Considering the hectic morning, that afternoon was calm. The city teemed with reporters, runners, and curious residents; and you explored every place with Cadichon. Many times, some children would stop you to pet the mule or ask how you managed to ride an animal without a saddle, and you were never quite sure how to answer that question.
The sun glinted off the rooftops of Kansas City buildings. The elite stables were just in the periphery, with buildings much more solid than the houses of the surrounding population. The barns and stables were of hewn stone and brick, with slate floors and roofs. Kept in a clean condition that far surpassed the hospitals you had visited earlier.
You went down and tied Cadichon outside so you could get into the place. Apparently it was open to the public, although the runners' horses remained in a special area which you had no trouble breaking into. You had nothing in mind to do there, were just too curious to explore every corner of the city in your free time. You darted past the visitors and peered into a half-open door that led straight into a clean, green courtyard. There was a fair amount of noblemen and women talking, but they didn't see you among the horses.
''Get the hell out of here.'' You heard someone whisper and felt your heart leap out of your mouth before you even noticed that he wasn't talking to you. A stableman was scolding a child who probably worked there. ''And for God's sake, don't throw horse shit at the rich. Now go and stay out of trouble.'' He completed the advice with a smack on the bottom of the kid's short pants, which sent the boy staggering away.
You were in doubt as to the inconvenience of having invaded that place out of pure impulse and curiosity, but now that you were there, it wouldn't be worth just leaving without any purpose. Staying there for a while was fair enough, except you'd get too excited with the air and the light and the beautiful, huge animals right under your nose. So, mad with nervousness and agitation, you petted every horse that pointed its muzzle at you.
''Miss (Y/N)? What are you doing here?'' A soft, concerned voice echoed behind you and startled you as much as it startled the horse you were petting.
You turned like a startled squirrel and released your lungs when saw Lucy's delicate, confused figure. It was no wonder that she was around, among the nobles. When you discreetly eyed them across the yard, you saw that they were distracted by the arrival of two large and beautiful horses.
''Ah, Lucy, I...'' You tried to explain yourself, but your exhausted brain refused to come up with any lies. ''I...''
''Lucy, where are you?'' A male voice murmured in the background.
''Oh, no, no... It's my husband! (Y/N), you shouldn't be here!''
Despite her failed attempts to hide you, Lucy wasn't quick enough to do so. By her nervousness, you could tell she wanted to bury you in the horse dung so you'd never be found there.
''Lucy! There you are..." The man's voice faltered slowly as he moved closer and recognized your face. ''What... You're the healer! What are you doing here? Lucy, did you call your friend?''
You gaped and froze, watching Lucy shake her head at her husband with wide blue eyes. The stable itself was light and airy, thanks to the huge, unglazed windows that opened at each end, looking out over the courtyard lawn and a few surrounding buildings. You could see yet another line of big, elegant horses being brought out by the grooms; one or two seemed restless, breaking into a rattling gallop, then breaking back into a trot or a march, tossing their heads and manes with a loud, shrill whinny.
''Stephen, I...''
''Mister Steel!'' You cut her off immediately, trying to maintain your posture and practicing a handshake. ''It's a pleasure to see you again! I... They called me here...''
''Did someone call you here?'' He returned the handshake with a sidelong glance, while Lucy shrugged as if she wanted to ward off the tension.
''Yeah! I was called here. Forgive my sudden appearance, I'm just a little lost.'' You nodded your head frantically, a common craze you indulged in when lying. ''I... I was told that the horse of one of the runners, Diego Brando, was injured. Diego... Dio asked me to take a look, saying he trusted me more for that. Have you seen him around here?''
You clenched your fists during the few seconds of silence that Stephen had taken to think.
''Well, yes. He was feeding his horse some herbs, but he left to do interviews. I believe it was your herbs, right? Have my employees already brought your wagon? That storm was a big hurdle for everyone.''
''Si, they brought my wagon. Thank you very much for that, Mister Steel... You said Dio left, didn't you? There is! So I better go find him, right?" You gave a nervous smile, ready to get out of there as quickly as possible, when you felt Stephen's hand land on your shoulder.
''Wait a second... Something's wrong.'' He said, frowning. You shuddered, struggling to keep the smile on your face. ''I can't help but invite you, Miss (Y/N)!''
''In... invite?'' Lucy gasped between you and her husband.
''Invite me? Invite to what?''
''Our tour of noble horses. Do you know something about horses, (Y/N)?''
''Well... just the basic.''
''Excellent. Lucy, would you accompany your friend? I'm sure Mister and Miss Argentan would love to meet the famous healer from the Steel Ball Run! When the tour ends, maybe Diego Brando will be back.''
Your mouth refused to close. Argentan? You had never heard of them in your life, but the name intimidated you. The sea of voluminous and colorful skirts in front of you was beautiful, but suffocating compared to the worn and skimpy clothes you were wearing. Although reluctant, Lucy was forced to guide you to the courtyard, just as an older brother is obliged to prevent the younger one from breaking something.
You two looked extremely anxious. You squeezed your fingers tightly; being able to feel the ring penetrate your flesh. A few nobles let their eyes roam over your body with a disdainful hint of irony. Despite being well dressed, the men seemed very comfortable with the horses there. One of them leaned too comfortably on the broad haunches of a Percheron mare and you wrinkled your nose. As expensive, clean, and beautiful as they were, those horses still smelled like horses.
''Monsieur Donibristle appreciates beauty wherever it can be found; woman or animal.'' A woman snickered as she spoke to Lucy, hiding her smile behind a lace fan. Both were much shorter than you, both looked like two children.
Lucy didn't answer, but smiled politely and made a mention of you gesture to the woman. You waved, not knowing exactly how to greet nobles, and smiled back at the woman who extended her hand to you in a gentle grip.
''I see we haven't been formally introduced yet.''
''Oh, forgive my rudeness, Madam Donibristle.'' Lucy bowed respectfully and looked at you. ''This is Miss (Y/N), the healer.''
''La sorcière guérisseuse?'' She asked with some admiration as she revealed a smile over her fan to introduce herself. ''Madame Donibristle. We've heard a lot about you.''
''Je ne suis qu'un guérisseur.'' You replied with a genuine smile as you returned the handshake. ''I don't meet the requirements to be a witch.''
''But you're talented as one. If you aren't a witch, then you sure are a miracle worker.'' The madam joked, laughing. ''Is this your first time on a tour, Miss (Y/N)?''
''I think so... What will they do with so many horses?''
''Obscenities, I would say.'' Lucy said wearily. ''We gonna watch the mating of these poor horses. Luckily, it won't be long... We'll be able to sit with the other ladies and eat while the men are making crude jokes about... Well, about sizes.''
''Oui.'' The madam confirmed with a smile on her face, as she guided you to the table. ''This is the general effect of watching horses breeding.''
There was indeed an air of pent-up excitement amongst the group members as they crowded into the sprawling courtyard. You formally introduced yourself to the other women at the lavish picnic and sat down next to Lucy. Among them was a duchess. Duchess of Clarence. She was English and had a much thicker and more demure accent than Diego. The other women introduced themselves only as madams; Elise Forez, Jeanne Argentan and Mathilde Donibristle, you managed to memorize.
"Have you ever met any of the famous runners?" Madame Elise asked, sipping a rosé wine.
''Yeah, all of them.''
The table was filled with excited sighs and embarrassing giggles. One of them, Madame Jeanne, leaned close to you and spoke softly.
''Including Gyro Zeppeli?''
''And Dio Brando?''
''Yes, yes.'' You smiled, a little nervously. ''I met them. Johnny Joestar and Hot Pants too.''
''They're charming, aren't they?'' The duchess interjected. ''My husband used to be blond and handsome like Gyro Zeppeli, but soon after I married him, every hair fell out like a dog in the summer!"
All the ladies seated at the picnic burst out laughing, including you, albeit shyly. Lucy looked quiet, sullen and tapping some cookies on her plate and letting her coffee cool.
Anyway, she didn't seem to want to talk right now. Despite the slight discomfort that plagued you, the conversation was interrupted by the shrill neighing of a stallion that marched around the line of mares. When it did, there were a dozen kicking thuds in the grass, and tails wagged.
''Look, that stallion is ready,'' Said Madame Donibristle. ''who will be the happy mademoiselle?''
''The one closest to the gate.'' Suggested the duchess, ever ready to gamble.
''Oh, no! You're mistaken, my friend, she is too calm. It will be the little one, under the apple tree, rolling her eyes excitedly. She is my choice.'' Elise interjected.
All the mares stopped at the sound of the stallion's cry, lifting their muzzles inquisitively and flapping their ears nervously. The most restless threw their heads and neighed; one of them made a long, loud call.
''That one.'' You said to Lucy, who didn't seem too interested in the exhibition. ''Did you hear her calling the stallion?''
''And what is she saying?'' Questioned the girl.
''It's like a song.''
Indeed, the mare that called the stallion was chosen. Once separated from the other mares, she stood, head high, testing the air with flared nostrils. The stallion caught the mare's scent; their screams echoed frighteningly, so loudly that conversation became impossible.
Anyway, nobody wanted to talk right now. The stallion dashed toward the tethered mare with such impetuosity that it caused all the men to take a few steps back. Clouds of dust rose as the huge hooves struck the earth and drops of spittle flew. The boy holding the mare leaped, small and insignificant, beside the magnificent fury unleashed in the yard.
The mare reared up on her hind legs and let out a high-pitched cry of alarm. But soon the stallion was on her, and his teeth closed over the powerful arch of her neck, forcing her head down in submission. The majestic tail rose high, leaving her exposed to the stallion's desire.
''Jesus.'' murmured Stephen Steel.
It took only a short time, but it felt much longer, watching the sweat-dark rise and fall of the flanks and the play of light on the swirling manes. Tense muscles gleamed in the flexing agony of mating. You questioned why the nobles busied themselves with scenes like this, but you didn't want to know the answer.
Everyone was silent. Finally, Madame Elise laughed and nudged.
''Our husbands aren't used to scenes like this. I'm sure it's the opposite of the runners you've met, isn't it, Miss (Y/N)? They're so manly, I'm sure they're inspired by horses.''
''Yes.'' You replied absently, one corner of your mouth twitching in a smile as you answered. ''Yes, maybe you're right.''
''What a scene!'' said the Duchess. She broke a cookie, her eyes dreamy, and chewed slowly. ''So exciting, wasn't it? Elise must be right, men who spend a lot of time with horses tend to be more like them, but in the best ways!''
''Particularly the penis, you mean.'' Observed Madame Donibristle, a little rudely. ''I wish Philibert had one like that. Just the way it is...'' She arched an eyebrow at a plate of small sausages, each about two inches long, and everyone burst out laughing except for you and Lucy.
Lucy was the youngest at the table and the chatter of the older women made her blush. You wondered what kind of marriage she would have with Stephen Steel.
''Well,'' said Madame Jeanne. ''size is not everything. What difference does it make if you're the size of a stallion and as fast as one? Less than two minutes? I ask you, what's the use?'' She held a cucumber between her two fingers and gently licked the small pale green vegetable. ''It's not what's in your pants, it's what you do with it.''
''Especially if they're rough.'' One of them added. ''If you find someone who knows how to do something other than shove it in the first hole that comes along, let me know. Those runners are pretty, of course, but they sure are brute.''
''I'd rather have a brute like Gyro Zeppeli or Dio Brando than no man at all.'' The duchess said, casting a disgusted look at her husband, gathered with the other men. ''Not today, darling.'' She mimicked her husband's sonorous, snotty tone perfectly, rolling her eyes dramatically. ''I'm fatigued. The pressure of business is so exhausting!''
Encouraged by the other women's laughter, she continued.
''What, again? Your demands have already worn me down to the point of turning me into a small cob! Do you want me to have a heart attack?''
This time, you laughed too. The women cackled and doubled over with laughter, loud enough to attract the attention of a few men, who waved at the table and smiled indulgently, eliciting fresh ripples of laughter.
''These men... they hide their little cobs as if they were gold,'' Madame Donibristle said. ''But, behold...''
She pointed with the fork in her hand at the open door of the stables, and it took you a while to see what it was.
''Those over there must have real gold, and I'm sure they don't hide it!''
They panted dreamily, all looking in the same direction as you sipped a cup of coffee, imagining they were talking about some stable boy.
''Mon Dieu... Look! They are looking at you, Miss (Y/N). You said you knew them, right?''
You held on, using all your strength to not choke on your coffee and die right there when you heard that. You cocked your head to the side, noting that Lucy was also looking puzzled, and saw two unmistakable blond manes. Gyro and Johnny.
Luckily, they were too far away to hear the ladies' conversation, but even so, they didn't look very happy to see you there, next to Lucy. Gyro's heavily furrowed brow indicated as much.
''Zeppeli is looking at you like a lion!'' Said Madame Donibristle. ''Are you married, Miss (Y/N)?''
''Ah... I...'' You stammered, caught in Gyro's gaze. ''No, no. I'm not married.''
''You are the luckiest woman at the table!'' She smiled, also looking at the two gentlemen. ''You seem to know each other very, very well! Y compris les entrailles!''
''Yeah.. very well.''
You were too distracted to think about what you had just said, but were snapped out of your trance by the raucous, malicious laughter. You saw Gyro's golden teeth clenched and Johnny's not-so-happy look. A smooth figure passed by your side and you noticed that Lucy was no longer there. Looking around frantically, you couldn't find her.
''Tell us, Miss (Y/N)...'' Elise took a sip from her wine glass. ''Is it big like a horse? Or just rough?''
''That one on the horse is Joe Kid? He's not too bad either!'' Donibristle bit into another cookie.
''He had an accident a few years ago, didn't you know? He must be as useless as our husbands.'' Said the Duchess, giggling. ''But he's pretty, yes, and he has nice arms...''
''I don't care about the legs, as long as he's willing! Those arms must be strong enough to overcome any man here.''
''I still prefer Zeppeli. Italians are charming, aren't they, Miss (Y/N)?''
You took a deep breath, still paralyzed, and quickly shuddered as you stood up. You wanted to look for Lucy, but you knew being this close could be dangerous for both of you. On the other hand, you couldn't go outside while Gyro and Johnny were in the stables. You didn't dare to face them now. But you wouldn't hold that conversation for long either.
''I... I don't feel very well, I think I'd better go back to the hotel.'' You forced a friendly smile for each one, which was amply returned. ''Thank you very much for the coffee and the conversation, it was a great pleasure.''
''Oh, my dear, go rest.'' Said Madam Donibristle. ''I can hardly imagine how exhausting it must be for a healer in this race. It's quite a daring journey. Hope to see you again soon!''
You said goodbye to everyone, and gave your brain a measly five seconds to decide what your sentence would be: Lucy or the two gentlemen.
Finally, you decided not to postpone whatever the consequences of your recklessness might be. Your curiosity to see the runners' horses led to a long picnic with Steel Ball Run dignitaries and a far-from-delicate conversation about the genitalia of horses and runners.
''Very discreet.'' Gyro said with expected sourness. ''You're really, really discreet, (Y/N). Were you having fun?''
''To be honest, not much...''
You sat on a bale of hay, already out of sight of all the ladies. Gyro let out an answering grunt as he petted Valkyrie, backing up slightly from the mare's headbutt.
''Aren't you going to tell us what the hell happened?'' Johnny questioned, onward. He looked a lot more upset than Gyro. ''Can't you see how much you risked there? You put Lucy at risk too!''
''I swear I didn't mean to, I just wanted to see the horses!''
''So, suddenly, some madams saw you in those clothes and invited you to a picnic?''
''It's not my fault the organizers of this damn race love me, Johnny! Lucy's husband invited me, what did you want me to do after he get my wagon back?!''
''Hey, you two!'' Gyro intervened. ''That's enough, there's no going back, so there's no point in yelling at each other!"
Both fell silent like two trained dogs. You sat there, looking at the floor, hands lightly clasped on your stomach, thinking. You needed to stop being reckless like that, but right now your main focus was on not getting your cheeks red as you remembered the casual conversation you had with the ladies. About cobs and gold.
Gyro finished whatever he was doing in the stables and announced that he was on his way out. Without hesitation, you asked them both to accompany you to where you had tied Cadichon.
''Look... I know I messed up this time, but look.'' You handed them two packages of assorted and expensive cookies. ''It's better than corned beef.''
Under the current circumstances, nothing could make them forget how disappointed they were in you. But their eyes lit up when they smelled the vanilla and almonds coming out of the heavy, rich packages. You let out a nasal but shaken laugh, still with the things the madams said in your mind.
Having re-established friendly relations with Gyro and Johnny, costing you only two packages of cookies stolen from the picnic, you convinced them to come with you to your wagon. On the way they interrogated you, forcing you to remember everything that was said at the table, in search of any important information. But you didn't know how to say that conversations over a rosé wine picnic weren't so professional, especially when accompanied by the exhibition of mating horses.
You shook your head and eventually ended their interrogation, unwinding from your thoughts. Whatever God intended you to be, it wasn't a monk. It was okay to compare your friends to horses if they never knew it.
In front of the place where you had left your wagon, remembering Diego made you shudder. Stepping inside, you braced yourself to be scrutinized by Gyro and Johnny as you did what had in mind.
You opened your herb repository and sniffed a few packets. Raspberry leaves, chamomile and mint. You separated all these herbs and laid them out on the counter. You had only promised Johnny some mint, but the courtesy of giving him other useful herbs served more to ease your conscience after that turbulent encounter with Diego and Hot Pants. You felt, at the end of the day, like a vulture paternally bringing home its young's dinner.
Bearing in mind the magic potions from Canon City's French boutique, Gyro picked up the packets carefully.
''What is this? We won't let you rob us again with those herbs, (Y/N).'' He said, with a sneer.
Naturally, that would have made you laugh, but you were too tired for that and only a soft smile escaped your lips.
''It's free, cortesia da casa.'' You clarified. ''There's a lot of mint and chamomile in the bag for Johnny. Also raspberry leaves for fatigue and dehydration.'' You squinted at Johnny, bearing in mind his past clinical pictures. ''By the way, do you know where the finish line will be?''
Gyro and Johnny chatted for a while about the race and some strategies, with the odd comment from yours contributing, which you usually just listened to with a polite smile or, when the subject of conversation turned to Diego or Hot Pants, buried your nose in a cup of tea that you left to cool on the shelf. The mixture of coffee and cold tea didn't please your palate.
''We'll have to think about it...'' Johnny said, slightly worried, when Gyro finished describing the shortcut he planned to take. Then he looked at you. "What about you, (Y/N)? How did you sit at the same table as those nobles?''
''How? Well, I was introduced and they enjoyed my company.'' You replied, with a glint of distrust in your eyes.
''Are you... Are you sure? Did they just let you join the picnic?''
''Yes, Johnny, where are you going with this?''
''He meant, (Y/N)...'' Gyro butted in with a smile on his face that particularly pissed you off. ''That it's hard to believe those rich ladies let someone like you sit with them.''
''Someone like me?!'' You inquired, offended. ''I'm a healer, I saved the lives of idiots like you two to earn this fame!''
''What fame? A healer witch?'' The Italian continued to mock. "It's really hard to believe you, (Y/N). When on earth would a bunch of rich Catholic madams let you sit with them?''
''Well, I just said that je ne suis pas une sorcière, juste une guerisseuse, monsieur Zeppeli!'' Said in a harsh and rude tone enough to shut up Gyro. ''Only men believe and are afraid of witches. Foolish men like you two.''
Gyro laughed discreetly, somewhat impressed by your smooth talk.
''Ora capisco... You'd look pretty nice in some petticoats, (Y/N). Have you ever thought of marrying a European nobleman?''
''Not after this picnic.''