“Right, let’s get moving.”
We filed out in a large group toward the southern side of the village. We weren't actually leaving the village grounds; our destination was the racetrack built just south of the farm fields.
I had originally designed it as a place where the horses and Centaurs could run to their hearts' content, but these days, it was primarily Kuro's offspring who made use of it. The Mountain Elves had expanded, extended, and remodeled the course, adding obstacles to ramp up the difficulty, but the wolves seemed to love the challenge.
As of late, having the Beastman boys ride the wolves for races had become a staple winter outdoor activity.
The basic layout of the track was an orthodox oval. As for the distance... the straightaways were about eight hundred meters long, though I wasn't entirely sure about the curves. How do you calculate a circumference again? Based on the feeling I got when I ran it myself, one lap felt like roughly three thousand meters. However, with all the ups and downs the Mountain Elves had added, it was probably closer to twenty-four hundred meters in reality.
The starting line was fixed, but the race dynamics shifted constantly depending on the specific route, the direction of the laps, the number of rotations, and the location of the finish line. I wondered if the reason things never played out the same way twice was due to the Beastman boys constantly experimenting. In the beginning, they had done nothing but try to shove their way to the front, so I chose to view this as a sign of growth.
The catalyst for that growth had been the Sake Slime. Despite the weight difference, it had once ridden one of the wolves and unleashed a razor-sharp late-race surge right before the finish line, leaving the spectators stunned. It was a classic "stalker" move—saving energy for the final stretch. Whatever the case, it had clearly made a huge impression on the Beastman boys, who had begun contemplating actual strategies ever since.
“It’s fine to stay in second place until the final corner. Then, pull out wide on the home stretch and overtake them!”
“Get out in front early and just stay there. Just keep running away with it!”
“You just have to go ‘zoom’ and then ‘pow’!”
The adults were certainly doing their part to fill the kids' heads with advice.
The number of participants had also grown. As far as the wolves were concerned, even having the Minotaur Race ride them was no problem, though they weren't exactly competitive in a high-speed race. Currently, besides the Beastman boys and the Sake Slime, we had High Elves, Mountain Elves, High Ogre Maids, and Lizardman children joining in. Participation was open to anyone.
I had only set two conditions: female participants had to wear trousers, and no one was allowed to push the wolves beyond their limits. So far, there hadn't been any issues.
If there was a concern, it was probably the spectators. The Elves had constructed high stands that offered a view of the entire course. To combat the winter chill, Heat Retention Stones had been installed throughout the seating area. Apparently, they had gone mining for them at the hot spring along with Hakuren. They had even set up a cooking area. It only served simple soup, but it was perfect for warming up.
Of course, this many spectators didn't gather every day. People were out in force because we were holding formal races. We had established the courses and stationed referees at various points. The only thing that wasn't fixed was the roster of runners, simply because there was no official registration process. However, since the races had been announced in advance, everyone had likely already made up their minds. Looking at the crowd, I didn't think we would be lacking for contestants.
We didn't allow gambling, but I had agreed to provide a prize for the winners. Since not everyone could participate, I didn't hand out Reward Medals. Instead, the prize was my own handmade sweets. I had wondered if that would be enough of an incentive, but everyone around me had insisted it was more than sufficient. I suppose sweets are a precious commodity.
The First Race was an exhibition. The course was roughly two thousand meters, including the turns. The contestants were two of our resident Centaurs and a horse. Gluewald and four other Centaurs had also rushed over to participate after hearing the news.
The horse was being ridden by the Beastman girl who usually took care of him. I couldn't help but notice he was far more obedient with her than when I tried to ride him. For the record, I had given the horse a name—the name of a world-famous racehorse that even a novice like me knew. However, the horse clearly didn't care for it. The Beastman girl started calling him Belford, and now he refused to even look at you unless you used that name.
The race began. We had actually argued quite a bit before settling on the two-thousand-meter distance. While the horse had the advantage in raw speed, the Centaur Race had overwhelmingly superior endurance. If the distance was too short or too long, it would be a landslide, which made for a boring race. After much deliberation, two thousand meters was deemed the perfect middle ground.
The finish line was directly in front of the spectator stands. Amidst a roar of cheers, it came down to a neck-and-neck battle between Gluewald and the horse... and Gluewald snatched the win. She went right into a victory lap afterward. She certainly had a lot of energy. The horse was being comforted by the Beastman girl; judging by the way his ears and tail were twitching, he was absolutely fuming. I looked forward to seeing his next performance.
The Second Race was also an exhibition—a heavy-load pull by the Minotaur Race. The distance was four hundred meters. It was a straight course, but it featured several ups and downs. This was a team effort rather than an individual race; there were six teams of four. Gratz and Ronana were on one of the teams. I found myself rooting for them.
The loads were sleds piled with timber. We had made the weights equal, but since there were always slight variations, the teams drew lots right before the start to decide which sled they got.
The race began. There was something undeniably stirring about watching giants standing three meters tall working together to haul sleds. The crowd went wild. Gratz’s team narrowly missed first place, coming in second, but they looked like they were having a great time, so it was all good.
The Third Race was for the wolves alone, without riders. Since so many wanted to enter, we had to filter the contestants. We asked those who were scheduled to run with riders later to step down and limited the entry to those born within the last few years. That brought the number down to twenty. This caused some grumbling, so I hastily decided to add another race immediately after this one.
Regardless, the Third Race began. The distance was a bit over one lap, roughly three thousand meters. I expected them to run in a tight pack, but they spread out surprisingly fast. Two wolves fought for the lead while four others hung back at the very rear to save their strength.
As I watched to see how it would unfold, a wolf that had been sitting in the middle of the pack smoothly glided forward and took a commanding lead on the final straight. It was a brilliant victory. Seeing Masayuki go out to greet the winner, I wondered if it was one of his children or grandchildren. I certainly hoped it wasn't one of his mates.
Anyway, since it would be impossible to tell the winner apart once they mixed back into the group, I tied a colored cloth around its neck. It looked quite sharp and fast. The other wolves looked on with clear envy.
The Fourth Race was the one I’d added on the fly for the wolves. This one had no age limit. Twenty-two wolves entered. The distance and course were the same as the third race. Perhaps because they had watched the previous heat, they were all wary of each other; the pack stayed together as a single mass, nobody willing to break away. They finally fanned out on the home stretch after rounding the final corner. It was a classic battle of overtaking and being overtaken.
The winner trotted up to me with a smug expression. I praised him as I tied a cloth around his neck. One takeaway from the third and fourth races: if I didn't give Kuro and the others color-coded cloths or something beforehand, I had no idea who was who.
The Fifth Race was a two-hundred-meter dash for the Harpy Race. Flying was strictly prohibited. It was a very... frantic-looking race. I had suspected as much, but it was clear that running was not their forte.
Then came the Sixth Race. The distance was one lap of the course, twenty-four hundred meters. This was the main event of the day: the Beastman boys, the Sake Slime, the Lizardman children, the High Elves, the Mountain Elves, and the High Ogre Maids riding the wolves.
Based on weight advantage, the favorite was the Sake Slime. The top contenders were the Beastman boys, and the dark horse was the High Ogre Maids. I just hoped they’d all do their best regardless of the odds.
Right then, an intruder joined the fray. Straddling one of the wolves with her arms crossed was none other than Urza. She was wearing trousers and looked ready for battle. Hakuren was cheering from the sidelines. Since we had plenty of room, I wasn't about to turn her away. However, falling off a wolf could be dangerous, so I made her wear a hat that functioned like a helmet stuffed with grass.
The race began. A Lizardman child bolted out immediately. He clearly intended to lead from start to finish. However, the riders in the back stayed calm, refusing to let him dictate their pace. Urza was at the very back of the pack, but she was keeping up well.
Midway through the course, a High Ogre Maid began to chase down the runaway Lizardman. The pack stretched out into a long line. However, the maid couldn't quite close the gap, and the Lizardman child stayed out in front. I wondered if he could actually keep that pace up until the end.
As they hit the final corner, the pack suddenly accelerated, threatening to swarm the leader. Yet, they didn't catch him. If I’d had a stopwatch, I probably would have noticed it—after his initial burst, the Lizardman had gradually eased off the throttle to save his energy. Because of that, he still had plenty of power to stay ahead. He looked certain of his victory.
He was too naive. There were others who had realized his game the moment the High Ogre Maid had given chase. There was the maid herself, three of the Beastman boys who were veteran racers, and Urza—who possessed either natural talent or pure wild instinct. The maid had already committed to her sprint and had no choice but to keep pushing, but the boys and Urza had saved even more of their strength in the rear.
Was it a sound strategy to save strength in the back when the leader was also saving strength in the front? I wasn't sure.
But on the final straight, the Beastman boys and Urza came charging up from behind like bolts of lightning. The leading Lizardman child panicked. At the finish line, the Lizardman, the three boys, and Urza were all neck-and-neck. The Lizardman child was the first to fade. Then one of the boys fell behind...
And they crossed the line. It was a thrilling finish. But competition is a cold mistress; it demands a winner and a loser. The champion was one of the Beastman boys. Urza came in third.
I felt like giving sweets to everyone who participated, but I restrained myself, as they were meant to be a winner's prize. I made sure to praise them all for their hard work. Of course, even without my praise, the spectators were already showering them with compliments and starting their post-race analysis.
The sweets were accounted for, but maybe I should cook up some special dishes for everyone. The racing continued for quite a while after that, but all in all, it was a very peaceful day.