[Astarion is built for speed, but he's no traceur, his talents lie in long distance combat or a knife in the dark. Although physical strength and dexterity could allow him to fake it a bit, maybe even get through the course.]

I'm envisioning a muster of peacocks trying to out-queen one another. Bigger crowns. Poofy dresses. With the poofiest dress asserting its dominance.

[Certainly not currency of any kind, but Astarion's wild imagination has even piqued his own curiosity.]

It's not waking to a handsome virgin [he'll set aside his practice bow and arrows] but why the hells not, I don't have anything else to do with my time and I've been watching them go at it. How hard can it really be?

[Confidence or overconfidence?]