"Blankets and saddles! Bridle, blanket, saddle. That's your fundamental tack."

Hange leads Tiffany up front and then to a storage room to the side. It smells like leather and oil, and of course it's full of tack: a wall with bridles strung all over, blankets folded on shelves, many many saddles. Hange squints at Tiffany: "Alright, grab a blanket you like, as for the saddle... we'll start you on thirty-five centimetres. Let me know if it's comfortable for you, we can change the sizing if not."