Chapter 109: A Worrisome Expedition

With only three days left until the expedition, high-intensity training had naturally ceased, replaced by proper rest to ensure everyone was in peak condition. Simultaneously, there was a final check of weapons and equipment; swords were sharpened, gear was organized, and the counts of arrows and stone projectiles were verified and recorded.

Before departing, all supplies had to be handed over to the logistics department, only to be tallied again upon return to account for consumption. Only then could replenishment be requested through official paperwork—a tedious process, though standard in peacetime. Wartime, of course, was another matter.

Kevin used to handle all these tasks alone, even during the last military exercise. Now, despite having three assistants, he found little relief. The newcomers, Stadt and Gray, were completely clueless about the trebuchets, and Kevin had to tirelessly teach them from scratch. Sain sat nearby, essentially relearning the ropes as well.

This was real combat—live steel and actual stakes—not a military exercise. While exercises were large in scale, the mood was relaxed, and the prospect of grilled meat after a drill was a joy. But in real combat, even against bandits, one could not be careless. Even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit. Kevin and his team were not top-tier experts; their victories relied on their equipment, a fact that had to be prioritized. Caution could never be excessive; a single moment of carelessness could be fatal.

Fortunately, Stadt was a man of genuine intellect and managed to grasp the operation of the trebuchet within half a day. With his life on the line, he dared not be negligent. In fact, the more one feared death, the more diligent they were in their studies. This half-day of training at least ensured that if Kevin were incapacitated or killed, Stadt would be able to operate the trebuchet to fight back.

Of course, half a day only covered the basics. Dealing with emergency repairs during a malfunction, or the advanced tactics Kevin used in exercises—like utilizing the chassis’s adjustable suspension to "kill," using the catapult’s lights to blind opponents, or even disassembling and reassembling the entire machine—was still beyond them.

Once the training was done, Kevin left the three in the barracks to practice on their own, urging them not to slack off. He immediately set out to find the craftsman who had provided the blueprints earlier to retrieve his self-designed repeating crossbow.

This crossbow was based on a novel design Kevin had seen within the 213th Regiment. He had memorized the principles, drafted the plans, and handed them to the craftsman for replication. Of course, this craftsman was no street vendor; all weapons shops in the kingdom had ties to the military, so there was no fear of leaks.

After a few days, the craftsman had finished the replica. They were just as fascinated by the novel creation as Kevin and had worked with remarkable efficiency. However, a problem arose: the repeating crossbow was too bulky to be mounted on the trebuchet.

Though Kevin’s trebuchet featured five pairs of load-bearing wheels and a larger chassis, it was already crowded. The rear automatic loading chute for the stones took up significant space, and the donkey-driven winch occupied most of the front. The space on the sides was too narrow, which was a real headache.

With little time left, a major redesign of the trebuchet was impossible and risked compromising its performance. After discussing it for half a day, the four decided to simply put wheels on the crossbow itself. It could be towed behind the trebuchet while traveling and act as a standalone unit during battle, offering both offense and defense with greater tactical flexibility.

Adding wheels was simple enough, but doing it correctly required more than just the guesswork of four amateurs. Kevin returned to the repair shop to find Old Ter, the forty-something veteran who had designed the chassis for Kevin’s trebuchet.

Old Ter had never seen such a novel crossbow and was equally curious about its rapid-fire capabilities. Fortunately, his experience proved invaluable. He grabbed two small handcarts from logistics, stripped off the chassis, joined them together, and mounted the crossbow on top.

This bizarre, four-wheeled crossbow was finally born. It looked like a wooden horse body with four large wheels on the sides. Where the horse's head would be, two crossbow mechanisms were stacked together, and the horse's belly housed a foot pedal. By stepping on the pedal, the user could pull the string for rapid fire; the left hand controlled the bolt-feed belt, while the right hand steered the unit and pulled the trigger.

It had no engine; it had to be pushed by hand, pulled by a donkey, or hitched behind a vehicle. It was prone to jamming during rapid fire, and while a quick tweak could usually fix it, such a delay could be fatal on the battlefield.

Regardless, everyone present was optimistic about this strange weapon; it was, after all, the product of their hard work. Gray even suggested naming it. Various ideas were thrown around: "Repeating Cavalry," "Infantry Fighting Vehicle," and Stadt even suggested, "We should name it after the founder, like the 'In-Quest-Thing' Carriage."

Kevin just smiled, "Let’s wait until it actually proves its worth before discussing such trivialities. If it falls apart in the first real fight, naming it will be meaningless."

While organizing the gear, the training of the new parrot could not be neglected. Kevin believed the reason "Big Sister" had such low accuracy was primarily a lack of strength. Without a solid foundation, training for guided stone-throwing wouldn't help much, so he simply had her carry stones while flying to build up her muscles.

Beyond the preparations, Kevin was also concerned about the raven. He frequently asked the parrots patrolling the air for news. At first, they would say, "Oh, he's fine, hanging out with our leader." But eventually, one parrot let it slip, and under Kevin's persistent questioning, he learned the truth.

The raven had been bound by a master-servant contract to the parrot leader, becoming its pet—or perhaps, its slave.

Kevin was shocked. Although he didn't want to believe it, rationally speaking, no matter how strong the raven was, it could not be a match for a high-level mage like the Chief of Communications. Kevin could only sigh; such a contract was a lifelong commitment.

However, on the third day, Kevin happened to pass by the cafeteria and saw the raven playing with the dog, accompanied by a parrot. Seeing Kevin, the raven chirped twice, appearing quite cheerful. The parrot beside it looked displeased but spoke up, "Hello, Officer."

Kevin found this strange and asked immediately, "I heard the raven was bound by a master-servant contract?"

"Yes," the parrot replied stiffly, clearly annoyed.

"Then what is this?" Kevin asked, perhaps too bluntly.

"None of your business," the parrot replied coldly.

Kevin shook his head. Anyone who could speak to him like that had to be a high-ranking parrot, likely the Chief of Communications herself—the parrot leader, and thus the raven's "master." But... would a slave owner personally accompany their slave to walk the dog?

It wasn't impossible; disparities in status weren't always a barrier. Kevin had seen countless noble but dim-witted young ladies fall inexplicably in love with low-born, equally dim-witted protagonists. Perhaps birds thought differently.

Another person might have dismissed it as a mere oddity, but Kevin knew the raven’s true strength. He couldn't help but hold out hope, and every strange occurrence triggered complex theories. Could the raven be playing a long game?

Kevin decided to probe. He stepped forward, "By the way, what is this raven's name?" The question was directed at the parrot, but he was looking at the raven.

The two birds exchanged a glance. The raven subconsciously tilted its head left and right. After a moment, the parrot spoke with difficulty, "He... he is called... Dog Walker."

Kevin: "..."

"Aaaaah..." the raven seemed to cry out at Kevin subconsciously.

"What kind of lousy name is that?" Kevin muttered, then continued the small talk, "What have you been up to lately?"

The parrot was silent for a moment before answering, "Cultivating... cultivating my character."

Kevin felt more and more that something was wrong. Just a moment ago, the parrot had been impatient with him, but now it was answering questions obediently. Although he couldn't see its expression, the stuttering voice felt highly suspicious.

However, with his departure imminent, Kevin didn't have the luxury of dwelling on it. He left the mystery for later. He stood up, "Well, we worked together once. I’m heading out soon, wish me luck."

The raven looked left and right, then walked silently over to the dog’s bowl. It idly rearranged the meat inside, causing the dog to back away. After a moment, it had arranged the meat and bones into the shape of a human, then pecked at the meat where the head should be and ate it.

Kevin froze, his heart racing, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. He clenched his fists instinctively. After a long, silent pause, he turned and left.

Three days passed in a flash. That day, the staff officer gathered the departing officers to announce their specific mission.

"Our destination is the bandit-infested area of the Caludia Hills. These people caught wind of us and have been quiet for a while. But we cannot wait forever. This expedition will be led by me, with Lieutenant Colonel House of the Third Battalion and Lieutenant Kevin of the Trebuchet Battalion providing support." The staff officer marked the position on the map.

Kevin was struck with surprise. Caludia Hills? Wasn't that where he had gone on a mission with the General? Back then, the General's guards had slaughtered two groups of bandits; how could they have returned so quickly? And he remembered those bandits were barely clothed—did this new, large-scale cleanup suggest a different group had moved in?

"As we head north into the deep parts of the Caludia Hills, there are low-to-mid-level magical beasts. I hope no one wanders off alone," the staff officer continued, describing the terrain. "The terrain is rugged, which limits our cavalry, but it is still passable. The ground is soft and perfect for digging; we estimate the bandits have a deep base there. The area is perpetually shrouded in mist, making crystal ball surveillance ineffective; you'll barely be able to see a thing."

"The terrain is highly unfavorable, but with the reputation of our Lightning Knights, shall we fear these people? Of course, do not assume the bandits are weak. You must make it clear to your men: there is no room for complacency. We currently lack detailed intelligence on these bandits." The staff officer continued his mobilization.

The more Kevin heard, the deeper his frown became. Hilly terrain, perpetual mist, zero visibility—how was he supposed to use a trebuchet? It didn't seem like the kind of place for artillery. But it wasn't the time to argue.

"Move out immediately upon returning," the staff officer continued methodically. "We must reach the first relay station before nightfall to use as a base for our push inward. The logistics units will follow."

"Also! Only 75% of the troops are to deploy; the remaining 25% will remain behind." The staff officer turned to Kevin. "Kevin, have Sain stay behind."

Kevin was stunned and blurted out, "Why?"

"No reason, it’s an order," the staff officer sneered. "It seems you really ought to return to the recruit training camp to better learn the meaning of obeying orders."

Kevin fell silent. For a staff officer to dictate who stayed behind was overstepping, but Kevin’s seniority was too low, and Sain’s status was unique. He had no choice but to accept it. He knew this wasn't the place to reason, but his sense of unease only grew stronger.