The Grand Derby, the first leg of the Triperfecta race, is located in the heart of Old Keeneland. The land is low rolling hills with a thick carpet of sweet grass and hay. Farms border with horse stables, and the finest horses in all of the realm are stabled here. Some stables make their fortunes supplying the military with fine warhorses, other breed the strong boned draft horses to pull carts, and other heavy loads. The most prestigious breed the long legged, and proud race horses.
Among the stables, and muck, there are young nobles, and men of wealth and power, dabbling in horse trade, wagering on the lesser races, and waiting for the big stakes, and the once a year running of the Grand Derby. Among the stands, the commoners jostle for room, and agood view of the track. Some hold long shot betting tickets, hoping their few pieces of gold will become the boost that turns them from poor tenant farmers, and laborers into members of the well to do burgoise class of merchants and traders.
Thieves sneak in and out of the crowds, looking for their marks while avoiding the constant attention of the thief-takers. Bards are always looking for an epic race to recount in some court, or foreign market, their own betting tickets tucked into their hats. Even mages are not above the excitement, sometimes vying with the noble ladies of the land for the most extravagant dress, hat, or pet. It ranges from the absolutely splendid to the absurb.
Outside of the track, vendors hawk wares of food and drink, race guides printed by primitive gnomish block presses. Others pander souveniers, and scarves in the colors of the racing stables. Deals are made both large and small during this spectacle.
During rare aerial races, massive 100 foot tall poles are raised from the track for the winged racers to circle, flags marking off limits of altitude. These air races bring out everyone as they are rare as there are seldom enough hippogriffs, or pegasi to field a race.