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. 