Handy blinked. What was he thinking about? Oh right, a room for the night. He pushed open the door to the saloon. Even at this time of day, it was still packed. Dirty-looking diamond dogs – more mutts who regarded Handy with instant suspicion – along with quite a number of ponies and the first griffons he had seen aside from Joachim. As interesting as the sight was, he ignored the chatting avians as the rest of the people caroused and relaxed over meals and fine conversation. He could not fault them. If True Shot’s words rang honest, then this was another mining town out here in the middle of the Badlands. It seemed earth ponies dominated if you discounted the dogs, which Handy was tempted to do. He guessed the earth ponies worked the land to get food, and the pegasi, pfft, worked the weather. Yeah, right, and Handy was a duke. That left the mining to the dogs. The griffons… He didn’t know. They looked like they didn’t belong. Cloaks, dirtied feathers – probably travellers like him.