Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1270: Chariot Race (3)

“So you refused?”

“How could I?” Sostratus’s eyes widened. “Those Ministry of Commerce officials were negotiating with me on the archon’s orders! Crotokatax is the next king; do you think I’d dare refuse him? For the past two days, I’ve been talking myself hoarse trying to persuade those stubborn fools in the Thurii Chamber of Commerce. At least I finally squeezed a few concessions out of them...”

“You might have taken a short-term loss, but the archon will remember you, and the Ministry of Commerce owes you a huge favor now. I think this will do wonders for your future business,” Pebarisius said, a hint of envy in his voice.

“Who knows what the future holds. His Majesty Davos has known who I am for a long time, but I still have to rely on my own hard work to grow.” Sostratus shrugged with a self-deprecating laugh, then looked at Pebarisius. “I’m actually the one envying your chamber of commerce. You don’t have half the headaches we do. During these games, not only are your profits soaring, but you’re also winning everyone’s praise!”

“Profits soaring?” Pebarisius shook his head. “You clearly haven’t ridden in one of our carriages lately. Don’t you know that even with this massive surge in demand, our fares haven’t changed? Yet we’re working ourselves to the bone. We have to wake up at the crack of dawn and work late into the night just to transport the athletes and foreign envoys on time... That was the prior agreement our carriage chamber made with the Ministry of Commerce.”

Pebarisius’s expression turned incredibly solemn. “However, as Thurians and Daionian Citizens, it’s our duty to do our part during this critical time. As long as the kingdom successfully hosts the Theonian Rugby Games, it will be a source of pride for us all!”

“Of course! Absolutely!” Sostratus echoed. He knew very well that officers who had spent a long time in the Regular Legions still spoke with that exact tone, even long after retiring. He quickly changed the subject and waved Hesklaus over. “Let me introduce a friend to you. This is Hesklaus, a merchant from Peleus who does business with me.”

Then he turned to introduce Pebarisius. “The man standing before you is quite a prominent figure, Hesklaus! His father was one of the founders of the First Cavalry Legion and a renowned hero of the kingdom. He himself was an officer in the First Cavalry Legion, earning great military merit, and he now oversees the massive Thurii Chariot Chamber of Commerce. Anyone traveling in Thurii falls under his command!”

Hesklaus immediately bowed with deep respect. “Lord Pebarisius, it is an honor to meet you!”

“Hesklaus and I run a pottery business together. That Athenian Pottery Shop in the Thurii Grand Market is his property,” Sostratus chimed in. “Before these games began, His Majesty even sent someone to his shop personally to order pottery!”

“His Majesty granted you an audience?” Pebarisius stared at Hesklaus, a glint of longing in his eyes.

“No... not yet,” Hesklaus mumbled, lowering his eyes guiltily.

“Although he hasn’t, the great king knows everything. That’s why he sent Lord Ribaso to personally deliver the order to his shop,” Sostratus interjected smoothly with a smile.

Pebarisius pondered this for a moment before offering a smile of his own. “Since your wares caught His Majesty’s eye, your pottery must be of excellent quality. When I have the time, I’ll recommend that the members of our chamber buy from you.”

Hesklaus thanked him profusely.

Though Sostratus maintained a calm outward expression, he was thoroughly pleased. Over the past few days, he had successfully promoted Hesklaus’s pottery to quite a few upper-class figures across the various arenas using this exact method.

“Father, the race is about to start!” Lyrias’s urgent shout came from behind them.

Amid the clamor of the crowd, the three men—along with the rest of the spectators—soon noticed King Davos standing by the railing of the towering royal box, wearing his Golden Crown. His right hand was stretched out in mid-air, gripping a highly conspicuous red cloth. Suddenly, he opened his hand, and the red cloth fluttered downward...

On the eastern side of the arena, the eight starting gates sprang open simultaneously under the pull of a mechanism, and eight chariots dashed out onto the track.

Thunderous cheers immediately erupted across the entire arena.

Thirty-two long-impatient steeds forcefully kicked up their hooves, chariot wheels spinning rapidly as they thundered forward. The eight fully equipped drivers hauled back tightly on their reins with one hand and held their whips high in the other, shouting loudly as they lashed their horses. The main reason they pushed their teams into an immediate dead sprint was to seize an advantageous position on the track.

The eight starting gates were arranged tightly in a fan shape, and their placement greatly impacted the chariots’ starts. The position closest to the central spine of the track—the dividing median—was the most advantageous, while the gate closest to the spectator stands was the worst. Although the Theonian Rugby Games emphasized fair competition, instances of bias inevitably occurred. It was human nature. For example, the chariot from the Thurii Region was assigned to the gate closest to the central spine. Moving outward, the gates were arranged according to their political proximity to the kingdom: the Bruttii Region, the Po River Region, Western Numidia, Egypt, Thebes, and Macedonia. Cyrenaica was placed on the outermost edge; after all, it was merely a friendly neighbor to Daionia, not a formal ally.

Thus, as soon as the race began, the eight chariots surged onto the track like lightning. The pack quickly spread out, and the Thurian racer, Procris, took the lead.

When Sobocus died in battle, Procris had been just a child. However, before his death, Sobocus had laid a solid foundation for his family. Their carriage business boasted over a dozen carriages and dozens of employees. Sobocus himself had been the president of the newly established Thurii Chariot Chamber of Commerce and enjoyed considerable fame throughout Daionia (back then, the kingdom had not yet been established and was only an alliance covering a modest territory).

After his death, his eldest son, Pebarisius, initially paid little mind to running the carriage business. Instead, he dedicated all his passion to the cavalry, rising to the rank of squadron leader in the First Cavalry Legion at a young age. Unfortunately, his luck took a turn. During the battle of Volsci, he was wounded and knocked from his horse, tragically suffering shattered leg bones from a horse’s trampling. This permanent disability forced his retirement, leading him to finally pour all his energy into the carriage business. Because he was a retired veteran with military merit, coupled with the lingering influence of his father, he received widespread support and assistance. His enterprise rose on the same tide as the kingdom’s expansion. Not only did his family’s carriage business expand from Thurii to other towns, but it also ventured into carriage manufacturing, earning Pebarisius considerable prestige within the kingdom’s entire carriage industry.

Compared to his shrewd, capable brother who had weathered countless hardships, Procris naturally paled in comparison. Sheltered constantly by his father and brother, he lived a carefree life devoid of striking achievements. Instead, he had inherited his father’s hobby: a love for driving carriages. He would occasionally sneak out to act as a driver for the common people of Thurii, turning himself into a laughingstock among the city’s upper-class youths.

After Davos announced the establishment of the Theonian Rugby Games, Procris decided to compete in the chariot race, determined to prove himself with the glory of a championship. To this end, he received immense backing from his brother, who not only scoured the entire Mediterranean Sea for the most suitable racing steeds but also hired a former chariot racing champion as his coach. Procris had trained relentlessly for two years, all for this very day...

In that split second when the starting gates sprang open and the chariots bolted forward, countless thoughts flashed through Procris’s mind, quickly morphing into a firm and high-pitched shout: “Hyah! Hyah!”

A moment later, his chariot was already charging at the front. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the arena staff standing on the central spine platform holding water buckets. His surging excitement cooled slightly as he immediately recalled his coach’s instructions. He began hauling back on the reins with steady force, checking the equally over-excited horses to slow their pace. After all, this was not a short sprint; it was an endurance race of seven laps totaling over fourteen li. It required sustained stamina. If he exhausted their energy right at the start, they would have nothing left for a final sprint in the latter half of the race.

Just as he was fully focused on controlling his horses’ speed, wild roars suddenly echoed from his outer flank. He turned his head and saw that a chariot had caught up. The driver, wearing a Horned Helmet, was baring his teeth and bellowing at him with a ferocious scowl.

“Damned Gaul!” Procris shouted back, refusing to show any weakness. He wasn’t worried about the man flying into a rage and attacking him. Setting aside the fact that both of them were Daionian Citizens, the referees had repeatedly emphasized to all the racers: “Safety must be ensured during the race. Maliciously assaulting or injuring an opponent is strictly forbidden, and any violation will result in immediate disqualification!”

The Gaul racer’s antics were nothing more than a psychological tactic. Unmoved, Procris poured all his concentration into driving his chariot... The Statue of Poseidon and the equestrian Statue of King Davos on the central spine platform flashed past his peripheral vision. Three pillars stood tall ahead; he knew it was time to turn.

A straightaway of 500 meters would take a runner some time to complete, but for a four-horse chariot galloping at full speed, it was over in the blink of an eye.

However, making a turn at such high speeds was an extreme test of a driver’s skill. Not daring to slacken his guard for even a second, Procris gripped the reins tightly, steering the chariot so close it practically brushed against the central spine platform. The four white steeds galloped shoulder to shoulder, rounding the stone pillars in almost perfect unison.