closed: @ferdinandlorraine location: stables of sasso corbaro castle
A rare warm day at the edge of winter was something to be celebrated. Without a cloud in the sky, the air was crisp, but free from the harsh winds of the past few days. For a Russian citizen such as himself, Switzerland’s climate was markedly more pleasant. Awash in pale sunlight, the mountainscapes forever peering over the horizon looked radiant. It made some difference from the snow covered steppes he was accustomed to.
The chance to go out riding was exhilarating after being stuck inside carriages and castles for so long. Yet though he approached the stables with great purpose, he could not be sure he had anything to ride. The horses that had carried him across the continent had been traded out many times over the journey, and those that arrived with him still resting.
Predictably, there was considerate activity about the stables upon his arrival. Stablehands and nobles alike busied themselves grooming and saddling horses to ride. Though he might have preferred something more peaceful, he pressed on, scanning those present for someone to address, before a young gentleman presented the perfect opportunity by brushing right past him.
There was a certain roughness about him that for a moment gave Pyotr pause, uncertain if he were addressing a well dressed servant or a distinctly casual highborn. Westerners and their costumes were truly exhausting.
Tapping a hand to his arm, he made to grab his attention. “Good afternoon,” he began, optimistically in German, the language he had had the most success with so far. “Have you any notion of a spare horse I could ride? Or perhaps recommend another’s horse worth stealing for the afternoon?”