshole. And he excels at it.” 

Imlay chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you memorize every line in that series?” 

Marco smiled. “I’m still waiting for an opportunity to say, ‘I love you Fruity Rudy’ to Reyes.” 

“Oh, please call me when you do,” Imlay said. “I want the best seat in the house for that ass kicking.” 

“What, you think he’ll be insulted?” Marco asked. 

Imlay seemed to pause at that before shaking his head. “You know what, he might actually be flattered.” 

Tara looked between the two of them, then asked, “For those not in the know, what are you two talking about?” 

Gilda nodded in agreement. So far, she was still lost on any references the conversation pertained. 

“I’m quoting lines from the series Generation Kill,” Marco replied. He looked at Gilda. “Yeah, I think you and Fortrakt will like that one. It’s a pretty accurate look at Marine culture and chronicles one of the more modern skirmishes of our generation.” 

“We’re earning quite a list,” Gilda noted. 

“Think of it as something to Return to,” Marco said to her with a wink. 

Gilda rolled her eyes, though thankful he wasn’t going to bring in his friends and the Corporal into that particular topic. She wondered if it was a mistake to admit the whole Return Totem to Marco, but at least he was discreet. 

“Good thing you and Fortrakt have somewhat similar interest in human films,” Marco continued, walking towards Imlay, who extended his drinking cup. Marco poured out some coffee. “Can you imagine the list if you two had differing tastes? The list would be a lot longer. Speaking of Fortrakt, you weren’t there in morning training.” 

Gilda nodded. “Sorry about that. I had to finish up the paperwork on Bricius’ transfer, and the First Spear wanted to discuss it with me. He was a bit curious on why someone would voluntarily be reassigned into cleaning latrines.” 

“Was there any problem?” Marco asked. 

“No,” the eagless replied. “Just honest curiosity.” 

“Does he know about the duel?” Imlay asked. 

“He did. I think he was making sure I wasn’t undermining Bricius’ rights.” 

“His rights,” Marco scoffed. He drank from his cup, and placed both it and the pot to a nearby table and walked to her. “I may have won the duel, but Tara is right. Sometimes I wonder if it was worth it.” 

“Mr. Raleigh?” Gilda asked. 

“Not just him,” Marco said as he unceremoniously sat beside her, then laid prone. “Fortrakt wanted me to spar with him with weapons. Then I think he was accusing me of holding back.” 

The eagless nodded. “To be fair, you were much faster in that duel than you were in your spars.” 

“You told me it could have legally ended in death,” Marco replied. “I had good reason to be faster.” 

“Duel to the death,” Chris muttered, sighing. “I break my back, and you’re back to your stupid crusade again.” 

“It’s not like that,” Marco protested softly. 

“Isn’t it?” Tara asked. “I worry about you sometimes, Marco. Back in college, you weren’t exactly…” 

“Civilized?” he asked wryly. 

“Calm,” Tara finished with a bit of dignity. “You always had a temper, especially when it came to things you thought were wrong. It got you into a lot of trouble.” 

“Yes, well, it wasn’t like that yesterday,” Marco said, sitting up. Gilda looked at him for a moment, noting his slumped posture and frown, making her a little curious about what happened to him in the past. Then, as if someone activated a firegem inside him, he smiled, straightening up. “Well, at least my coolness factor went up a notch with the cubs. They at least appreciate my awesome masculinity.” 

Tara rolled her eyes in response. 

“Not only to the cubs,” Imlay interjected, earning the attention of everyone in the room. “A few of the guys talked about making their own challenges. Told them I’d run them up the fucking flagpole if they tried.” 

Gilda frowned, but before she could say anything, Marco replied, “Heh, good ol’ Article 114, eh?” 

Imlay gave Marco a look. “The fuck would you know about the UCMJ, Flip-Boy?” 

“Google,” was Marco’s cheeky reply. 

“Hold on,” Gilda interrupted. “What’s UCMJ, and what’s Google?” 

“UCMJ stands for Uniform Code of Military Justice,” Imlay replied. “It’s basically our military laws. As for Google…” 

“You’ve seen our computer, right?” Tara asked Gilda. 

“The ones we use to watch movies, right?” 

Tara nodded. “One of its other function is to connect with other computers, to share vast amounts of information. Google is basically something that allows anyone to search for any subject to read about it.” 

Gilda blinked. “You mean, that computer will be able to give you any information you search for?” When Tara nodded, the eagless continued, “That’s amazing.” 

“Once you get used to it, it’s nothing, really,” Chris replied. “And most of the time, you’ll only see information that most people already know and can legally share.” 

“And that wasn’t what I was asking, Marco,” Imlay said. “Why were you interested enough to read through military laws?” 

“Eh, I was bored,” Marco replied carelessly.

Chris snorted. “Please. Before I invited him to this trip, he was actually thinking of joining the Marine Corps as an officer.” 

That got Gilda to look at Marco. The human looked embarrassed, much to her surprise. He quickly stood up from the bed and walked to the window, staring outside. 

Imlay looked a bit more thoughtful. “You were planning to go to OCS?” Gilda must have looked confused because the Corporal explained afterwards, “OCS is Officer Candidate School.” 

“Oh.”

Imlay smiled, then looked back at Marco. “So, OCS, eh?”

“Maybe,” Marco replied, almost a whisper. He made a slight noise and turned around to face them, arms across his chest. “Okay, let’s have it. I can literally hear you guys laughing.” 

Gilda stole a glance at everyone else. Chris’ expression didn’t change, Tara looked somewhat torn, and Imlay looked downright pensive. She herself didn’t find anything funny about Chris’ declaration.

“I won’t,” the Corporal replied, unknowingly answering for all of them. “I’m just imagining the end product after they finished hammering you.” He paused. “I can’t say whether you would have passed, and even if you did, would you have continued after your ten weeks? Gone to Basic School? Would you have gone to infantry, combat arms, or support?” 

Marco seemed to lose his somewhat defensive posture, looking relieved. “With my luck, I probably would have ended up as a POG.” 

Gilda blinked. POG? She heard that term before, but it was never explained. 

Imlay laughed. “Yeah, that, I can see. Still, without the trip, would you have been a new butter bar in charge?” 

Gilda blinked again. Butter bar? She looked around her to see Chris and Tara just staring in confusion as well. 

“I don’t know,” Marco said, smiling before he shook his head. “Okay, enough embarrassing stories.” Chris looked like he was about to protest when Marco glared at him. “I mean, if you want to continue, I do recall that bar fight that got started by a pair of dirty briefs and a terrified bunny.” 

“You are lucky my spine is broken,” Chris replied, his cheeks red. 

Marco’s smile widened. “The poor bunny was absolutely traumatized.” 

“Okay, okay, you win,” Chris muttered. 

“Now I’m curious,” Tara declared. 

“Me too,” Gilda added. 

Marco laughed. “Maybe another time.” He looked out the window for again, then his stance changed. He paused for a moment before tilting his head slightly. “Huh.” 

The eagless stood up and followed his gaze. The sun was already coming down from it’s highest peak, casting a somewhat soft shadow on the buildings outside. She couldn’t see the street from her angle, but she noticed a lone griffin sitting on one of the rooftops not so far away. Her eyes focused, bringing the image of the said griffin to greater clarity, and what she saw caused her to growl. 

“What is she doing there?” Gilda demanded. 

Marco shrugged. “Don’t know. I noticed her this morning, though, in a nearer building.” 

Imlay stood up. “Who is it?” 

“That eagless I dueled yesterday,” Marco replied. 

“What?!”

“Let me,” Gilda said as she jumped down from the bed. Imlay looked like he was about to protest when she added, “You still have to check if the wagons are ready. Besides, I’ve been wanting to speak to her.” 

Imlay paused for a moment before nodding. Gilda nodded back and then looked at the rest of them. Marco looked at her worriedly. Tara looked a bit more apprehensive and confused, while Chris frowned. None of them said anything. 

After a short goodbye, Gilda sprang towards the roof and launched herself in the air. She was expecting to chase the Talon down, but surprisingly, Ondrea made no such move, as if waiting for her. Gilda didn’t waste time and landed close to the waiting Talon. 

While Ondrea didn’t even deem to face her, she still greeted in a respectful tone, “Good afternoon, sir.”

“Get away from him, Talon,” Gilda said in a hard tone. 

Ondrea turned to face her. From here, Gilda could still see the bandages that covered part of her right foreleg, which was stiff as the Talon moved, probably because of a wooden splint underneath. Her right wing also didn’t move as smoothly as it did, probably still sprained or just swollen. In either case, Gilda cared little. 

So when Ondrea said, “No,” Gilda readied to launch herself at her. 

“I won’t repeat myself, Talon,” Gilda seethed. 

“Sir, am I breaking any laws?” 

Gilda stared at the Talon for a moment before shaking her head. “No. It changes nothing though. Leave. That’s an order.” 

Ondrea looked at her for a moment, eyes narrowing. “With all due respect, sir,” she began calmly, “as I am on medical leave, the only orders I have to obey are the Medicos’.” Then, much to Gilda’s frustration, Ondrea looked back towards the room where Marco was in. 

Gilda closed her eyes. If what Ondrea said was true, then she’d have to go to the acting Medico Tribune to order her back. However, she didn’t want to leave the Talon alone near Marco. 

Where is Fortrakt when you need him? she thought. Out loud, she said, “Then get back to the Medico.” 

“They did all they could. I have been ordered to let it heal on its own, which is what I’m doing.” 

“Then heal somewhere else.” 

Ondrea seemed to smile. “You have a lot of commanding power, sir, but not when it comes to personal things.” 

“The human is under my care,” Gilda countered. “I particularly don’t care about your personal intentions, Talon. Leave well enough alone.” 

Ondrea seemed to pause for a moment, testing Gilda’s patience. Before the latter could move, though, the Talon said, almost absently, “You had his scars removed.” 

“What is it to you?” 

“Nothing, sir,” Ondrea replied. “I would have requested the Medico to remove it as well. If I was to Mark him, it would have to be done properly.” 

“Excuse me?” Gilda asked, part of her surprised how cold and dead her tone sounded. 

“I want to Mark him properly,” Ondrea repeated. “There aren’t many griffins that interest me. A lot of those I met usually let their names and money speak for themselves. This human, though, faced me with absolutely nothing to hide behind, and played me like I was a stupid cub. It was rather humbling.” She paused and turned to her. “As you claim to be responsible for his well-being, then I shall state my intentions clearly. I will approach him and ask him for a Round. Then, we’ll see how it goes.” 

“You will not,” Gilda said with some finality.

“You have no right to stop me,” Ondrea countered, though now some anger leaking out of her voice. Something in Gilda’s face must have made the Talon realize something because her face went blank, then turned to an expression of understanding. “Oh. Oh… now I see.” 

“See what?” Gilda asked, annoyed. 

“Your own intentions.” 

Gilda felt confusion wash over her. “Intentions of what?” 

Ondrea just shook her head but said nothing again for a few moments. Gilda felt a little silly, wondering why she hadn’t charged at the Talon and forced her back to Medico. Then, a stronger part of her wondered why she hadn’t ripped Ondrea to shreds. 

The last thought got her to blink, and she began to ask herself why she even thought of that. The Talon was obviously no threat yet, but Gilda was perceiving her as one. Why? 

“A little advice, sir?” Ondrea finally asked. “Don’t wait.” 

“This conversation is getting a little tedious,” Gilda said wearily. “Don’t wait for what?” 

“Don’t wait to ask him for a Round. Don’t wait to Mark him.” 

Gilda looked at Ondrea for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “Did Marco hit you too hard on the head, Talon?” 

Ondrea laughed, an honest one. “Maybe. However, my advice stands. I won’t be the last eagless to show interest in him, sir.” 

Gilda found herself shaking slightly, and part of her was wondering why she was feeling unbearably hot. “If you’re trying to confuse me, Talon, it’s not working.” 

“It’s deceptively simple if you think about it,” Ondrea continued, as if she didn’t hear her. “He’s a new species with somewhat familiar mannerisms and an oddly pleasant scent. And unlike the human soldiers fighting with us, he’s a public face, openly playing with cubs and even a common visitor to the marketplace. He has shown himself to be pleasant company. If there was really anything to criticize about him, it would be that he was too nice, like an Equestrian.” She then smiled. “Then yesterday, he proved he had a warrior side—strength, will, and skills enough to outmaneuver a Talon. When he knocked me unconscious, he sent a message to any griffin watching the duel that he had potential as a mate.” 

“Enough,” Gilda growled, taking steps towards Ondrea.  

“You are being territorial, sir,” Ondrea continued, deceptively calm. “You have to realize this before you lash out carelessly.” 

Gilda shook her head. Part of her was convinced that Ondrea was playing a game, that she just wanted to hurt Marco. Then, the last thought made her realize the Talon seemed to have a point. Was she being territorial? 

She thought back on the past few weeks before realizing that a lot of her thoughts seemed to be centering around Marco. Using him as a Return Talisman? Her annoyance at Nydia’s closeness to him? Her anger at Ondrea and Bricius? Not wanting any other griffin to leave their Marks on him?

Am I viewing him as a potential mate? she wondered. 

Gilda stared at the Talon for a moment. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Even if she did view Marco as a mate, that was not important right now. She needed to make sure how sincere Ondrea was. She needed to make sure this wasn’t another attempt to hurt him. 

After a moment, she asked, “Why are you being forthcoming, Talon?” 

Ondrea sighed, nodding. “At least you’ve realized it and are rationalizing.” 

“I am not going give your words any credence, as much as they seems to make sense. For all I know, this is a leftover scheme by Bricius.”  

Ondrea snorted. “That little coward couldn’t think himself out of a latrine.” 

Gilda didn’t want to smile, but it came out nonetheless. “Funny you should say that now, considering you were nothing more than his… hire. I have little faith in a words of a Talon whose service is so easily obtained.” 

“I only agreed to his scheme because he was going to do me a favor.” 

It was Gilda’s turn to snort. “That is not helping your case.” 

“Then let me give you my perspective, sir,” Ondrea replied. “You asked me why I was being forthcoming? Maybe you are curious why I’m saying all of these things to you? It’s simple, Sub-Tribune Behertz. We can relate to each other.” 

“I doubt that very much,” Gilda said. 

“We’re both illegitimate daughters of our more prestigious sires,” Ondrea said. “Admittedly, my situation is simpler as I don’t have the shadow of High Lord Bergenherz hanging over me.” 

Gilda drew herself higher. “Watch your next words carefully, Talon. You are treading on thin ice.” 

Ondrea nodded. “I just want to make sure you understand.” 

That made Gilda sigh. “I heard that Bricius’ family had the ear of a Lord.” 

Ondrea nodded again. 

“What were you hoping they’d accomplish? That they’d convince him to recognize you as his legitimate daughter?” 

The Talon gave her a sad smile. “Ideally, yes. Very unrealistic, I know. It wouldn’t have hurt if they’d at least have my sire recognize my accomplishments, maybe even send his compliments.” 

“Has your sire ever tried to contact you?” 

“Not since my mother moved to the South. That was ten years ago.” 

Gilda frowned. “Ondrea, you’re holding to a fool’s hope.” 

“I know that, sir.” 

There was a moment of silence between the two. Gilda sighed again, nodding towards the Talon. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for hurting Marco, Ondrea. However, it doesn’t mean I don’t recognize your situation.” 

“As long as we understand each other, sir.” Ondrea began to stand on all fours, a little shaky, but her stance proud. “I won’t interfere with you and your intended. However, I will not be beaten by someone else. I hope we’re clear on that.” 

Gilda didn’t reply, watching her take a few stumbling steps before she gently floated away. Ondrea gave Marco’s room one last look before gazing back to her. Then, she was gone. 

Gilda stood there for a minute, trying to digest her thoughts. She wasn’t completely convinced about Ondrea’s opinion of her viewing Marco as a mate, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was being a bit more territorial than normal. It was all too complicated. 

She felt for her Command Chain. She was still confused as to why her sire recommended the promotion. This was the same griffin who didn’t even bother contacting her or her mother when they went to Equestria, or even recommending her to the Knights as she initially planned. Now, she was leading a defense against an ancient enemy, and when there was a measure of certain victory, this was thrown into the mix as well. 

All too much, Gilda thought. She thought of her mother, a no-nonsense griffin who nurtured her talent and love for flying. She remembered her words of encouragement, telling her that her sire wrote to them, that he was proud of her accomplishments in the Junior Speedster flying camp. She remembered the hurt when she realized her mother lied to her, and that her sire had written no such letters. 

In fact, he’d never written to them at all. 

She remembered the harsh words she threw in their last argument. She remembered feeling regret of said argument when her mother passed away not long after. 

What would mother do? What advice would she give me now? 

Gilda took to the air, then made her way back to the inn. Landing on the rooftop, she made her way down the stairs, towards their room. Like earlier, she took a breath, counted to ten, then knocked on the door. 

By luck, Marco was the one that opened the door. 

“We need to talk,” was all she said. 

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Where?” 

“Is the rooftop good?” 

“Lead on.”

It was a short, silent, and somewhat uncomfortable trip. As they stood on top of the roof, Gilda’s mind raced on how to open the conversation. She had never thought of anyone as a mate before, so this was all new to her. She half-wondered if she should plow through like she did when she was told that she was commanding the defense of Aricia, but she couldn’t. This felt more personal, and far scarier. 

Mercifully, Marco seemed to be patient. He looked at her, calmly, a little worried, but thankfully silent. She didn’t know how long the silence passed. 

She cleared her throat. 

“Something came up,” Gilda started. A moment later, she regretted saying it like that. It came out too… impersonal, like she was stating the weather. “Sorry,” she blurted out. 

Marco gave her a confused smile. “Sorry about what?” 

Gilda took a breath. “Marco, what do you think of me?” 

“You already know what I think of you.” 

She sighed. “Just a cool griffin?” 

Marco closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were furrowed. “You know, Gilda, this conversation feels a little familiar.” 

“How so?” 

“I said the same line to Ta—a girl back on Earth,” Marco replied softly. “I felt awkward, lost, and half-wondering why I even said it out loud.” 

Gilda felt herself chuckle, and with that, released a lot of the tension she didn’t know she had. “I just had an interesting conversation with Ondrea.” 

“Did she hurt you?” 

Gilda stared at Marco for a moment, and he raised his hands as an apology. 

“Of course not,” he continued. “What was the conversation about?” 

“She thinks I’m too territorial when it comes to you.” 

“Really?” he asked. 

Gilda nodded. “I’m beginning to think she was right.” 

“I don’t see it.”

“I wanted to rip her head off when she began to talk about asking you for a Round and Marking you.” 

Marco blinked. “Wait, a Round with me? Really?” 

Gilda growled. “That’s not important.” 

“Yes it is,” Marco countered. “I mean, why? Is she interested in me all the sudden?” 

“You—” Gilda paused, for some reason not liking where the conversation was going. “You got her interest. After showing that you were…” 

“Strong?” he finished for her. 

Gilda took a deep breath. “Yes. It’s a griffin thing, okay?”

“Should I take up on her offer?” 

The reply was swift and cold. “No.” 

Marco blinked again, then smiled. “Okay, I can see now what you mean by territorial.” 

“Marco—” 

He raised his hands. “Okay, moving on then?” When Gilda gratefully nodded, he continued, “I am curious about that term, Marking. What’s that?” 

Gilda, half-glad by the somewhat change in topic, explained, “Traditionally in a griffin marriage, a tiercel and an eagless would mark each other with their claws. Nothing too serious, but a symbolic gesture of carrying each other’s marks, then exchange gifts to show they belong to each other, like gems, daggers, or even primary feathers dyed in the colors of their families. Nowadays, though, it's less about marriage and more about showing other griffins that a Marked griffin is taken.” 

His hand went to his face. “That’s why you wanted to see that scar gone.” 

“Yes.” 

“Huh.” He frowned for a moment, making Gilda’s heart speed up a bit faster before squashed the feeling down. Then, he suddenly smiled. “Hey, does that mean Nydia proposed to me when she gave me the translation gem and pierced my ear?”

The memory of it annoyed her, but she took another calming breath. “It could be translated that way. I did give her a stern lecture about it.” 

“Wow, no wonder she was so skittish around you, especially when I was nearby. This is… I mean, wow.” 

Marco took a seat and for a moment, silence reigned again. Gilda pondered on her next action, then slowly approached him. He seemed to deep in thought that he didn’t even notice her until she was at claw distance. 

“Can I—” she paused. After a while, she realized she was being silly. “Crows. Marco, can I sit? Beside you?” 

He looked at her wryly. “This is coming from the griffin that, just earlier, got on my bed without permission?” 

Gilda rolled her eyes and sat down beside him without preamble. “You’re just asking to get hit, aren’t you?” 

“Hey, if I get a cool Mark out it.” 

That heated her face up. “You can be impossible.” 

He turned to her, smirking. “Part of my charm.” 

“I wonder about that.” 

They paused again, looking towards the horizon. The sun was finally sinking, the sky turning red to welcome the twilight. 

“Well, this is a little romantic,” Gilda uttered without a thought. Then, she blinked in horror as she realized what she just said. 

Marco, though, laughed. “Yeah, it kinda is.” He paused. “Are you sure, though? I mean, do you even find me remotely attractive?” 

“I—maybe,” Gilda said, wanting to shrug but for some reason her shoulders didn’t want to obey her. “You humans smell nice. Your faces are so expressive and familiar. Your hands look a bit like claws and… well—I don’t know where I’m going with this.” 

“I can understand that.” 

She looked down on the floor and asked, almost whispering, “Do you find me attractive?” 

When Marco didn’t say anything for a minute or so, she felt herself freeze, but was surprised when he suddenly replied, “Yes.” 

“Really?” she asked, looking at him. 

“There’s something… exotic about you,” Marco muttered. “I don’t know. Maybe you have the the right curves that make it less, well, weird, I guess. Your face is expressive, and feminine shaped? Look, I don’t know, okay.” 

After a while, both of them laughed. 

“This is so awkward,” Marco said. “It’s going to be a bit weird between us after this, huh?” 

“Probably,” Gilda said with a small smile. 

“Yeah. Maybe something will happen and we can go back to norma—” 

A sound like a crack of thunder from a faraway storm suddenly jolted both of them out of their conversation. Both of them stood up and looked behind them. With Gilda’s eyes, she could see a wisp of black smoke ascending to the sky. A second later, a second eruption sent a small column of fire up. 

Gilda looked at Marco. He raised his hands again. “I didn’t do it.” 

She rolled her eyes. “What was that?” she asked, looking back at the direction of the smoke. 

“I’m not an expert, but that sounded like an explosion. A grenade? A mine, maybe?” 

Gilda’s eyes narrowed. Did someone trigger the Claymore the Marines had set up? Before she could say anything, she spread her wings, ready to launch into the air. Then, she remembered Marco’s presence and looked at him. “This conversation…” 

“It can wait,” Marco said. He looked like he was about to say something, changed his mind, and then ignored it. “Be careful.” 

Gilda just nodded as she launched herself skyward. 
	

> Chapter 18
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The explosions roused the defenders of Aricia. As Gilda passed overhead, she could see movement down below; rows of griffins started forming a defensive line, both at the town walls and the rock fences that were being set up outside it. She guessed the centurions were taking no chances after the two explosions; she couldn’t blame them. 

It was getting dark by the time she reached the last picket and Gilda was surprised to see Imlay there as well. He was accompanied by five Marines, all riding the newly modified wagon with the big fifty-cal mounted on its new placeholder. She landed nearby. 

“Good evening, ma’am,” Imlay greeted her professionally. He glanced at the town before going back to her. “Am I to assume the previous situation has been resolved?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Gilda replied, not wanting to go into further detail. “What do we have? Marco said it could have been a mine.” 

“He’s right,” Imlay said. “We’re about to investigate right now. Want to join us?” 

“Lead on, Corporal.” 

Gilda took five scouts with her as they took to the air. There wasn’t much ground to fully stretch their wings, but at least high up in the air, they could see if there was anyone coming their way. Not even half a league away, the wagon stopped and three Marines dismounted. One was at the fifty-cal and Imlay took out a rifle that had a mounted tube that allowed him to see far away. 

Scope, Gilda suddenly remembered. 

Even without an order, the five griffins with her began to scout the area. She gave them credit for their initiative, but then again, those assigned to picket duty usually had to operate without a centurion or officer present. Still, after suffering Bricius’ stupidity, it was nice to see more professional griffins. 

Landing behind the wagon, she saw Imlay give her a nod before looking back around through the scope. “See any bad guys marching to us?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” Gilda confirmed. She looked at the deceptively empty fields ahead. “Your mines, if I remember correctly, act like some sort of lethal sentries, right?”

“More like traps, ma’am,” Imlay replied. “They don’t really tell if what they killed was an enemy or not.” 

“How many did you plant?” 

“Not a lot,” Imlay admitted. “There’s a limit on how many things we can bring via Storage Gems, and we had to pick which weapons to pack.” Then, he frowned. “And we don’t want to put too many of them. They are highly dangerous, especially when we’re no longer fighting.” 

Gilda frowned as well. “If it was the Cloven, they now know that this place is trapped.” 

“It’s mostly a good thing, ma’am,” Imlay said as he finally lowered his rifle, apparently satisfied there was no present danger. “If they march here, they’d have to wonder if it’s worth risking bringing their forces to an obviously trapped area, or go around it.” 

“Ah,” Gilda said, understanding. “The mines will either serve their intended purpose, or have the Cloven maneuver around it, most likely splitting their numbers.” 

Before anyone else could reply, she heard a griffin call for a signal. Imlay himself seemed to tap on the side of his helmet, a common sight of him receiving a message via the very useful comms. He straightened up, gave Gilda a look, and said, “Looks like they found something.” 

As the signal didn’t sound far away, she opted to walk with Imlay. On their way, she kept stealing glances at him, hoping her actions were discreet. They weren’t. 

“Ma’am, something on your mind?” Imlay asked, not even slowing his pace. 

It took a moment for Gilda to compose herself. “I just had a talk with Marco.” 

“Oh? Regarding what?” 

She hesitated for a moment before replying, “Our apparent mutual… attraction to each other.” 

To her annoyance, he smiled. “About fucking time.”

Gilda stared at him for a moment. “We just started a conversation, Corporal. There is nothing more to it than that.” 

Imlay’s grin didn’t fade. “My boys and I have a betting pool. I think Mr. McClain and Ms. Fields as well.” He gave her a oblique glance. “And I believe if it wasn’t for the fact that you are their CO, Centurion Giraldi, Mr. Gletscher, and Ms. Nydia would have joined the bets as well.” 

Now she felt annoyed. “I remember. And I don’t like being pushed, Corporal.” 

“No one is pushing you, ma’am,” Imlay replied. 

Gilda stared flatly ahead. “I seem to recall some of our conversations specifically trying to induce me to confront Marco,” she accused, anger lingering in her tone.

“Ma’am, there’s nothing that I have said that was dishonest,” the Corporal said calmly. “And if I implied anything, I’m just glad that it got you both to see the obvious.” 

Gilda felt her anger deflating. “Obvious, huh?” 

“While I cannot speak for you, I noticed Marco has been gazing at you for quite a while,” Imlay said. “He also has a great measure of respect and admiration towards you, and it’s grown to the point that I don’t consider it just friendly. Watching you two interact has been rather, well, warm. And almost anything that seems to involve Marco gets your utmost attention. So, yes, it’s pretty obvious, ma’am.” 

Gilda sighed. “This is going to distract me, I just know it.” 

“It won’t,” Imlay stated with such conviction that it made her stare at him. “Ma’am, you have grown as an officer to a degree that I’d say you’re a natural—professional, knowing when to listen to advice, and decisive when need be. Plus one other factor that you may not have realized.” 

“And what’s that, Corporal?” 

“Marco won’t let you be distracted,” Imlay replied. “He seems to be like a playful guy who has no worries. However, when shit comes down, he buckles up. He seems to know when it’s time to joke or when it’s time to get serious. He knows that you have a job to do, and respects you enough to know when to leave you be. I bet if you get distracted, he’ll say something to light a fire under your ass to get you moving. Respectfully, ma’am.” 

Gilda chuckled. “Well, then I shouldn’t disappoint him then. At least, not until we establish what we are to each other.” 

“That’s the spirit, ma’am. Now let’s go establish whether the mines fried an enemy.” 

One Marine and one griffin greeted them as they arrived. Gilda looked around, expecting some sort of crater. The explosion did look like the result of a weak lightning bolt hitting the ground. She expected upturned earth and a small fire. What she got instead was a slightly burned, slightly disturbed grass. Another thing she noted was the fact that the disturbance seemed to favor one direction. 

There was one body, though—a Cloven Trooper, with its shell body bleeding green from many holes. She blinked for a moment, studying the corpse. She half-wondered if she found some sort of theme or principle on human weaponry, that they seemingly favored punching small holes in their enemies until they went down.  

“That doesn’t look right,” Imlay muttered. 

For a moment, Gilda wondered what he meant, and glanced at where Imlay was looking. It was a small crater, positioned just slightly left of the center of explosion. 

“Do you mean the crater?” Gilda asked. “I mean, it looks slightly off, but that’s normal when something explodes, right?” 

“If it were a normal mine, yes,” Imlay replied, approaching the crater, slowly. “The Claymore was designed specifically to let out a controlled directional explosion. The only way it’d create a crater is if my boys were drunk and planted it the wrong way.” 

“No way, Corporal. No one was fucked up during that day.” 

Imlay just nodded, not looking at the Marine who spoke. He knelt and placed his hand into the crater, pushing at its scorched surface. To Gilda’s surprise, it gave way. 

“That’s no fucking crater,” Imlay muttered. “Ground’s too soft, and it’s not even wet.” He began to scoop out the dirt, and it came out somewhat sandy. Gilda froze, recognizing it. 

“That’s a Diamond Dog tunnel,” she said. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Imlay said. Before he could say any more, though, the sound of trumpets came from behind them. The Marine and Imlay looked towards Aricia, a little confused, but Gilda and the griffin with them recognized the signal when they heard it. 

“A defensive line is being called,” Gilda said. “We’re under attack!” 

Imlay nodded. “Go ahead, ma’am. We’ll make our way back, maybe find a good place to flank them.” 

Gilda nodded back, then looked at the griffin with them. “Can you understand Equestrian?” When the griffin nodded, Gilda ordered, “Stay with the Marines! Keep an eye on the sky for them and relay any information you can.” 

The griffin saluted. “Yes, sir.” 

Launching herself up in the air, she took flight, keeping her sharp eyes on the ground to see anything that could help her. A moment later, she was joined by the four other griffins, and in formation, they began to make their way to the town. 

Thankfully, there weren’t flyers in the air, which in itself seemed odd. If the Cloven began their offensive, she should have seen them by now. As she passed by different pickets, more and more griffins joined her flight. After passing the picket group nearest town, she finally saw the attacking body. 

Cloven Troopers were coming out of the many newly formed holes from the ground, and in numbers big enough that the ground seemed to be growing black-green scales that writhed forward like a wave. It crashed against the immovable full might of the griffin shieldwall and she was close enough to see it in action. Steel wall met against the Trooper’s spiked limbs and claws steadily before the shields shifted to the side, just for a second, allowing enough space for a spear to push through, stabbing any of the nearby Cloven. Before they could retaliate, the shield shifted back, closing any opening. 

It wasn’t a perfect defense. Some griffins were too slow in putting their shields back into formation, allowing Cloven to grab a griffin, either the spear holder or the shield holder, and toss them behind their line, only to be ripped to shreds. She felt lucky she couldn’t hear them scream. 

Other times, the Cloven couldn’t do anything more than wound them. Some just continued back to formation, disciplined enough to not let minor wounds break their defenses. Those more seriously disabled were pulled back from the defensive front with a replacement griffin taking place with renewed vigor. 

After a moment, the centurions shouted a signal. The shields suddenly pushed forward, throwing the frontline Troopers off balance, and the shieldbearers flew in motion, taking the air, and flying backwards, while the shieldbearers behind them stepped forward to meet the enemy. 

“Those with crossbows, with me,” Gilda ordered. “Those without, make sure none of the Cloven sneak past the defensive lines.” 

Almost half of the griffins with her broke away. The rest readied their weapons. 

“Aim for the middle of the groups!” Gilda shouted. “Disrupt their charge! Aim! Fire!” 

Bolts whistled through the air, and their aims were mostly true. The Trooper advance slowed down as some Cloven stopped dead in their tracks, while the rest were injured enough to slow them down. The Troopers behind didn’t seem to react to the slowdown as they just stepped over their dead and crushed the too-slow injured. 

“Again!” Gilda shouted, reloading her crossbow. “Aim! Fire!” 

The Cloven slowed down again, enough to allow the defensive line to take a step forward. After one more volley, they slowed down again for the defenders to take another step. And another. Gilda glanced at the holes where the Cloven were scrambling out, gaining more speed as more and more poured out. Gilda looked towards the midline defenses and saw a few griffins flying to support them. She hoped there was a mage there to decimate their numbers. 

Then, a roar of familiar, yet almost deafeningly loud, gunfire erupted on the other side of the Cloven lines just near the tunnels. She spotted Imlay and the Marines with him shooting their rifles on the Cloven’s flanks, killing them quickly. However, it was the fifty-cal that once more performed the lion’s share of the work as it tore through the Troopers in a way that no normal rifle could. With how fast the Troopers died, she could have believed that the Marines were killing them by the hundreds. 

That was all it took. With the sudden slowdown of the Trooper offensive, the shield wall converged forward, pushing the frontline Cloven off-balance before landing killing blows with swords and spears. Those still alive suddenly found themselves behind the shields, on the ground, and meeting Gryphon steel and claw. 

Imlay and his wagon moved to a better position, their weapons continuing to bring down death until the Cloven movement ground to a halt, unable to push through. 

Then the mages came flying in. Ten of them called forth fire that hammered the remaining Cloven with utmost lethality. Gilda had to close her eyes for a moment as the sudden brightness in the building darkness blinded her. By the time she opened them, she saw only a few Troopers alive, most of them half burned and missing their limbs, yet still trying to walk forward as if it didn’t matter. 

Another trumpet called, signalling that the mages were about to bring down lightning. Bracing herself, she and those with her covered their ears and closed their eyes. A flash of light and a loud boom overwhelmed her for a few seconds and the air seemed to push away like a wave. She felt herself float slightly upwards to the left. 

Opening her eyes, she saw the full extent of the magical attack. The mages brought down lightning to the holes in the ground, piling the openings with dead burnt Cloven, temporary sealing the holes. 

When no Cloven emerged a few moments later, the mages began to converge near the entrances and called forth more magic. Slamming their staves down on the ground, she watched as the earth seem to ripple and shake. Afterwards, the holes completely disappeared, as if they hadn’t been there in the first place. 

Gilda sighed with relief. Aricia’s first defense was a victory, though part of her felt worried. For one, she still couldn’t believe the Cloven hadn’t brought their Flyers against them. Looking at the burnt corpses of their enemies, she only saw Troopers. Where were the Cloven Rams? Considering how effective they were against defenses, she would have thought they would be present as well. 

Maybe they didn’t fit in the tunnels, she thought. 

Tunnels… she looked around again and realized there weren’t any Corrupted Diamond Dogs in the horde. Where were they? 

There was movement in the line. She saw a few centurions pointing towards Aricia, some directing the mid- and rear-line defenses to an orderly retreat. When she gazed back at the town, she felt cold fear settle in her stomach. 

The town was on fire. 

“To Aricia!” Gilda shouted to the griffins with her.

When Gilda’s group arrived at the town’s skies, she realized that it wasn’t the town that was on fire, but a few buildings. Even better, they were the buildings mostly away from the residences. 

She looked a the street and saw fighting. The Auxiliary Guards and even the volunteer defenders were warding off any invaders with surprisingly good teamwork. She saw a few earth ponies bucking Corrupted Diamond Dogs and Troopers, making them fly right at the ready Guards and their spears. The Cloven were running through the streets in a scattered and disorganized movement, unable to regroup due to the defenders. In fact, it looked like they were completely overwhelmed. 

Gilda frowned. It was all too easy, by half. Missing elements of the Cloven’s offensive outside the walls? The rather disorganized movement of the invaders? Something was up. 

She looked at the burning buildings, something clicking in her head. She knew those places. Then it hit her. Those buildings held their supply of food. Distraction, she decided. The offensive outside the town and also the invasion near the residences were just distractions. 

She looked at her group, which surprisingly had gotten even bigger. She half-wondered where those numbers came from, and then realized they were sky-griffin Guards. They must have rallied to her in the absence of centurions. 

“Spread out and sweep to those buildings!” Gilda ordered. “Search for any Cloven and kill them before they take more of our supplies! There, there, and there!” Then her eyes widened when she saw the Inn on fire. Turning back at her group, she pointed at two nearest griffins and finished with, “You two, with me.” 

Gilda didn’t even wait for the salutes and charged towards the Inn immediately. As she neared, she could see movement in front of the building. The Inn itself didn’t appear to be burning, as the source of fire seemed to come from behind it. Nevertheless, the Marines hadn’t taken any chances and had organized an evacuation, leading the humans and the other Inn’s inhabitants outside. Signalling her group to follow her to the back, she saw where the fire was coming from.

It was the two other wagons that were being worked on. It seemed the Cloven thought of them a big enough threat to burn them down. 

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Focusing her sight, she saw holes in the ground and almost a dozen of Diamond Dogs running, surrounding something. She flew in closer for another look, and her heart froze when she saw Marco and Raleigh being herded to the center of the Corrupted. 

She didn’t know if she shouted an order, but might have as the two griffins took out their crossbows and readied them. Gilda herself took aim, but realized they were too far away to aim accurately and could endanger both humans that were surrounded. So, she had her group dive in a V formation. Once they were close enough, they aimed for the closest Diamond Dogs and fired their crossbows. None hit the heads, but they weren’t aiming for that. The force of the fired bolts was enough to knock a few of them down, leaving the rest vulnerable to their charge. 

Three griffins bowled through the group of Corrupted with enough force to bring almost a whole section down, opening a space enough for the humans to escape. 

“Marco!” Gilda shouted. 

She saw him look at her in surprise, but he didn’t need any more motivation. Nodding, he ran towards them. Only him, though. Raleigh, it seemed, froze and collapsed in the center of the group. Marco also noticed this and ran back for him, grabbing on to his arm. 

The Corrupted that were bowled down finally stood. They turned to face the trio of griffins and swiped their claws at them. Gilda and the griffin on her left dodged. The one on the right was too slow, and two claws caught her on the neck and face. The smell of blood spread sickeningly through the air. 

“Marco!” Gilda repeated as she took out one of her bolts and slammed it towards one of the Corrupted’s head before dodging its partner’s retaliatory strike. 

“Fucking get up, Raleigh!” she heard Marco shout. “Go! Go! Agh!” 

Gilda bent her knees and used the full weight of her body to push down another Corrupted, and just in time. As it collapsed, she saw Marco being held by one of the Corrupted. Raleigh, apparently having had enough, practically dashed through the space she had just created, screaming as he sprinted through the rear door of the Inn. 

For a moment, Gilda thought Marco was done for. With a simple swipe of a claw, the Corrupted could have slit his throat. It didn’t however, and began to drag the human towards one of the holes. Marco appeared to be rummaging around his waist, making Gilda half-wonder what he was doing, until he finally found the dagger Fortrakt had given him. Unsheathing it, he drove it into the Corrupted’s head, downing it instantly. 

The rest of the Corrupted chased after Marco, but he scrambled away quickly and dodged their arms. Gilda took another bolt out and stabbed a Corrupted in the eye and shouted, “Hurry!” 

Marco finally passed by her, but it was too late. It seemed the Corrupted realized the escape route, probably after witnessing Raleigh run through it, and barred the path with two Diamond Dogs. Marco glanced around him and went for the the tent where his makeshift kitchen was. Before Gilda could even ask what in the crows Marco was doing, she heard a scream to her left. Glancing to that direction, she saw the group of Corrupted finally overwhelming her last griffin companion, using their teeth and claws to rend him apart. 

Then, their empty dead eyes turned to her. 

“Get down!” Marco shouted. Gilda obeyed, ducking down from her standing position. 

Gunshots rang out. Some of the Corrupted Diamond Dogs took a few steps back as if receiving a strong buck to their chests. Gilda looked at Marco and saw him with a gun, smaller than whatever the Marines usually used, and silver instead of black. His hands shook after every shot, but after maybe the sixth shot, they steadied. His shots became less sporadic, slower, but surer. She glanced back and saw that his next two shots hit two of the Corrupted’s heads, taking them down permanently. 

“Gilda! I’m reloading!” he shouted. Glancing back at him, she saw one of his arms under the grip of the gun, taking out a magazine—if she remembered the term correctly—before reaching in his backpack. She hadn’t noticed that until now. 

Gilda scrambled away, took out her crossbow and loaded a bolt to it, notched it, and fired. It missed the head, hitting the neck, but it was enough to push it back. She heard a click, and then Marco fired once more. She scrambled as fast as she could, keeping herself low as she made her way to Marco, loading another bolt. As she reached his side, Marco gave her a nod, in which she returned, and both began to fire their respective weapons to the nearest enemy. 

The Corrupted seemed to have had enough and began to run towards them. Marco replied by firing faster, but he was no longer hitting their heads. Gilda was able to fire two more crossbow bolts, bringing two Diamond Dogs down. However, they were still coming. 

“Marco, hold on to me,” Gilda ordered. It was a risk, trying to carry him, not knowing if she was strong enough to lift him for flight. If she couldn’t, she was prepared to at least throw him over the wall behind them, away from the Corrupted. 

The rear door of the Inn suddenly burst open, revealing Doc. He saw them, then shouted, “Hit the deck!” before he aimed. Marco pushed Gilda down. 

The gun he carried was, again, different from what she had seen so far. Like the rifle, it was long and black, but its end opening was slightly bigger. The sound it made was loud, but not as loud as she expected—rather than the familiar roar of thunder, it was more akin to a heavy book being slammed hard to a table. However, there was no denying its lethality. 

The first shot took down two Corrupted standing near the door. The rest of them stopped, realizing there was now someone behind them, and as if realizing a greater threat, they all turned to face Doc and ran to him. 

That was the last mistake they ever made. 

Doc calmly took another shot, taking down one Corrupted after another. Sometimes, he got two, like his initial shot, and at one point, much to Gilda’s disbelief, got three. By the time the eighth shot rang out, there was only one Corrupted standing and was moving sluggishly, still moving towards him. 

Calmly, the Doc began to reach for one of his pants pockets. Unlike the gun Marco or the other Marines had, it didn’t have a magazine. The bullet looked different as well, larger and more cylindrical, colored red and bronze. Shoving it under his gun, Doc took one final aim and made his last shot, sending the Corrupted down. 

“Hey Flip-Boy, you alright?” Doc shouted after a moment. 

“A little deaf, but yeah!” Marco shouted back. 

“Glad to hear it!” Doc said with a grin. 

Marco just grinned back before sighing, relaxing on the ground. Gilda felt his hands hold on to one of her claws. She gripped the hand, feeling oddly comfortable as they stayed silent for a moment. 

“Thank you,” Marco said. 

Gilda just nodded. She couldn’t find the energy to speak. Weariness seemed to settle in her bones, and there was a tempting notion to just go to sleep. However, she remembered the attack on the town, and that there were places that needed some organization to fend off the attacks. 

Before she could stand, though, she heard the victory signal trumpet loudly in the air. She stared at the evening sky with some disbelief, then sighed with relief.



 

Gilda and Marco were completely silent as the Auxiliary Guards finally came to the Inn, with the former staring at her two griffin companions, feeling sadness and anger wash over her. A lot of the rage was directed to the Cloven, but some seemed to channel inwards, making her feel guilt. She had led those two griffins there, and they paid the price for it. 

She glanced at Marco, who looked at the whole aftermath—the burnt wagons, the dead Corrupted, and the unrecognizable griffins. She looked to his hand, staring at the gun that had bought them time, his index digit off the trigger. He shook his head after a moment, then shivered, maybe remembering the experience. 

Gilda couldn’t blame him. 

“See?! See?!” Raleigh’s voice shouted behind them. “This is what I meant! This is why I wanted a Marine guard all over this… this lawbreaker!” 

“Mr. Raleigh,” Imlay’s voice replied, “we’re looking at a long night ahead of us. The Cloven will surely come back soon. We don’t have the manpower for it.” 

Gilda turned and saw Raleigh, his face twisted in an ugly expression as he approached them. Imlay looked somewhat annoyed as he followed. Doc was a step behind them. 

She flicked her wing at Marco. He glanced at her with a questioning gesture, and she motioned towards the three humans approaching. He turned, saw them, and sighed. 

“You think yourself above the law, Lakan?” Raleigh demanded. “Do you think this whole thing's a joke?” 

“What is it this time?” Marco asked tiredly. 

“Don’t ‘what’ me! Bringing a gun here!? Do you even remember that it’s illegal to bring one to Equestria? Well, you can kiss your ass goodbye. Once the Ambassador hears all about this—the duels, the guns—he’s going to fucking deport you back to Earth, maybe back to that little backwater place where you clearly belong. Corporal, confiscate his weapon, and give it to someone responsible.”

“As you say, Mr. Raleigh,” Imlay replied flatly. 

Raleigh smiled, apparently satisfied, and walked away. Gilda couldn’t believe that, just earlier, she witnessed the same smug human screaming as he ran. 

Imlay looked at Marco, then extended his hand forward, silently asking for the weapon. Gilda wondered if Marco was going to protest, but he just shrugged. Pointing it downward, he extracted the magazine, and pulled the upper slide backwards, a motion that looked like a notching in a crossbow. She saw a bullet jump out of an opening on the slide, and without preamble, Marco offered the weapon, still facing down, to the Corporal. 

“SIG P220,” Imlay declared as he took the weapon, studying it. “You did buy this legally, right?” 

Marco bent down to take the bullet that fell out. “Chris’ gift, and yes, it was transferred to me. And before you ask, yes, I have a concealed carry permit for that.” 

“Not that it matters here,” Imlay replied. “It’s illegal for you to bring this to Equestria.”

“Corporal, I’m a little confused,” Gilda spoke out, getting the attention of the three humans. “As this is Gryphon, not Equestria, I don’t see any problems.” 

Imlay looked at her. “Do you have laws in regards to guns, though?” 

“From what I’ve seen, a gun is mostly just a weapon,” Gilda replied calmly. “And as per Gryphon law, citizens and visitors are allowed weapons. Who to use them against is what the bulk of the law concentrates on, but having a weapon here is not really a problem.” 

“Even if that’s true, Mr. Raleigh is technically the one leading the expedition here, and he’s given me an order,” Imlay said softly. He looked at the gun once more. “You modified it with a molded grip, and from the look of the barrel, a weight compensator as well?” 

Marco nodded. 

“Surprised you didn’t just go for the Sport version.” 

“I’m the kind of guy that likes to do his own work,” Marco replied with a  shrug. 

“Know the basic safety rules?” 

Marco didn’t even need to think about it. “Point at a safe direction, it’s loaded even when it’s not, keep finger off the trigger—”

Imlay raised his hand, stopping him. “Okay.” He looked at the griffins carrying out some of the Corrupted corpses. “As Mr. Raleigh said, I will take this handgun and give it to someone responsible.” Without another word, he offered the gun back to Marco.

Marco looked at him for a moment before nodding. “Thanks. Raleigh’s not going to like this, though.” 

“Yes, well, I’m pretty sure I can survive his disappointment,” Imlay said with a shrug. “Though I want to know how did you get that past Portal security.” 

Marco took the handgun and gently placed it back in his bag. “Storage Gems. Chris got some samples, so we put what we needed in the gems before crossing the portal.” 

Imlay nodded. “And since it’s mostly humans doing the search, they don’t really look into common gemstones.” 

“It helped that the fact that the gems working on Earth wasn’t common knowledge,” Marco added, “and that they weren’t detected by the metal detectors or even the X-Rays. On the other side of the Portal, we weren’t even searched.” 

“You are one lucky and devious son of a bitch,” Imlay said with a wide grin. 

“Thanks,” Marco replied with a nod. 

“Though you kept saying ‘we’ and ‘they’,” Imlay noted. “Is that suggesting you have more than one gun, and you aren’t alone in bringing them?” 

Marco shrugged. “And they say Marines are stupid. I’m glad you’re proving them wrong, Imlay.” Then, he turned around and walked back towards the Guards removing the Corrupted corpses. Gilda wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. 

Imlay frowned. “What do you think, Doc?” 

Doc snorted. “Raleigh’s becoming unstable.” 

“He’s scared,” Imlay replied. “He’s not getting a handle on it. But I wasn’t asking about him. Flip-Boy. Is he in…?” 

“Shock?” Doc finished the question for him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he is. He was almost killed, then had to shoot someone. I’m hoping he doesn’t have any Diamond Dog friends.” 

Gilda looked at the two humans. “What do you mean?” 

Imlay looked at her. “Ma’am, how would you feel if you killed a griffin, pony, or human, even in defense?” 

Gilda looked at him for a moment before shaking her head. “Terrible. Angry, maybe? Probably guilty.” 

Imlay nodded. “I don’t think Marco shot anyone until today, and he’s close enough to see the aftermath of his actions. He’s probably justifying in his head—self-defense, that the Diamond Dogs were already dead, etcetera. But it doesn’t matter how many valid points he’ll come up with, he’ll feel horrified.”  

“Hopefully he’ll go through the mindset that it was a necessity,” Doc said. “He’s not a soft city boy. Remember those dinners? Most of the animals he brought were alive, and killed some of them personally before having them butchered. He knows how to get his hands dirty, probably because he grew up at the—” and Doc raised his two hands, two fingers each pointing up, before curling them downwards, twice, “—‘backwater’ farm.”

“Yeah,” Imlay nodded. “Third-world tough.” 

Gilda looked at the still-form of Marco. “Can we help him?” 

“Have him sleep for now, to lessen any fatigue,” Doc enumerated. “I would also have him surrounded by friends who can understand the situation, and have them build his confidence from there. Make sure that he has someone to talk to as well. I’d probably offer him a job to help with the injured, balancing the scales in his head. Hell, let’s go the full way, and have someone gently critique his performance, and how he can do better.” 

Imlay nodded. “Basically, give him something to hold onto to lessen the shock, but still present in the background to allow him time to work through it instead of ignoring it.” 

“I’ll talk to Fortrakt,” Gilda said. “I don’t know if Chris and Tara can help with this one.” 

“Mr. McClain and Ms. Fields won’t be good choices,” Doc agreed. “He’ll most likely feel ashamed and won’t open up to them.” He looked at Imlay. “If we were less busy, I’d ask if you’d allow some of the Marines he’s close to also build up his confidence.” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Imlay replied, but looked at Gilda, smiling. “I’m pretty sure he’s in good hands, though. Or claws, in this case.” 

“Hope so,” Doc muttered before moving away. “Alright, Corporal. Work calls.” 

“Thanks, Doc,” Imlay replied, watching the other human go. After a moment, he saw Guards wrapping up the two dead griffins that accompanied Gilda earlier. “I’m sorry for your losses, ma’am.” 

Gilda just nodded, unsure what to say. 

“And thank you as well,” Imlay continued. “Without you, Mr. Raleigh and Flip-Boy would have died.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Gilda replied, a little more quiet than usual. “One of the Corrupted was able to get hold of Marco earlier, its claws near his—” she swallowed “—his neck. I thought the worst, but instead, it just dragged Marco to the hole they made.”

Imlay stared at her, hard. “Are you sure, ma’am?” 

Gilda nodded. “I think we can establish that you humans have garnered the Cloven’s interest.” 

“You think that by taking us, they can see how we work, how we fight?”

“Cloven did the same to griffins a thousand years ago before they attacked,” Gilda confirmed. 

“I’ll tell my men to be careful, then,” Imlay said, frowning. “I’ve also heard from Giraldi, and there’s something he felt you should hear.” 

Gilda nodded at him, straightening up. “What does the Centurion have to say?” 

“Cloven pulled a page out of our book, ma’am,” Imlay replied. “Distracted the main force, and went straight to our weakness. Our food stores are mostly burnt up, though I heard we were left enough for a few more days. The problem is the water.” 

Gilda frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“They tainted the water wells with some sort of poison,” Imlay clarified. “I heard that they are bringing the mages to try and filter it out, but if the Cloven attack soon…” 

“We’ll be fighting dry,” Gilda finished, shaking her head. “This is bad. We can fight maybe weeks without food, but without water, we won’t last days.” 

“We do have an emergency water supply that we’re happy to share,” Imlay offered. “However, it’s not going to cut it. I heard the First Spear is planning to send out flyers to nearby streams and see if they can get water from there. He’s also plans to send out scouts around to see if the Cloven would come running at us and from where. I guess he’s just waiting for your approval.” 

“First Spear knows the job better than I do,” Gilda nodded. “I’ll meet up with him later so this can be done as soon as possible.” 

“My Marines and I will help as well,” Imlay said. “We’ll move out once we get a location of the vanguard. With just one wagon, though, we’ll be forced to change our tactics to pure hit-and-runs.” 

“Slow down the march,” Gilda realized. 

“Give time to get the water needed and consolidate our defenses,” the Corporal nodded. “You in, ma’am?” 

Gilda nodded. “If I’m not needed anywhere, yes.” 

“Glad to have you onboard,” the Corporal smiled. 

Gilda watched the Corporal leave, giving orders to some of the Marines helping the Guards gather the bodies. She saw the wrapped-up body of one of the griffins carried away, then looked back at Marco. He was still staring at the scattered bodies of Diamond Dogs, as well as the other wrapped griffin corpse. One of the guards even gave him back the dagger he used earlier and he just nodded his thanks. She took a deep breath before walking to him. 

Marco turned to look at her, nodding in greeting. Together, they looked at the scattered corpses. Gilda opened her beak, but closed it after a while, unsure on what to say. When she finally decided on a comfortable opening, she was beaten by Marco before she could say it. 

“I’m sorry about the two griffins.” 

Gilda nodded. “They did their jobs well. They’ll be honored, I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Doesn’t make you feel easier, does it?” Marco asked in a dull tone. 

Gilda frowned, wondering if Marco was talking about her or himself. “No, it doesn’t. Once we win, I’ll have to write letters to the families that died, and give them words of comfort on how they did Gryphon proud.”

“Will the families feel it justified for the cost?” 

“Most of them will,” Gilda replied. “The soldiers that died have become part of a history of a tradition that spanned almost a thousand years of strife and struggle, a part of a whole that defended the Kingdom in its direst, in service of those who couldn’t fend themselves. May the Ancestors guide them to the stars.” 

Marco smiled sadly, nodding. 

“I also want to thank you as well, Marco,” Gilda added. 

“Why?” he asked, glancing at her. 

“Why? Because you saved my life, you dweeb,” she replied, rolling her eyes. 

“I wouldn’t have let any of you die,” Marco said quietly. “Not if I could have helped.”

“I know,” Gilda said. After a moment of silence, she added, “Though for future reference, if you want an eagless to like you, you should have better aim.” 

Marco turned to her, confused. “What?” 

“Fighting for her defense is all good, but you have to show better skill,” Gilda continued. “You have long days of of practise ahead before you can become that bedwarmer you talked about earlier.”  

Marco looked at her, stunned, before a grin made it to his lips. He shook his head in disbelief, then nodded at her. “Long days, eh?” 

“Yup,” Gilda replied without hesitation. “Not just aiming, but fighting as well. No decent eagless will allow her intended to be useless. Fortrakt will help you train.” She paused. “Me too, if I can.” 

Marco nodded, smiling. “Well, Fortrakt is already helping. But your help is, well, it would be great to have you… help.” 

She paused again, before continuing, “We’re here for you, Marco. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah.” He hesitated. “Thanks, Gilda.” 

“Don’t mention it. Now come on. You look like you need sleep. ” 

As they walked back to the Inn, Gilda asked, “You had that—what did Imlay call it? Handgun?” 

He nodded. 

“So, you had it with you the whole time?” 

“In my bag, with a Storage Gem. I got another Gem for the magazines and ammo. That’s where I got the one I showed you before.” 

She remembered that. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t start pulling that out after our little tussle in Arnau instead of the baton.” 

“I can beat someone back with a baton,” Marco explained.“If I shoot someone with a gun, they probably won’t come back. I thought that was a little too extreme of a response.” 

Gilda smiled. “While I understand and appreciate it, as a griffin, I would have felt somewhat flattered if someone brought a powerful weapon to ward me off.” 

“Really?” Marco asked, looking at her. “To want a Round with a guy you fought in a duel, and now flattery when someone brings forth a lethal weapon against you. Griffins are weird.” 

“Is that a good weird or bad weird?” 

Marco grunted. “A bit of both. I guess I have a lot to learn about you guys, huh?” 

“Undoubtedly.” 

Marco suddenly grinned. “Think Nydia will help me out on that?” 

Gilda growled and responded with an immediate, “No.” 

Marco laughed. He earned a wing slap for that. 
> Chapter 19
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even with all the flying she had done in the past week, Gilda was convinced that she was somehow less susceptible to tiring out, ready to take on skirmishes around Aricia. 

She was wrong. She underestimated the huge toll it took on her due to the lack of water and the non-stop dashes of short flights. Even if they rested and slept well for the night, fatigue was building. From what she had seen, the griffins in the group—and the Marines as well—were feeling it.

The Arician scouts discovered the Cloven vanguard the morning after the attack on Aricia. It was a tactic she had read about in the Codex. The Cloven vanguard would basically find pathways for the main attacking body to concentrate their numbers on. They were also responsible for growing new Hearts near their attack zones as to quickly reinforce their numbers as they began to fight through the defenses. 

For the past two days, one wagon and two spears of griffins had disrupted the march of at least five vanguard groups, even destroying an incomplete Heart being built just west of Aricia. They faced the Cloven in open fields, tall grass fields, and right now, in a forest. 

“Again!” Gilda shouted, her mouth dry as she signalled all the griffins in the sky with her to turn around. “Ready crossbows! Fire!” 

Bolts flew true towards the small group of Flyers. The way they arranged themselves made it easy to fell them in one pass. Those still in the air shrieked and with a flap of their grotesque wings, they began to converge, casting a shadow in the sky. 

Gilda didn’t even need to shout a warning; everyone with her knew what was coming. The griffins separated, flying in evasive maneuvers as the Flyers unleashed their powerful spikes. Desperation lent them speed, but the fatigue and lack of water seemed to have finally caught up to them. Griffins that usually dodged such counterattacks with ease flew a little too slow. They got hit in wings, their bodies, or necks, bringing them down. One spike even grazed Gilda’s wing. She ignored the pain. 

Down below, she couldn’t see what was going on, but the reassuring sound of gunfire told her that the Marines and earth-griffins were still alive and fighting. She imagined a few earth-griffins and Marines working together to bring down Troopers, maybe even a few Corrupted, though she hoped there was no mage in the mix. No trees falling indicated that there were no Rams, so that was something at least. 

Gilda looked around as the surviving griffins began to rally with her again. She looked at Nydia, the lone mage of the group. She looked a little strange, with her usual staff missing. Instead, she held onto a wooden frame shaped like a crossbow, without the firing mechanism or bolts. 

“Is it enough?” Gilda asked. 

“A little more!” Nydia replied. 

Gilda nodded, ignoring the numbness in her wings that was slowly affecting her flight pattern. “You heard the mage, griffins. Let’s do one more turn!” 

Her group once more began to build speed, arching towards the right as they approached the Flyers. They were grouping in more tightly, something she was aiming for. The next volley of bolts cut through the smaller crowd of Flyers, forcing their dwindling numbers to join together. This was a tactic she had personally witnessed before. 

Normally, coming together in bulk would make them easier targets. However, Cloven didn’t think like griffins. Casualties weren’t important in their strategy because they could increase their numbers fast. For them, it was more important to them to kill more of their enemies as quickly as they could. 

Faced with Gilda’s strategy of easily picking scattered groups of Flyers, they responded by combining their numbers, using their bulk as a shield to absorb the griffin bolts while the rest would shower the griffins with a wall of spikes that stood a higher chance of hitting them. 

Gilda was counting on that, and the fact they haven’t noticed the mage—the only thing that would make the Cloven scatter—in her group just ensured her victory. 

“I think that’s big enough!” Nydia declared. 

“Do it!” Gilda shouted. 

Griffins gave way, giving Nydia a clear line of sight. Magic formed around her quickly, a bright light coming from the imitation crossbow she held. When the light faded, the weapon transformed to a staff. With heat building around her, Nydia shouted as she swung it. A large blue ball of fire shot out towards the grouping Flyers. It exploded in a fiery red of sunburst. The Flyers began falling, parts of their bodies aflame. Any still airborne were quickly shot down by crossbows. 

Gilda loaded a bolt, looking around. The Flyers were in disarray, easy pickings for any griffin, so she concentrated on the ground. The gunfire seemed to come out less and less, and she hoped it was because they were winning too. But the thought was given momentary doubt when the pace of fire suddenly picked up sharply before it ended with an explosion that rocked a group of trees, even uprooting a few.

She waited with bated breath, wondering what just happened. After what seemed like a few hours, she saw a griffin flying clear of the trees. Gilda shouted a phrase, and the griffin shouted back the proper reply before giving the all-clear signal. She sighed with relief. 

Looking at her group, she signaled to look for downed survivors. 

By the time Gilda and her surviving griffins reached the meeting point—a clearing just outside the forest—the Marines and the griffins that came with them walked out, both looking exhausted. One of the Marines, Lenihan, if she remembered the name correctly, was limping, his green pants now stained black. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“Got fucking stabbed by a Trooper’s tail,” Lenihan replied, then added, “ma’am.” 

Imlay smiled. “Our boy here finally got poked on his date, but like a true Marine, he stood back up, and poked the fuckers even harder.” 

“Lenihan was on fucking fire,” another Marine spoke, slapping the wounded Lenihan on the shoulder, earning a wince. “We didn’t even notice the mage until he started shooting the hell out of it.” 

“A mage?” Gilda frowned. “We missed that when we saw them approach.” 

“Doesn’t matter, ma’am,” Imlay said. “It’s dead, blown to pieces. Come on, I called the wagon. Let’s get some first aid and, hopefully, hydrate.” 

It took maybe a few minutes, but the ponies arrived with the only surviving battle-wagon in tow. Two Marines were riding it, one on the big fifty-cal doing an overwatch, and the other waving at them. 

“Good haul, Patterson,” Imlay said, whistling as he looked at the blue cylindrical water containers that were filled to the brim, almost threatening to spill its contents out of the small spouts. “You found the stream, I guess?” 

“Free from any nasty shit,” Patterson replied with a grin.

“Let’s make sure of it, then,” Imlay said. 

Nydia came to the wagon first, followed by the rest of them. The mage raised her glowing staff on top of the water containers, and after a moment, she nodded. “It’s clean,” she said. 

“Thank God for that,” Patterson said as he began to distribute drinking cups to everyone around. Even the Equestrians joined in. 

The water was cold. It was good, wonderful even. Gilda shuddered as she felt the fatigue being washed away, more refreshed than she’d known in days. It had been just a few hours since they had finished whatever water they could get from Aricia, and she was too thirsty to protest when Imlay proposed to have the wagon look for any nearby water supplies. After hours of almost constant battles, this was the best reward she had received for today. 

The griffins and Marines around her seemed to agree as well, absently dousing themselves with it after a sip. 

“Ma’am?” Imlay suddenly called. “Can we talk?” 

Gilda grunted and finished her fourth cup in a hurry as she followed Imlay just a little ways away from the wagon. “What do you need?” she asked. 

“We’re making good progress,” Imlay said. 

“Too good, if you ask me,” Gilda said softly. 

“Something bothering you, ma’am?” 

“So far, these vanguards are just small squads,” Gilda replied. “We’ve been running nonstop to prevent them from mostly trying to establish a lot of footholds near Aricia, to keep them from surrounding the town.” 

“Yes we have,” Imlay nodded. 

“Doesn’t it feel a little too easy?” Gilda asked. “Two days ago, they crippled us. You’d think they’d have attacked by now instead of just sending more and more vanguards to die.” 

“I think there’s a reason for that,” the Corporal replied. “Received traffic from our comms today. It seems our reinforcements have destroyed the last three steadholts controlled by the Cloven.”

“Really?” Gilda asked. 

“Yes,” Imlay grinned. “Apparently, some dastardly villain had crippled one of their taken steadholts days ago and the Cloven were too slow to recover. That made it easier for our reinforcements to overcome.” 

“That’s good news.” 

“Only the good news,” Imlay said. “They missed the Overlord, obviously. Also, the Cloven have built up a massive and effective defense that slowed down our reinforcements’ march. From what I gathered, they still have huge numbers basically walling them away from us. However, it does explain the odd slowness of their response.” 

“They didn’t have the numbers to attack sooner,” Gilda nodded, understanding. “And the Overlord has to coordinate a defense and an attack in two different places.”

“That’s the strongest guess we have, ma’am.” Imlay frowned. “However, while it sounds good that the attack is delayed, they are still coming. From this morning’s report, your scouts have already spotted the main attack force nearing the last picket line. And right now, we’re being run ragged.” 

“I’ve noticed,” Gilda agreed. “In your recommendation, should we stop?” 

“Yes,” Imlay replied. “I think we’ve done all what we can. My Marines can still probably continue, but I want them fresh for when the main body of their attack group come in.” 

Gilda pondered on her next actions. She wanted to continue, to give First Spear a bit more time, but she could see that those under her were already slowly breaking. Even with water, a lot of the griffins were laying on their stomachs, panting. Their wings were already showing signs of stiffness. The Marines looked less like themselves, breathing a little too heavily. 

Would it still be worth buying the First Spear time at the cost of leaving them too tired to fight the main attack force? 

Gilda tried to remember her last meeting with him this morning. The First Spear had confirmed that they finally got as many water containers as they could get their claws on, and were in the process of completely filling  them up.  

She also remembered his increasing worry about the state of the town defenders. The attack two days ago had led to more casualties than she’d realized at first. Some of the Cloven had attacked those that guarded the food stores mercilessly, leaving a lot of injured and dead. It was so bad that he began to heavily concentrate on recruiting more volunteers. 

“Let’s do one more task,” Gilda finally said. 

“What do you have in mind, ma’am?” 

“Let’s go to the streams and refill those containers, then bring it back to Aricia.” 

Imlay smiled. “A little does go a long way. Alright. Time for more work.” 

Gilda nodded, hoping she made the right choice. 



 

Aricia was busy as they arrived. The defensive lines were carrying wooden stakes to plant in the ground, as well as a hurry to build even more rock fences. In the town itself, Gilda could see earth-griffins joining together to lift many different things up the town wall. She recognized the ballista, the newer quick-load versions, being secured on top of the battlement, and familiar-looking metallic spheres on the towers. At the back of those, she saw catapults being assembled, and large stones serving as its ammunition gathered together. 

On the ground, Gilda saw a few mages casting a spell, probably something to harden the soil to make it more difficult, though not impossible, for any Corrupted Diamond Dogs to dig through. 

As she and her sky-griffin group landed on the pads just near the entrance, the battle-wagon rolled up. Imlay and all but two Marines—the one with the fifty-cal, and the other the injured Lenihan—dismounted. The Corporal nodded towards the Equestrians before the latter moved once more, probably to bring the wagon back to the Inn. 

“What are those, ma’am?” Imlay asked as he joined her, pointing at the metallic spheres. 

“Lightning Orbs,” Gilda replied. 

“What do they do?”

Gilda looked at Nydia, who looked a little too eager to answer that question. The mage gave her a thankful glance. “It absorbs lightning spells cast from two mages, which then get redirected by a third mage. It can shoot one strong bolt to the ground or air that can split up to hit multiple targets, or concentrate its power to one specific location.” 

“Oh, fuck yes. Griffies got Tesla Coils as well,” a Marine said with a wide smile. 

“Tesla Coils?” Nydia asked. 

Before anyone could explain, Doc made an appearance, wading through the crowd with purpose. His forehead was scrunched, a worried expression in his face. 

“Doc,” Imlay greeted. “You missed Lenihan. I sent him back to the Inn.” 

Doc nodded. “I’ll look after him, but you need to hear this. It’s about Lakan.” 

Gilda faced him, frowning. Last she heard, he accepted Doc’s invitation to help out with the wounded. “Is anyone giving him trouble back at Medico?” 

“He may have put himself into trouble,” Doc replied, shaking his head. He looked at Imlay. “He means well, but I’d rather you talk to him about it. Or rather talk him out of it.” 

“Out of what?” Imlay asked. 

“He volunteered as a town defender.” 

Gilda’s beak clenched. “Where is he?!” she demanded. 

“In the Inn, I think, but—” 

“Ma’am, wait—!” 

Gilda had already launched herself into the air and turned to face the Inn. Last thing she heard was Imlay saying, “Not again,” before she darted forward. 

She landed on the rooftops, and without wasting any more time descended the stairs and walked the hall until she got to the room where Marco, Tara, and Chris stayed. She didn’t even hesitate to knock on the door. 

Tara was the one who opened it, and instead of the friendly smile, Gilda was faced with a somewhat hostile expression and puffed eyes. “Did you put him up to this?” Tara asked in a hard tone. 

“No,” Gilda replied quickly. “Is he here?” 

Tara crossed her arms across her chest. “No.” 

“Where, then?” When Tara didn’t answer, Gilda continued with a bit of steel in her tone. “I need to talk to him about it, Tara. Where is he?” 

Tara frowned, hesitating, before she said, “With Gletscher. He said… he was going to practise. Just… follow the gunshots, I guess.” Before Gilda could leave, she added, “Gilda. Please. Stop him. I couldn’t convince him, and Chris won’t even try! He just gave him that stupid gun!” 

Gilda looked at the trembling Tara and nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” 

Before Gilda knew it, she was back in the air again. She tried to focus on hearing any gunshots, but the town was as loud as it was active. She could hear the blacksmith either sharpening weapons or fixing armor, and the crunch of wagon wheels moving to and fro. After minutes of useless searching, she realized that she was thinking about it the wrong way. Where would Fortrakt allow Marco to practise shooting? 

The answer was simple. Taking to the air, she made her way towards the Northern Gate and followed the wall westwards. After a bit of traveling, she found it. 

The shooting range was easy to spot. Instead of the usual thicket at the base of the high rise mountain that dominated the northern part of Aricia, it was a cleared out area; the ground was sifted, making the surface soft and somewhat sandy, and planted on the soil were crossbow targets, metal plates covered in green and black paint behind sandbags, arranged into different rows.

Griffins converged at the location. A whole lot of them were sky-griffins, some armed with crossbows. However, they weren’t shooting, and were mostly covering their ears as they watched a human and griffin standing in front of the targets. 

Marco looked… well, strong, capable, and appealing if she dared think it. Over his shirt, he wore a leather vest with metal rings layered on top of it, probably given to him when he volunteered. She wondered how long the blacksmith took to adjust it to his body type. On his legs, he wore regular jeans, but his waist had a black belt with a few gems hanging on the side and multiple pouches. Attached to his right thigh was what looked like a holster for his handgun. 

The weapon on his hand looked like a rifle, but the design looked completely different from what the Marines used. It was longer and its body made of mostly dark wood rather than black metal. 

She watched him for a moment, her anger at him vanishing as she watched with fascination as he took a shot. The sharp crack of the rifle was followed almost instantly by the loud ring of metal from a struck target, the steel plate recoiling slightly from the impact and now sporting a small but fresh hole. He lowered the rifle a bit and pulled sharply on the metal handle, like a crossbow notch, expelling the spent a metallic casing, before he pushed the handle back to its initial place, which Gilda knew automatically loaded the next bullet. Immediately, he raised the rifle back on a new target and pulled the trigger. He took a shot. Clang. He pulled back the handle and pushed it back again. Another shot. Clang. And he did it again. Clang. 

After the last shot, Marco finally lowered the rifle. Beside him, Fortrakt finally uncovered his ears and began to talk excitedly to the human. That action reminded her why she came here. 

She landed just behind the crowd. Her windstream attracted the lot of them, and it took but a moment for the griffins to realize who she was. She returned their salutes perfunctorily, then all but growled at them. “Clear out. Now.” 

They couldn’t have cleared out faster unless they flew. 

The only ones that stayed were Marco and Fortrakt, the latter looking at her with wide eyes. As she approached them, the tiercel seemed to say something to Marco, and stepped forward to meet her. 

“Gilda,” Fortrakt began, but she cut him off. 

“Silence, Gletscher!” Gilda exclaimed, walking past him. The sudden dismissal seemed to cow him into silence as she finally stood in front of Marco. 

“I guess you heard,” Marco said, surprisingly calm considering Gilda felt like she was about to burn holes through him with her eyes. 

“Crows take it, Marco,” Gilda said. “Do you love bringing trouble to yourself?” 

“Maybe,” Marco replied with a shrug. “Admit it, though. This turns you on, even a little bit.” 

Yes, it did. She wasn’t about to say it, though. “That’s not the point,” Gilda said with a sigh. “Why, Marco? You know what’s coming here. Two days ago, you were almost taken.” 

Before Marco could say anything, someone behind Gilda shouted, “Lakan!” 

Turning, the eagless was surprised to see Imlay coming at them, with Doc beside him. Marco sighed and nodded. “Let’s wait for Imlay so I won’t have to repeat myself.” 

The Corporal looked completely enraged, something that surprised Gilda. He always seemed so cool under pressure, and seeing him like this was a cold shock to her. He stood in front of them, his hands crossed over his chest, rifle rested in between the arms, pointing downwards. 

Imlay turned to her and asked, “Have you convinced him to unfuck himself, ma’am?”

While she didn’t understand the term, Gilda got the gist of it. “I just started talking to him.” 

Imlay nodded, then looked at Marco expectantly. “What’s going on, Lakan? Did everything that happened to you in the past few days knock a few screws loose in your head?” 

“Could be,” Marco admitted. 

“Hey!” Fortrakt protested, and Gilda glared at him. 

That didn’t shut him up, though, and he looked ready to give her a piece of his mind when Marco raised his hand and said, “It’s fine, Fortrakt. They’re worried about me.”

“I’m fucking glad you understand that, Lakan. After everything you went through, you’re now going to try and put yourself in the line of fire?” Imlay demanded. “What is it? Did surviving all of that shit make you somehow think you’re fucking invincible? Do you even appreciate the danger that is marching here right now?” 

Marco’s face scrunched up in anger. “Of course I fucking do!” he exclaimed forcefully, taking Gilda aback. The human seemed to build himself up, to say something more, but instead looked down. The rifle he held shook. 

“How can I fucking not?” Marco asked, more softly. His left hand began to hover over his throat. “I can still remember when that Diamond Dog held me. I can still smell its stench, feel its sharp claws. I remember feeling utterly helpless when it dragged me away.” 

“Then why do this?” Gilda asked. 

Marco sighed. “Because this… I can do this at least.” 

Imlay looked at him for a moment, then sighed. “That Mosin Nagant also another gift from Mr. McClain?” 

“A loaner,” Marco replied. 

“Familiar with it?” 

Marco looked at the rifle with a small, nostalgic smile. “This is the first gun I used for target practise, before Chris got me the SIG.”

Imlay nodded. “Show me, then.” 

Marco stood a little straighter. “What do you need me to do?” 

“Reload,” Imlay ordered. 

Marco nodded and moved his hand towards the rifle’s… well, if it was her crossbow, she’d call it the stock. Like his belt, it had a few pouches wrapped around it. He opened one and took out what looked like a group of five long bullets held together with a metal bar. 

Pulling back the handle all the way back, he placed the grouped bullets on top of the opening. Lifting the top bullet up, he pushed the whole group down, grabbed the empty metal bar, then pushed the handle back to place with a click.

“Contact front, fifth row targets,” Imlay pointed out. “Charging Cloven. Engage.” 

Marco nodded and lifted his rifle up. Gilda covered her ears, then watched as he took a steadying breath before going to a shooting position. He aimed, took a shot and hit a target. He went through the motion of readying another shot, almost like a workman. His face was sweating, but his hands were steady. He hit another three targets and was about to shoot a fourth when Imlay suddenly shouted. 

“Too slow! They are now in the first row! Kill them!” 

Gilda expected Marco to panic. He did. The last shot got out, but hit nothing. He hesitated, but instead of reloading the rifle, he lowered it towards his belt. Magic suddenly washed over him, and the rifle disappeared in a flash, the hanging gem on his belt glittering. He went for his right thigh, taking out his handgun, and began to steadily shoot the targets in the front row. 

By his sixth shot, Imlay said, “Contact front. Eighth row. Charging Cloven.”

The motion was practised. Marco holstered his pistol, tapped the gem, and magically extracted his rifle. He took another five bullets out to reload, and after a moment, began shooting again.  

He didn’t even get three shots out when Imlay added again, “They are at the second row now.” 

Marco reacted faster than earlier, using the Storage Gem to hide the rifle away before he went for his pistol again, shooting twice more before he extracted the magazine from the gun. He went for one of the pouches on his belt, grabbing another magazine and reloaded quickly. He shot three more times before Imlay ordered him to stop. 

“That’s enough!” Imlay shouted, and Marco lowered his gun, looking at the Corporal. “Not bad, but this is just target shooting. The enemy won’t be keeping still.”

“I know that,” Marco replied. 

Imlay nodded. “Okay. However, Marco, you have other options. You can cook or help with the wounded.” 

“I couldn’t get anything but oats and flour at the market since two days ago,” Marco said. “And ask Doc how I do with the wounded.” 

“He fucking sucked, Corporal,” Doc replied. “I hadn’t seen such wasteful use of bandages and disinfectant in all of my career.” 

Imlay shook his head. “Even if that’s true, Lakan, almost anything is safer than what you just volunteered to.” 

“Safe? How fucking safe?” Marco pointed towards the horizon. “You have some sort of Zerg rushing at us that also use undead! They fucking dug under the town and can do it again! I was in the Inn, away from supply buildings and the frontline, yet I was still almost… taken. How safe can I really be?” 

Imlay took a step forward. “So you think you can, what? Win this war because you armed yourself?” 

“No,” Marco replied. “Screw winning the war. I just… I just don’t want what happened to me happening to Tara. To Chris. To Brennan and Henderson. Hell, even that fucking asshole Raleigh.” 

“And you think you can protect all of them by having a gun?”  

“Maybe,” Marco replied. “It’s better than doing nothing.” 

Imlay looked at him steadily. “Aren’t you scared, Flip-Boy?” 

Marco looked at him for a moment, then to Gilda. He nodded. “Of course I am. But does it matter? Everyone’s scared. That doesn’t mean I should stand back and do nothing. Not when I can help.” He looked at them, steady and unyielding. “I trust all of you. You tell me that I can help better by cooking, I’ll fucking cook oats and bake fucking bread. You tell me that I can help better by treating the wounded, I’ll try not to turn them to mummies. I’ll return this armor, forget this nonsense. Just tell me that you can use me elsewhere.”

Gilda couldn’t reply to that, partially distracted by how… well, cool, Marco looked right now, and mostly because she couldn’t really give a good reason. Food was already rationed and prepared. The Medico didn’t really need any more help and was well-stocked. In fact, the only reason Marco even went there was because of Doc’s invitation. 

More importantly, they did need more defenders. 

She looked at Imlay, and he didn’t look as reserved as he was earlier. Doc frowned, but shook his head, silent as well. 

After a while, Imlay finally spoke. “We won’t let them get close to Aricia.” 

“I know,” Marco said. “If it ever happened, I know you guys are already dead. Yet, shit that happened two days ago can still happen again.” 

“Maybe,” Imlay replied. “If it does, keep your distance and find cover. Pick your targets carefully. And try not to fucking shoot the other defenders.” 

“So, you’re fine with this?” Marco asked. 

“Fuck no,” the Corporal answered. “But what am I going to do? Throw you in the brig?” He looked at Doc and Gilda, and then motioned them to follow him. 

As Doc and Imlay walked, she took one last glance at Marco. He gave her a tight, nervous smile she didn’t return. “This isn’t over,” she warned him. 

“I’ll be here,” Marco offered. 

Gilda looked at Fortrakt, and he looked solemn. Shaking her head, she gave a claw signal, to have him watch Marco. He smiled, and replied with a very quick affirmative. Walking away from them, she approached the waiting Doc and Imlay. 

“So, Doc, what do you think?” Imlay asked when she got into hearing range. 

“He’s got conviction, I’ll give him that,” Doc replied. 

Imlay frowned. “Is it the shock talking?” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised, considering what almost happened to him.” 

“So it's pushing him to this?” the Corporal asked. 

“The whole situation is pushing him, Corporal,” Doc replied. “I do note that he seemed to at least have put a lot of thought on this and it’s not something he decided on a whim.” 

Imlay gave a soft chuckle. “No shit, he thought it through. Did you see him switching weapons, using a Storage Gem like that? Fucking genius. And he’s shown to be at least competent with a rifle. He got the three steps down: lined up the front and rear sights, the stock solid on his shoulder, and shooting after exhalation.” 

“I still don’t like it,” Doc said. “That’s why the military was created, so civilians like him won’t have put themselves on the firing line.” 

“In a nice, ideal world filled with women in bikinis, maybe,” Imlay countered. “But the world we live in?” 

“We’re fighting in a world inhabited by talking colorful ponies and mythical griffins,” Doc pointed out. 

Imlay nodded. “True, but my point still stands.” Then he looked at Gilda. “How about you, ma’am? You’ve been very quiet.” 

She took a breath. “From what we’ve known of him, did we expect anything less? He strikes me as someone who’d rather face things head on and very protective of his friends. He’s also got a making of a warrior. Remember that he wanted to become a Marine officer?” 

Doc blinked. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Imlay replied. “He admitted that he was planning on going to OCS until McClain invited him to the trip. Though, don’t tell the others that.”

Doc just nodded.  

“He’s also smart,” Gilda added. “When Marco and I had that tussle in Arnau, he ran, but also made a point to arm himself afterwards. He also started to train in combat. From that show earlier, he also knows how to handle guns.” 

“So he’s had some training,” Doc replied. “What convinces you that he can do this?” 

“When he said he was scared,” Gilda said simply. “I think he knows the consequences and still chose to volunteer. He isn’t being driven to act by arrogance. It’s a choice I can understand, and I won’t disrespect him by taking it away from him.” 

Doc snorted. “Even if you would, ma’am, how? It’s not like you can assign him to latrine duty.” 

Gilda shrugged. “If I felt that he was volunteering thoughtlessly and wouldn’t change his mind, I’d invite him to a walk where I’ll accidentally push him into a wagon’s path—hopefully breaking his legs.” 

Imlay blinked. “A little extreme, don’t you think, ma’am?” 

“Less extreme than to see him charging around recklessly,” she replied. “But I don’t think he will. He’ll be careful.” 

“I think so too,” Imlay agreed. 

“You’re going to get busted down for this,” Doc said, shaking his head. “God help me, though, I agree with both of you.” 

Before Gilda could add to that, two griffins landed near their position. Upon spotting her, the lead tiercel, someone she’d never met before, approached and saluted. 

“Sub-Tribune, the First Spear sends his compliments and advises that the scouts have spotted the Cloven attack group. They are marching in force on the Eastern Gate and are about to meet the first picket line.” 

Gilda was about to reply before far away explosions started ringing out. She looked at Imlay, and the Corporal shook his head. 

“I guess they ignored the minefield,” he said. 

“Hopefully the claymores killed a lot of them,” Doc muttered. 

“I’m going back to the Inn and get my Marines ready,” Imlay said. He looked at Marco. “Any advantage you can give to him will be appreciated.” 

Gilda nodded, then looked back at the tiercel. “Tell the First Spear I’ll meet with him as soon as possible.” 

“He’s at the Eastern Gate, sir, preparing for the assault.” 

After the Corporal, Doc, and the griffins left, Gilda walked back to Marco, who looked a little apprehensive. 

“They’re coming,” he said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes,” Gilda confirmed. “Marco, you can still—” 

Marco shook his head. “No.” 

She nodded. “Tara is not going to like this.” 

Marco chuckled. “It won’t be the first time I’ve disappointed her.” 

Gilda motioned to Fortrakt. “Wish she’d blame him more, though.” 

“What?” Fortrakt sputtered. “Why would I get blamed?” 

“You’re always with him when trouble starts brewing,” Gilda replied, not facing him so he wouldn’t see her bearing a small smile. “The duel? Now this.” 

Fortrakt couldn’t reply except by leaving his beak open. Marco laughed, which alleviated some of her conflicting emotions. She found herself mentally shaking her head. 

“Nah,” Marco said, smiling. “Fortrakt actually tried to talk me out of it first.” 

Gilda saw the tiercel nodding quickly at that. “Uh-huh,” was all she said. 

“If I had to blame someone,” the human continued, “it’d be that recruiter, Fillius.”

“First Spear?” Gilda asked, a little surprised. She turned to Fortrakt, who nodded. 

“Gave a pretty good speech too,” the tiercel added. 

That was unexpected. While she knew First Spear was worried about getting more recruits, she didn’t expect him to go out personally to find them. 

“A very convincing speech,” Marco affirmed. “Something along the lines of ‘enemies at the gates’, ‘we need volunteers’. Oh, and that special line.” 

Gilda felt herself wondering what that special line was. Looking at Fortrakt, he too seemed curious. “Which was?” she asked. 

Marco suddenly spoke in an odd Equestrian accent that drawled on a few words. “Now you have to make a choice: you either can sit and wait, or get any weapons you have and do something really stupid.” 

Fortrakt snorted. “I never heard First Spear say anything like that.” 

“I was paraphrasing a movie,” Marco replied, grinning. “Which reminds me, Pacific Rim. Another movie making the list.”  

Gilda found herself chuckling before shaking her head. “Okay. We’ll watch anything you have when we go back.” She sighed. “Sometimes, I wonder if you are just distracting me so you can avoid our conversations.” 

“Blame the Cloven,” Marco replied. “I, for one, always look forward to any future conversations with you.” 

“Hopefully short in length. And filled with less headaches.” 

Marco smiled. “You’ll probably be disappointed in that.” 

Gilda snorted before shaking her head. “Do you know where you are assigned?” 

“Northern Area,” he replied. “From what I gathered, it’s near the Inn.” 

Gilda sighed with relief. Either Marco was very lucky or whoever assigned him knew he wasn’t experienced for this kind of thing and put him in an area with a minimal risk of attack. Her money was on the First Spear. Still, she could do more. Looking at Fortrakt before going back to Marco, she said, “If I have time, I can make arrangements to have Fortrakt transferred as your partner. At least, if you don’t have one yet.” 

Both Fortrakt and Marco suddenly seemed to back a step, shifting about uncomfortably. The latter scratched the back of his head, nervously. “Yeah. About that…” 

“There you are,” a voice, a very familiar voice, called behind Gilda. Fortrakt winced, making her blink. Turning around, her eyes widened as she recognized Ondrea landing in front of them. “Come on. We need to go.” 

Oddly enough, the Talon wasn’t speaking to her. 

“What are you doing here?” Gilda asked coldly. 

Ondrea’s eyes widened. “Sir!” She saluted. “I didn’t recognize you.” 

Gilda could buy that. Her back was turned when the Talon had landed and she didn’t really have any identifying features on that side. “You didn’t answer the question, Talon,” she still demanded. 

“I was just looking for my partner as we need to be at our assigned area.” 

“Partner?” Gilda asked, confused. She watched the Talon nod and look expectantly at Fortrakt. Or at least, it looked like she was looking at Fortrakt from Gilda’s angle. After a moment, Gilda realized Ondrea’s eyes were directly gazing at Marco. 

The human gave Gilda an apologetic expression. Her eyes narrowed in realization. 

Turning to Ondrea, she said, “You are his assigned partner? You’re a Talon. How in the crows did you get appointed with Guard duties?” 

“My wing and foreleg are still stiff and won’t allow me to effectively fight in the frontline, sir,” Ondrea replied. “So I’ve been reassigned temporarily as an Auxiliaris and as Lakan’s partner.” 

“No! Absolutely—” 

“Sir,” Ondrea interrupted, “there’s really no time to argue. I’ll watch out for him. You have my word.” 

Gilda closed her eyes, wondering for a moment if she was okay with this. Not a second later, she knew the answer was a complete and absolute no. The idea of breaking Marco’s legs herself was slowly becoming more and more appealing, only beaten by the notion of breaking Ondrea’s neck.

However, the Talon was right. Cloven were coming and she was needed elsewhere. 

It still didn’t mean Gilda liked the situation. 

“Keep him safe,” Gilda growled. 

Ondrea just nodded. 

Gilda looked back at Fortrakt, who looked a little fearful that she was going to rip his head off. Her cold tone didn’t help as she just said, “Let’s go.” 


> Chapter 20
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Look, Gilda, I’m sorry,” Fortrakt said as he tried to keep up with her. 

Gilda glanced at him for a moment. “About what?” 

“That we didn’t tell you.” 

“That Marco volunteered, or that his partner is Ondrea?” she suggested. 

“More on the Ondrea thing,” he said. “Marco thought you’d let the volunteer pass with some resistance, and I agreed with him.” 

“Really?” Gilda asked, sounding a little harder than she intended. “You both thought I was fine having him risk his life?” 

“Well, it would have been easier to convince you on that than the partner part,” Fortrakt replied. “He said that after explaining his reasons, you’d understand his decision.” 

“I do,” she admitted. “I still don’t have to like it, though.” 

A trumpet rang through the air. Gilda looked at Fortrakt as both recognized the signal of the enemy finally in view and about to meet the first line of defenses. The tiercel frowned. 

“Should I accompany you to meet with the First Spear?” he asked. 

“No, go to Giraldi,” Gilda ordered. “Wait for the Marines, then meet me at the western gate.” 

“We’ll be there.” 

Gilda gave him a nod before he separated from their formation, taking a dive towards Giraldi’s group. She continued on until she came to the Eastern Gate. Landing on top of the wall, Gilda was greeted by salutes, the First Spear with the griffins there. When she gave them an acknowledging nod, the griffins went back to work, mostly checking their crossbows and ballistas. Turning to her back, she saw the catapults being pushed and primed. 

        “What do we have, First Spear?” she asked. 

“Cloven are finally walking to our first line of defenses,” he replied.

Gilda took a look at the vast field in front of her. She could see rows of griffins, led by their centurions, readying themselves. There were Medico wagons waiting in between the spaces of columns, ready to transport the seriously injured back to the heart of the town. 

She focused on the first row of defenders. Above them, she saw black specks approaching them. She thought they were Flyers, but as they came closer, she realized they were crows. It was as if they heralded the coming of death, and were eagerly waiting to feast on their corpses. 

A few minutes later, she saw them—the Cloven. They were too far away to make out any details. They looked more like a black and green wall rather than a marching horde. She took a breathe.

“Ready catapults,” First Spear ordered. Trumpets rang out again, and she could hear the earth-griffins grunt as they began to fill the buckets with large stones the size of a griffin, accompanied by smaller stones the size of her head. After a while, there was a series of confirmation shouts. Fillius nodded, then shouted, “Fire!” 

There was a loud clang and groan of stressed wood as the arms shot up. The stones seemed to float in air as they made an arc towards the fields. Gilda felt oddly nervous, hoping that the aim was true. 

It was. Stones rained down on top of the black-green wall, and she could see the Cloven topple down as they were hit. There was a victorious cry around her, griffins happy in taking the first blood of the battle. 

“Elevation was good,” Fillius said. “Ready catapults again and fire at will.” 

Sky-griffins, which acted as the spotters for the catapults, flew in the air, then came back down to relay any kind of adjustments needed. After a minute or so, the catapults fired again, delivering more death from above. 

Gilda took a moment to look towards the sky. Ignoring the increasing number of crows approaching the town, she asked, “Where are the Flyers? I would have thought they would start transporting troops closer, to try and disrupt the defensive lines.” 

“They are holding them back, sir,” the First Spear replied with certainty. “This group is just knocking on our doors, testing our defenses. The flyers will appear later over another area, probably to make us overextend. But this group won’t push hard.” 

Gilda looked at him. “You are completely confident in that assessment.” 

Fillius nodded. “Aye, sir. Our latest intelligence gives me reason to think that.” 

“Which is what exactly, First Spear?” 

“I’ll explain the details once the Corporal gets here, sir,” Fillius replied. “He’ll want to listen to it.”

Gilda just nodded and continued to watch as the horde finally came in contact with the first line of defenses. She couldn’t see much from her position, but she saw the shields being locked together as they blocked the march. The Medico wagons were beginning to position themselves near the front. Above her, sky-griffins, probably two centuries strong, began to streak forward, making an arc towards the right side, before they flanked the Cloven and shot their crossbows. Hundreds of arrows found their marks.

Behind her, Gilda heard the familiar neigh of Pathfinder. Taking a glance, she saw the battlewagon making its way towards the gates, completely filled with Marines and their equipment, stopping between the catapult columns. Giraldi’s group followed, most of them opting to hover behind the wagon. 

She saw Imlay jump down, looking around. Giraldi approached him, then pointed towards her. When the Corporal looked up and saw her, he raised his hand in greeting. He talked to Giraldi again, saying something to him, and pointed towards Gilda. Giraldi called an earth-griffin from the group and pointed at Imlay, then to Gilda. The Guard nodded, and allowed the Corporal to ride her back before flying him towards the top of the wall. 

“Evening, ma’am, First Spear,” Imlay greeted as he jumped down the griffin. He looked at the Guard and said, “Thanks.” 

“You have my thanks as well, Guard Septima,” Gilda added. The Guard stood proud and saluted. 

“What did I miss?” Imlay asked as he came to the wall. Gilda blinked, feeling that there was something different about his armor. When the Corporal took out his binoculars and looked towards the horizon, she noticed a black box hanging at the front of his helmet. 

“Nothing much,” Fillius replied. “Standard Trooper attack group. They aren’t even trying too hard and marching at a rather sedate pace.” 

“Need my Marines anywhere?” 

“Our defenders got this,” First Spear said. “This seems more like a probing force.” 

“Yeah,” Imlay agreed. “No Flyers, no Rams.” 

“It’s like they are waiting for something,” Gilda muttered. 

“They could be waiting for nightfall,” First Spear suggested. 

“Makes sense,” Imlay nodded. “When we attacked their Clusters and Stronghold, it was during the day. Maybe they think we humans are only effective when there’s light.” 

“Will it be a problem for you if they do bring their main force under the cover of darkness?” Fillius asked. 

“Not with these,” Imlay said, tapping on the black box attached to his helmet. “Night Vision Goggles. They’ll help us see in the dark.” 

Gilda looked at it for a moment, a little awed that she could still be amazed by her new allies even after all she’d already seen them do. “Good to know.”  A thought hit her. “Did you deliberately avoid night skirmishes against them during our raids?” 

Imlay nodded. “I thought it would give them an impression of Marine combat efficiency being different during night-time. Granted, it won’t let us see them as completely as we would during the day, but it won’t leave us helpless.” 

“There is that, at least,” Fillius said. “I have scouts eyeing the other gates. There’s been some activity at the southern area, but no visual confirmations. Northern area is silent, as expected.” 

Imlay nodded. “The mountainous terrain along with the thick forest does make it an unenviable route, but the Cloven have surprised us before.” 

Fillius nodded. “We still have scouts at the north. Do not worry. The eastern area is silent, thankfully.” He looked at the Corporal. “Any word on our reinforcements?” 

“Facing very stiff resistance, last I heard,” Imlay relayed. “Don’t expect them too soon; we still have to deal with the Cloven coming here.” 

Fillius grunted. “I didn’t think there was any other recourse than that.” He paused. “I’m planning to have the Cloven commit, to advance.”  

Imlay frowned, while Gilda stared at the First Spear. “Is this about the intelligence?” she asked. 

Fillius nodded. “Our scouts have spotted Transporters in the rear. They gauged that the bulk of the Cloven are there, acting as guards.” 

Gilda’s eyes widened. 

“Transporters?” Imlay asked, confused. 

“Huge Cloven that bring their reinforcements,” Gilda said, reciting from the Codex. “From what I gathered, they can transport almost a thousand strong to an enemy’s position.” 

Imlay’s eyes also widened. “Shit. How many Transporters have your scouts spotted?” 

“Three, under heavy guard,” Fillius replied. “Which is good.” 

“Almost three thousand Cloven to reinforce whatever numbers they already brought here. How is that good news?” Imlay asked. 

“They won’t be battle-ready for some time,” Gilda answered. “Transporters can only carry cocoons of undeveloped Cloven, that’s why they can bring so many. We have maybe six hours before they hatch.” 

“And more importantly, the heavy guard indicates strongly the presence of the Overlord,” Fillius added. “We kill the Overlord, the rest become an undisciplined mob.” 

Imlay closed his eyes. “Great. They really are Zerg.” 

“I have heard that term repeatedly,” Gilda mentioned. “What is a Zerg?” 

Imlay smiled slightly. “They are, from what I gathered, an insectoid race that specializes in amassing numbers as quickly as possible.” 

Fillius looked at the Corporal steadily. “You have fought something like the Cloven before?” 

The Corporal shook his head. “No, it’s a fictional race from a war game humans play back on Earth,” he replied. “There are other similar fictional races like them, but Zerg is really what stood out to us right now.” He paused for a moment. “So, from what I gathered, you are going to let them overcommit, to thin out the heavy guards on the rear.” 

Fillius nodded. “The past few weeks have shown me that your unconventional style will be effective in this type of offensive.” 

Imlay nodded. “You want us to attack where the Transports are, to take out the Overlord. Presumably before the Cloven hatches.”

Fillius nodded. “Even if you don’t succeed, taking out the Transports will also help us out in the long-run.”  

Gilda frowned. “First Spear, we did that with two wagons. With one, their exit strategy is very limited. You’d likely be sending them to their deaths.” 

Before Fillius could speak, Imlay said, “Actually, no, the situation is completely different.” He looked at the First Spear. “Have they entrenched themselves?” 

“Not completely,” Fillius replied. “From what our Scouts gathered, they haven’t even put up a Heart yet.” 

“So, any modifications in that area is going to be limited,” Imlay said. “Traps should be minimal.” 

“That’s just a guess, Corporal,” Gilda replied. 

“Honestly, ma’am, it’s better than the alternative.” 

“Which is?” 

Imlay pointed towards the left side of the attacking group. “Go there and wait for opportunities to flank them.” 

“Corporal, I know I spelled my doubts before about your smaller force taking on Clusters,” Fillius began, “however, this is a massive battle in the making.”

“Two days ago, they held up well,” Gilda reminded. 

Fillius nodded. “Yes, they did. However, sir, you know from the Codex how Cloven battles tend to go. They’ll come at us with thousands, and battles last hours.” He looked at Imlay. “Can you stay on the offensive that long?” 

“No, even if we make a few runs back to Aricia for resupplies,” the Corporal conceded. “While we did bring enough ammunition, sooner or later, we’ll run out.” He looked at Gilda. “Our course is clear, ma’am. Take out their command” 

Gilda sighed, nodding in understanding. “It’s like taking out the Hearts in our raids. Though this time the target is a moving, living, thinking quarry.” 

Imlay smiled. “A challenge is always fun.” 

Gilda snorted. 

The Corporal looked at Fillius. “As per usual, I’ll leave one of my Marines with you in case we relay any information of movement and big threats like Rams or Mages.” 

“That would be very helpful,” the First Spear said. 

“Of course, when we see an opportunity, we’ll give some fire support to your defenders.” 

“Thank you, Corporal,” Fillius said. He looked at Gilda. “Sir, are you going with them?” 

“Do you need me here?” Gilda asked. 

“Maybe for a while,” Fillius said. “Standing on top of the wall while watching the battle will give a good image to any nearby griffins. At least, let them see you involved before you take your group forward.” 

Before Gilda could say anything, another signal trumpeted in the air. “Flyers!” was being shouted down the line. She looked forward, focusing her eyes, then finally saw it. Bigger than the shadow casted by the crows, she saw the Flyers coming forward, the blot in the sky increasingly getting bigger. 

“In range of the Lightning Orbs?” Gilda asked. 

“Not yet,” Fillius replied. “Let them come closer. Send the signal to clear the skies.” 

A shrill warning rang out from the gates, and was then relayed forward by the defenders. After a few moments, the sky-griffins strafing the attackers began to move out of the way. 

The three waited for what seemed like hours before Fillius finally shouted, “Now!” 

Gilda shivered as she felt six mages began to build their magic. Lightning crashed down into the three ready orbs, making them glow in an eerie white-blue light. Three mages in front of the orbs also started building their spells, and almost in sync, they shouted, pointing their staves towards the Flyers. 

Three bolts of lightning surged forward, hitting the swarm’s location. Gilda blinked as the attack created white lines in her vision, her ears deafened slightly by the air screaming as the lightning cut through the sky. The attack had carved a good chunk out of the Flyers’ numbers. 

“Can’t do maximum spread that far away,” Fillius commented. “However, we still hit them hard.” 

Imlay whistled. “Nice. I’ll see if I can remember that signal. Don’t want to get blinded by it later.” 

“Corporal, out of curiosity, do humans have something similar to deal with flying enemies?” the First Spear asked. 

“I can think of a few things,” Imlay admitted. “Not as flashy, but gets the job done in any case.” 

Another signal rang out, and everyone turned towards the defense. It seemed the Cloven finally had enough and were slowly retreating. The shield wall was still dealing with any Cloven that stayed behind, probably to cover the retreat, but initial victory was clear. Some griffins in the wall shouted in triumph. 

“First skirmish goes to us,” Fillius stated. 

“Too easy,” Gilda said. 

“Agreed, sir,” the First Spear replied. “The next group may come at us harder.” 

Imlay nodded. “I guess now’s a good time to get to a good position.” He turned to Gilda. “Ma’am, we’ll be making towards the edge near the forest.” 

Gilda nodded. “I’ll follow soon.” 

“Glad to have you with us as we kill the fuckers,” Imlay said with a smile. 

Septima brought him down, and Gilda watched as Imlay had one of the Marines slowly disembark. His movement was stiff, having just recently healed. Septima waited until the Marine was secured at her back before she brought him up. She recognized him immediately. 

“Lance Corporal Lenihan, at your service,” he greeted the First Spear. He glanced at her and gave her a nod. “Ma’am.” 

“How are your injuries?” Gilda asked. 

“Leg’s a little stiff. Didn’t want to slow them down, so I volunteered to be today’s RTO.” 

Gilda blinked. “RTO?” 

“Radio Telephone Operator,” Fillius, surprisingly, answered. The First Spear looked at Lenihan. “Did I say that right, Lance Corporal?” 

“Aye, First Spear,” Lenihan replied. 

Gilda looked at Fillius curiously, and he said, “I’ve heard that term a lot of times when your scouting group went out for raids. I asked.” He turned to Lenihan. “Make yourself comfortable, Lance Corporal. It’ll be a long night.” 

Lenihan nodded and moved towards one of the crenels. He had his own binoculars and took it out for use. Gilda looked down to the gate, just in time to see Septima join Giraldi’s group. With another neigh, the wagon rode off, the ponies driving it into the spaces between the columns of griffins and making their way towards the nearby forest area, escorted by the earth-griffins at its sides. Any sky-griffins opted to fly in the same direction, following the group to its destination. 

“Humans are odd,” the First Spear stated when the wagon was almost like a speck in the distance. 

Gilda looked at him for a moment before nodding. “They can be.” 

“I find them quite contradictory.” 

That got Gilda to blink. “How so?” 

“They are a soft race,” the First Spear replied. “Yet they are able to train fine soldiers like those… Marines, they call themselves?” 

“Marines, yes,” Gilda nodded. “Though why would you say they are soft?” 

“After what happened two days ago, I personally went recruiting near the Inn where they stayed,” Fillius said. “The area was relatively untouched, other than the destruction of the modified wagons. It was a rich place to get recruitments. Griffins, naturally, came forward. Our Equestrian residents were eager to help as well. However, the humans, out of all the civilians, only one came forward and volunteered.” 

“Mar—Lakan,” Gilda corrected herself. “It’s understandable. None of them are soldiers.” 

“Cloven don’t care about that, sir,” Fillius snorted. “And yes, I do understand they aren’t soldiers. That wasn’t what I was talking about, though. When Mister Lakan stepped forward, I expected some encouragement from his compatriots. What he got was anger and scorn.” 

Gilda blinked. “Anger and scorn?” 

“Their supposed leader,” the First Spear said, “that man whom you mentioned in your report that Lakan saved two days ago.” 

“Mister Raleigh,” Gilda guessed. Sometimes, she wondered about that human. 

“Yes, the one with the odd name,” Fillius confirmed. “My Equestrian is rusty, but I could have sworn Rah-lee told Lakan that he was just being arrogant idiot playing hero. That this wasn’t a game like Duty Call, or something to that effect. And that he was washing his—something called hands—clean of Lakan’s stupidity. And it wasn’t just him. One other male and another female looked like Lakan was crazy. The only understandable reaction I saw was that female with red hair he’s close to. She was worried and was discouraging him. Must be his mate.” 

Gilda felt herself feeling uncomfortable at that notion. As far as she knew, Tara was only a friend. Shaking her head, she said, “It angers you, seeing that reaction.” 

“More confused than anything, sir,” First Spear replied. “If a fellow griffin was brave enough to volunteer to help defend our home, I’d admire them. You lived with the Equestrians, sir. If one of them volunteered to defend their town, how would his friends or family react?” 

“Worried,” Gilda answered. “They’d probably try and convince them not to, but would support them.” 

Fillius nodded. “The humans’ reaction was perplexing, and yes,” he admitted, “a little infuriating. Lakan strikes me as a decent sort. He didn’t deserve that kind of reaction.” 

“Human culture is different from almost anything we’ve seen,” Gilda said softly. “It isn’t that surprising that they would react differently from us.” 

Fillius snorted. “Not too different considering how surprisingly popular Lakan is. As alien as his culture may be, he seems to hit off quite well with the griffins and ponies. I felt it was better to assign him to that area, considering he admittedly had no combat experience, and that he was very familiar with that area.” 

Gilda took a deep breath to try and steady her voice. “Are you aware that his assigned partner is the Talon he duelled?” 

Fillius chuckled at that. Gilda didn’t know whether to find that annoying or not. “Oh, aye. I didn’t know it, initially. I was more preoccupied in giving him a partner that was experienced enough to protect him if things took a turn for the worse. I thought it was rather lucky for me that Ondrea Lucia was too injured to fight on the frontlines and was available. She also had no objections. Imagine my surprise that Lakan was the cause of her injuries.” 

Gilda tried to chuckle nonchalantly. It sounded dry, even to her. “Yes, imagine that.” 

“He was surprisingly professional about it too,” Fillius recalled. “He was, of course, initially suspicious towards her. When Talon Lucia made known that there were no hard feelings and willing to work with him, though, he quickly accepted her aid and they talked about how they were going to attend to their patrol duties.” 

“Why her, though?” Gilda asked, trying to keep her voice steady. 

“Well, he is as green as new grown grass,” Fillius replied. “And Lucia is one of our more seasoned Talons. I felt that someone like her would help Lakan survive if he faced the enemy.” 

There was an undeniable logic in Fillius’ thought process. Part of her agreed with him wholeheartedly, while another part of her seethed. “Let’s hope that won’t come to pass.” 

“I don’t put too much stock in hope,” Fillius offered gently. “However, I am reassured by our preparedness this time around.” 

There wasn’t really much to say after that. Deciding to look back at the horizon, Gilda watched as Medico wagons began to converge towards the gate. The amount of wounded they carried was small, considering the numbers on the frontlines, but she still felt gnawing guilt at the injured. Griffins around her were whispering to each other. Some pointed at the sky in nervousness. 

Stealing a glance, Gilda saw crows finally reaching Aricia. The began to  flock around each other, flying in circles. Their continuous cawing was already beginning to grate on her nerves. 

Gilda felt like she needed to do something. Part of her toyed with stealing some time away and flying to the Northern Gate, see how Marco was doing. Then, she shook her head, realizing she was acting like some sort of love-sick griffin. Maybe it was Ondrea’s presence with him that filled her with unease. 

Or maybe it was the unease of almost every griffin around her. Impatience seemed to have taken hold of almost everyone, and not just her. She could hear some eager anticipation of the next Cloven group, anger at the sight of the injured. Some were visibly shaking, whether in fear or at the prospect of fighting, she did not know. 

It was only a few moments later when she realized that the griffins around her were sneaking her looks. They were watching her, waiting. She knew what she had to do; she stood tall on all fours, firm, and projected the image of a stalwart officer, calm and ready. 

Slowly, the whispers began to fade. Noticeably, the griffins around her were mimicking her, standing tall. They still looked nervous, but tempered that with the beginnings of calmness. 

Gilda took a few minutes to stand there. Inside, she felt like an actor trying to stand unruffled against the storm. However, the effect was undeniable. 

“Thank you, sir,” Fillius whispered close-by, making sure his words were only audible to her. 

Turning to him, Gilda raised her voice. “First Spear, the defenses are stellar. From what I’ve seen, I have absolute confidence in the abilities of our griffins and your leadership as we enact the plan.” 

Fillius stood straight and gave her a sharp salute. From the echoing sound of metal being hit, the griffins around her did the same. She looked around her, and saw the other griffins practically beaming in pride. Looking back at the First Spear, though, she noticed he wore a rather amused expression. 

“Too much?” she beaked silently. 

Fillius just gave her grin. Out loud for everyone around them to hear, he said, “Are you going out hunting again, Sub-Tribune?” 

“Yes,” Gilda replied, also in the same volume. “I’m going to the front and kill the Overlord.” 

“May the Ancestors watch over you, Sub-Tribune.”