“Ironkeep, my good lady,” said the official-looking griffon. The three he had with him did their best to look relaxed, but Geraldine could see they were warily keeping an eye on everything around them. She stopped what she was doing and crept closer to the half door separating the kitchen from the floor, peeking through it. “I am here on behalf of King Johan, the Blackwing of Gethrenia.”