Lorant gripped the leather reins in his hand, allowing the horse to stand a couple feet away from him. She plodded at the dusty ground with one of her hooves, and snorted. It was cold enough out to see the sheet of breath billow up and cloud the animal's face for a second. They had eyes like demons, all horses, but he had a special place for this one. Going by the name Esther, she was a sleek brown four year old used by the church for many purposes. Lorant would have been a happy man if none of those purposes included him.
Hitched to the mare was a wagon, sturdy still despite the aging look of the wood, and it carried a store of food. Portions could be kept for long periods of time, such as dried out beef strips, however the majority was frivolous. And valuable when it wasn't on the ground. Lorant had been able to lead the horse for a good while before she decided she would rather try to bite him and stop in her tracks. Esther shook against the reins, baying and jerking her head up and down growing more restless.
Lorant held out a red apple to her, hunching over in an attempt to make himself appear smaller than he was and spoke in soft even tones. A couple of years ago he had spooked a horse into throwing a wild fit around town, causing a great deal of damage to the few grocer stalls set up in the market. For that, he was only allowed to be around them for certain occasions.
The reason wasn't soldiers being camped outside the walls of Vestalla, and that it was customary of the church, if it can spare it, to bring food as a blessing for their journey from St. Svan. No. It would be uncomplicated, and one of the other Brothers or Sisters could have endured mucking through the cold weather with a temperamental mare. Lorant was instead here because of the Bishop's hand. He still bore the red mark on his neck when the flat of a silver knife rested its greedy face on him the night before; a reminder that while he could argue, and rant, and stomp his feet like a small child it would never be him that held the lead. He was lucky it didn't bite into his skin with it being close to the full moon, Gilroy had told him when he saw Lorant rubbing at it. Right. Lucky.
He really was on the last of his strategies. People passed him by, not offering to help. Some stopped for a moment to watch him try and tease the horse forward then left on their way, too. Lorant met their backs with a dark scowl.
"I could make you play fetch for this," He said. With the apple in hand he made vague gestures towards the direction he wanted Esther to start meandering to, and ended with a cheeky grin. "but I won't."