Previously
Jeanne struggles with grief and loneliness but finds solace in her morning runs, eventually exceeding the Duke's requirements. Baldur observes her persistence and growth from afar, changing his initial dismissive opinion of her.
Sensing the situation turning odd, I shook my head hurriedly.
That was precisely why horsemanship was a basic accomplishment for nobility. Yet the Duke looked only puzzled by my words.
His words were true enough. Though I had been nervous at first, the climate here—while prone to frequent drizzles and rolling fog—was not nearly as cold as I had imagined. Defying its grim reputation as a frozen expanse and a land of bitter frost, autumn here was warm and beautiful.
He did not lend my words the slightest ear.
“…”
‘…Why must I grow fond of a horse?’
A fundamental question surfaced.
‘What does this man stand to gain from a mere governess—an exile and a stranger, no less—growing attached to a horse?’
A horse was an extraordinarily costly animal, even one that merely pulled a cart. I simply could not comprehend a man who would bestow such a creature on me and bid me practice riding.
‘Why?’
The man before me was completely incomprehensible—truly. It felt as though the day I understood him would never come. Just when I had grown accustomed to running, he was ordering me to ride.
‘My inner thighs were rubbed raw and bloody back then. With my petticoat drenched in blood and the impact shattering my pelvis, I still had to ride on and on…’
Ever since that grueling ordeal on the road into exile, I had developed a thorough revulsion toward riding. Just remembering the agony made me shudder.
Yet an order was an order, and a prisoner defying the jailer who held her fate was nothing short of foolish. In the end, the day after the formal dinner, I placed an order with a merchant for a riding habit and riding boots.
A fortnight later, a considerable sum of money transformed into a deep plum riding habit and knee-high riding boots. Though the tailored habit was far easier to move in than the maid’s uniform I wore for running, I felt only annoyance at the prospect of learning something new.
‘Why on earth must I do this?’
At times, even drawing breath felt like hard labor, and the gloom that urged me to simply sink and drown felt far more familiar. Led by a servant toward the indoor training center, my sole thought was to get this chore over with as quickly as possible.
The instructor who would teach me to ride was an elderly man. The stableman led my horse out from the stables, and I found myself face-to-face with the mount the Grand Duke had bestowed upon me.
I was taken aback, for the horse the stableman led forward was far smaller than I had anticipated. Most horses I had seen stood taller than a grown man when holding their necks high, with muscular bodies that seemed devoid of an ounce of fat. To be frank, horses rather frightened me.
Yet the creature before my eyes was stocky, standing just slightly shorter than me, and covered all over in shaggy fur. The eyes hidden beneath that caramel coat were the very same shade of caramel.
The stableman stroked the mane of the unsaddled mare as he spoke.
Perhaps because of her small stature, she seemed almost like a large dog or cat. As I stood watching the horse in hesitation, the riding instructor stepped forward and spoke.
At his suggestion, I slowly reached out my hand. Even beneath the touch of a stranger, the mare closed her eyes contentedly. In an instant, I grew fond of her.
The riding instructor cut in.
His words seemed right. Stroking her and looking closer, I saw the insides of her ears were white, ringed with black edges. Toward her muzzle, the coat turned a faint white, as though she had buried her nose in a bowl of flour before pulling it out.
How easily the human heart could turn. Just before meeting this horse, I had despised the very thought of riding. It had seemed troublesome, horrific, and forming a bond with an animal had felt impossible. Until this moment, a horse had been nothing more than a beast of burden to me. Yet looking at her now, I felt almost as if I could read her thoughts.
“Let us name you Brül.”
Riding proved a far more demanding exercise than running. Though it was Brül who did the running, merely remaining mounted for the length of a cup of tea left my whole body trembling and drenched in sweat. Thinking I had built up enough stamina from running had been a grave misconception.
That was far easier said than done. Unlike running, where moving one foot after the other was enough to manage, riding required conscious attention across every part of my body.
My toes in the stirrups had to turn inward while my heels pressed down toward the ground to anchor my lower body, all while engaging my thighs and lower back to maintain an upright posture. Yet tensing the upper body would leave me stiff, colliding against the horse’s gait and jarring us both. I had to brace my thighs and waist while keeping my upper body supple to ride the rhythm of the horse’s movements. My gaze had to remain fixed ahead along our course, reins held near my navel without resting idle, gently giving and taking with her stride.
Replaying unfamiliar movements over and over in my head left no room whatsoever for stray thoughts. By the time I dismounted, my entire body was trembling.
Stroking Brül’s neck, I praised her gently, “Good girl.”
And just like that, Brül became my horse.
‘I believe a horse to be more loyal than a dog. You, too, will grow fond of one soon enough.’
Infuriating as it was, the Duke’s words proved true.
Growing fond of Brül took little effort at all. Unlike in the past, when riding had brought nothing but misery, I soon found genuine delight in riding her. I could sense that Brül, too, took joy in carrying me and running.
Beyond our lesson hours, I often visited the stables whenever I had free time to see Brül. Brül liked me as well, pricking her ears whenever I appeared. I learned from the stableman how to cut feed, how to wash Brül and buckle her tack, and even brushed her long coat. It was the sort of work that would draw pointing fingers rather than befit a member of a noble house, but what did it matter? I was an exile here, and there was no one to look down on me for failing to act like nobility.
As Brül and I fell into harmony, I developed a profound passion for riding. Where I had once struggled even to walk her, I now galloped astride Brül. Whenever we ran together, it felt as though there were no one else in the world but the two of us.
Near the end of autumn, having earned the instructor’s permission, I roamed far and wide upon Brül’s back. Being able to ride had expanded my world beyond measure.