"When people mingle together and feast, celebrate and frolic, often things like status and other such pesky denominations become forgotten. If for a moment, one could just be themselves, as they wholeheartedly share in the joys being celebrated, and leave behind their mundane worries." - Ancient saying from the Clangeddin Empire by an unnamed philosopher.

Cal watched from her seat as the rider of the black ostrich - a slim, young half elven girl probably no older than fourteen or so - dismounted and hugged her mount as she whooped in joy. The bird itself was nonchalant and just seemed somewhat annoyed by the noises around it though.

Moments later, a group of people who wore tunics with the same color as what the girl wore crowded around her, and with loud jubilation raised her on their hands, and threw her into the air. They caught her before she hit the ground, and repeated the jubilation a few more times.

While they celebrated, part of the team led the black ostrich to a stable nearby, where they poured a half a sack of corn into the feeding through, and affectionately cared for the bird as it ate to its heart's content.

The young rider was inundated by many pats in the back by her group, and even by some overenthusiastic spectators, who judging from the way they cheered and whooped when the girl won, had won their bets.

Cal and her group waited until the crowd exiting the seating area began to thin. She had not missed how many of them tore up tickets - losing bets, she thought - or covered their face in despair at the race's results.

Once most of the audience had streamed out, their group also stood up and streamed down the stairs. When they exited the stairwell, they received an invitation from the woman who checked their tickets. One for a celebratory feast later that evening.

Cal was intrigued and asked the woman some questions she happily answered, all too happy to talk about the town's lore to her guests. It turned out that it was tradition to invite those who bought the front row seats to such a feast, while other random members of the spectators would also be invited.

That evening they came to a large, open area which the city used for celebrations, and found that it was already crowded. Many of the racers from earlier that day and their groups were present, as well as several hundred of that day's audience gathered.

Shortly after her group arrived, the celebration began, and musicians began to play on the stage, their instruments playing joyful melodies as many of the guests danced, or indulged in the finger foods and confectioneries spread on the long tables.

After around half an hour - Cal and her group mostly plunged into the snacks like ravenous beasts, though Ashani tried dancing with one of the locals - the music stopped, and switched to more solemn tones, akin to what one might hear at a burial.

Cal looked towards the middle of the area, where a large firepit was being stoked, and quickly understood why. One of the groups along with their racer carried a bier over their shoulders. On the bier was the carcass of one old, yet still majestic-looking ostrich.

They solemnly laid down the bier before the firepit, then everyone held their silence for a few moments, a last send off for the bird. Afterwards, the music switched back to merry tunes, while the cooks started to process the carcass.

Cal watched how a mist mage created still pictures in the air while a wind mage narrated the old racebird's history, one which consisted of two championship titles amongst others. At the same time the cooks wrestled the carcass - now liberally rubbed with spices and stuffed with what looked like fats and herbs - onto a spit which they placed over the firepit.

The aroma of roasting meat started to permeate the venue, and stimulated the appetite of the guests present. The organizers had clearly prepared for it though, as servants wheeled in carts loaded with fruits, soups, meat pies, and other delectables to serve as appetizers.

Barrels of several kinds of sweet fruit wines poured into tankards liberally, with fruit juices and spiced tea as options for those who abstained from drinking. Their sweet aroma meshed with the scent of roasted meat to a tantalizing one.

Cal walked around, made small talk with random people and just mingled in general while she munched on some of the offerings. The meat in the meat pies were obviously poultry, but it was different than most she had tasted.

When she asked around, she was told that it was ostrich meat. Apparently the ostrich ranches raised their birds not just for racing, but also for meat and eggs. Male birds that proved to be less adept for racing were slaughtered for their meat, so were older fenmales that no longer laid any eggs.

Even so, the most prized meats were of the racebirds themselves, which were only served when one died of natural causes in celebrations like these. Those birds lived their lives like kings, with the best fodder, and fruit juices to drink. Some ranches even regularly massaged their prized birds.

Eventually, after around an hour or so, the roasted bird was ready to eat. The guests were made to line up, and then each received a plate of the main course as their turn arrived.

The main course itself consisted of a thick, hearty slice of meat from the prized racebird. It was arranged to look like petals of a flower along with the other ingredients on the plate.

Served with it were a slice from what must have been a thick omelette studded with peppers and onions, a stalk of greenish-white vegetable that looked grilled, slices of what seemed to be raw fish dressed with juice from a citrus fruit and chilis, a slice of cake-like bread that smelled of corn, and a thick chunk of liver covered by a sticky sauce which had bits of fruit in it.

All of them tasted great. The eggs were fluffy and spicy from the peppers and onions. The vegetable was slightly bitter, yet rich. The fish came with a punch of sourness and spiciness that passed quickly and allowed one to taste its fresh flavor better.

The cornbread was soft, somewhat sweet yet also savory, and tasted great when Cal used it to mop up the leftover sauces. The liver was earthy and rich, with a strong bent towards sweetness from the sauce.

Yet the main dish was indeed the meat from the racebird itself. The meat was clearly poultry, yet also more like red meat in taste and texture. It was chewy, pleasantly so, rather than tender, and its flavors just gushed out with every subsequent chew. The fats and herbs stuffed in the bird had seeped into the meat, keeping it moist and flavorful, while the skin was crisp and very savory.

The festivities continued unabated until well over midnight, and many of the guests had to be carried away on stretchers from having drunk too much wine. Something Cal's group had to do as well.

Willa had carried Ashani on her back for the walk to their inn, the young therian girl thoroughly drunk as a skunk. Most of the rest either moderated their intake, or had far higher tolerances, and just joked amongst themselves as they walked back.