Chapter Fifty-Four: Night Training

Kevin drove his catapult away with a chorus of creaks and donkey brays, while the patrol team fell back asleep. Not long after, he returned, the donkey braying even more loudly and the catapult rattling just as fiercely. This process repeated—Kevin coming and going, over and over—clearly determined to deprive them of any rest. The captain, enraged, stormed out again: “Just what exactly are you training out here?”

“Night driving skills,” Kevin replied. “I’m a novice, still learning. If I’m lacking in any way, I ask for your understanding.”

The captain was left speechless.

Thus, the night wore on with Kevin’s relentless comings and goings. When dawn broke, he returned to his own lot, caught a little sleep leaning against the catapult, and waited for the morning bugle.

Soon enough, the sun rose in the east and the bugle sounded. Kevin yawned and, as always, rode his donkey out for morning drills. Last night’s clamor had already made him notorious, but as he passed other tents, Kevin kept his voice down, respecting their rest. Only when he rode past the patrol's quarters did the donkey’s brays and the catapult’s creaks erupt again for reasons he could only attribute to some mysterious technical fault.

To the other soldiers, it was just a spectacle, some even approving of Kevin’s antics—after all, the patrol had made plenty of enemies.

Once assembled, the cavalry galloped off at full speed as usual, and Kevin, as ever, had no idea where they actually went. He plodded along on his donkey at a leisurely pace, just like the day before.

Again, at the same corner, the same captain intercepted him—this time with Gray at his side.

“So you think you’re tough, do you?” the captain roared. “Who do you think you are? What are you, anyway?”

Kevin listened calmly, unwilling to argue with him directly—there was nothing to be gained from it. The man’s words were so repetitive, Kevin could recite them by heart.

“This morning, you’ll carry shields for me! Ten of them!” the captain bellowed at last. Clearly, after being kept awake all night, he was out for revenge.

“We’ll see,” Kevin replied coolly.

“What do you mean, ‘we’ll see’?”

“There might be new training orders from my direct superior at any time, and it’s not even the weekend,” Kevin explained. “If I have no training, I’ll be there to carry shields.”

“Training again?” the captain leaned in. “You think I don’t know your situation? You’re all by yourself! Training for what? To hell with your philosophy!”

“Sir, please refrain from personal attacks,” Kevin responded calmly.

“I’m warning you for the last time—we’ve seen plenty like you,” the captain jabbed a finger at Kevin’s forehead. “We have a hundred ways to make your life hell. Do you believe me?”

“I do,” Kevin replied, annoyed but outwardly composed. “But if I have training, I must complete it before I can carry shields.”

“Don’t give me that nonsense!” the captain shouted. “I order you to carry shields!”

Kevin shot him a cold glance. “Very well.”

“Hmph! Let’s go!” The captain waved his hand. Gray dared not speak and only gave Kevin a look that said, “Good luck.”

But today, Kevin had decided to go head-to-head with this captain. After breakfast, he pulled the catapult out of the camp and into the endless grasslands, where some of the reeds grew taller than a man. He found a spot for the donkey to graze and lay down to sleep atop the catapult.

He slept until dusk before heading back. It was his first time sleeping on the catapult, and it left him aching. He decided he’d bring a mat next time. Passing the camp gate on his return, he saw no sign of the patrol and didn’t ask questions.

He had another free meal, and by midnight, well fed and rested, Kevin set out again for “night training.”

Once more, he stopped before the patrol’s quarters, back and forth, donkey braying, catapult creaking. From inside, he clearly heard curses and vile language, but he only smirked. He’d only been here a few days and was already being targeted, hassled for the smallest things. If he really were just a new recruit, he’d have let it go—but since he had means to retaliate, he would use them.

Each time he passed, the curses grew. He wasn’t happy about it either; truth be told, he wanted a peaceful life, and this so-called training was a waste of time. But if they wouldn’t let him be, he wouldn’t let them rest.

After another pass, Kevin spotted a fat man watching from the gate—Stadt. Realizing his act of vengeance had implicated Stadt, Kevin felt a twinge of guilt and stopped to chat.

“Hey! Sorry about this,” Kevin greeted him.

“Brother,” Stadt tried to keep his composure, “do you really think this is going to make us back down? I’m telling you, it’s impossible.”

“Noted,” Kevin replied.

“We’re the patrol—our job is to keep others in check. If we bow to you, how could we face anyone else? What’s to stop anyone from coming here in the middle of the night and making a racket?”

“I’ll be honest with you,” Kevin’s tone softened, “I’ve only been here a few days. I know nothing—no one’s taught me, no one’s guided me. I once asked you how to do the morning drill, and you told me, ‘If someone wants to mess with you, they’ll always find an excuse.’”

Stadt shook his head. “Some things can’t be said outright. You should know that.”

“I kind of get it, though I have no proof,” Kevin replied. “I don’t care who’s behind this or what their motive is. If I had no means, I’d just take the punishment. But since I do, I’ll resist.”

“And I’m telling you, we won’t back down either. Do you think an entire patrol squad would fear one man?” Stadt retorted. “The more you resist, the worse it’ll be for you. Understand?”

Kevin chuckled. “I’m just doing regular night training. What resistance? I don’t quite follow.”

Stadt sighed deeply. “To tell you the truth, even though you’re the catapult chief and technically independent, your position is actually dispensable. Understand?”

Kevin was silent for a moment. “I understand.”

“You do?” Stadt was a bit surprised.

“I’ve been thinking about it lately,” Kevin’s gaze grew distant. “There’s an inherent conflict between cavalry and catapult units. Catapults are for sieges, cavalry for field battles. With just one catapult, poor aim, and slow loading, I’m nearly useless. At a meeting a few days ago, they talked about building a comprehensive army. Maybe I’m just here to check a box, to satisfy some higher-up’s requirements.”

“You know quite a bit, don’t you?” Stadt was impressed. “Then why keep parading your broken cart around?”

“A person should have some pride,” Kevin said from atop the catapult, looking down at Stadt. “A man can be weak, can be thrown into the trash, but he shouldn’t resign himself to living as trash. Even as catapult chief, I’ll do my best.”

Stadt waved him off. “Don’t give me that motivational nonsense—I’ve heard it all. So, are you going to keep pulling your cart around?”

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Endure it!” Stadt said. “If you can last until December when the new recruits arrive, they won’t bother you anymore.”

“It’s only September,” Kevin scoffed, leaning down to mutter, “To be honest, if I could beat your captain, I would’ve already done it.”

Stadt said nothing.

After a pause, Stadt shook his head. “With your personality, no wonder you’ve been wandering for ten years, still telling dirty jokes.” With that, he turned and left.

Kevin fell into thought, briefly wondering if he was in the right. But then he shrugged it off—it was a trivial matter, just lost sleep and a bit of noise. He’d already brought the catapult out; backing down now would only make him look even more cowardly in the future.

That night, the patrol squad remained sleepless—at best drifting between wakefulness and drowsiness.

At dawn, Kevin rode his donkey out for drills as usual. Many soldiers now looked at him with admiration, considering him a true tough guy. And once again, he was stopped at the corner.

This time, it was a lieutenant, accompanied by unfamiliar faces. The outcome was the same: Kevin was ordered off his donkey, subjected to a torrent of abuse, and told to carry twelve shields that morning.

So instead, Kevin took his catapult out to the grassland to sleep. This time, he brought a mat and pillow, grabbed extra breakfast, and skipped lunch. No one could find him.

By midnight, he resumed his night training, drawing curses once more, though no one came out to confront him.

This routine continued for two more days. Neither side yielded—he was forced out for morning drills, and he kept up his night training at their door. Both sides grew increasingly agitated, until finally, a few in the patrol could stand it no longer.

They decided that, since no one was watching at night, a few fresh recruits could put on masks and rough him up. No one would know—he was alone, with no subordinates to back him up, so who cared? If Kevin complained, it would only make him look weak.

But such tasks usually fell to new recruits. Veterans were too savvy—they knew the risks of being caught assaulting an officer. As for the officers, they would never get involved, though they might turn a blind eye.

That night, Kevin was once again approaching on his catapult when three masked men leapt out at him.

Although they were called new recruits, these men had joined the army the previous December—so they had six months more training than Kevin. Individually, they were evenly matched, but three against one left no doubt about the outcome.

At the critical moment, Kevin snatched up his whistle and blew an emergency assembly call. The shrill blast echoed through the night, instantly alerting every sentry nearby.

“Enemy attack!” Kevin shouted. The three masked men panicked, at a loss for what to do.

The sentries, fully aware of what was happening, could not ignore the alarm with the culprits right before them. They hurried over as the three recruits looked to them for help.

Kevin didn’t hesitate—he lunged and grabbed one of the masked men, holding him tight without removing the mask. The other two instinctively tried to escape, but Kevin ignored them, focusing on his captive.

Moments later, the entire patrol squad rushed out, armed to the teeth. After all, it was an “enemy attack”—the show had to be convincing. They surrounded Kevin and the masked man.

Everyone knew the truth, but all had to act as though they didn’t. The captain stepped forward. “What’s going on here?”

Kevin released the masked man. “Clearly, three people tried to attack me. Luckily, I was quick enough to catch one.”

“Take him away,” the captain ordered, signaling to his men. Two soldiers took the captive back to his barracks, mask still in place.

Kevin said nothing more—sometimes it was best to leave people a way out. If this incident escalated, it would become a major issue: soldiers attacking an officer could be seen as mutiny.

Kevin cleared his throat. “Let’s just forget about tonight. I won’t pursue it further. Still, it’s troubling that an enemy managed to infiltrate the Knights of Thunder. We’ll need to tighten security.”

Everyone remained silent.

“I know some of you have issues with me,” Kevin continued, “but we’re all comrades here. We should support and understand one another. That’s what camaraderie is all about.”

No one responded.

The captain sneered. “Funny how your catapult only makes such a racket when it passes our gate. Care to explain?”

“I apologize for that,” Kevin said. “I’m baffled myself—must be some unknown malfunction. I’m working on it. That’s why I go back and forth here, to pinpoint the problem.”

The captain had no response.

Kevin could see that everyone present wanted nothing more than to beat him up, so he didn’t linger. He climbed onto the catapult. “It’s a shame tonight’s training was interrupted. Well, I’ll be off. Rest well, everyone—good night!”

With that, he set off in his catapult, the donkey pulling him away, leaving behind a squad of patrolmen gripping their swords so tightly, it seemed if Kevin had stayed a moment longer, someone might have lost control and cut him down.