A Riding Lesson (Tag: King Henri)

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

It had been nearly three weeks since the summons had arrived in Saumur, and two since Victor d'Anthes had arrived in Paris to report for duty. It was an assignment the captain wasn't convinced he would enjoy; to be an instructor for the king was an honor, of course—but one that would likely require him to set a good example. A better example, even, then he was already expected to at the Cavalry School, dressed in the black uniform of the Cadre Noir.

He was wearing the uniform again today, though he was far from Saumur and expected to deal with a pupil far removed from the young officers he'd had to work with there. Any mistake in his instruction might not change the course of a battle, but it could well affect the King's reputation and that could be even more dangerous. Victor, usually quite sure of himself, was uncertain about the decision that someone—he still did not know who—had made to place him in this position.

And besides, being a riding instructor made him feel old. He would be twenty-nine by the end of July, and after that thirty would quickly slip up on him... but every instructor he had ridden under had been older than that. As a boy it had been his father, at Saint-Cyr and then at Saumur it had been much older officers, men who no longer held the same sort of active command. Did they really think that he, still in the prime of his life, strong and slender and hitting the peak of his physical abilities, was on the road to decommission?

It was the hangover talking. He'd tried to be good the night before, had even made a point of arriving home early enough to get a full night's sleep. But the wine had been cheap and plentiful, and he'd had more than wine. The girls, at least, had been pretty—at least the one he remembered, a pretty blond thing whose bosom had drawn his eyes and whose musical laugh and witty banter had kept his mind. She'd kept his money, too, though some of that he'd lost at cards.

Despite the little nagging headache that remained from the night, he couldn't regret it. There was no better way to celebrate the beginning of a new command than to spend a night out on the town, and this was a new command of its own sort. Even if he had no particular interest in the education of the boy king. No, he had an interest in it—he hadn't fought for the restoration of the monarchy if the monarch was doomed to failure. The boy had to be educated, both in rule and in arms—and that included riding—but he didn't understand why the person responsible for this would have to be him.

He had come from Saumur with three horses. One was a gift, technically—though as far as Victor knew, no one had told the boy this yet. If he was a typical child, he would want to pick his own anyway. The black was a good horse, but Victor wondered if it wouldn't end up remaining his when the boy eventually was deemed ready for his own mount. The second was Victor's personal mount, a dark liver chestnut that had replaced the redder chestnut he'd lost in the fighting to bring this boy to the throne. The third was there for the express purpose of these lessons.

If Victor hadn't known the animal's story, he would have found the grey homely at best. He doubted the young king would notice this—the horse was a good one, especially to the untrained eye, but to Victor the gelding's dappled grey coat had faded to almost white too many years ago, and an almost imperceptible hitch in the left rear leg warned him of impending lameness. Though he knew the facts, and he knew this was one of those rare horses that could teach the boy many things even without a human instructor, he chafed at having to present the beast to the king.

The ring in which they would work was passable, though inferior to the one he was accustomed to at Saumur. Of course, a cavalry school was required to have a good place to ride, though Victor wondered if they wouldn't be better served working on a simple, standard parade ground. Perhaps not for this first lesson, but within a few weeks.

He stood at the grey's head, rearranging the footing slightly with the toe of one black boot. The horse was groomed and saddled. Everything was prepared. Now where was the pupil...

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]859 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: Nada. Hope you like it. LESSONS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri strained his eyes slightly to see far out of the small dormer window in the tiny garrett tower far above the rest of the palace beneath him - far above anything. The room in question was perched almost precariously - except it really wasn't. But it seemed that way - at the top of a tiny stairway which was so narrow and steep that one practically had to crawl up it on one's hands and knees and the walls were so near they practically touched your sides - a nightmare for a claustrophobic. Once one had gone up the tiny stairway, one had to access the room by crawling through a trapdoor barely large enough for a small man. However, he was not a claustrophobic, and he liked the room in question. It had a dusty wooden floor and was packed with boxes and boxes of stuff. The room itself wasn't large, but the mounds of stuff made it look even smaller. The room was dim because its sole window, which faced out, was small and covered deep in grime through which there was a single stripe made with a sleeve through which to see out. Across from this, there was an old couch which needed re-sprung and reupholstered. Beneath the window was a trunk of old stuff covered in a sheet upon which laid a pair of old binoculars. This, Henri considered his little place that probably no one knew about or remembered. He'd discovered some interesting treasures in the trunks in this room, and it also served as an excellent look-out point, which was what he was using it for at the moment. It was a good place for watching the people below without them seeing him. Today, Henri was watching for a specific reason, however. He had been told that his riding master would be coming today. Well, new riding Master. He had been assigned to have riding lessons before the previous summer, but that hadn't turned out well at all. The man had been practically ancient and had been more concerned with Henri's breaking his neck and it being his fault and him being punished than with actually teaching Henri how to ride. For a boy who loved animals, he desperately wanted to learn to ride. He had been supposed to have lesson in Naples when he turned ten, but then plans had changed, and they'd gone to France before the lessons could occur. Suddenly, he was caught up in a coup d'etat and made King and lessons were the furthest thing from anyone's mind. It had been disappointing for him to have to dismiss the riding master he'd been assigned the previous summer because he had desperately wanted to learn. However, he did not know how he was expected to learn when the person teaching him was, again, more worried about him falling off than teaching him anything at all. He had dismissed the man post haste and had told the Chouannerie he wanted another riding master and that this one must be under 30 years of age. He was determined to find someone young enough that he would actually learn something useful from him because he hadn't turned old. and boring yet. He knew that the man had already arrived, for he'd gone downstairs at practically the crack of dawn wanting to meet him, but had been told that the man hadn't even arrived yet and, when he did, the Chouannerie would want to meet with him. Henri had given a distasteful glare, wondering what instructions would be imparted to the young man. He'd also been informed he would be summoned for when it was time for him to meet the man. However, he had no intentions on waiting so long. He was, instead, watching the riding stables with his binoculars out of the window, waiting for the candidate to emerge, trusting in his boyish youth that he would recognize someone who rode for the Cadre Noir - for that's what he'd been told his new riding master did - a prospect which filled him with extreme excitement. As soon as he thought he'd spotted him, Henri flew off the trunk so fast he nearly tipped it over and tore down the stairs and out of doors, through the gardens and to the riding paddock they'd been instructed to work in and there the man stood, looking so much larger in life that, for a moment, Henri was a little intimidated and hung back by the fence. However, the presence of a pretty looking grey-gone-white horse attracted his attention. Henri had always very much loved animals, a story told by the fact that Chasse was at his heels as he came to the paddock. "Lay down. Stay" He said quietly to the dog, not wanting him to spook the horses. "You have to wait for me there." This instruction given, he scrambled over the fence not bothering with the gate and dropped to his feet on the other side. "Bonjour! You're supposed to be teaching me to ride. I expect we'll be able to get started right away?" He looked hopefully excited. [/style]

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[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

Victor was struck, if by nothing else, by the boy's enthusiasm. Part of him almost wished he hadn't met the king at all, but there he was. Easier to take him seriously when you don't see him as a child... The realization that the boy was young enough to be his elder brother's son made him question, for just a moment, what the rest of the Chouannerie had been thinking.

After all, Victor had fought for a monarch, but not necessarily this one. He was a soldier—politics, at least officially, was not his realm. Functionally, his ties to the Chouannerie were strong and they were nothing if not political. Now that the boy was king, he would not betray him. His was a legitimate claim despite his age, and Victor would have defended the chosen monarch even if he had had his personal doubts. This was his oath, his honor. Such things mattered to him, even if he did report for duty with the last remnants of a hangover curling around his skull. As an officer and an aristocrat, this loyalty was his duty.

Strangely, not even a letter stating that he had been made the king's riding master seemed to impress his father. The grey-haired old aristocrat's apparent determination to view his youngest son with disdain had never entirely made sense to him, especially when compared to the records of his elder brothers. Victor may have earned a reputation for rakish behavior, but it hadn't tarnished his skill. The Chouannerie, the army, the Cadre Noir—all these had recognized that.

He hoped that the dog would indeed stay where the boy had placed it. The old grey was a solid horse and unlikely to panic even if the dog should leap up and begin to bark, but neither were loose dogs the norm at the cavalry school or even the field of battle. Victor wondered sometimes how much horses like this one, a war veteran itself, remembered their battles.

“Your Majesty.” He saluted the boy-king smartly, clicking his heels.

He would have to dispense with such formality eventually or the lessons would be meaningless. He wasn't used to giving orders to his superiors, but perhaps the very fact of the king's youth would make it easier to forget. Still, he'd never before taught a child.

The boy clearly knew who he was, but Victor thought it might be best to introduce himself regardless. It was unclear if the boy even knew his name. “I am Capt. Victor d'Anthes.” He thought to add that he would be his riding instructor, but the boy obviously knew this already. The boy seemed fond of his dog... perhaps he would be the sort to want to know the name of the horse. “This is Atys.”

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]497 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: Excitable much? LESSONS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri stopped short as he entered the paddock where the young man in the uniform was standing. Somehow, he was not what Henri had expected, but he knew this person must be his new riding master. It wasn't that he'd had any crystal clear image of what the man would or wouldn't be like - in looks or in personality. He supposed, if pressed, he might say he'd expected a jovial 24 or 25 year old cadet or something of that nature. Instead, he could see by the brass that it was a captain, and distinctly older than 25, but likely not older than his requirement of less than thirty years. Perhaps 28 or 29, though. It was clear that the Chouannerie could be counted upon to toe the line as closely as possible. There would be no jovial cadets for Henri. And there was something about this man which caused Henri to be a little wary of him. It was not that he gave off the feeling of being dangerous or anything - but he looked so stern and serious, and he did not smile. Henri mostly didn't trust the not smiling. He looked okay other than that. He was the type of person who gave off the air that you'd better be on your best behavior around them, and Henri found himself flinching to attention and straightening out his posture, holding himself as tall as he could and as proud and strong as well. "Good to meet you, Captain.." He said, trying to sound friendly and not at all nervous. Oh no, he wasn't nervous of the horse.. just the new riding master. It was obvious that the man was the kind of person who would require him to keep on his toes and mind his P's and Q's. The last thing he wanted to do was make a bad first impression and get off on the wrong foot. He certainly wanted this appointment to go better than the last one had done. Then again the last one's failure had not been his fault. He only wanted an instructor who would teach him what he needed to know and not worry about him breaking his neck. He might have gotten more than he bargained for.. He saluted back. "I trust that your journey wasn't too harrowing and that all your needs have been looked after?" The words sounded so formal and grown up, the person he was trying to become, but he wasn't quite there yet. He looked over at the horse whom he was being introduced to and moved slowly toward him, holding out his hand in front of him, hesitantly. "Hi Atys." His voice was as soothing as possible as he approached the horse slowly from the side before gently reaching up to rub him on the neck, being careful as possible not to spook him. "Hello to you too, Atys. It's good to meet you." He murmured, stroking the horse's neck gently. [/style]

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[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

The boy's face was practically inscrutable. Victor couldn't help but be almost impressed; such control was admirable in a king. What shadow of an expression the boy wore, however, told Victor that he was somewhat... surprised? Confused? He did his best to keep his officer's facsimile of the same skill. Suspicious, he realized, was what had flitted briefly across the king's face.

The grey gelding shifted his weight from right to left, switching his tail. Victor patted the horse's neck again, wanting the animal to make a good impression on the king.

Surely he didn't think the Chouannerie had assigned him an instructor that would do him some sort of harm? He seemed almost intimidated, in the way he suddenly drew himself up to stand erect. Amusing, really. He's my superior. Part of him was glad, however, that Henri seemed willing to fall into the war of the young pupil and slip out of the role of king. As an army officer to the king, Victor owed him obedience as well as fealty. As a riding instructor to his student, he not only could but would have to give orders.

“An honor, Your Majesty.” His voice remained somewhat stiff, though he realized belatedly that the boy was trying to be friendly. A personable king, not a bad trait—though one that it seemed many in history had lacked. He had found it valuable in officers too, though for the moment he refrained from adopting too much friendly informality.

“Everything was in order. The journey was uneventful.” A purely factual report, but he did not want to presume that the king desired to make conversation to find that he had only intended to show a polite degree of interest. It was, in fact, the latter that Victor expected any statement he made would be—at least at first.

The horse reached his muzzle out toward the boy at his approach, evidently aware that he was the object of his attention. A smallish animal, Victor himself did not know where Atys had come from initially—he was the mount of a man killed in action, and whatever records had come with the horse had been lost. The little grey was wounded in the same battle—or skirmish, Victor supposed, if technicalities were to be brought into it—as his master was killed, and a slight and intermittent lameness in one of the rear legs persisted.

This, Victor knew, he would have to be careful about in teaching these lessons. For the first few it would scarcely matter; the boy did not appear to weigh much, certainly not enough to put excessive strain on a horse. Later, however, it might begin to be an issue—and that is where either the horse he was to present to him or another would come into play.

“How much have you ridden?” It was information he needed to determine what instructions, what sorts of lessons he might give to the boy.

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]897 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: Not exactly what Victor was expecting? LESSONS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]For a moment, the horse shifted slightly and swished his tail - for at closer range, Henri could tell that this horse was definitely a he. As a bit younger of a boy, he would have giggled at how he could tell and the extreme differences in human anatomy and horse anatomy. As it were, he let no outward appearance of the slight amusement of the thought which had slipped through his mind belie on his face. He was thirteen years old now and past such foolishness. Or at least past expressing it outwardly to a total stranger. He also wondered, with the shifting and tail swatting if he had approached the horse too fast. He didn't know a horribly lot about horses, but he did know that Ettore Carlo had a pretty Spanish mare that he wasn't allowed to get too near of because she was a bit 'high-strung.' He also knew that Ettore Carlo had told him that he must always be calm and careful around horses on account of their size and because, though they were much bigger than a human, they could get frightened easily by small movements and then easily hurt a human being when they forget their size and strength. Such warnings had done little to foster excitement in the much younger Henri about getting too close - possibly Ettore's intent, as he'd seen the boy looking longingly at the Spanish horse one too many times to count as an inquisitive eight and nine year old. Now, such foolish childhood inhibitions hardly stood in his way of desiring to learn to ride. He also knew that horses couldn't hurt humans very much evidently, because people still relied on them an awfully lot. Battles, transportation, crops.. many aspects of important daily life were taken care of with horses. It seemed foolish, looking back now that he was older, to be too afraid of something so integral to daily life. Besides, now that he was older, he dreamed of having a parade mount or something he could show off to others and say 'this is -my- horse!' He also dreamed of being able to ride with the wind billowing through his hair - if it hadn't been cut too short for his liking. In short, he was no longer frightened and, instead, extremely excited to partake in the riding lessons offered and hoped he'd learn quickly. He liked animals of all kinds, and they seemed to take to him equally well (though such a thing is common for boys and animals at that age) - at least, he thought, if the dog contentedly lying at the edge of the fence was any indication. Chasse was watching the scene before him intently, but with his head on his paws, an idication he was obeying his master's command to stay put. Your majesty? Such formality. Well, he supposed the man was a soldier. He offered a small grin. "Just Henri is fine when we're in private, si'l vous plait" - the man was still older than him and a stranger, even if Henri was technically his leader. It wouldn't do for him to be calling him Henri around the Chouannerie, or they might get designs that he wasn't requiring the man to respect him properly, but, really, he thought they were a little too worried about the formalities - especially around people he knew every day. He knew and used every single one of his maid's and valet's names, all of the cook's and kitchen boys' as well - and he, without fail, called them by it accordingly. He cringed slightly at the formal tone in the man's voice, almost tempted to draw back a little, but didn't. He didn't want to make the man dislike him but.. still.. the formality put him off a bit. He was still a young boy inside who craved famililial feelings - especially given that he was long-separated from his family and had been for such a long time. He was distracted from his worries, however, by the horse beginning to hesitantly reach his muzzle toward Henri, who grinned happily at this. "Is this all right? The cook allowed me to help make them for the horses. He said they would like them. There's oats and molasses, honey, grated carrots, grated apples, and flour all mixed and rolled and baked." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and removed one of a moundful of treats he'd stuffed into either side of said coat. He held it up, but kept it far away from the horse just in case he would not be allowed to give it to him. "I've never ridden." He said rather somberly. He was fairly aware that this was quite a deficiency for a boy of high status his age, and was quite ashamed of it and ready to fix the situation! "But I'm not at all scared, and I like animals and want to learn. The opportunity just never presented itself. I trained Chasse by myself." He added quickly nodding to the dog, whose ears raised slightly on hearing his name but who did not move. Henri desperately wanted to make a good impression on the man after the probably unexpectly news that he'd never ridden. He knew it wasn't to his benefit. Other boys his age had been riding since they were only small boys. [/style]

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[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

Victor nodded in approval at the treats the boy had for the horse. In a young cavalryman it would have been an endearingly boyish habit of the sort he had, now and then, observed in peasant boys whose childhood best friends had been their plough-horses—but it felt wrong to compare the king to such boys, even if they did sometimes make good soldiers. If nothing else, it spoke to a kind heart. Victor did not know if that was something to fear or to praise in a king.

“Henri, then,” he repeated the name back. He supposed it should not have surprised him that a child would prefer to be called by his given name, rather than by his rank and honorifics. Deciding to lighten the mood at least a little, he allowed himself a quick flash of a smirk. “I never thought I'd be on a first-name basis with the king.”

The horse extended his neck out to sniff at the treats the boy held, trying to reach them with an outstretched upper lip. Victor was amused; although Atys was, to his estimation, a horse very quickly on the road to retirement—he was a good-natured creature, if sometimes a bit greedy. Victor kept a fairly loose grip on the gelding's reins.

The news that the young king had never ridden disappointed Victor. He disliked teaching the fundamentals; with horses he had the patience to explain everything, wait for them to understand—but in people he preferred to work with foundations already laid. He had heard that the boy had already had a different riding master, but what had the man done if not taught him at least the very basics of how to ride? There were moments when the Chouannerie disgusted even him, despite his customary loyalty to them.

“He's a handsome dog.” Some sort of hunting dog, which Victor could respect. One of his brothers had a pair much like it. Good dogs, but active. It did say something about his talents that he had already trained the animal at his age; the dog seemed to be absolutely obedient to him in a way that Victor's brother's dogs never were. “My brother has a pair of a similar sort.”

The question was, then, how to deal with the equestrian education of a boy who had started so late. He seemed to have some natural talent with animals in general, but dogs and horses were two different affairs. The things that would excite a dog would terrify a horse, though Victor trusted Atys not to panic at much of anything a child could do to him. "Have you so much as been on a horse? In motion." He added the second part as an afterthought, realizing that the boy may have been asked to pose on horseback already whether or not he knew how to ride.

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]503 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: Have fun, Victor. LESSONS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri looked over at the man as he pointed out that he never thought he'd be on first-name basis with the king. He couldn't resist the slightest smirk. Perhaps the man would not be as awfully formal as he'd been afraid he'd be. The last thing he wanted was to have someone so formally uptight managing his lessons that he couldn't even enjoy them because he felt like he had to mind his P's and Q's and walk on proverbial egg shells constantly with every move he made. He was relieved, therefore, to realize that Captain D'anthès did have a sense of humor, even if it was well guarded for only appropriate moments, apparently. Henri still got the feeling that this was the kind of man you didn't want to cross or disobey - but that was fine because he had no intention of doing that. His attention was distracted again by Atys, who reached out his neck for the treat, stretching out his upper lip to the best of his ability to try to reach it. Well, he supposed he didn't blame him.. most of the stuff in it - with the exception of the oats - he would have like to have eaten himself. He had to admit that, at the beginning of the baking, more sliced apples had gone into his mouth than into the bowl he was supposed to be putting them in. He reached his hand over with the treat in it, keeping his palm flat as he'd been told to do the times he'd been allowed to feed other horses treats. "Here you go, boy. I made these especially for you. I hope you like them." He said, giving the horse a gentle pat on the neck as he fed him the treat. "I'm not much one for baking but.. I guess you must not notice." He said with a smirk. "Thanks. He's a good dog. I've already been out with him a few times. He already knows all the basic house stuff - sit, get off, lay down, stay, come. And he points out birds for me and then brings them to me soft mouth and give them over without any fight." Henri knew he was bragging just a little bit, but he couldn't help it. He was proud of all he'd accomplished with Chasse in just a few short months. However, his proud feeling turned to a moment of combined panic and sadness, his stomach seeming to drop when Captain D'anthès asked him if he'd ever been on a horse.. in motion. He kind of sadly shook his head, unable to lie. "Never." He wondered how quickly he'd be able to catch up to normal boys his age. He hoped very quickly. He knew for a fact that every one of his friends knew how to ride and well. He sighed, a disappointed look on his face as he concentrated on rubbing Atys' forehead just beneath his forelock, because he seemed to like that spot. [/style]

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[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

“And here I thought I was a replacement instructor.” Victor's voice did not completely conceal his surprise at this. It was odd—almost unprecedented in the captain's understanding of the world—to encounter a boy, and one of significant status at that, who had not only never ridden but had never ridden despite having had riding instructors. What was the purpose of having an instructor if the man never taught you to ride? He shook his head in something close to amazement.

“You do at least seem to know something about dealing with horses,” he observed. The boy knew to keep his fingers out of the way when feeding the horse, seemed to know to approach him at least slightly from the side. These were promising things, supporting the idea that maybe whatever the boy had been taught before would not be entirely useless. Only mostly useless. “And someone dressed you properly.”

Victor realized that might have sounded clearly disrespectful only after the words had flown from his lips. In all likelihood the king did have attendants to help him select his clothing and dress himself, but Victor knew well enough that a boy of his years was unlikely to relish too much assistance. Doubtless he would already be considering himself most of the way to manhood.

“In light of your lack of experience, however,” the stiffness had returned slightly to Victor's voice. “I suppose the groom did not prepare the horse correctly.” He was saddled to be ridden independently, not longed around so that the boy could find his seat. He needed, more than anything else, a longeing cavesson if he was going to do this properly—not to mention the longe line itself.

Conveniently, there was no groom in sight. This irritated Victor, as he could not be expected to leave his pupil—with the horse or without—to hunt down an additional piece of equipment the groom should have known would be necessary. It seemed almost disgraceful that grooms for the royal stables—men who ought to have been the best possible—were apparently so completely inept. “You didn't happen to notice any grooms when you came in, did you?”

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]403 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: None now. LESSONS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri looked up with an almost stricken expression on his face when he heard Captain D'anthès' comment about being a replacement instructor, with firm emphasis on -replacement-. He knew he should have a better hold on his emotions and how he felt about things. There was, after all, nothing he could do about the arrangements which had or had not been made for him and the person chosen to carry forth the duties entailed. He could not easily control the fact that he had never really had an opportunity to learn. Nevertheless, his face flooded brilliantly red in the cheeks and he stared intently at the ground in return to Captain D'anthès' comment. He was working very hard to keep the tears which were glistening in his blue eyes from falling. They would make marks in the dirt below and then his teacher would know that he had cried. It was stupid really. He shouldn't cry like a child over something like that, but he couldn't help it. He quickly dashed his hand over his eyes and forced himself not to when at least the captain acknowledged he seemed to know something about horses and he was dressed properly. It seemed slim comfort for an instructor who appeared to be vexed at him over something he couldn't control. I'm not a child. Henri thought waspishly, when he heard the comment about his manner of dress. He didn't say it, however, because he was well aware that someone DID pick his clothes and several someones helped him dress -whether or not he needed it. There was no use being defensive when Captain D'Anthès' statement was absolutely true. Henri wasn't entirely sure what would need to be done to the horse that had not been all ready done to prepare it for him. He was slightly disappointed at the prospect of perhaps having to cancel the lesson until such time as the horse could be properly prepared for him to use. Only slightly. Ten minutes ago he would have been horribly disappointed, but now he felt wrong-footed, embarrassed, and like an extreme disappointment to the strange and overly formal new teacher who -clearly- had expectations. He was a little scared of him he had to admit. "No, Captain. Desolé." He muttered quietly. Finally, he drew in a deep breath. "Couldn't I just try like that?" He didn’t want to cause a big fuss. [/style]

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[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

The boy looked as if he were about to cry. It caught Victor off guard, and he frowned at his own apparent harshness. He looked away from the boy for a moment, feeling almost ashamed. Great. I've almost made the king cry. This lesson was getting off on an absolutely brilliant track, and he was as much to blame for it as the confounded grooms.

“Look,” he softened his voice considerably. “It's not your fault. I guess I know now why I needed to be a replacement, eh?” He smiled a little, trying to reassure him. Perhaps this would be more like working with a skittish, green horse than with soldiers. He changed his tactic, trying to use an air that would have served him with a spirited but spooky colt.

“You could try it, but...” But that wasn't how cavalrymen taught their sons to ride, and he assumed that's not how cavalrymen were supposed to teach the king to ride, either. “Ah, what the hell.” He glanced at the boy quickly, wondering if he should have watch his language better around young royal ears. “Let's get you up.”

The stirrups had been removed from the saddle already, a ploy to teach the student not to rely on them to keep his seat—an important thing on horseback in battle, and useful in other cases too. Victor could lead the horse well enough, though if the boy was bold enough he might even just let him go. He trusted Atys not to deliberately dump him onto the ring's footing.

It wasn't as good as longeing, no, but it would do. Hell of a lot more organized than how I learned. Victor's father had never had the patience to teach him, at least not as young as Victor had decided he wanted to learn. If nothing else, he'd learned to stay on just about anything. It had taken later lessons to fix the bad habits, however.

Without really giving the boy a warning, he lifted him around the waist and set him as smoothly as he could atop the gelding's back. “Now.. relax. Try to keep your heels down.” He showed the boy how to hold the reins, but warned him to keep them fairly loose for the moment. Then he led the horse forward, keeping an eye on Henri to make sure he would be unseated by the movement.

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]493 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: None now. LESSONS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri looked up slightly, glad that his eyes had stopped tearing up so much - though that did little for his face which was still extremely red from embarrassment from earlier. He was also glad that, suddenly, D'Anthès' voice had softened down a bit, and he wasn't looking as harsh now - or sounding as harsh given the softened voice. He didn't seem as scary or intimidating either. Perhaps the lesson really wasn't going to go as drastically wrong as he'd been afraid of it doing. A second ago he'd been thinking that he'd only be a tad disappointed if it was cancelled - which upset him given how long he'd been looking forward to it. But now maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he'd started to fear. The voice change signalled that. He only hoped it would last and be as amazing as he'd been dreaming about for months - ever since he'd asked the Chouannerie to locate a riding teacher for him the first time. It had been difficult for him to get rid of the first man just to waste more months looking for a second, but he'd known it was necessary. Now, perhaps, that was finally paying off. He thought, for a second, that the Captain was going to refuse him with the but. Surprisingly, however, he didn't. Henri was amused and pleased to hear him even relax enough to swear. He doubted his mother would approve if she'd heard - not that she'd been around to hear for the last three years thanks to the Chouannerie but .. it was the point.. having someone in his life who could do things that would make his mother frown a little. Not a lot of course.. just a little. And someone who, even better, was going to teach him how to ride a horse. He'd been told that if it worked well, it was like the horse and the rider became one body.. a single thing in motion and nothing else mattered. He desperately needed something like that. And suddenly he was grabbed and hoisted up on top of the high back of the horse, who seemed suddenly much much higher from up here! "Whoa!" he muttered, seeming startled for a moment, taken aback by the sudden change and shooting his arms out to help him keep his balance and keeping his back ramrod straight more out of fear than out of any natural talent at horseback riding! Relax. Right. Relax.. Okay. You can do this Henri. Relax. He tried to will his body to relax and settle into the saddle with his heels down as requested. It was an odd feeling - very odd indeed.. but good also.. And then the horse was walking forward and he had to remind himself to keep himself steady, which he was doing okay at, his arms back at his sight, his hands loosely on the reins. "I think I've got it..." [/style]

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[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

“Good,” Victor kept his voice calm, a hand on the boy's knee to help keep him steady. “Here, let go of the reins and put your arms out to the sides.” The first thing was to build the boy's balance and seat, and the rest would come into play after that. “You only have to do it for a few seconds if you feel unstable.”

He wondered if he should have given him more warning before putting him up on the horse, but it was a completely novel thing for Victor. Every lesson he had ever taught had operated on the assumption that the student knew how to ride—generally, all Victor had to do was instruct them in the use of some trick, some bit of equipment, some method only used in a military context.

Not make sure they could sit on a horse without falling off. He was immensely glad that he had brought Atys, not one of the more spirited, energetic horses. Atys was an old war horse, desensitized to the chaos of battle—and, almost by extension, a valuable old schoolmaster of a horse. They could all hope that Henri would never have to ride into a hail of bullets, never charge against a forest of bayonets—but the disorganized aids of a truly novice rider were better tolerated by horses like Atys than by some of the more specialized horses intended less for active service.

“So... why don't you tell me a little about what you like to do?” Surely a royal child would enjoy talking about himself, and it would help relax him if he was not so entirely focused on each thing he did on horseback. Some attention was necessary, but certainly not enough to make him stiff and unbalanced. And it might help me to know what he'll like.

“You can ask me questions too, if you like,” he added. That should cut the formality, he hoped, and relax the atmosphere further. There was, it seemed, no need for either to assume the other wished to behave as if a riding lesson was a state dinner.

[HENRI D'ARTOIS]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]553 WORDS FOR VICTOR Notes here: none currently. LESSONS [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri's smile was more than likely worth a thousand dollars when Captain D'Anthès praised him for his good work, his hand resting on Henri's knee in a comforting way. He wanted to thank him for the praise, but was too busy being exhilerated and excited by the fact that he was riding a horse for the first time - rather than just being sat on one while its keeper fed it treats and a portrait was painted of him - that had happened several times. There was a particularly memorable one of him in a set of pale blue breeches, shirt, waistcoat and jacket with white stockings, his hair powdered and put into a queue. He mostly remembered it because he'd only been about four years old at the time that painting had been done and had disliked sitting still for it on the hot afternoon it had been painted in. He could remember staring longingly at the Koi fountain in the nearby garden and wondering if he'd ever be allowed down. In the current situation, he never wanted to get down! Surely, he was still a little self conscious and uncomfortable with his seat but... it was amazing! At the request to put his arms out, he did so once more, except this time purposefully rather than just trying to maintain his balance. Slowly, he raised his arms and held them out at his sides as straight as possible, also trying to keep his posture straight, though his instinct was to kind of hunch forward. He felt like very little was holding him on the horse and, if he wasn't careful, he'd go tumbling off. It was a vaguely uncomfortable feeling, also, to have nothing under his feet or for his feet to rest on. He found himself somewhat worrying that his boots were going to fall off and the horse would trod on them - but he supposed if they did, he could always procure another pair. For now, he needed to keep his focus on not falling off of the horse. He wondered if he fell off and broke something if he'd still be allowed to continue riding lessons. "um..." Henri said, trying to keep his eyes forward. It felt vaguely like with the dentist came to see him and then asked him questions while he conveniently had his fingers in Henri's mouth making it rather impossible for Henri to answer even if he wanted to oblige. "Read. Lots of books. Adventures namely. But political things too and histories and religion things..Explore.. Swim.. Hike.. Play with Chasse.. Hunt.. Travel places and see other countries.. play with my toy soldiers and set them up in battle formation and pretend to be a great gener-AH!" He exclaimed, nearly losing his seat as they turned the corner rather abruptly to head the other way down the paddock. He grabbed hold of the horse's mane as he practically slipped over on the right side of Atys's body and clinging to him with his knees like a monkey to a tree, his hands scrambling to keep hold of the mane and pull himself back into his seat without hurting Atyas. "What about you!?" He inquired, smirking from his awkward position, still attempting to right himself and a little disappointed - he'd been doing so well! [/style]

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[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

Victor smiled at the boy's account of his likes. He was without doubt more studious than Victor had been at his age; that, however, was scarcely a difficult thing. He had enjoyed toy soldiers and the occasional adventure novel, hunting when he was allowed—but even better had been playing at swordfighting with his middle brother, or riding about with or without permission.

His pastimes as an adult, however, were mostly things he did not think he was supposed to admit to the child. It would set a distinctly bad example to tell him that best of all were betting games, loose women, and freely-flowing wine. It would scarcely be a better example to confess that he enjoyed the occasional duel, even if they could be dangerous.

“I didn't have a lot of free time at Saumur,” he answered in a voice more thoughtful than reality. “Most of my time was spent working with the horses, with cadets, with more boring parts of my duties.” And then the nights had been free for other entertainments, at least once he was no longer a cadet himself. He led the horse into a figure-eight pattern. “Try to get a feel for his gait,” he added, referring to the horse. “It helps you learn to balance. Which will help keep you from getting unseated,” he smiled as gently as he could.

“As a boy I enjoyed many of the things you mention—though I can't say I ever was one for reading politics.” That was how it should be; kings could read what they wished, but for men like Victor there was no sense in their educations focusing on the political. “Learning to shoot and to fence. I knew I would go into the military from a young age.” An easy enough realization for the third son of an aristocrat to make, and not an unpleasant one to the young boy.