[The stables are quiet at this time of the evening, and the thick layer of snow outside muffles any sounds that may have arisen from the direction of the castle proper or the paths back to the city. It's the perfect time to break away from chattering subordinates and inevitable paperwork and just take a moment alone.

Hendrik grabs a stool from a corner of the stables and carries it over to a particular stall, setting it down and slinging down his rucksack to fish out some vegetables for his horse. Obsidian is a stubbornly intelligent stallion, and it's taken a good number of months to get the horse to accept a saddle, let alone a rider. He's proud to have accomplished both.

Obsidian greets him with a snort, tailing flicking. How restless he and the other horses must be, stuck inside through this heavy snowfall. But it's better than being stuck out on a field somewhere.]

Bored with the hay already, are you? Or perhaps you do not like the weather? I know it is an extreme difference from Gallopolis, but you will adjust. Eventually.

[The black stallion snorts again, nosing at his callused hands. Hendrik pulls back, tutting the impatient horse before offering a turnip. Obsidian crunching on the root vegetable is a satisfying sound, though not loud enough in his ears to block out the creaking hinges of the far stable door being open.

...Did one of the stablehands return? Hendrik leans over to look down the aisle towards the doors.]