"We won't be defeated by a little rain! We want you to hold the races exactly as scheduled, even if it pours!"
The White Swan declared her resolve. More accurately, Odile translated the swan's sentiment for the rest of us. Odette, who had been watching the exchange, looked like she had something on her mind, so I asked her what was wrong.
"I’m just curious why I wasn't chosen to be the translator this time..."
"Don't let it get to you," I told her. "Let's move on."
Even if the racing swans didn't mind the weather, the spectators who came to watch would be in a bind. We needed rain countermeasures.
"Wouldn't it be simplest to just put a roof over the spectator seats?" someone suggested.
A roof, huh? It would provide shade from the sun as well, so it was a solid option.
"It wouldn't even need to be a heavy wooden structure. I think a cloth canopy would be more than enough."
"But cloth wouldn't stop the rain, would it?"
"Then we just use water-repellent fabric."
"Fabric like that is incredibly rare," one of the Angels countered. "Covering the entire seating area would be impossible, no matter how you look at it."
As the Angels debated the logistics, Yoko spoke up with total confidence. "Zabuton and her children’s silk repels water."
"Wait, really?"
I glanced down at my own clothes. They were made of Zabuton's silk, but they didn't seem particularly water-repellent. In fact, they absorbed sweat quite comfortably.
"When they weave it for clothing, they likely use thread meant to absorb moisture," Yoko explained.
I see. Thank you, Zabuton. Thank you, little spiderlings.
"So, we have a lead on the fabric," Yoko continued. "All that remains is the matter of the reward."
As expected, even Yoko couldn't bring herself to suggest that Zabuton provide the material for free.
"If the Village Head asks, they will likely make it, but..."
It was precisely because they would say yes that I couldn't just demand it. While Odette and Odile were the ones who had started these White Swan Races, I was the one who had stepped in with advice, labor, and funding to ensure everything was fair. It was practically a Village Five municipal project at this point. In short, the races had nothing to do with the spiders' daily lives, so I had to offer a formal reward for the commission.
"Since you put it that way, I won't press the matter," Yoko said, backing down.
One of the Angels piped up. "By the way, how much would a reward like that even cost?"
"Shouldn't it be at least enough to warrant a Potato Party?" I wondered aloud.
"I have no idea if that's expensive or cheap..." the Angel admitted.
"It’s expensive," Yoko deadpanned. "Just how much do you think a single box of those potatoes trades for these days?"
Given the profits the event was generating, it was probably a high price. They were a luxury ingredient, after all. Still, asking Zabuton and the others would be our final resort. For now, let's see what we can manage on our own.
"What about the idea of building sturdy wooden roofs?"
"That's a safe bet," I agreed. "However, we've only held the race once. We don't have enough funds yet to cover every seat with a permanent structure."
I could have provided the funds myself, but if I were going to do that, I'd rather just ask Zabuton directly.
"Um, Village Head," another Angel suggested. "What about the Floating Gardens Lu-san was making? Could we have her make a massive one to serve as a roof?"
It wasn't a bad idea, but while the Small Floating Gardens were generally ignored, the Dragons might have something to say if we parked a garden large enough to serve as a roof over Village Five.
"Then that's out," the Angel quickly retracted. "Let's not risk it."
"Is that so? If I can persuade Dos, we might be able to make it work."
"Let's just not," she insisted, so I dropped the subject. Floating Gardens would also cost a staggering amount if we were to pay the official price for the construction.
"Village Head, Village Head! Instead of obsessing over a roof, why don't we just use magic to control the weather?"
"Hold on," a colleague interrupted. "Weather manipulation is grand magic. Who here can even cast it?"
"Malbit-sama or Ruincia-sama should be able to, right?"
"They might be able to, but... even if you cast it, the effect only lasts a short time, and the magical backlash afterward is terrible."
Was a spell like that even useful?
"Unless you're on a battlefield, it's not the kind of thing you use."
"Considering the magic power consumption, it's basically un-usable. You're better off firing an attack magic spell than trying to move the clouds."
"Point taken."
As the Angels argued, Odette offered a simple solution. "If you hate the rain so much, can't you just postpone the race until it clears up?"
That was an option, but deciding exactly what level of rain warranted a delay was tricky. 'Rain' could mean anything from a light drizzle to a torrential downpour. If it was obviously pouring, the guests would understand, but what about a light mist? Someone who hated getting wet might call it 'rain,' while someone else might say it was nothing.
And what if it was clear until right before the start, then suddenly turned into a deluge? If we didn't establish strict criteria for postponement, it would only lead to confusion and arguments. Personally, I wanted to reserve postponements for emergencies like typhoons or monster sightings—situations where the racing swans or the guests were in actual danger.
"For now, why don't we just add as many roofs as we can with our current funds? I don't think we need to cover every single seat right away."
Kon’s suggestion from the Silver Fox Race was the one we ultimately adopted.
Next, we turned to feedback from the swans who had actually participated.
"Having different courses makes it more exciting!" they reported.
I had worried that guests might get bored if every race was identical, so I had varied the distances and course layouts. Adjusting the tracks didn't take much time; we just had to move the Large Buoys in the pond and the Course Floats connecting them.
"Some of the guests mentioned they were frustrated by not knowing the exact course details until right before the start," the staff added.
I see. We should probably display the layout as a diagram next time.
Then, one of the swans had a final concern. "Each race winner had a showdown in the Tenth Race Final, but because the distances were different, the levels of exhaustion were unfair. It’s hard to compete when you won the First Race compared to someone who just finished the Ninth Race."
That was a fair point. We had run the Tenth Race as a grand finale as a trial, but forcing it all into the same day might not be equitable. In fact, the winner of the Tenth Race had also won the short course in the Third Race earlier that morning.
"Please do something so the other swans don't have anything to complain about," she requested.
"I understand. We'll keep the Tenth Race Final, but in the future, we'll gather winners from races held on different days to compete. We could also hold separate finals based on distance."
The specifics of the races were decided in advance by Odette and Odile in consultation with Kon’s group. It would be a challenge to keep the swans motivated and the spectators entertained, but I hoped that as we ran more races, we would find the optimal balance.
"Oh, right. Odette, Odile. Ire’s filming team mentioned that your live commentary and race explanations were excellent."
"Heh. Is that so?" Odette preened.
"We'll work even harder next time!" Odile added.
There were even some Village Five residents who had expressed interest in trying their hand at the commentary. Odette and Odile wouldn't always be available, so I asked them to train a few backups.
"Understood," Odette said. "Also, we had some people asking if they could work as caretakers for the swans."
"I've heard. I'll leave the hiring to Kon. If you take them on, make sure they're properly trained."
"As you wish."
We spent the rest of the meeting going over other minor issues. It was a productive session.
The next day, I arrived at the pond to find massive tents already pitched over the spectator stands. When I glanced at the fabric, I spotted several of Zabuton's children lingering nearby. It seemed they had overheard our discussion yesterday.
They signaled that no thanks were necessary, but covering such a vast area was a feat far beyond the capabilities of just a few spiders. Zabuton and her children from the Village of the Great Tree must have all pitched in.
Looking closer, I noticed several sturdy support pillars had been erected—the High Elves had clearly helped out. There was even a mechanical folding system for the tents, which meant the Mountain Elves had played their part, too.
Fine. Since they insisted they didn't need any gratitude, I would accept their gift graciously.
And then, I would hold a Potato Party back at the village tomorrow. It wouldn't be a 'thank you' for the work. I just happened to feel like having a party, that's all. So don't worry about it—just enjoy the potatoes.