Chapter 445 - 290: Malicious Competition?
Twin Tower City didn’t have a dedicated racetrack for Magic-guided Vehicles, only one for horse-drawn chariots. The track was made of dirt, as ground that was too hard was bad for the horses’ hooves.
Horse racing was a popular sport in the city, so several major merchant guilds and noble families had their own racehorses. Each was given an odd name and had its own fan club.
However, the horses didn’t have to run that many laps. An endurance race was only ten kilometers in total, or two laps.
Every race attracted large crowds of spectators. Over time, the business of organizing these events had become quite sophisticated. Grandstands were built in multiple locations around the track, and broadcast screens had even been added so the audience could follow the action from start to finish.
There was still more than an hour until the race started, but all the grandstands were already full.
Vendors selling drinks and snacks weaved through the crowd, hawking their wares. There were also newspapers introducing the competing vehicles, sold for one Copper Coin a copy. Gamblers with no inside information had to rely on these papers and past race results to try their luck.
Benz also held one of these newspapers. The information inside was mostly accurate; the reporter who’d written the piece had clearly done their homework.
In fact, it was a little too accurate. The assessment of the Victory was so on the mark it was painful.
"A thoroughly unremarkable vehicle. Its only distinguishing feature is that it doesn’t use Magic. It is incomprehensible why the creator would so stubbornly refuse to use Magic. Its top speed offers no advantage, its handling is poor, and its comfort is limited..."
"In summary, the Victory is not a vehicle worth considering. It is not competitive in a race and is recommended only for those curious to see what a non-Magic vehicle is like."
He had to admit, the assessment of the car’s racing prospects was spot-on. ’If they let you bet on who comes in last,’ Benz thought, ’I’d put my money on the Victory and make a little extra cash.’
As for the part recommending it for purchase...
Benz smiled. He was brimming with confidence now.
He looked toward the main grandstand, the one with the most expensive tickets. It faced the starting line, which was also the finish line, and it was where his wife and children were sitting.
Benz spotted them and gave a smiling wave, all traces of the morning’s frustrated expression gone.
They were too far away for him to make out what his child was shouting, but judging by the rhythm, it was probably something like "Daddy’s the best!"
"Well, well. Is that your wife and kids over there?"
The Engineer from Slade Workshop reappeared, seeming to have singled Benz out.
The discontent from these traditional Magic-guided Vehicle workshops was understandable. It wasn’t just Slade; none of the workshops liked this new competitor.
The Magic-guided Vehicle industry might sound glamorous, but the market was actually tiny. Only a handful of workshops were in the business, and selling a few dozen units a year was standard. A year where sales hit a hundred was considered a massive boom for the entire industry.
The pie was small, so naturally, they resented anyone who wanted a slice. It was a highly exclusive industry, even when a new competitor didn’t seem to pose much of a threat.
"I suggest you withdraw," the Engineer sneered. "Make up some excuse—a part failure, whatever. Just stay off the track. It’ll be less embarrassing for you."
Others from the surrounding workshops chimed in.
"Exactly. We’re all men of reputation here. You should save yourself some face. If you never compete, you can never lose, right? I know if I’d built a car like that, I’d be too ashamed to put it on the track."
"HAHAHA..."
The rest of them roared with laughter.
Benz didn’t get angry. He simply smiled and replied, "Go on, laugh. Get it all out now. You won’t be laughing in a little while."
His tone was full of confidence.
"Not laughing? HAHAHA! You think that slow, clunky piece of junk is going to stop us? HAHAHA..."
At first, the men from the workshops assumed Benz was just bluffing. But when they saw how serious he was, they weren’t so sure. He seemed too calm, too composed to be spouting nonsense. He had no reason to be this composed.
’Could he really have some kind of secret weapon?’
’A different car?’
’No, the rules don’t allow it. You have to use the same car in the final race as you did in the qualifiers.’
’Was he holding back this morning?’
’Doesn’t seem likely.’
’They all knew what an internal combustion engine was. It was no match for a modern Magic Energy Engine, and there hadn’t been any recent breakthroughs in the technology. A vehicle like the Victory was already pushing the limits of what was possible.’
The Engineers from the various workshops exchanged glances. The man from Slade was the first to recover.
"He’s just talking big. If he manages to sell a single car after this race, I’ll eat..."
He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing: what if some novelty-seeking noble decided to buy one just for the fun of it? If he made too big a promise, he could end up looking like a real fool.
"Go on," Benz asked, his interest piqued. "Eat what?"
"Pickled herring."
"I thought it was going to be something impressive. How boring."
Pickled herring was in the same family as salted fish, except it came in a brine and was rather smelly.
It tasted awful, to be sure, but some people had a taste for it and considered it a delicacy.
"Your rust-bucket is only worth about as much as pickled fish, anyway."
"How about this," Benz proposed. "If my car gets more orders after the race than the Slade Workshop car, you owe me one Gold Coin for every order mine gets over yours."
’He didn’t make the stakes too high, afraid they wouldn’t take the bait.’
"HAHAHA!"
The men from the workshops burst out laughing again, mocking him for being so eager to hand over his money.
"Hey, can we get in on this bet, too? Not just the Slade guy?"
"Of course. The more the merrier."
And so, amidst the jeers and laughter, Benz made a bet with all fifteen workshops.
"Mr. Benz, do you really have that much money to lose?" his driver asked, worried.