Extreme racing

[Rogue]

Ah know a secret.

There are monsters in our midst. Ah can stand in a crowd just like this one in Arcadia Arena, cheering on the chocobo jockeys without a care in the world like every other fan. And fifteen feet away there could be someone planning a murder. You can’t do anything about it. It’s just the price of society, of your fellow humans. Only way to be completely sure you’re away from the monsters is to become a hermit or something.

Take me, for instance. Ah looks like anybody else, well, any other gorgeous Hinterlands belle, but that’s besides the point. Ah don’t look like anyone special. Just a normal human out to do what she does. All it takes is a touch, and you’re in a coma. Lights out, Sugah. Simple as that.

Don’t know where it came from, don’t know what it means either just yet. Ah might be cursed, could be turning into a monster. Or maybe ah’ve been this way since ah was a tyke, and just never found out. Mamma Irene would know, ah’m certain of it. But she’s gone somewhere, and right now ah’m gone somewhere else, so all of my questions are up to me at this point.

My stomach growls to remind me there’s a few more with stakes in the claim on my survival. The races will be happening all day, we’re in the thick of the racing season right now, after all. Ah should get something to eat. Turning away from the spectacle, ah start to make my way through the cheering masses.

Crowds like this aren’t the best idea for me, ah’m realizing it now as ah have to jostle my way through while being sure nobody touches my skin. It’s a good thing that it’s still chilly enough that nobody’s looking twice at the cloak and hood. Wonder if ah could get away with a mask? That might get people a bit too suspicious. Anybody going about in a mask is clearly hiding. A hood you can at least pretend is a normal thing to wear.

The aromas of big city food eventually guide me to the arena’s vendors. Arcadian fare can’t compare to good, freshly cooked Hinterlands meals, but ah’d be sauntering downwards if ah said the smells weren’t making my mouth water. A few days living off of hastily packed traveling food makes one far more interested in variety.

Poor Chocobos, ah almost feel bad for how popular they are here in Arcadia. They’re such a staple of Erde that you can walk five minutes from the racetrack to a food stall. Freshly cooked Chocolegs, ready to buy! How do you want your bird, racing the wind, or greasing your lid?

It’s only halfway through waiting in the line that Ah realize ah don’t even have two gold crowns to rub together. Spent the last one on that bridge toll yesterday, ah should’ve spent more time looking for mamma’s stash of coins before ah left. Unless she took it with her. Ah pull my hood down with a grimace and step out of line. A quick search through my supplies manages to turn up a left-over rind of traveler’s pie, so ah won’t starve yet, but the supplies aren’t going to last more than a day or so longer. If ah’m planning to stay in Arcadia, ah need to find some sort of employment.
No sooner do ah finish the thought, then my eyes land on the arbiter-chosen animal itself, this time in paper form.

“Substitute jockeys?” Ah say out loud. It’s to no one in particular, and the throng of the crowd carries off my words like a spider silk in the wind. They'll do a trial run of volunteers, eh? A chance to strut your stuff and prove that you deserve a space on the team. Simple enough, wonder if it pays well? The recruitment poster specifies 'trained equestrians' but ah can race chocobos. Ah used to ride the village ones with Cody, back before ah did… whatever it is ah do to folks.

It takes a few breaths to calm down as my thoughts circle back there again. Cody lying on the ground so still, like he’d been smote on the head. All ah did was kiss him. He wasn’t dead, but he wouldn’t wake up neither. The whole village absolutely convinced ah was a monster. Everybody ah grew up with, staring at me with all that hate and fear in their eyes. Ran me out of town faster than a cat out of a lake, they did! That’s all in the past now, though. Shaking hands clenched into fists, ah focus on the present.

Chocobo racing. Easy. Ah could race circles round Cody back home. Ah’ll be the best racer these Arcadian city boys have ever seen!

 

[Rogue]

Ah stared down the bird with my best attempt at contempt, knowing full well ah’d stuck myself under the rocking chair’s treads with this one. This old chocobo was a nasty piece of work, that much was obvious. You didn’t name a yellow bird “Ice Pick” without a painful story behind it. And even without the name you could see from the way she was sizing me up even before ah had even reached for the saddle on the wall. Her beady eyes narrowing as she decided just how maimable I was.
Sweetgum, Sugah! Ah could just be here to feed you, why are you already planning my dismemberment?

My hands gripped the saddle tighter as ah slowly approached the cranky old chocobo. Behind me was a muffled chorus of snickering. This was Bennett’s doing really, he’d baited me well with his jabs earlier. Calling me a Hinterlands Billie, saying ah had no experience riding a real chocobo, just the tired old work workbirds of a rundown farm town. Ah couldn’t let that one slide, even though ah knew he was baiting me. At that point it was either fall for his trap or deck him one to the chin, and ah didn’t think the ARCs would take too kindly to one of their trainees assaulting another halfway through the trial week. Ah was third in the rankings so far, ah feel darn near certain that Bennett was hoping ah would take a swing at him, just to take me out of the competition.

Foolhardy bravado was the only solution then. Bennett was hollering something stupid from the crowd of trainee alternates that were watching as ah approached Ice Pick. Ah wasn’t paying him any mind though, he was probably trying to egg the bird on or something. My focus was entirely on Ice Pick, and ah needed to keep it that way. If ah was going to get this cantankerous old chicken bridled and mounted ah’d just have to ignore them. Arcadian city slickers, the lot of them. Wouldn’t last a week in the Hinterlands.

“Hey there, little lady.” Ah cooed at the chocobo as ah approached, “Don’t mind me none, all we’re gonna do is go for a jaunt real quickly. Ah’ll make sure to give you extra feed and everything afterwards, alright? We’re about to be good friends, you and me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, ah spotted a movement, and against my better judgment ah looked away from Ice Pick for half a wink. Ah bother, Viscount Sesinus was watching now too. He was one of the actual ARC jockeys who’d made the team, and a noble to boot, not even an alternate. He saw me hesitate too, and made a sort of face that clearly said, ‘Go ahead then, you can’t stop now.’ Now ah had to make sure ah didn’t mess this up. A word from him and ah’d be out of the stable on my ear faster than a storm can harvest an orchard.

Ice Pick gave an anticipatory screech, like she wanted me to know just how excited she was that she was about to get a chance to tear into me. Ah didn’t have time to focus on the other jockeys and hopefuls. About the politics and the extra bits of posturing. Right now the world was just me and Ice Pick. Ah needed to convince her of the importance of our mutual survival, mutual cooperation even, if only temporarily.

Bridling a chocobo can be hard sometimes. The birds have got a nice and flexible neck, with more than enough locomotion to swing around and take a bite of you. I readied a loop to tie its head down, swinging it slowly while keeping eye contact with Ice Pick. She was watching the rope in my hands too. This old thistle wasn’t just mean, she was mean and smart too. Ah tossed the rope over her head, fully expecting that Ice Pick would dart out of it at the last second.

No, the crafty old bird let the loop fall right over her head, then immediately twisted her neck, nearly yanking me right off of my feet and bringing my gloved hands into beak range. I had been expecting some sort of trick though, so ah dug in my heels, leaning back and releasing a bit more slack from the rope to avoid the snapping jaw that clicked into the air they had just been occupying. Ice Pick straightened up again, acting for all the world like a smug child who’s just realized they’re going to be getting a lot of attention.

“Ahright Sugah, it’s going to be one of those kind of dances is it?” Ah smirked, pulling the rope around a nearby post and drawing Ice Pick in to limit her ability to snap at me while ah fastened on the saddle. Ice Pick gave a sort of warning trill, but seemed to be well aware of the physics involved in the situation, and allowed me to pull the rope tight enough that I could be sure she wouldn’t turn around and savage my arm later on. She did make a move for a bite while ah was fastening the knot, probably hoping ah would get too concerned to finish the knot.

The saddle went on easily enough, Ice Pick was trying to lull me into thinking she was out of tricks ah expect. Ah turned to the crowd of onlookers, giving a faint salute and set one foot onto the stirrups. The moment ah stepped up to put my leg over the saddle, Ice Pick snatched the restraint rope up in her beak, severing it easily. With a triumphant warble, she immediately started to sprint. Half-mounting like ah was, it was all ah could do to keep hold of the reins as we went racing off into the twilight.

 

[Rogue]

If you’ve ever ridden a horse, you might misunderstand what it’s like to ride a chocobo. A horse’s four limbs are perfectly suited for a galloping tread, swallowing the miles in a steady, if somewhat bumpy pace. A Chocobo doesn’t move the same way. Each of their limbs may as well coil into a spring for all the power those birds can pack into a single leg. They spring forwards with each step, covering meters between contact with the ground. Riding a chocobo is a series of controlled leaps, halfway between running and flying. A true taste of freedom.

Ice Pick understood how to make it a true taste of hell though. Ah clung to her bridle for dear life as the bitter old bird did everything in her power to make me regret every rash claim I had dreamed of making before ah approached her. She bounded forwards with a reckless abandon, snapping the top beam free from one of the fences as she dashed forwards in great bounding leaps. Ah slowly managed to slide my body the rest of the way onto her back, but that only served to spur Ice Pick into greater throes of determination to unseat me. The affront of my presence upon her back proved to be too great for her to endure any further.

Without a moment’s hesitation she changed from a full speed sprint into a sideways leap. She landed on one leg, then immediately sprang away at another strange angle. Ah’ve no doubt we must have looked a strange pair indeed, jolting about in the sunset like a cider-sloshed woodchuck. The other trainees were shouting something, but ah couldn’t hear them over the sound of my own heart in my ears, and Ice Pick’s furious warbling as she continued to dance about in an attempt to whiplash me clear off the seat.

“Try all of your tricks, Sugah. Ah’m not about to let go. Don’t make things harder on yourself, ah have to do this, so the only way either of us are going to get out of this is for you to give up already!”

Ice Pick just chirped at me in a way that could only be described as ‘want to bet?’ and took off at a bounding sprint once again. We were racing along the outer edge of the practice yard now, bounding through the dirt at a breakneck pace. The wall of the training ground was fast approaching as we sailed through the air on leaping chocobo legs. What would be her next trick? Was she really so stubborn that she’d slam the both of us full speed into a wall? Surely not. In that case she was going to…

As the thought crossed my mind, Ice Pick gave a triumphant warble, landing on her outside leg and swinging in a pinpoint arc. Ah leaned into the turn, missing the wooden paneling she had meant to smash my head into by mere inches. She squawked in irritation, picking up speed once again. She was starting to tire though, ah could tell. Maybe ah was going to make it out of this alive after all.

Ice Pick wasn’t finished though, she started to drift closer and closer to the wall as we bounded alongside it. Ah had to admire her control, but the admiration for the old bird’s craftiness was far overwhelmed by the pain in my leg. She was trapping it up against the wall of the compound, grinding it against the unyielding wooden planks. Ah screamed, yanking on the reins as hard as ah could, my pant leg tearing and several splinters stabbing into my shin as the skin rubbed raw.
We veered away from the wall finally, blood dripping from my leg. Ice Pick’s next tactic was a sudden halt, powerful leg muscles skidding to a stop within a matter of a few meters, kicking up a cloud of dust and nearly throwing me from the saddle. My injured leg slipped the stirrup and ah pitched sideways. Ice Pick’s head whipped around for a bite almost instantly, beak snapping inches from my face as I yanked the reins to the side. There was no recovering my position from this. Ice Pick could tell just as well as ah could, and she started to thrash about, spinning me off to land in the dirt with a painful thud. Ah rolled on instinct, narrowly avoiding a pair of vicious claws as Ice pick trampled the space ah had just occupied a second back.

She gave one more half-hearted swipe as ah kept on rolling, ignoring the pain in my leg where the wooden splinters pressed into the ground. There were far more deadly pains in my vicinity at the moment. Seemingly satisfied, Ice Pick gave a pleased warble, the sound entirely too pleasant for such a bloodthirsty creature. She bounded off for a wander around the parade grounds, leaving me in the dirt, head spinning.

Well, ah didn’t die doing that. That had to count for something right?

Ah struggled into a sitting position as several of the trainees ran over, shouting and calling words that ah was barely paying attention to, mostly shouts of excitement from entitled city brats. Bennett was sulking quietly for the most part, which meant ah’d proved my point to the crowd. Ah didn’t see the Viscount anywhere, maybe he’d left at some point, but ah had at least proved ah could handle a bird like that, right? That had to count for something, ah had to have proven ah could hold my own in the ARCs, right?

“..r leg is got to be all kinds of torn up from that! Let me take a-” Ah focused on the words coming from one of the other trainees just in time, Walder, ah think was his name. He was reaching for my injured leg, the one that had been torn up by the wall. It was bleeding that was for sure, and had all kinds of tears in the pant leg.

“No! Wait!” Ah almost screamed, grabbing his bare hands with my gloves mere inches before he touched my torn up shin. He froze, looking at me with confused alarm. Ah needed to think of something, fast!

“It’s er… calm down now, Sugah! A lady can look after herself after all. Don’t need to be getting all touchy-feely, hun.”

“Erm… you’re bleeding though…”

Yeah, thanks, ah’m well aware of that fact, pal. Ah’m not doin’ this for my sake believe me.

“Ah know,” Ah forced a smile through the growing throb of pain in my injured leg. “Don’t you worry yourself none, ah’ll go and get this cleaned up right away. It ain’t something that needs to trouble any of y’all.”

The leg was now decidedly yelling at me, but ah forced myself up into a standing position, and stared at Bennett. His face contorted into a sneer, but he looked away rather than confront me further. Proved that point at least. Wincing and hobbling, but waving off the offer of a shoulder for support ah made my way off of the practice field.

 

[Rogue]

Thud!

With a grunt, ah picked myself up out of the dirt once again. Reme warbled an amused sound. The dumb bird just waited as ah shook off the impact, ready and waiting for me to try again. He was stupid, but a sweetheart of a bird really. Arbiter take me, ah was starting to feel attached already, and it had only been a few days. Ah ruffled the shock of reddish-brown feathers on his silly yellow head, then reset our position for the ARCing Mount Maneuver.

Thud!

Another failure, another face full of dirt.

This was the last evening before the big day of the trial period. It was time to grit my teeth or slink away like a failure. They’d been giving a dozen of us this trial for the better part of a week, but they only had one spot on the team with any chance at permanence. If I wanted a spot on the ARCs as an alternate, if ah wanted to keep Reme, ah needed to be the best of the group. There was no other answer, unless ah was planning on trying to steal in the middle of Arcadia.

It wasn’t impossible. Right now ah was ranking third, behind Gerald and that pompous frog Bennett. Ah think in terms of actual racing we were all pretty close to evenly matched, but they can both perform the ARC-MM real easily, while ah always end u-

Thud!

End up on the ground.

The ARCing Mount is really just a stunt, it’s not even a part of a real race. But the ARCs put a real big deal behind their whole team doing it in formation. It’s a team branding thing. Ah’ll admit it looks quite stylish when it’s synchronized, and it’s not even all that hard! You stand next to your chocobo, it circles around you, you step into the left stirrup facing backwards. And you swing your leg over to your seat as the bird sets into motion, without ever changing your facing. It’s easy!

Thud!

Ah landed on my back this time. Ah’d have bitten my tongue pretty fiercely if ah didn’t have a mouth guard to bite instead. Reme bounded a few circles around me, chuffing to himself with his melodic whirring. This was getting stupid. Ah couldn’t believe that ah wasn’t able to do this! Ah slammed a fist into the packed dirt and forced myself up into a sitting position. At least my head wasn’t spinning too badly…

“You know you’re pathetic, right?” A frustratingly familiar voice came from behind me.

Ah stiffened reflexively. Ah had to give him credit, ah’d only known Bennett for a week, and he was already at the top of my list for a shiner. The sun was setting well enough that ah could see his outline without turning around. He was sitting on the back of his own Chocobo, Lightning. Most likely they’d just got back from his evening jaunt outside the training grounds. Bennett was one of the richer trainees, and had made some claim about having ‘better facilities’ or something as an excuse to take his Chocobo off-camp. It was cheating, really. The race tomorrow had been mapped out by the ARC regulars, and Bennett was running it ahead of time, ah’d bet my bottom dollar on that.

“There’s a story about a pot and a kettle that’s coming’ to mind right this moment, Bennett…” Ah finally turned around sitting cross-legged in the dirt to squint up into the sunset as ah glared at him.

“Specifically, it’s the kettle ah’m going to smack you upside the head with if you don’t give a lady her space to practice!”

Bennett’s eyes narrowed, Lighting sidestepping somewhat. The bird was a beauty, so yellow it almost seemed a hint of golden, but it also had a temperament to match its rider, and was fond of biting anyone else who got too close to it.

“Is that the best you can do, Hinterlander? Vague threats of violence? I’m merely stating facts. If you’d actually bothered to read a book for once in your life, you’d have plenty of knowledge on how to complete the ARC-MM.”

He shook his head, turning Lighting away towards the stables.

“It’s a pity, Hinterlander. I was hoping to show you the racing spirit of a True Arcadian tomorrow morning!”

Ah bit back my retort, watching Lighting saunter Bennett away towards the stables for the evening. With a growl ah got back up and tried to ignore him. Ah’d get this maneuver finished and then ah’d show him tomorrow morning. Simple as that. With a renewed sense of purpose ah set up to try the ARC-MM again. Ah'd do it this time! Ah would!

Thud!

Reme stared down at me as ah glared up into the deepening twilight sky. He squawked at me, this time a bit more hungry than amused. Ah couldn’t make him stay out here too much longer...

If you cheated a cheater… was that so bad…?

 

[Rogue]

Bennett was just hanging up his saddle as ah walked into the stable. He glanced at me briefly, but didn’t seem interested in doing anything more than giving me one of his sneers. If it came down to it, ah could probably take him in a fight, but that wouldn’t be something ah could keep quiet for very long, and there’d be little doubt ah’d be the one that ended up out of the running when it came to light. No, ah needed this not to be too obvious.

Ah led Reme to his stall, but dragged my feet on the removal of his tack. If things went to plan, ah’d need him back out on the yard for a bit more practice in a moment. Two of the other trainees came in, joking and laughing with each other. They were pretty much out of the running for this audition unless something very strange happened tomorrow morning, but there was still good will to be gained for future tryouts by placing well. And besides, what self-respecting chocobo jockey would give up the day before the big race?

“Chop, chop Hinterlander!” Bennett called over with a renewed smugness, “It’ll be dark soon! Can’t be out after dark in the Hinterlands! That’s when the monsters come out to get you!”

Ah turned around with a smirk.

“That’s right! If you mess up out in the hinterlands there’s all manner of things to make you regret it. Life’s a fair stretch nicer here in Arcadia for a whole lot of folks!”

Bennett seemed a little thrown off that ah didn’t immediately fire back at his jab. Good, off-balance was where ah wanted him.

“Y-yes! If you’d been here for longer, maybe you’d actually be able to be a worthy competitor for those of us who will be going for the gold tomorrow! A shame, really.”

Ah bit my lip, glancing at Reme with a clear look of concern, that part didn’t even need to be acted. The idea of that dumb bird being someone else’s was already getting to me. Ah took a small inhale, glancing towards Bennett and acting like an idea had just occurred to me.

“Bennett… a-about that… Ah was wondering, if maybe you could..” Ah trailed off, throwing a calculated glance towards the pair of other jockeys talking nearby before looking back to Bennett. His furrowed brow turned to glance at them, then back to me. Ah leaned in, whispering like ah didn’t want to be heard, but loud enough that there was a chance that a few of the words might be overheard if one of them felt like eavesdropping.

“Could you meet me behind the grandstand? Ah’ve a question for you that ah don’t want to be overheard if ah can help it...”

“I… suppose that I… could?” Bennett spoke haltingly. He was looking more than a little confused now, that was a good sign. You could practically see the little gears in his brain getting locked up. Arbiter bless this boy, was he really that easy to dazzle? Ah’d threatened to clock him in the jaw more than once already today!

Ah broke into a girlish grin, just to spin him up a bit more, then hurried out of the stable. Ah almost forgot how easy stuff like this was to pull off. Leaving Reme all geared up now looked like a mistake of an embarrassed young wildflower, but it would mean that he was all ready for later too. Ah leaned against the back wall of the grandstand, in the small stretch of grass between it and the outer edge of the compound. A nice and out of the way place for a quiet conversation, perhaps. Ah slipped off my gloves and settled down to wait.

It didn’t take Bennett too long to show up, he was probably going in circles in his head. Wasn’t sure if ah was suggesting something, or was just admitting defeat in our rivalry or something. Ah started talking before he had a chance to question things too much.

“Alright Bennett, ah want to just clear the air between us. It’s going to be a real race tomorrow, and ah wanted to just take a moment and say, you deserve to be here. You’ve got racing in your blood.”

Bennett was starting to get suspicious again. Ah wasn’t saying anything he’d find objectionable, but he also was starting to wonder why ah would call him back here just to say something like that. Ah was spending the time quickly. Nothing else for it.

“May the best racer win, eh Sugah?” Ah said with a faint smile, offering my hand for a shake with what ah’d like to think was a genuine smile. Bennett was a scoundrel, but ah didn’t mean him any real harm. He was frowning now, but he shook the hand anyway.

“Just don’t thin-urk!” He cut off mid-insult, stiffening as he touched my bare skin. There was a brief flash, and he started to twitch faintly, his eyes rolling back in his head as his knees buckled. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes, slumping down onto the grass with a thud.

***​

Years of refinement, wasted! Why do I even go to all of these arbiter-awful soirees if a hinterlands nobody can get the position just as easily?

***​

But mama! I don’t want to go to the market today! The last time I was there I got a horrid stain on it! It’s too public a venue for worker’s clothes!

***​

A flashing series of scenic views, the course for the race tomorrow, with all of its tricks and hazards. It wasn’t an easy bribe to get this information, but I was going to make that coin back once I was able to become a regular of the ARCs. The prize money for the summer race alone would be enough!

I was going to become the best Chocobo jockey that Arcadia had ever seen!

***​

Reme perked up his head with a warble as ah made my way back into the stable. He tilted it to one side, the poor bird still had his bridle on. Ah was going to have to make this up to him after the race tomorrow. The riding skills Ah’d just snatched from Bennett wouldn’t last long enough for the morning, but ah knew for a fact he could pull off the ARC-MM like it wasn’t even a challenge.

“Hey there Reme,” Ah cooed, rubbing the side of his feathered face. “I…Ah know you're hungry, we just have a bit more practice to do before we’re done for the day.”

 

[Rogue]

Despite myself ah was a bundle of nerves the morning of the final race. Ah eventually managed half a meal, then set to work on getting ready. Reme looked a little tired and sluggish as ah was saddling him up to head to the starting line. Ah probably kept the poor bird out too late practicing. Ah wouldn’t be as flawless at the ARC-MM as ah was last night, when ah steal some poor sap’s life force it only lasts an amount of time. But I’d spent enough time practicing last night when ah could do the maneuver that ah was able to cobble by decently well the rest of the way with good old-fashioned hard work. At this point ah just had a smattering of memories from Bennett still bouncing around in my head, but it would be enough knowledge of the course to get a leg up in the race, even if Bennet had managed to recover enough to participate.

Besides, ah didn’t need a leg up, did ah?

Ah grabbed hold of Reme’s feathery face, frowning to myself. He warbled as ah pressed my forehead against his for a moment. This wasn’t about tricks and cheats, not really. These city boys didn’t know how to handle a chocobo anywhere near as well as a hinterlander could. They had the birds on every family crest, talked like Arcadia was the end-all be-all of proper living, but they had things all backwards. They said those of us out in the Hinterlands were backwards folk who couldn’t lace up their boots. They laughed at us, behind our backs and to our faces. That was the reason ah was doing this race, not just because ah wanted to keep Reme. Ah was one of the best darn chocobo racers on Erde Nona! An’ today ah was going to prove it!

Takin’ Reme’s lead, ah made me way to the starting line of the race. It was at the edge of the compound, a round that ran straight out of the city that direction, just a few blocks of street until you reached the outer wall. From there we were supposed to follow the blue markers for the rest of the track.

It wasn’t a marathon, but it was a good deal longer than most stadium races. The trial was designed to test a potential jockey in a variety of ways. The team always plotted the course fresh for each trial. After all, they could have only the best representing the nobility of Arcadia! Some Chocobo-racing enthusiasts considered these courses the premier racing events of the year, and the ARCs happily sold tickets to the tryouts to those willing to attend a race held at the very crack of dawn. As the story went, the appearance of the sun was what the ARC teams of old would use as their starting whistle, when they were too poor to afford an external referee. At this point it was tradition, but there was now an official judge like it was for a real race. To think ah was actually going to get a chance to run in one! Ah was balancing on the edge between elation and nausea as Reme and ah lined up at our starting bracket.

The pre-dawn air was pleasant, and the sky was making a nice watercolor up there while the baker’s dozen pairs of birds and jockey-hopefuls lined up side-by-side along the white chalked line. Bennett was there, but he looked out of it. Guy could barely stand up he looked so worn down! Ah’d barely touched him for more than a second and he was still feeling the effects this harshly the next morning? Sweet Christmas! Ah had to be careful nobody touched me accidentally during the race! Ah did my best to keep from staring and focus on the trial ahead of me. There was little guessing how much he remembered about yesterday, but it’d be better just to keep my distance from the whole situation for now.

Ah stood besides Reme, one hand idly stroking his fuzz as the team captain stepped up on the little podium stand. Ace ARC O’Chiro was a large man for a chocobo jockey. The man was fit as a fiddle, but he was tall. Most chocobos would be sluggish carrying him. He had a big strong bird for just that reason, O’Chiro and Tidal Wave had a record that spoke for itself. Helped that he was easy on the eyes too, made him an excellent spokesperson for the ARCs in cases like today. He was addressing the small crowd of Chocobo racing enthusiasts briefly before he would blow the signal horn to start the race. Ah was half listening, but the wind was making it a bit difficult to catch his words, and at this point Ah was just focusing on not losing my nerve and choking at the final moment. Reme warbled, he could sense the anticipation as well as ah could. He was ready, so was ah.

The ARCs didn’t believe in warnings. Halfway through a sentence and still facing the audience, O’chiro raised the horn to his lips. There was a quick trumpeting burst and we were off just as suddenly. Everyone’s birds circled behind them and we all performed the maneuver before setting off in bursts of bounding speed. Two of the birds immediately broke out of the pack, bounding away at a dead sprint as we quickly left the city wall behind. It was a good way to show off, but a terrible tactic in a race like this, your birds wouldn’t be able to maintain the pace, particularly once you reached some of the obstacles that were coming up ahead. Ah negotiated Reme into the middle of the pack, he was bounding along with an eagerness ah shared.

Chocobo racing was supposed to be non-combative. But ah don’t think anyone ever managed to tell the chocobos that, and it’d be a foolish rider indeed who’d keep his bird from snapping if it could give ‘em a leg up in a tight corner. Ah navigated the spacing between bounds to keep Reme out of range from the more angry looking birds. We bounded along, a series of yellow birds leaping along the road, clearing meters with every launching stride. The two early leaders were already starting to flag a bit, having to urge their chocobo to keep the pace as we bounded alongside rolling fields of Arcadian farmland and reached the first of the obstacles.

The Tiberian stream was not the largest of rivers. Its most famous namesake had apparently been able to step across it without issue a few centuries back. Ah’m pretty sure that was a telltale even then, but fable or fact, now it was wider and deeper. Most traffic across the place was done via small rope bridges. Ones that wouldn’t hold up under the weight of a chocobo jockey at full speed. The blue marked trail veered off the road here, leading us to leap across the river to the far side.

This was a deceptively challenging task, one needed to ensure the chocobo landed in the correct position to make such a leap, otherwise the birds would likely screech to a halt or end up plunging into drink. One of the pack leaders balk, his bird skidding to a stop and forcing the rest of us to adjust and dart around him on our own approaches. These weren’t fools though, and most of us made the leap without even slowing the pace by more than a few seconds.

This is where Bennett’s memories gave me a warning though. It would be easy to assume the race course would continue on along the far side of the stream, but the markers were undeniably pointing one back towards the stream as soon as we landed on the far shore. You had only two Chocobo strides to land, and turn ninety degrees, then leap back across the stream immediately. In fact, the devious course crossed this stream three times, before racing off along the roads again like it hadn’t just tried to twist the ankles of our poor birds clean off!

The first landing was chaos, as half a dozen chocobos tried to pivot in a tight angle without space. Reme slammed full body into one of the other birds, but ah managed to keep on his back and he managed to keep his footing, so we stayed in the running. The second switch-back was simpler, but served to separate the cloud out into smaller clumps as we exited the first of the three obstacles. There were four racers ahead of me. three in a clump together, they’d barely slowed at all during those leaps, then another group of three, the ones ah was neck and neck with.

The next leg of the trial course cut through a light scrub forest. Not bad terrain for a chocobo, but an errant branch could quickly end the career of an unwary jockey. Ah kept my eyes open and head down, pressing my chin into Reme’s feathery neck as we skimmed right under branches with every leap. We landed too close to the jockey ahead of us, and their bird’s beak snapped out at Reme, grazing his shoulder as we leaped past. He let out a squawk, but with my nudge to support it, moved in to contest the running lane. We leaned our landing just in front of the other jockey, under-cutting our next jump just slightly.

With a shout he yanked on his reins, drastically adjusting the trajectory of his jump to avoid crashing into Reme. That would cost him a stride or two at the very least. He shouted some bashfully colorful language at me as Reme and ah leapt away, so ah glanced over my shoulder to blow him a kiss.

“Thanks for making room for a lady, Hun! You’re a real gentleman!”

Ah laughed, turning back just in time to see a big old tree branch looking to punish my hubris. With a panicked jerk, ah twisted out of its path, one of the smaller prods slashing my cheek as we passed it by. Sure. That’s fine, just some blood. Ah had more important tasks to focus on. There were still three racers ahead of me, and the second obstacle was looming ahead out of the hedges.

A crumbled cliffside, boulders and smaller rocks forming a messy slope of uneven rock. This caused all of us to slow down. Even with Bennett’s memories, Ah had to handle this carefully, making sure that Reme wasn’t going to land on a boulder in danger of shifting. The four of us at the front of the race began to slowly leap from boulder to boulder, bobbing and weaving our way up the cliffside with the most speed we could muster under the dangerous conditions.

About halfway to the top was when things were almost disastrous. The lead rider, an Arcadian rich-boy by the name of Smithens, landed his bird on a bad rock. Before he could even spring away it dislodged, launching him sideways and out into the air, as well as knocking several other rocks loose above the rest of our heads. The racer in third was knocked clear from his saddle by a good sized piece of rock, gripping the reins to barely avoid plummeting down the cliff in the debris. Reme screeched with a very understandable panic, and we leapt down and sideways, desperately avoiding the quickly forming avalanche. There was at least one meaty sounding crunch from below us as the storm of rocks reached the bulk of the racers. We scrambled our way to the top of the cliffside, now the runner-up behind the lead racer, though behind by a good few bounds.

The final stretch was an endurance test, the road here wove between several hills then back towards town. Our blue-marked route took us up and down in a direct line, forcing the poor birds to crest each hill before bounding down to the bottom of the next one. Reme was already starting to slow down, Ah was worried he’d been hit by one of the rocks that ah hadn’t noticed. We couldn’t afford to slow down though, the lead racer had several meters on us, and his bird was taking to these hills like a duck to water!

“C’mon, Reme!” Ah urged the poor bird onwards as we strove to narrow the gap ahead of the final obstacle. We needed to be in front when we reached it, unless someone was going to take a deadly plunge. Reme was racing his heart out, Arbiter take me but ah loved this bird! We inched forwards, gaining a little bit with every hill, finally pulling even with the lead racer just as the last obstacle came into view at the bottom of the hill.

The ARCs had actually gone and marked the course across the top of a marble quarry. They’d placed a beam of the stuff across the top of it, maybe eight feet wide at the most. It was a narrow course for a single chocobo, and certainly not wide enough to pass someone. The finish line wasn’t more than a few leaps beyond it neither. Ah looked to my right, meeting the gaze of my last opponent. We both knew that reaching the beam first was the win.

With a snarl, he leaned in hard, our chocobo’s colliding somewhat in mid-air, and both landing with a bit of a stumble. That disaster back at the quarry had bought us plenty of time ahead of the pack, even if it had probably ended at least one bird’s career in the process. Right now, we just had to worry about each other. Reme landed with a squawk of indignation, and bounded right back into the way of the other bird. He was ready for the fight. We leapt nearly in lock-step, trying to force each other off the path and into the brambles along the side of the road. We jostled each other twice more, gazes darting between each other and the rapidly approaching cliff-edge. There was room for one more collision, we could both see it, and we could both tell we both saw it. Neither of us was about to give up this crown.

He growled, veering his bird to intercept Reme’s path with enough force he probably would have checked my poor chocobo into the brush. But Reme and ah were on the same page. The moment we landed ah pulled short on the reins, Reme’s next leap covering only about half the distance, crossing around behind the other bird as he attempted to check our path. Once again Reme nearly read my mind. As we landed on the far side behind the other Chocobo, he leapt forwards at full speed, providing the other bird with a bit of extra momentum where they were expecting a strong opposition. With a squawk of surprise, the bird stumbled into the brush, tangling his leg on a creeper vine as Reme and ah sprinted past.

“That’s it Reme. Now we finish strong. Now we show ‘em all!” Ah leaned forwards, and my Chocobo raced forwards with a hoarse but enthused warble. Reme was so confident in his footing he didn’t even slow as we passed along the bridge over the quarry. We bounded forwards at full speed reaching the far side and crossing the finish line without slowing down.

We sped several more meters, skidding to a halt in front of a crowd that was absolutely losing it with excitement. Wiping the blood that was dripping from the cut on my cheek, ah stood up in Reme’s stirrups, waving to the crowd as the silly bird started to take little prancing bounds, showing off for the cheering crowd.

“An’ that, Sugah, is how a Hinterland gal races a Chocobo!”