Chapter 110: Being Given a Watch

Setting aside Saiyin’s frustrations for the moment—after all, he had endured the entire new recruit training, so this level of hardship was something he could bear—Kevin was already seated in the carriage with the general and the others, heading toward the capital city to attend the military exercise award ceremony and meet the king.

Only the general, three battalion commanders, the general’s bodyguard, and Kevin himself from the Thunder Knights participated this time, making it an exclusive gathering of high-ranking figures. On the carriage, the general warned Kevin that unless the king spoke to him directly or he had the general’s permission, he should remain silent.

Kevin understood perfectly. This was a grand occasion, the highest level of protocol in the country, vastly different from a tavern full of drunken soldiers. Kevin certainly did not want to be hunted by the king on top of already being chased by assassins. It was far better to stay cautious and composed.

After a short while, the carriage arrived at the teleportation point. In a flash of white light, they reached the capital, then took another brief carriage ride before arriving at the award hall for the ceremony. Several people had already gathered—almost all were officers of at least major rank, with generals everywhere. Kevin, a mere lieutenant, felt as insignificant as a water bearer beside them.

There is a saying: to the human eye, a strong ant and an ordinary ant look no different. Kevin was like a slightly stronger ant here; no one greeted him. He exchanged pleasantries with General Ode but only aroused some curiosity from others, which remained just that—curiosity.

Soon, a female soldier came over to escort General Ode to his designated seat. As the leader of the Thunder Knights, Ode sat in the first row, a position of great authority. Kevin took the seat directly behind the general, alongside the three battalion commanders. The general’s bodyguard, however, was not permitted inside and had to stay with the carriage.

The grand hall was magnificent, crafted entirely from stone with magical lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The seats were soft, upholstered with animal hides, and the carpets emitted a subtle fragrance. The king’s throne was already placed on the dais but remained empty, while palace guards busily tidied the area. Behind the throne, two flags stood tall: one the national flag of Louboler, the other the military flag of Louboler.

The national flag was red with a large smiling face in the upper right corner, surrounded by four smaller smiling faces. The exaggerated upturned mouths reflected the artistic style of the flag’s designer—somewhat whimsical, yet representing the nation’s core values.

Since the founding of Louboler, the aspiration had been for peace and prosperity, a goal pursued with great effort. The somewhat comical smiling faces symbolized the happiness of the people, while the red background represented both blood and the fiery fighting spirit, a tribute to countless grassroots warriors who had paid a steep price to secure the nation’s peace—an eternal reminder to never forget the cost of battle.

The large smiling face in the upper right symbolized the king or royal family, while the four smaller ones represented mages, warriors, merchants, and commoners, all closely surrounding the royal household.

The Louboler military flag was simpler: a red background with an angry face in the upper right corner, snarling fiercely and almost blending into the red backdrop. The face held out two hands, one grasping a sword and the other a staff.

A war flag needed to radiate ferocity; a smiling face would be inappropriate. The sword and staff represented the two most common professions—warriors and mages.

The current national and military flags had been reestablished after the continent’s Holy Wars, and to the citizens, they were familiar symbols seen for over four centuries.

At this moment, the king had not yet arrived, and the generals whispered among themselves. Kevin sat upright, not daring to move carelessly, mentally rehearsing lines he had prepared the day before, though he doubted he would have much chance to speak.

Suddenly, all the generals rose simultaneously, the hall falling into immediate silence. Kevin quickly stood straight. Footsteps echoed from behind as the king naturally walked down the aisle to his seat.

“Your Majesty!” the generals intoned in unison, the hall filled with solemn reverence.

The king nodded. “Sit.”

The generals sat down in perfect order, and the hall became deathly silent. A young officer stepped forward carrying a script.

“Please all rise and sing the Louboler national anthem!”

Everyone stood again, including the king, who turned to face the flag. The band began to play the solemn tune as the crowd sang in unison. (Here, the narrative skips over the song.)

When the anthem finished, everyone sat down. The young officer resumed, “The 1340 Red and Blue military confrontation exercise has concluded. The results are as follows: The Blue Army is victorious. Blue Army Commander Richard is awarded first-class merit, and the Blue Army…”

The officer announced a long list of Blue Army soldiers who had earned honors—ranging from high-ranking colonels to brave and clever ordinary soldiers. Awards ranged from first-class merit to commendations across the entire force, but only those with third-class merit or higher were invited here to receive their prizes.

The king merely observed quietly as several young officers and female soldiers conducted the awards. Only about fifty people were here to receive rewards, each receiving something different: fine swords or other weapons, magical crystals, or valuable scrolls. Everyone seemed delighted with their rewards, as if tailored specifically for them—a meticulous effort.

Kevin eagerly awaited his own reward. After the Blue Army’s awards concluded, the young officer began announcing the Red Army’s honors, from highest to lowest rank. Kevin waited patiently.

“Kevin Inquesting,” the officer finally read out his name, “Siege Engine Captain of the Thunder Knights. In this exercise, ‘kills’ of 2,056 Blue Army soldiers, with one friendly fire incident. After comprehensive consideration, awarded third-class merit.”

The already hushed hall fell into an even deeper silence, perhaps psychological. All eyes turned to Kevin, scrutinizing him with a clear message: assessment.

The generals were well-informed; they already knew Kevin’s award. Hearing it announced again stirred complex emotions. Kevin’s performance in the exercise had been analyzed repeatedly by the directorate. The first battalion’s total annihilation was due to the directorate’s intervention after the Blue Army commander tried to cheat; to avoid the kills being credited to the directorate, they were attributed to Kevin.

The second battalion’s destruction was controversial: Kevin had led zombies to wipe out the entire unit. In truth, Kevin had persuaded the zombies with words before executing the plan. These zombies were actually living humans, which explained their high mobility.

Though it seemed like some cunning trick rather than orthodox military tactics, since the directorate themselves created the zombie scenario, was it not fair to exploit it? While such tactics were generally unacceptable in real combat, the possibility existed, and persuasive skill was indeed part of true ability.

The single friendly fire incident was minor. At the end, Kevin was a corpse, having mistakenly led Captain Orson into a trap that ended the exercise. Orson denied that Kevin had led them astray—after all, how could a corpse guide anyone? Admitting so would mean deliberately breaking the rules.

Since Orson refused to take responsibility, the blame fell on Orson’s bodyguard, who carried Kevin off course. Though everyone knew the truth, it could not be spoken aloud, and there was no evidence.

Overall, though Kevin claimed to have killed two battalions, his actual combat record was closer to slightly more than one battalion—still a fearsome achievement. While a giant staff and forbidden spells could freeze large areas with the backing of expensive equipment and numerous troops, Kevin had only himself as a junior lieutenant, repeatedly striking down enemy commanders with deadly precision. Such skill was impressive indeed.

Kevin was the only junior officer present to receive an award. As he stood, he felt the piercing gaze of countless eyes, an unusual, prickly sensation.

Yet Kevin’s mental fortitude was exceptional, and he stepped forward calmly. A female soldier approached with a tray, lifting a red cloth to reveal a medal, a check, and a golden pocket watch.

Kevin paused briefly but maintained his smile. An officer quietly pinned the medal on him and whispered, “Don’t underestimate this watch; it’s priceless but unsellable.”

Kevin smiled and nodded, knowing the pocket watch was a symbol of high nobility and luxury, unknown even to commoners. Regardless, having precise timekeeping would be useful.

“Your rank is too low,” the officer murmured while adjusting the medal, “Some weaponry can’t be legally given to you, so for now, here’s a watch.”

Kevin kept smiling and then stepped down. Glancing at the check, he saw it was for 500 gold coins.

After Kevin, various commendations followed—mostly verbal praise or certificates—not qualifying for awards at this ceremony. After a while, the entire award event concluded. Kevin discreetly checked the watch: exactly eleven o’clock. He wondered if the timing had been deliberately arranged.

With the awards complete, the king finally spoke, his voice filling the hall. As a seventh-level mage, his presence was commanding.

“This military exercise has ended. It is our first large-scale, army-group-level confrontation. The entire process was orderly, and the exercise reasonably realistic. At least it concluded successfully, with genuine opposition rather than mere performance. This is commendable,” the king began slowly as recorders hurried to capture every word.

“However, this exercise also exposed many issues. Some of our commanders, generals, and colonels are not yet adapted to the new nature of warfare; their thinking remains stuck in ancient times. Though we have not engaged in large-scale combat for over four centuries, this is no excuse.”

“War evolves with the times. From the year zero in the Gregorian calendar, the widespread adoption of iron tools marked the Iron Age. Iron represented not only a weapon revolution but also agricultural innovation. In 666 AD, during a brief peace on the continent, scholars integrated magic, defining mage levels and reshaping society—the dawn of the Magic Age.”

“Today, after two continental Holy Wars, our magic and fighting spirit have reached unprecedented heights. Our mages now participate in irrigation, road construction, housing, and bridges, transforming entire cities. We are in the Great Magic Age. What comes next? It can be predicted.”

“Parrot communication is becoming more frequent and sophisticated, shortening the distance between people’s conversations. Though there will be many obstacles, this trend is unstoppable and must be adapted to. We may call this the Information Age or the Network Age, and we stand now on its cusp.” (To be continued.)