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"After completing the biannual duty, the grand evening affair at the imperial palace, the next morning, I 'returned' to the ranch. In a room at Laurent's house, who manages the ranch, I changed from noble attire to farmer's clothes. Once transformed, I dashed out to the fields.

It was early spring, the season when mares give birth one after another. Our ranch, which included plow horses, riding horses, and racehorses, had only about ten breeding mares. While not all of them would give birth this year, it was still a busy season.

The morning at the ranch starts early, and Laurent and the other five ranch hands had long been awake and working. Seeing that the horses were already pastured, I guessed they were currently cleaning the stables. I hurried into the stable.

"Sorry for being late!"

Laurent poked his head out from one of the stalls, responding, "Ah, Miss. You're back. Good timing. Mirabel gave birth yesterday, so come have a look."

"What? She gave birth! Got it!"

I threw aside the pitchfork I had intended to use for stable cleaning and rushed out of the stable. The stables for pregnant horses were a bit farther away. I sprinted there.

Pausing in front of the stable, I took a moment to catch my breath before slowly entering. Startling a pregnant or newly born horse could be troublesome. I entered slowly and peeked into the stall of a horse named Mirabel.

There, nestled against Mirabel's bay coat, stood a small black colt. Long legs that seemed disproportionate to its body. It perked up its ears as it noticed me. Mirabel was momentarily on guard, but once she recognized me, she snorted.

"Congratulations, Mirabel! You did well! Show me the foal a bit."

With Mirabel's permission, I entered her stall. The foal had pressed itself against Mirabel, appearing a bit frightened, but I gently stroked its body. After a while, it calmed down.

I checked the foal's body—ensuring there were no deformities, its legs weren't crooked, and there were no strange swellings. I also examined its face closely. Horses that seemed absent-minded or, conversely, had an abnormally aggressive temperament were difficult to sell. I checked the body seriously while petting it.

It's a cruel reality, but if significant defects were found during this initial examination, the foal would have to be disposed of. Raising a horse requires money, so raising a horse with no prospects is not feasible.

But it seemed this foal had no fatal defects. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Mirabel, a former racehorse, turned broodmare at the age of eight and was now eleven. She had already given birth to two offspring, both of which ran relatively well. So, there were expectations for this foal too. I couldn't help but smile. I hugged the foal and said, 'Thank you for being born! I'll do my best to raise you into a strong horse!'

Mirabel, being an experienced mother, was already nursing the foal properly. Ill-tempered mares sometimes abandon their foals, and in such cases, a wet nurse is provided, or humans extract milk from the mare to feed the foal.

I rushed back to the stable of the young horses and reported to Laurent.

"Laurent! It's a good horse! It'll surely become fast and strong!"

"That's good. If it has your approval, there's no mistake.”

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