Oh, many of the horses were the same-- it was the lute that had changed things. Despite Geralt's deeply quiet praise for Jaskier's musical talents (the compositions he would never, ever agree with, though the bard would simply just tell him that he had no ear for poetry) there were just very few horse (or men for that matter) that would walk toward a man banging a lute in your general direction with purpose.

"And I haven't even gotten old yet," Geralt said with a sigh for the call and the incoming sounds of song. He levered himself off the boards and turned. "I hope that-- fuck, Jaskier, no." Because his eyes had found the thing that was walking after the bard and there were so many reasons that they were not only not taking this horse on the road with them, but not sinking any money into it. "Just no. Go find something other than that kelpie. It's not coming with us."

If Geralt hadn't known Jaskier for as long as he had he would have asked how the man had managed to attract the one horse that was as high-maintenance as he was, but this far into their relationship the question didn't even come to mind. Of course he had.