Pathfinder and the City of the Griffons (Phil the Time Wizard and SteelEagle)

[SteelEagle]

"Friends...? Yeah, I guess we're friends by this point. Though from my experience you can't count on friends for everything. Gotta make your you're still able to stand your own feet."

Pathfinder couldn't disagree more. Who else could one trust aside from a good friend? Family, even if you had it you never chose to belong to. Coworkers and schoolmates? Same deal, and you often didn't even get to knoe one another well. A good friend was somepony you chose to get close to, share with, feel with. A good friend was as great a tool in a good adventurer's set as rope or cord. If you had a good friend, then you could count on said friend forever, because friends were for forever. At least, that is what she thought. She never had a really good friend and at times the goal seemed almost out of reach, and the fiction she had chosen to believe in regarding friendship was hard-set against Gilly's advice. All she could do was rely on her glow to get past and ignore the somewhat downer philosophy she spouted.

"How's it looking out there?"

Pathfinder's eyes narrowed as she scanned.

"Kinda boring. There are six pairs of three guards patrolling the perimeter and I've counted a few dozen others flying about, probably just normal griffons. Three city guards, one of them a captain, came by earlier. The six groupings change out every once in a while and change angles- the building is too big for them all. They are able to get all the paths to the building but not the building itself sometimes. They are keeping it tight but they change shifts every once in a while," Pathfinder said, saying what she saw as she saw it without much inflection.

[RarityDash]

"Kinda boring. There are six pairs of three guards patrolling the perimeter and I've counted a few dozen others flying about, probably just normal griffons. Three city guards, one of them a captain, came by earlier. The six groupings change out every once in a while and change angles- the building is too big for them all. They are able to get all the paths to the building but not the building itself sometimes. They are keeping it tight but they change shifts every once in a while."

Gilda could tell from the lack of enthusiasm Pathfinder's words held that she hadn't taken her statement about friendship very well. Gilda frowned slightly. She hadn't said it to ruffle the pony's feathers. She was just being honest. That was better than stringing her along constantly with lies, wasn't it? From Gilda's perspective, she hadn't gotten anywhere from trusting others. There wasn't much in the way of long term relationships in her life. Everything she had gotten she had gotten on her own. She supposed she couldn't expect this pony to understand that, but she wasn't going give her silly lies she didn't believe in just to keep her happy. She respected Pathfinder too much for that.

"I see..." Gilda started in a low, kind of heavy voice. "Sounds busy, but not without openings. Guess we just need to wait until those openings get even wider and seize the opportunity."

She shook her head. "I hope this insane plan of ours doesn't end up getting us both killed..."

[SteelEagle]

"I see...sounds busy, but not without openings. Guess we just need to wait until those openings get even wider and seize the opportunity."

Pathfinder nodded. Adventure was all about seizing your single chance.

"Yeah, it's always about striking while the iron is warmer than warm Giltacular, but we still hafta wait for night, even if we spot an opening. They won't be as well-guarded then!" Pathfinder said, her eyes starting to tell the story of what was going on inside. She was imagining their plan working flawlessly and the pair bounding off into the night, helm in hoof and claw. Parades, fame, bits followed, as well as eternal friendship. Even if Gilly couldn't see it, in Pathfinder's mind it was already a hard reality that could not be overcome by any combination of facts or scenario.

"I hope this insane plan of ours doesn't end up getting us both killed..."

Pathfinder shook her head and smiled, throwing her hoof around her griffin friend.

"No, it won't get us killed. You're too strong and I'm too crafty! Now, imprisoned is a possibility. We will probably get hurt a fair bit if we don't do this right, but that's the truth behind any adventure, really. Now get your rest, Gilacious. I'll get you up in a few hours," Pathfinder said, patting her friend on the head before resuming her mission.

[RarityDash]

"Yeah, it's always about striking while the iron is warmer than warm Giltacular, but we still hafta wait for night, even if we spot an opening. They won't be as well-guarded then!"

And instantly Pathfinder had bounced back to her silly cheerful enthusiasm. She was really incredible in a way.

"Right. Doing this in broad daylight would just be stupid," Gilda said with a nod. "Waiting for nightfall is definitely the way to go."

"No, it won't get us killed. You're too strong and I'm too crafty! Now, imprisoned is a possibility. We will probably get hurt a fair bit if we don't do this right, but that's the truth behind any adventure, really. Now get your rest, Gilacious. I'll get you up in a few hours,"

The griffon gave an off chuckle at the pony's unflagging optimism. It was almost reassuring. "I hope you're right. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"But cool," she said, giving a yawn as she got a little more confortable. "I think I will get that rest now..."

[SteelEagle]

Watching the area while Gilda was asleep was the definition of a boring time, Pathfinder thought. The forest they resided in had a rather severe lack of animale life, meaning it was absurdly quiet. The griffons were well-ordered and maintained very strict schedules, few lapses in pattern meaning she could start to predict their movements with a high degree of certainty. That would prove to be invaluable once they needed to infiltrate the mansion but for the pony stuck watching it for the hours beforehand, it was a major drag of the highest caliber.

That is why for the most part she preferred adventures without a lot of planning and foresight, since you could jump right in and before you knew it you were off living the dream. None of this waiting. It was vital but it made her uneasy and as the hours passed, it didn't get any easier. Watching guards was never an exciting prospect if they were in any way professional since they would do little other than actual, well, guarding. Which meant hovering in place for long stretches of time.

This all would have been unbearable and eventually maddening had it not been for her active imagination. Few ponies had her massive array of time wasting activities and games to be played in her head and that alone saved her from eternal boredom, or something similar. Still, as the hours droned, she was happy to have a sleeping friend rather no friend close by. The fact that in her mental fiction she was poisoned and Pathfinder was having to defend her from waves of zombie griffons also helped.

Pathfinder yawned. What time was it?

[RarityDash]

Gilda lie there a while, trying to get to sleep. She wondered if Pathfinder would let her this time. The pony didn't seem to have much in the way of patience and watching the guards had to be highly boring. It would even be hard for Gilda to endure it.

Some time passed. More than the previous time. Whoa, maybe Pathfinder was actually going to let her sleep this time after all. That was a novel thought. Maybe it was her way of being courteous? Something was up with this pony's way of thinking. Maybe it was something in her past? She hadn't spoken all that much about herself, come to think of it. Not that Gilda had ever really asked. It wasn't like her to be too outwardly curious. It was kind of lame. Yet she did kind of want to know; she'd just have to try and get her to spill a little more in the way of details later on she supposed.

For now, she'd enjoy this peaceful moment of rest before what might have been the most dangerous thing she ever tried to pull. Her eyes closed as she was lulled by the peaceful sounds around them. She actually was getting pretty tired all of a sudden. Shifting slightly, she found a comfortable position. Slowly she started to drift off to sleep.

[SteelEagle]

Little improved with time when boredom was at the forefront and circumstances stayed the same. Even the active imagination of an adventurer could be stretched to the breaking point to find anything entertaining in the boring and ceaseless pattern laid bare before her, the landscape around them devoid of movement, bred as it was on sludge and refuse. Luckily, Pathfinder could recite the great deeds of Daring Do from memory as readily a holy pony could any holy passage and as the minutes, then hours, droned on, her eyes grew to resemble the workings of a machine while her imagination bled into Daring Do's universe and breathed life into an otherwise blank reality. Once applied liberally, imagination makes the unreal real and the real seemingly delusional.

In other words, Pathfinder stared straight ahead, lazily taking in the sights as time passed. Gilly was getting her sleep, so Pathfinder felt the sacrifice of her precious time was worth it in great amounts as a properly rested adventurer was worth her weight in bits and when a griffon was concerned, perhaps double. Pathfinder wondered solemnly if her friend was prepared to make the correct sacrifice if required to get to the end of their adventure and retrieve the relished relic, if the fear of bodily harm was such that she would hesitate. Just as she had solemnly asked the question, she answered with a devastating optimism that Gilda was a proper adventurer and would come through in the clearest manner possible. She was sure of it.

Time passed. The passing of the sun overhead spoke to the time and her yawn signaled the changing of the guard. Pathfinder nudged her Griffin buddy old pal.

"Gilcredible, it's your turn," Pathfinder whispered, sliding down the hill as she did, yawning and stretching as she placed the hat over her head and allowed her mane to fall on the odd-smelling grass. It took less than a minute for her to fall asleep. There, she would not suffer from a lack of excitement- only a nightmare could trouble her with such boredom and this mare was free from such silly mental engagements such as a nightmare.

Her joy didn't stop her from very lightly snoring, however.

[RarityDash]

"Gilcredible, it's your turn."

Gilda awoke with a start at the call. She groaned and then yawned as she forced her eyes open and her mind to register what was being said. This pony's weird names sure were getting weirder, and yet somehow she was noticing them less and less. She couldn't entirely figure how that worked. Eh, she supposed it didn't matter. Either way it was her turn to act as sentry now, she supposed.

Yawning once more, she got in place. The sleep she had gotten had been rewarding, but maybe not long enough. She could have gone for a good other hour or so. Still, she was cool with letting the silly pony get some rest. She got into place and started to watch the griffons in the distance.

TIme continued to pass. Gilda' primary conclusion was that this had to rank as one of the single dullest things imaginable. The guards kept to their pattern and seldom missed a beat. It was mind-numbingly repetitive. Gilda couldn't for the life of her understand how a pony like Pathfinder had been able to endure. She wasn't sure she'd make it through her shift without nodding off.

Somehow, Gilda made it through it all. Mostly she just kept her mind on things. On the rainbows of the past, on the silly pony snoring not far from her and on her future. When that topic got boring, she thought about Daring Do and the Griffon's Goblet, which she still needed to read the ending to. She wondered how it did end. After the first book's ending, she kind of hoped for something a little nicer for the protagonist. Eventually Gilda had run out of things to think about, but luckily plenty of time had passed. She decided to move toward the pony.

"Hey! Your turn again, pony!" Gilda started.

[SteelEagle]

The dreams of an adventurer were rarely anything less than the sincere applications of desire in a realm unencumbered by the cackling harshness of reality. The traps appeared vicious but her wings and hooves were always up to the task, just barely able to circumvent, conquer, and crush any and all signs of resistance to her unequivocal and unquestioned dominance of the ruins carefully laid out by the fragments of reality that seeped in through her pugnacious mental blocks. The guards were flat-hooved or dull-winged, mentally unfit when tossed into comparison with her. They fell flat as if confronted by the uncrushable forces of permanence that were Pathfinder's earnest beliefs in her invincibility and through her success, unyielding immortality.

Pathinder would gaze up at a pillar covered in the finest of ancient dust and find held close to the breast of an ancient figure was a gem that in her dreamworld was as weightless as it was pristine and the pinnacle of breathtaking clarity and beauty. Awe-inspiringly expensive and worth the tribulations required to reach it, her wings propelled the explorer with the strain of fatigue absent. Such mortal and utterly worldly concerns were not to trespass the imitation of it that transcended their meager origins. She seemingly floated to meet the gem and with one swift and silent motion grabbed it, held it as if it were an infant for in that instant in her mind it was as precious to her as any beautiful foal could ever ignorantly believe itself to be to a parent.

And it held this intense part of her unstable soul not for its beauty or the wealth it whispered gainfully into her about, but for the sheer success holding it represented. The trials had been passed and her mind, flesh, soul found noble enough in the eyes of the ruins to allow her passage to see it and the a route with which to escape with it. Pathfinder had always considered such inanimates and landmarks members of her family; ruins her parents, treasures her parents, the thrill of adventure as pure as a foalish love well-returned and nurtured.

This was usually the point in which she would be stalled from escaping and would find herself embroiled in an awesome showdown with the big bad of the ruins, but a suitable replacement for this chapter was found as Gilda shook Pathfinder awake. As the griffon's words registered, Pathfinder's internal clock kicked in and the clock had struck just before she had been selfishly awoken from a more brilliant reality. Unlike others who would bemoan this loss and fall into the cycle of waiting for such circumstances to repeat so as to relive such utopia, Pathfinder had based her whole life on making her waking hours as fantastic as the dreams that were themselves feeding off of such brilliant fiction as Daring Do. Her reality a dream, her dream the reality.

Pathfinder smiled as she turned to her stomach and cracked her back.

"Nah, I think it's time to move. Did you see anybody enter through the top of the house? Once you see that, it likely means they are starting to head towards the night shift and we can make our move then," The adventurer calmly spat out as she yawned, stretching her wings wide as a means getting feeling in all parts of her slowly rising body.

[RarityDash]

"Nah, I think it's time to move. Did you see anybody enter through the top of the house? Once you see that, it likely means they are starting to head towards the night shift and we can make our move then,"

Gilda nodded. Just a few minutes ago she had saw something like that. "Yeah, come to think of it, I think I did," she said. "Cool, so all this boring waiting is done now?'

A pang of anxiety hit her as she said this. They were really doing this. They were making this happen. It somehow didn't seem real for a moment. It was kind of frightening in a way, considering how very real Gilda knew the consequences would be. At the same time it was unbelievably exciting. Finally she'd be able to make a move against the griffon elite. She'd be going after something great and hopefully getting rich in the process. Thinking about it like that, it was kind of awesome.

"I guess I'm ready when you are," she said, gulping a little and giving a small nod. A smirk soon appeared on her face.

[SteelEagle]

"Yeah, come to think of it, I think I did. Cool, so all this boring waiting is done now?"

Pathfinder nodded swiftly, pulling out a smaller saddlebag that had until then rested comfortably in her own. It was filled with all the items that her partner would need to safely ingress to her position inside of the mansion, including the items she had tossed in there earlier. It was a wide assortment to be sure, though a bit heavier than Pathfinder's as the demands of her mission required the capability to defend against some great force. Even if the hope was to avoid such an event, one could not deny the possibility. Preparation was vital.

"I guess I'm ready when you are," Gilalicious smirked, and Pathfinder returned it with a hoof on the griffin's shoulder.

"Gilda, I was born ready!" Pathfinder bellowed as she tossed the saddlebag onto Gilda and tightly tied it to her.

"Okay, I start to make my move when I see you have moved into your position. Now fly, Giltacular Gilda, and let's make history!"

[RarityDash]

"Gilda, I was born ready! Okay, I start to make my move when I see you have moved into your position. Now fly, Giltacular Gilda, and let's make history!"

Gilda laughed and flexed her wings, smirking as stared toward the nest of the tall, tower-like manor. Born ready? That described her too. This is the sort of moment I've been waiting for since she was a tiny little chick, a big kick to the beak of the powerful delivered at full velocity.

It seemed a simple enough plan. She'd fly up toward the top, keeping herself hidden until Pathfinder was ready. Once she was sure the pony was close enough, she'd sneak in toward the top. She'd trip all the alarms and get the attention of as many guards as possible. She'd lead them on a chase then and give her pony friend plenty of time to make her way up through the manor to look for the helmet. Using her flight skills, speed and Pathfinder's gear she'd lose the guards and regroup with the other pony.

"Alright, pony! Here goes nothing!" she started, making sure her bag was secure. She gave a final nod and then ran a short distance ahead. Making sure, no guards saw her at first, she took off, flying up toward the top of the structure. She hovered in a darl corner and looked back, waiting to see if Pathfinder was in motion before proceeding.

[SteelEagle]

Gilda shot into the increasingly dark sky with her saddlebag, despite the heft, being little more than a minor hindrance. It didn't take long for the strong flier to get into position, chosen carefully as it was concealed from the guards by the structure itself and yet allowed her to see the ingress at street level, a vantage point that would serve them both well.

Gilda was in position and therefore Pathfinder's number was next. She nodded imperceptibly and started stalking along the high grass and uneven vegetation of the end of the forest, moving from concealment to concealment in quick, even bursts of speed punctuated by a wing-aided leap to safety. It took a few minutes but she was quickly at the city walls, which for all of their high-functioning abilities were imperfect and old. Whether griffin made or punched through by the seemingly violent forest on the other side, tiny holes appeared near the base of the wall. It would have been fixed in pony society but in a city that valued the ground as an Earth pony may a transient cloud, it had been left as an open wound. Pathfinder moved in and then dove behind the cracking road at the base, hovering above a ditch that contained little she had a desire to involve herself in, masked from view for at least that heady moment.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

[RarityDash]

Gilda gave a rigid nod as she noticed the pony was in place. Time for her to do this!

Waiting until some guards passed, she sped upward to land atop a balcony near the top. She eyed the door for a moment and then turned back to see if any guards had noticed her yet. Seeing that they hadn't she proceeded to pull some wiring from her bag of gear and used it to quickly pick the lock. Quietly, she opened the door, peered into the empty room beyond it and snuck in.

Moving to the perimeter she snuck carefully toward the spiral stairs up to the next room. Gilda moved carefully upward, finding herself in a larger room, that if her knowledge of the layout was correct was just below the master bedroom. This room had a gallery of some rather nice looking stuff, mostly art. No helmets though. if it was here it was on a lower floor. At the opposite end was a large ornamental window. Unfortunately, in the middle of the room was a rather large guard making his rounds. He spotted Gilda at once.

"Who are--who goes there?" he shouted, rushing towards her. Gilda had been expecting this, she had the stun bolts from her little bag of tricks ready. She deployed on right as she flew toward the bigger griffon, launching it in his face. He still lunged at her, but eventually the shock got to him and her crashed into one of the display pieces, breaking some glass and ruining the piece of art inside.

Clearly concussed as well as stunned now, the guard didn't get back up. Gilda had to act fast now. She'd grab something. Something of clear value that they'd notice was missing. She'd keep it if she could or shed it later on if she needed to to escape her pursuers. it only took her a few moments to decide what to go for. Some wicked looking sword was standing toward the center of the room. It wasn't some cheap trinket either. Gilded hilt with gems in it, pristine blade, engraved. It was awesome.

Gilda recklessly smashed into the case with the incapacitated guard's own weapon, a brutal looking spear. She then threw that weapon aside and replaced it in her talon with the fine showpiece. Laughing at her success, the griffon then flew speedily toward the expensive looking window, sword first, letting it shatter to pieces as she flew out into the sky. She could hear the sounds of a griffon screaming obscenities after her. it was likely the master of the house, awakened to find his showpiece stolen, his guard unconscious and his window broken.

Like clockwork, after that Gilda could see no less than fifteen guards flying after her as she spiraled upward. She laughed. She had really gotten their attention wonderfully. Now it was the easy part. She just had to outfly these goons and wait for Pathfinder to join back up with her. As she flew for her life, dodging the occasional thrown spear like it was nothing, she began to wonder if the pony was having quite as much fun as she was.

[SteelEagle]

Pathfinder's eyes were trained to notice great details at great distance, even if just as often she was proved incorrect as correct. That sense, as valuable as it was in most instances, was utterly lacking in capability to tell when it was time for her to take action. She would have to rely on her less finely tuned sense of hearing, often having been demolished by various traps in the past and naturally having never been her strong suit. Luckily, there was no possibility of it failing to pick up the sounds of mass chaos being caused by her friend, her very bestest friend, she corrected herself lamely. Then the guilt flowed in.

Part of being an adventurer was deception of some scale. In this case, her heart was heavy with the realization that should something happen to Gilda, the blame would partially be on her hooves. The orb she had given Gilda did what had been advertised, but she knew from experience there was also the somewhat huge possibility that it could fry the user and knock him or her out for a short while. That was never a good proposition and was especially awful to consider when she thought of Gilda's mission. Cause chaos. Get attention. Run. She would use the orb at some point and should her luck be cast aside and the orb harshly respond, the possibility of her getting hurt was quite high.

She didn't want to lie to her, but it had to be done. Gilda wouldn't have taken the job if she knew the truth. That no mansion so well-guarded and worried about a break-in, and with its security ran by a family somewhat notorious for running along the lines of the law, would fall into a pattern. That the chances of there being a trap of its own in store for someone trying to break-in were high. Gilda was the bait trying to trigger the trap purely so Pathfinder could ease into the mansion. So excited would the security be that their 'trap' had worked that she counted on the vast majority of them leaving their posts to watch it all go down. Gilda was not stupid, not self-sacrificial, and under no circumstances did Pathfinder believe she would have volunteered to throw herself into the fire. And so, she had lied. Less lied and more not tell her everything.

But it was what it was. The goal was to have an adventure and find the Helm. Adventure meant risks and Gilda would have to deal with increased risk. But if everything worked out the way Pathfinder envisioned it, then she would zip into the vault, find the helm, set her device, and then get out. And when the device went off, it would distract the guards and Gilda would make her escape. Everything would work out. Gilda would never knew about Pathfinder's little trick and they would walk away best mares forever.

She felt bad about it. But you know what? Gilda would understand after they found the helm. It was the smart thing to do and she would make her a peace offering of something very Gildariffic. It was an adventure and they would need to make sacrifices. Gilda would understand. Deception was part of the game. Heck, Daring Do and Bravado were entirely one-true pairing and they betrayed each other all the time in the name of the end-goal. While she doubted that she or Gilda were about to have romantic feelings for one another, she was also sure that they could reform their friendship.

Chaos above. Her time had come.

Pathfinder zapped across the street until she was at the mansion entrance, which in a pony land would have been heavily invested in. Here, however, it was decrepit and without any charm. Griffons didn't care, and their lack of observance would prove to be their undoing. She went through a window and found herself inside of a rather barren storage area, boxes marked for family and Talinopolis use started to become laden with dust. Few ventured here, save the laziest of servants being kept away from their master's eyes. Pathfinder nodded; it was completely dark, completely silent save for the beating of her wings, and had two shafts on either side that led up. She doubted it would be a straight shot up since no master of such a mansion would ever dare allow his underlings to venture upwards with little to stop them. But it didn't matter; security was gone.

As long as Gilda did her job.

[RarityDash]

Gilda continued to outmaneuver the guards with relative ease. The question soon became simply how to lose them for good. When the time came for that of course; she needed to keep these guards busy as long as she could to give Pathfinder the time she needed both to find what she was looking for and escape. For now, she needed to stall these griffons.

"You featherbrained goons really think you're going to catch me like that?" Gilda taunted back, wanting nothing more than to enflame them. "I can fly circles around all of you creeps!"

The two closest griffons growled and lunged at her. She kicked one square in the face and used her stolen sword to knock the other's spear clean out of hands before ascending even higher. "That all? I could keep this going forever, you know? Come on! Just try and get me!"

More griffons came at her, this time it was like four at once. She stopped her ascent and then dove straight down. Two of the idiots didn't adjust in time and crashed squarely into each other. The other two followed after her. She just threw several of Pathfinder's smoke bombs back at them, creating a thick disorienting cloud as she doubled right back in the direction she came right past them.

"And I was scared of you guys," Gilda said with a laugh, a good eight or nine griffons still in hot pursuit. She decided it was time to take this onto the surface into the thick foliage nearby. She'd start to work toward the end. Time had passed and hopefully Pathfinder was wrapping up.

Disappearing into some dense tree cover, she pulled out the magical device Pathfinder had given to her. This orb thing was supposed to allow her to know everything around her within fifty feet. It was fool proof. With this device she'd be able to move exactly in the fashion she needed to in order to elude capture. If she was good enough, the griffons would soon conclude she had escaped the woods and then she'd be free to reunite with her pony friend. It was perfect. Nothing could go wrong. This orb was going to ensure that these griffons lost her trail.

Or... it would release a sudden, powerful burst of energy that exploded, loudly in GIlda's face, throwing her back directly into a tree, the light and sound of the explosion, calling immediate attention to her position, and the pain from the explosion rendering her unable to move immediately. Like that, GIlda went from having lost everyone of her pursuers to being surrounded at every conceivable angle. it didn't even register at first over the pain and shock, but when it did, Gilda had to admit she felt hurt.

Trust wasn't something she came by easily. She had thought she could trust Pathfinder. She had been sure of it. The pony had seemed so naïve and ultimately trusting. Was that some kind of ruse? Had Pathfinder been leading her along all that time? She could hardly conceive it, and yet she couldn't read this happening as anything but a grand betrayal. Sure, she had been planning to betray the pony herself, but she had made it pretty clear from the beginning that the pony shouldn't be expecting much out of her. She meanwhile hadn't ever even conceived that Pathfinder might view her as disposable bait.

"So who's the featherbrained one, now, thief?" one of the guards surrounding her started, fury in his eye as he approached. "It looks like your luck has run out. To think you could try and steal the sword of the great Alistair Silverbeak. It is an heirloom of century's past and one of the master--"

"You mean this thing," Gilda started, angered as she stood, shaking off the pain. She threw the blade toward the guard's feet. "Take it. I didn't really want it all that much anyway."

"Relinquishing the sword won't do you any good!" another guard shouted. "The damage has been done! You are an enemy of the master!"

"Well, that's fair enough," Gilda said, scowling. "But I might know something that master of you might want to know."

"We're listening," the first guard started sternly.

"I'm a part of a... let's say... bigger operation," Gilda said, smirking a little. She was gonna get out of this no matter how cutthroat she had to get. Pathfinder had already pushed it, so she figured she didn't owe her any loyalty.

"And you mean to say you'll talk if we spare you?" a guard started in.

"Of course," Gilda said, shaking her head. "I just happen to have learned that I was considered disposable tonight. I don't owe them anything anymore. I'll snitch up and down if you want me to."

"You don't say?" the first griffon spoke.

"Yeah. For starters, you should probably know that tonight I was the decoy," Gilda laughed. "Right now, as we speak, your beloved master's manor is being pilfered while you're not there!"

"You three, watch this one closely! Everyone else, let's double back at once! If this is true, our master could be in grave danger!" the lead griffon started. With that, most of the griffons darted back toward the manor.

[SteelEagle]

Pathfinder had snuck around more than a few occupied buildings and knew the Daring dos and the Daring donts of the profession as well as anypony could reasonably ask her to know. As the distraction was provided, Pathfinder zipped up the shaft from the storage room to the first level of the servant's quarters. The master of the mansion didn't abuse his underlings, it seemed, as the quarters were stocked well. Sparse but not poor as it were. Also empty of the griffons, who were likely off watching the chase and excitement somewhere up above. Pathfinder couldn't blame them: Chases were exciting! She would have joined them had she not had a job to do, as she was more than willing to follow chases. Once, in Fillydelphia, she had watched a cop chase a burglar all across the city. It was fun!

She moved up to the next level, and here were dozens of servants taking turns looking out of the windows and providing mostly inane running commentary on the festivities outside. There was little she could do against such furtive mass except blow by them, but here, they were packed so tight that the very action of flying by them would prove hard. If they saw her, well, it would only take one to pin her down and once griffons got brave they started getting brave in groups. Pathfinder took the route of least resistance and tossed in a smoke pellet. The quarters were vast and the smoke billowed out to cover it only momentarily, so she had to make the most of it. Pathfinder shot from her position across the quarters, eyes straining against the smoke to make out the shapes that by the moment grew clearer as the expanse that was the room stole color and depth from the pellet. Her speed was shocking as she zipped between the forms, her wings only clipping against some panicking griffon once or twice before she made her way to the opposite shaft and shot up. A moment later, the smoke was so thin that it provided no cover, and the servants could only stare and turn in place as they tried to piece together the utter confusion that was the preceding few moments.

Pathfinder shot through the next few floors with ease, fast enough to not allow any griffons who could be on the floors a chance at making out her form while allowing her the chance to get a glance at the decor. Empty room. Sitting room. Game room. Ball room. Empty room after empty room, each one devoted to lavishly preached frivolity. The rich always had too many bits on hand with which to invest in all manner of silliness when they could have pursued more noble pursuits such as charity or adventure. But the rich were rich purely because they didn't do such things and Pathfinder could only infer that the gap between adventurer and the filthy rich was a pleasant one to maintain for both parties.

The hold, private museum. She saw it and came to a screeching halt, her eyes growing wide as she ate in the contents of the private storage of the household's greatest treasures. The family's greatest treasure. She hovers above the ground for a second before landing and starting a healthy trot. Swords, ancient and custom. Lances, both broken and shining. Shields, shattered, splintered, and without a scratch. Documents recording the founding of the family line with names of such renown as to send a historian into convulsive fits of intense joy at realizing that ages long past, such famous named behald the same parchment and committed their names to history. All of this was so very extremely interesting to everypony and everygriffon else than Pathfinder, who saw everything other than the Helm. She frowned. She hadn't fully expected to find it in the public areas but would have preferred that. She trotted up to the private hold, which was covered by some sort of magical barrier. She touched it and felt a jolt surge through her, leaping back and swatting the air around her which for a moment seemed alive with fury. Her mane died down a second later.

Suddenly, a massive crack of magical energy seemed to boom from the forest. Pathfinder's ears dropped crushingly low as that sound had meant her worst fears had come to pass; the orb had almost quite literally blown up in Gilda's face. She would be surrounded by guards any moment now. Pathfinder had to move. The mare sat down on her flank and tossed open her saddlebag, digging furiously for a few seconds before pulling out what appeared to be a circular rod with tiny notches dug in. She thrusted it into the magical barrier and then leapt back as the field sparked and crackled, the rod being held in place and absorbing the energy. With each crack of energy it grew bright until the adventurer had to cover her face with her foreleg to shield herself from the white light that radiated out from the barrier and out of every window on the floor. Just as quickly as it had started, it ended, the rod falling down and cracking against the floor harmlessly. However, the magic now trapped within was struggling to get out, and the rod moved violently of its own accord just moments later. It may take a minute or an hour, but the magic would come back out. Pathfinder wasn't going to take chances and she zipped on into the private vault.

A minute later, she zipped on out and fell out of her hover, sighing. No helm. Nothing of value besides some art. Pathfinder took a deep breath and shook out another device from her saddlebag. Hopefully, Gilda wasn't captured yet. Otherwise this device was useless. She place what amounted to a box of fireworks on the floor and pulled a lever. Moments later, as the pony made her escape down the shaft, it started shrieking as the first of what would be dozens of clusters of fireworks shot off, the nouse and light penetrating the night sky around the floor and echoing across the entire district. As Pathfinder made her escape, she once again came across the servants. This time, with gravity aiding her speed, she flew through the crowd of increasingly confused griffons. A few out of instinct tried to swipe her, but no dice. Within a few moments, Pathfinder was out of the building.

The fireworks continued lighting up the sky and the floor, attracting all of the attention she would need to be taken off of her. Still, she did not hesitate to exit into the forest and within a few moments, she was upon Gilda and her captors. Pathfinder would have felt more remorse if she wasn't instead just feeling excitement at saving the day and being very Daring Do'y. She tossed two pellets into the crowd, which detonated long before they reached the ground. As the smoke filled the area, Pathfinder shot straight at Gilda in an effort to try and grab her and whisk her away. Instead, she misjudged the distance and tackled her, the two adventurer buddies for life tumbling first UP and then down a hill until they landed in another thicket of trees. Pathfinder wasted little time in grabbing her hat and biting Gilda by the scruff of her neck and pulling her up before turning her back on her friend and nodding off to the right.

"Okay, so this place doesn't have the helm. Back to camp and we try a new place tomorrow! Follow me, Gilly!"

[RarityDash]

Still surrounded by the three griffons, suddenly Gilda could hear some loud sounds coming back from the manner. She looked back to see fireworks shoot up into the air. Woah, that pony was going all out. She watched in awe, not really sure what to think. Then, suddenly, from out of nowhere came a cloud of smoke followed by a speeding pony. Pathfinder's momentum launched Gilda several feet back as she was tackled to the ground.

"Okay, so this place doesn't have the helm. Back to camp and we try a new place tomorrow! Follow me, Gilly!"

Gilda was surprised to see Pathfinder's demeanor unchanged. Was she innocent here? Had she just not known her orb was a dud? Gilda could almost see that as plausible. At the same time, there was the chance it was premeditated. How far could she really trust this pony? In one fell swoop her faith had been shaken.

To add extra pressure, the three large griffons who had been charged with watching her had emerged from the smoke cloud and were staring them down. Escaping them would be very difficult, especially given the force of the orb's explosion had left her body achy and weakened, down to the bones, something being tackled by a speeding pony had only made far, far worse. She knew full well that in such a state, she wouldn't be able to allude capture.

"What makes you think I'm going back with you, pony?" Gilda started, throwing the pony off forcefully. "After what you pulled tonight, do you honestly think I can still trust that you're on the same side? You're just another lame flip-flopper, stringing me along!"

"If I were you, I'd make a run for it while you still can!" she added, voice still raised. She looked back toward the other griffons. "This pony is a thief who has her eyes on any number of vaults belonging to the leading families. She's the mastermind behind this whole thing."

The griffons nodded, and all three at once began to run toward the single pony. Gilda just hung her head, feeling instantly somehow empty.

[SteelEagle]

"What makes you think I'm going back with you, pony? After what you pulled tonight, do you honestly think I can still trust that you're on the same side? You're just another lame flip-flopper, stringing me along!"

Pathfinder was tossed nearly effortlessly away from the righteously angered griffon, Pathfinder correcting herself mid-flight before smacking into a tree and facing Gilda. Her ears were pinned against her head, as if streamlining for better flight. In truth, she felt hurt- more by the fact that she had no real response than because it was unexpected. She had brought it upon herself and took the fault, but this was an adventure and stuff like this happened. They could get away...why was Gilda so angry?

"If I were you, I'd make a run for it while you still can! This pony is a thief who has her eyes on any number of vaults belonging to the leading families. She's the mastermind behind this whole thing."

Before, Pathfinder had not felt too angry or upset at Gilda as her response was relatively allowed as she had been the first one betrayed. It was perhaps a little much considering they were both okay and they were both in a position to escape, but it had been allowed. However, with her last sentence, Gilda had betrayed Pathfinder to a dangerous degree. Pathfinder wanted to bark back at Gilda and tell her that she needed to get her cute rear in line and run back to the sewers with Pathfinder. Sadly, she had no time to do so as the three griffons closed in on her.

Pathfinder immediately shot away, faster than the griffons and with more knowledge of this area of the forest. Tree by tree, tall grass patch followed by a similar landscape, the distance grew until she made it to the pipe and shot through.

It smelled as bad as she remembered, but not as badly as she felt, though adrenaline and shock still stole her great river of anguish at that time.

[RarityDash]

"Halt, thief!" one of the three guard griffons shouted after the escaping pony. The three followed her at top speeds, but the pony had a good head start.

The pony then disappeared into a sewer pipe. The three griffons all recoiled in disgust at the prospect of following her now, but they were committed. The first two flew threw the pipe without much effort, but the third and largest griffon was too big for it and got himself stuck in the foul pipe. More set on catching the pony than helping their comrade escape. The two smaller griffon guards closed in on the pony readily.

"Stop right there and face your punishment, you loathsome little pony!" one of the guards shouted, none to pleased with the situation.

"You can't escape us!" the second one chimed in. "You will face justice for your thieving ways!"

The two griffons both suddenly lunged at the pony then.

---

Alone in the woods, Gilda sighed, horribly depressed. She could tell Pathfinder took it hard. She wasn't entirely sure if the pony didn't deserve it yet, but still it hadn't been easy for her to say those things. Sure, she had planned to betray the pony since the beginning, but after all their time together, that had kind of just become something she told herself would happen more than what she actually had planned. Actually turning on this pony, it left her drained. It was the same familiar emptiness she had been left with after blowing up at Rainbow Dash. Nothing ever lasted for her, and it was really probably all her fault. She had really thought this would end differently, but at that moment, she didn't see how it could have. Pathfinder had sealed this fate when she gave Gilda faulty gear to rely on.

Now all Gilda could do was amble away and wonder just what to do next. The guards watching her had all went after Pathfinder, so it looked like she was free. Which was good. She wanted desperately to run away from this entire mess like she had after the Ponyville incident. Her weakened body moved slowly through the woods until suddenly a very large white feathered, black furred griffon in stark gold armor landed right in her path. She fell back, eyes wide. Apparently she wasn't going to be able to just walk away from this after all...

"Where do you think you're going?" the massive griffon roared, not looking so happy. "You are wanted as an accomplice in highly criminal activity."

"Yeah, I know, but I gave that blasted sword back and I helped put you guys on the trail of the mastermind. Ain't that enough of a repayment?" Gilda started, trying to retain her usual skill.

"Wrong!" the fierce griffon roared, causing Gilda to fall back and cower. "You directly caused thousands in damage tonight and injured many guards. Then there's last night's museum robbery, where you quite resemble the perpetrator in the eye witness reports."

Gilda grimaced. She couldn't claim innocence there. She had stolen that necklace while Pathfinder was out. It was still here blazing a hole in her bag. If this griffon searched her she would not be able to claim innocence there.

"Look, buddy, none of this was my idea. I was duped by that pony. I was desperate and hungry and she promised me unending wealth and greatness, but tricked me and left me out here with what amounted to a live bomb. I feel like a real chump, but believe me, I'm through with this mess," Gilda said pointedly, showing the depths of her confused anger.

"Strung along by a useless pony? Ha! You are a disgrace to all griffonkind!" the griffon started with a harsh laugh, that left Gilda quite frazzled.

"Believe me, I feel it. Which is why I'm willing to go even further. I made some stupid, stupid mistakes. Let me make up for them," Gilda started. "I'll help you get at that pony. I know how she thinks. I know what she's about. I know what she's after. I know where she'll go and what she'll do. All I ask is that you let me go in return."

"I'm listening," the griffon started with a nod. "I am Gavin Stormwing, a Captain in the Aquellian Armed Forces. I work as a military liaison with all the lead families to ensure top security here in Talonopolis. The griffon you stole from will want you dead for the damage you did tonight, but depending how tonight goes I may have a use for you. That thieving pony must be stopped at all cost, after all."

Gilda pulled back, surprised to find she was talking to an actual army captain and not some Silverbeak employ. This might have just been her lucky break. She just needed to ensure that she could actually do what this guy asked.

"Alright. Got it," she said. "I'll help you however I can then, Cap."

"Follow me. We have much to discuss," Gavin said in a stern voice as her turned and started to step away. Gilda just nodded and followed after him

[SteelEagle]

Pathfinder's moment of rest was brief and interrupted violently by the guards, two of whom managed to slip in through the sewer pipe. Pathfinder was impressed by their tenacity and drive, even if their blundering through the pipe reduced their mobility which was already not their strong point. But a lunging beast with claws was still a lunging beast with claws, which meant that a pair of them was an even greater threat. That equaled excitement.

The guards lunged at her, Pathfinder waiting until the very last moment until she played her card. She shot above them, allowing the two guards to slam into one another. She then went hoof over hoof, doing what amounted to a backflip, her heavy saddlebag crashing into one of the guards and sending him shooting to the side with his less effect comrade. This action also righted the mare in mid-air, and she used this space to fire down the hallway. She made a turn and continued to power herself on through the winding paths of the sewer, her head start and sheer agility and speed, along with her knowledge of the sewer, allowing her to gain great distance on her pursuer. She still took winding paths and dropped a few smoke pellets in random locations to throw him off should he bhave gotten that far, but on the whole she moved further and further into the sewers in an attempt to lose him.

More than two hours later and with the belief that she had more than sufficiently eluded her pursuer, Pathfinder fluttered down to the ground and pitched her head in every which direction in an effort to ensure that she was truly alone. Alone. She frowned and sighed, loosening the straps on her hat and removing the well-crafted design. Tonight had been a disaster that not even Daring-Do could salvage, and it had been her fault entirely. The realization had hit her earlier but only now did it start to send in small fits of chocked and uncomfortable emotion. Her eyes welled up and she gulped, the watering doors to her soul shifting as she consulted the disgusting sewer surface for some sign of comfort, finding naught but stank and disgust. How could she blame Gilda for her reaction? She had been left as live bait for the griffons, to take whatever punishment they doled out. There wasn't a prettier way to put it despite Pathfinder's sincere desire to do so. She had counted on Gilda's sense of adventure allowing this to be smoothed over, but she saw now that Gilda never had a sense of adventure. She was in it for the money in the end.

Pathfinder chuckled. Was it any worse than the adventurer being in it for the adventure, or for fame? Was it-

"Yes. It's much worse!" Pathfinder chortled into the darkness, her momentary lapse into reality and introspection dashed valiantly by the adventurer's will to continue on with the job. Yes, this was all oh so very highly unfortunate, but that happened in adventures all the time. They were the flavor on the meat! Without danger, disaster, and misfortune, what were they but a series of events limpy strung together? Gilda was in it for bits, for money, something so base and one-dimensional that she was like a poorly crafted villain!

The mare gasped. Gilda was a villain! It was just like an awesome story where the adventurer is betrayed by her best friend and has to engage her in order to find the awesome treasure! A smile, wide and undimmed, spread along her face.

Pathfinder took flight again, this time heading towards her camp site. She had to pack that up quick, as she had no doubt Gilda would eventually tell them where it was. And she had to do it fast, because she had a whole list of places she needed to hit in the coming days.

And a new enemy to overcome.

[RarityDash]

In the office of Gavin Stormwing in the tower belonging to the Aquelian Armed Forces, Gilda sat in chair, very on edge. Gavin had been gone for away, though it didn't really matter; she wasn't permitted to leave. Gilda had concluded pretty quickly that she really did not like this guy. He was huge, he was intimidating, and his eyes were so sharp and cold. He clearly thought Gilda was beneath him too, and he had a way of making her feel like he was right. Between him and Pathfinder, the company of the pony was so very much preferred. Pathfinder wasn't good for though. She realized that fully now. Sticking with Pathfinder wouldn't have ever gotten her anything but killed. Following this griffon's orders would see her let go, her debts paid off and maybe even some rewards on top of that if she went out of her way to do whatever this creep said.

Soon, the larger griffon returned, stomping in in his shimmering armor, glaring at Gilda like she was dirt. She hunched over and gulped, waiting for the news he brought.

"The guards sent after your thief have returned with their heads hung in shame," Gavin started in a deep sigh. Gilda smirked slightly before her expression evened. "The pony eludes us still. Do you have any knowledge of where she might have gone?"

"She has those sewers mapped out. She has detailed maps of the entire city actually. That and she's crazy prepared with her gear. She has a camp down there, but I imagine it'll move before the night's through and keep moving so long as you send griffons after her," Gilda said, less flippant and more just matter-of-fact.

"As suitable as it may be that one of her kind is down there wallowing in the filth and stagnation, this cannot be allowed to continue. I'll have regular scouts set to inspect the sewers until we smoke this pony out," Gavin replied, not looking pleased with the situation.

Gilda just gave an infirm nod. "And once you catch her, I'm free to go?"

"It's not that simple," Gavin started in a deep voice. "The master of that manor, Lowell Silverbeak, was none to pleased with any decision that wasn't to hand over your head on a platter after all. If you want to keep that head, you're going to have to take an active role in this."

"You want me out there looking for her then?" Gilda said with a shrug. "Say the word and I'll hobble on out there after her."

"That won't be needed tonight," the male griffon said, shaking her head. "Tonight is for interrogation. To start, tell us what you know about the culprit."

"Her name is Pathfinder. She's a seasoned hunter of the ancient and valuable. Probably half-insane, but all the more cunning for it. Well-equipped, shrewd, physically capable and practically fearless," Gilda started, smiling just slightly as she said her piece.

"Glowing words for a lowly pony," the griffon said. "It sounds like she still has your loyalty."

"I'm just being real with you. I could lie and say she's beneath garbage, but that's not going to help my situation any," Gilda said, looking down. The other griffon nodded.

"And what is your pony looking for in particular?" Gavin questioned her.

"An ancient helmet of some sort. Something that's supposed to be really valuable," Gilda answered with a nod.

Gavin spoke, "There are a number of artifacts held by the leading families matching that description."

"Of course there are," Gilda started. "But I think I might know some of the places she might try next."

This was part bluff. Gilda only knew so much. She kind of wished then that she had asked better questions in her time with the griffon. Who were her sources? What was the plan for after the mansion tonight? Gilda just had left too many loose ends. However, to keep her head, she needed to be as "helpful" as possible. That meant she needed to keep the pony on the run as long as possible. The longer she remained an asset to this goon, the more likely she'd get away from this without her feathers ruffled.

"I'm listening," Gavin started, glaring at her.

"Well,..." Gilda began as she started to postulate on where the pony was to strike next. She wasn't entirely sure, but she did know the pony well enough to know how she'd think. Her unknown sources had highlighted the SIlverbeaks, but the pony wouldn't stick to them after tonight proved a bust. She'd branch out. She'd choose her targets carefully. Manors on the outskirts were far more likely for her than ones in the heart of the city. Known collectors in the families of course were prime targets. Yeah. There were a lot of conclusions she could make. Perhaps Gilda could do this right after all. She just had to make this sound convincing. "Do you have a map of the city?"

"Of course. Wait right here," the male griffon started as he went off.

Gilda sighed. She felt bad for the pony, but she wasn't going to take the fall for her. If entering a battle of wits with Pathfinder was what it took to keep herself alive, then so be it. She was going to play the game as best as she could. Pathfinder didn't stand a chance.

[SteelEagle]

Packing up a campsite was an endeavor in and of itself if it had been made with the intention of staying in place for some time. It had required scouting and proper trips out of the city to find the best spot for it, move the larger items into it secretly, set it up, and then finally move her main supplies there. It had been a tedious and difficult process that in the end had seen only one night of useful use before the entire shebang had to be packed up. The issue was that Pathfinder knew her time was short; it wouldn't be long before her camp was found, whether by Gilda's free admission of its location or through her tortured sobs. Probably admission, because in Pathfinder's increasing fictional headcanon Gilda was not a villain with a desire to see her own form ruined.

Packing it all into her saddlebag was right out of the question, since her handy dandy items such as maps, gear, books, letters, fanfiction, convention fliers, and other assorted vital necessities took up all available space even in a saddlebag that seemingly had a magical vortex inside that allowed an obscene amount of items to be stored. Still, the tent, extra food, those things would have to be slung over back. Such a position disallowed her use of her wings, and a downed pegasus was no better than a mouse in the land of the griffon. That left only one practical option: The tent, the food, the signs of permanency?

She left them all.

It certainly made the packing easier and she was out of the sewer room in less than twenty minutes, instead of the many hours it may have taken otherwise. It was refreshing to know that she wouldn't have to organize herself and her adventure around a specific area anymore. That would give her far more flexibility, which was the greatest tool in an adventurer's toolkit.

She felt like she was saying that a lot to herself but when a pony was alone they tended to do that. Not that she minded being alone; the more she gave it thought, the more she started to thank Gilda and feel blessed by her betrayal. If she hadn't done that, then they would have eventually fallen into that terrible literary trope of best friends against the world. Now, they had a whole new trope to explore before jumping into something else, which was something Daring-Do did devilishly well. One trope to the next and then the next, never staying too long or fully exhausting the options therein. Gilda thus mad the adventure far better by her betrayal.

She also helped Pathfinder realize what a stupid idea that camp site was. She was sort of hoping it would take a while to find the helmet, but with time came increasing action to find her. That would have led to redoing the whole camp site location mission again and that was going to be a pain in the flank. Now, she was free! Sure she would be sleeping on the ground somewhere, but she had done that willingly for years. In the cold? She did that for fun. Without protection? Protection was for foals. No, going without a campsite was much, much better.

Pathfinder made her way through the sewers, more than aware of what was happening in a larger sense. Gilda had been there long enough to know that Pathfinder suspected the richest families, but the chances of them ever working together to coordinate security with the city in any meaningful manner(who would want their dirty secrets to be found by the authorities?) was extremely low, except probably allowing the city guards deploying in ambush to try to catch her during the escape. But she had many more targets to prosecute and while she knew of the manors and of the museums, these locations were but a few of the possibilities. Customs Houses, shipping warehouses that she knew dealt in illegal or exotic items(or at least had been told so by former residents who were handsomely paid to tell her where any sort mystical or ancient items may be), art galleries with eccentric collectors, military galleries, private government holds- these were on her list to and she had every intention of using her wit and cunning to get the helm.

It was a lie that an adventure eschewed such notions in the pursuit of adventure. Daring Do wasn't suicidal and neither was she. Risks came with the profession but when lives were on the line caution in preparation before indefatigable and enthusiastic action was prudent, and in this case, she knew that immediately going after the families was unwise. Instead, she would hit a few of the smaller targets in one night, then another batch the next night. The desired result was to slowly peel away guards from teams being prepared to react to attempts made on manors while also making them question what her goal was. Make them spread out, because as much as they may want to catch her, there would come a time when the city would not desire to deploy even greater forces to stop a thief who stole nothing and was largely nonviolent.

Once this happened, she could then hit the first Military Gallery on her list, the one connected to the Garrison of the First Feathers. Legendary formation with a proud history dating back to long before the griffons ever reached the stage of a nation-state. Elite warriors to the last and veterans of many campaigns; arrogant and lazy in their home city, the perfect prey for the herbivore Pathfinder. The guards would be peeled away and their attention everywhere but where it needed to be, and they would pay. As Pathfinder gave it thought, it excited her. Who else could have the Helm but the very unit that was rumored to have ripped it off of Commander Hurricane's head? Exciting!

Almost too exciting. She wanted to go there right then and there but was stopped by the voice of Prudence- that silly character from the novels who was always telling Daring Do that what she was doing was a bad idea. It was said it was an insert regarding the author's fillyfriend who thought the series would amount to nothing. Here though, it was a reasonable voice that told her that the plan was good and as long as she stuck to it there was little chance of a griffon strangling Pathfinder with razor sharp talons and, honestly, Pathfinder would do whatever it took to make that possibility as improbable as it could possibly get.

Pathfinder continued her flight through the sewers until her razor sharp memory told her she was near the middle of the city, the Feather district. Here were three targets, one gallery and two warehouses that might feasibly contain a relic such as the Helm. If there was time left she would have loved to do it all right then and there but alas, dawn was approaching and with that the activity of the city above grew to a pitch more than she would have liked. Fluttering around for a while she found a room that was slowly crumbling and flew up to the top, where a little cubby hole afforded her a small manner of secrecy. It wouldn't take more than a griffon to take the time to look to find her but as long as she didn't fall out at the wrong time, she should be safe- besides, even if many more griffons passed through this section of the sewer that number was still extremely small. What misfortune would have to befall her to be found.

And with that, Pathfinder went to sleep. The next night was sure to be a long one.

[RarityDash]

Days began to pass quickly for Gilda. Gavin loomed over her constantly, watching her every movement like a hawk. She did her best to help his cause. She had to. The second she became useless to them, it was over for her. Prison, death, she didn't know what exactly. Her freedom hinged entirely on her helping them get to Pathfinder.

Predicting Pathfinder's course of action was not an easy thing for her, however. The next day Pathfinder hit the First Feathers military gallery, broke in, searched the place and left before any griffon could do a thing to stop her. Gilda, who had told Gavin to instead reinforce a Silverbeak manor on the other side of town had been furious with her, threatening to stop protecting her. It was only because nothing was taken from the gallery that it stopped at a threat.

Gilda had to become more shrewd. Pathfinder had demonstrated she wasn't sticking to any one kind of target which made correctly predicting her something of a random chance. Gilda still claimed she had a leg up on the pony, but this was all bluffing at this point. She didn't know where Pathfinder would strike. All she could do was hope she found some good luck before Captain Gavin Stormwing lost the last shred of his ever fading patience.

The next night Pathfinder broke into a warehouse, the night after a private collection. Both nights Gilda missed the mark entirely by banking on a museum and a customs house respectively. Gilda's injuries had more or less healed, so now she was leaving the Military tower and heading into the field with Gavin, where she could see first hand how badly she was wasting the time of so many griffons. On the fourth night, both Gilda and Pathfinder headed for the galleries of private collectors. The only problem was that they selected galleries on completely opposite sides of the city. On the fifth night, Gilda had some luck when she selected a Razorclaw manor as a likely target only for the Goldplume manor across the street to receive a visit from the pony. Pathfinder managed to narrowly elude her pursuers, but actually being close for once restored some of the Captain's wavering faith in her.

The sixth night was another bust. Pathfinder either struck someplace that didn't report it or just sit the night out after her narrow escape, but either way didn't show at the gallery Gilda was at. It was now a week from that fateful night and Gilda found herself at a place not unlike the place her and the pony had been the night before that, a museum of history and art. Silverbeak funded and located in a fairly posh part of town, it was the kind of place that screamed "we have ancient relics of note here." Gilda figured it had been a while since the last public museum too. Gavin stood looming after her.

"It's been a week now and still your thief eludes us," the captain said, displeased. "We've wasted valuable AAF time and resources, all in a bid to catch a single, solitary thief. Do you know how hard my superiors, as well as the family heads are breathing down my neck?"

"Yeah, I got it the first time you said it, pal. I don't need you repeatin' yourself two-hundred more," Gilda replied with a sigh.

"You're flippant attitude should see you killed one of these days," the captain started. "I'm really beginning to question why we have you here at all. You're hardly and asset and your attitude makes me question if you even care that your life still hangs in jeopardy."

"Look, I'm trying my best. There are just a lot of variables to consider," Gilda started. "But I'm more confident in this place than any I've been so far. It stands out. It's the kind of place that she'll know about and she'll be interested in. It's on her radar, I know it is."

"You better be right," Gavin said. "If we don't see a pony here tonight, I may just have to turn you in for your part in these crimes."

Gavin always said this, but this time it sounded like he meant it. As Gilda watched the museum from cover, she gave a sigh. Pathfinder had better show up there today, or this could just be the end.

[SteelEagle]

Jasmine tea was quite possibly the best tea in any land known to ponydom and beyond. It was rich in flavor and texture and went well with anything Pathfinder could find in the sewer, which was really saying a lot seeing as the most prevalent materials for tea here were very unpleasant. She had to go and fly up to the city or to the rivers for a source of clean water, so every cup of tea was a special event. And tonight was worthy of such an event, or at least she told herself that as she slowly allowed the nectar of the sun to ooze into her.

It had been a very successful week, all things told. The First Feathers had proven to be a very overrated foe, their arrogance and placidity in their position allowing even a foal to break in. Once she had done that, she had the run of the place. What she saw in their gallery had put her blood to boil, a desire to burn the entire place down shattering what calm she had. Banner after banner, document after document, and untold dozens of pony war artifacts strewn about in sometimes haphazard fashion, little respect shown to the ponies who had once worn them, used them signed them. To make matters worse, she hadn't found the one item that truly mattered to her.

She had left before anygriffon could stop her, but the impact was large. The guards didn't know what to do and as she struck small targets over the next few days, she could feel the tension rise. Pathfinder felt a little bad that griffon after griffon was wasting day after day searching for her. On her end, each search proved as fruitless than the last in more than one way. These were soft targets, which meant they had no real security to speak of, so not only was she coming away empty-hooved but with little adventure to show for it. Documents found told her of some better possibilities and her search was refined to preclude the sillier locations.

So she had once again moved her camp, though it had more to do with increasing traffic, back to closer near the edge of the city in preparation for her mission to hit the private galleries that the customs house and transportation nodes had said may hold something of, "Intrinsic value to the ponies to the east,". Of course, both buildings did work with every family which meant it was a stab in the dark. After spending her fourth night post-Gilda at a private gallery that turned out to be the main supplier of fine arts to the Goldplume's, she decided to go for broke and tackle the main Goldplume estate in the city.

It had been more thrilling than the rest, but still not as fun as the first two nights. She had evaded what few guards there were on her way in and shot into the private gallery, which was unsecured. The search was a failure, and she had fluttered stealthily by the storage room in defeat. Whatever had inspired her to look in there didn't matter as she attributed it to Daring Do'ing instinct. The result was the same regardless; a tiny box of tea and some transfer documents saying that Goldplume had sold a whole batch of Pony history related artifacts to a museum. She had been so excited by this clue that she screeched, which had attracted both the Goldplume guards and the AAF, who had been camping basically next door. The ensuing chase wasn't all too difficult, seeing as she had a head start and a plan, but it had meant she had to pack up again as the AAF filled that section of the sewer.

And so, Pathfinder had found a new site, got a pot of clean water, started a fire, and sat with her new-found tea supplies in a secluded area of the sewer, waiting for her time to strike. Having tea to pass the time helped her forget that food was increasingly scarce, the mare down to less than a full day's provisions after the swift abandonment of the previous campsite left behind all but two slowly rotting flower sandwiches. She might need the sustenance after the next mission and as such, Pathfinder had foregone any hard food for the day. Tea paid her well.

She was excited about this one! An adventurer that was un-challanged became little more than a cosplayer with ambition and while she loved her cosplaying friends, ambitious or not, she didn't have a desire to join their ranks. No, she was a true adventurer and much of the past week had proven a boring snoozefest. One starving part of her psyche had demanded that she turn herself in so she could try to escape from a griffon prison, but she had to remind herself that there was a goal that had yet to be met and as long as it loomed in front of her nothing else could be done. That fractured part of her retreated like a whimpering pup and reason had won; that same day, she hit the Goldplume mansion. Funny how at her lowest point, adventure cut her a break.

Time ticked by and the hour drew near, Pathfinder finishing her sugarless tea and prepping herself. She smirked; who needed food, or rest, or comfort, or a real plan besides hit every building, or anything when one had smoke pellets and adventure? NOT HER, FOR THE LOVE OF EQUESTRIA AND THE GREAT SEA BEYOND!

"NOT ME, FOR THE LOVE OF EQUESTRIA AND THE GREAT SEA BEYOND!" She screamed out into the sewer, half-delirious and shaking her head to regain her composure. Mission complete, she found the manehole and opened it slowly, appearing in an alley close to the target building. Hitching her saddlebag appropriately, she took a deep sigh, cracked her back, and hovered lowly above the ground towards the building in question.