However, the guards had been thwarted. The human had been in the employ of a griffon count, a chancellor of a king’s court no less, and couldn’t be touched. How he got from the Thornwoods to the Badlands and back in less than three weeks was something of a mystery, and she did not much care for it. It only got worse, however, as the human had foreign currency on his person. And it wasn’t griffon gold. No, it was changeling, ancient changeling judging by the markings, and it was pure gold of a high carat. Equestrian bits were only partially gold nowadays, so one such coin was worth much more than most ponies made in two weeks labour. For the human to just casually drop a coin such as that and not even stop to care meant he had more where that came from. Which could only mean the absolute worst…