Chapter Seventy-Four: Catching the Crow

After the tension and struggle of battle, one always cherishes a peaceful life all the more, and Kevin was no exception. He needed a month to recover, during which any strenuous activity was out of the question, and even speaking loudly was forbidden. But at least he had completed the two objectives set by the General, which brought him some relief.

The General also came to visit, bringing his men along, but his presence was so imposing that Kevin found himself rather on edge. After the General left, several heads of independent departments came by in turn to pay their respects. Though Kevin was only a junior lieutenant, he had sat at the same table in meetings, and since the General himself had visited, the others felt obliged to show some courtesy.

Of course, their tokens were truly just that—small gestures: some fruit, a few chicken legs, some cured meat, a bouquet of flowers or two. The gifts were of little value, but they made a large pile. Kevin couldn’t possibly finish them all, yet he couldn’t refuse them either. At the very least, they had all come in person, and even the Provost Marshal turned up, which genuinely surprised Kevin.

The Provost Marshal, like the others, exchanged pleasantries, urging Kevin to rest well and expressing sympathy for his hardships, never mentioning any previous unpleasantness. Kevin could only thank him politely.

Toward evening, Start came by as well. The two could be considered old friends now, and Start came empty-handed, explaining with a chuckle as Kevin offered him some bananas, “There’s so much here you can’t finish it all—let me help you out.”

Start didn’t stand on ceremony, peeling a banana as he spoke. “I saw our superior bringing things this morning; I figured you’d be overwhelmed, so I didn’t bring anything myself.”

Kevin merely smiled, refraining from speaking further since his chest still ached and he wished to conserve his voice.

“That’s why I’m here—to help you eat some of this,” said Start, who seemed to be thriving lately, looking a bit rounder than before. “So, I hear you’re not supposed to speak loudly after your injury?”

Kevin nodded.

“Haha!” Start laughed. “Serves you right for always chewing people out, always raising your voice. This is your karma.”

Kevin smiled, saying nothing.

“Enough joking,” Start changed the subject. “I hear you did pretty well, taking on two sixth-level experts by yourself?”

Kevin gave a modest smile. “Something like that. I was lucky, really.”

“I suppose that’s why the General and all the department heads have come to see you. It’s recognition of your abilities,” Start mused. “A sixth-level expert—around here, that already makes you a top-tier fighter. In most other corps, someone of that rank would be at least a regimental or deputy regimental commander. And you faced two at once.”

Kevin waved this off. “It’s not right to judge solely by rank. Remember during our recruit days, our commander Marcus was only a third-level warrior, but he flattened four fourth-level warriors at once.”

“Still, it’s an impressive achievement. I bet those majors and lieutenant colonels were curious to see what you looked like,” Start joked. “Even if the General wants to make things hard for you, he’ll have to give you some sort of commendation or let you earn some merit. They’re probably discussing just that right now.”

“Let’s hope so,” Kevin replied.

“Oh, by the way,” Start recalled, “I heard that during your fight, some mysterious earth-mound mouse helped you out?”

Kevin nodded.

“Could it have been... the assassin helping again?” Start lowered his voice, glancing around.

Kevin shook his head. “I don’t think so. Every time the assassin appears, they’re masked, and very thoroughly at that. To put it simply, as long as they’re masked, they don’t seem to mind being seen, and most people wouldn’t immediately associate a masked figure with an assassin.”

“You mean, if the assassin had intervened, we’d have seen a masked figure appear openly?” Start asked.

Kevin nodded slightly. “Of course, that’s just my guess. Maybe there are assassins who like to summon pets. But this time, it felt to me like it was someone even more mysterious than the assassin—someone who wouldn’t even let us see their silhouette.”

“Any idea who it might be?” Start asked.

“How should I know?” Kevin shook his head.

“Forget it. What are your plans now?” Start asked casually.

Kevin counted on his fingers. “I want money! I want men! I want equipment!”

“The General’s probably having a headache about you,” Start replied. “I doubt he has any plans to develop catapults.”

Kevin only smiled, saying nothing.

“Really, you must understand, we only joined the army to avoid assassination,” Start said. “I even suspect that if we were to leave the service right away, no one would bother to kill us.”

“But we can’t just leave,” Kevin replied.

Start fell silent.

From Start’s expression, Kevin guessed, “You’re not thinking of forcing a discharge, are you? Unless you can bribe someone at the deputy regimental commander level, your only way out is to get yourself permanently injured—so badly that even the camp priest can’t heal you. Otherwise, you’d have to keep breaking regulations until the army kicks you out, but if it comes to that, you’d lose your barony. As for other consequences, who knows?”

“I know,” Start replied. He was well aware that soldiers had terms of service; you couldn’t just leave whenever you liked, or there’d be no one left to fight. Some high-ranking experts or specialists even had their terms extended repeatedly after they were up.

Kevin offered some advice. “There’s no need for that. You’re not like me, always being targeted. With a job like Provost, you can just coast along for a couple of years and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“But it feels like such a waste of time,” Start sighed. “If I were out there, I’d be making a fortune.”

Kevin changed the subject. “How’s Gray doing?” He remembered from their recruit days that Gray, the one who was worst at everything and bullied by Sein and the others, had always been close with Start.

“Him?” Start shook his head. “He’s getting by, just muddling through each day. Sometimes I see him, now an officer, and I can’t really say much. But in reality… well, you know his level.”

Kevin nodded. Back in their recruit days, he’d dragged Gray out for extra midnight training, using him as a practice dummy, which had improved Kevin greatly. For Gray, it had only meant losing a lot of sleep.

“I’ve heard some rumors,” Start said quietly. “If your catapult unit ever starts running properly, they might send him over.”

Kevin waved his hands in protest. “Please, no! The moment the unit is formed, they’ll stuff it with all sorts of misfits. I won’t be able to command anyone—they’ll all act like kings.”

“You have to understand, every unit competes—sometimes for the best new recruits, sometimes to be rid of their dead weight,” Start replied. “Just giving you a heads up.”

The two continued chatting, Kevin keeping his voice low, but at such close range, conversation was no problem. They talked, ate some fruit, and the day passed quietly.

The next morning, Kevin still turned out at drill. After all, he only needed to ride his donkey around the field, and he wasn’t so injured as to be completely incapacitated. Besides, he didn’t want to give the Provost any reason to criticize him.

With nothing to do that morning, Kevin left the camp again. Now that he had a bit of money, he began to consider further improvements to his catapult. The first step was to improve its accuracy, so he planned to engrave it with a Hardening Array. But exactly how to engrave it, and to what extent, required experimentation. High-level arrays were beyond his ability to activate, so they’d be useless.

To that end, Kevin took his blueprints to several carpenter and blacksmith shops in town, ordering a few scale models of the catapult. Though none of them had made such things before, as long as he paid, they were willing to try. He asked for the highest possible precision, using a variety of materials and sizes, but even so, it only cost him ten gold coins.

The orders were placed in the morning, and by afternoon Kevin was free to wander. He had no desire to visit the tavern; the bards there didn’t like him much, and with his chest still sore, he didn’t want to risk being heckled. Instead, he decided to take a walk in the countryside to relax.

Saka City was a major agricultural center, and just a short distance from its outskirts lay vast fields and pastures. These belonged to various farm owners, some of whom supplied food to the Order of the Thunder Knights. Several scarecrows stood in the fields, supposedly to frighten away crows.

Looking at the scarecrows, Kevin recalled something Professor Rook had said: were crows really so intelligent, yet still afraid of such things?

He glanced around. Birds flitted through the sky, but he saw no crows. His curiosity piqued, he decided to ask an old farmer nearby, “Hey, friend, do those scarecrows really keep crows away?” Kevin had always made a habit of asking about things he didn’t understand, and now he had time to spare.

Seeing it was an officer asking, the old farmer put down his work and answered earnestly, “No, not really. They might scare off a few sparrows.”

Kevin nodded. “Are there many crows around here?”

The old farmer sighed, “Plenty! It’s been years now—their calls are a nuisance.”

“Is there any way to deal with them?” Kevin asked.

“Not really, just shoo them off by hand,” the farmer replied. “Still, crows eat some insects, so overall the losses are bearable.”

Kevin nodded, understanding, then asked curiously, “How could one catch a smart crow?”

The farmer looked awkward. “I wouldn’t know. If you find their eggs, you can just collect them. Otherwise, you could try some bird traps.”

Kevin nodded, thanked the farmer, and continued on his way, pondering as he walked. If he could train a crow to carry stone shot and correct its flight in midair, accuracy would be greatly improved—perhaps even more than with a Hardening Array. Of course, training such an intelligent crow would take a lot of effort, but since he had time, why not try?

Having decided, Kevin returned to the carpenters and ordered several bird traps, asking for any special tips on catching crows. Unfortunately, no one nearby knew any tricks.

The next day, the traps were ready—a simple spring-loaded net baited with scraps of meat. When a crow swooped down to eat, the net would snap shut, trapping the bird.

Kevin took the trap out to the fields, found a good spot, set it up, and then withdrew to a distance to write and sketch. With time on his hands now, he needed to catch up on his latest work. The endless fields stretched before him, the wind rippling the grain like waves—a pleasant sight.

It wasn’t long before a crow landed, pecked at the meat, and was promptly caught in the net. Kevin hurried over to inspect it.

The crow struggled furiously. Kevin picked it up, tied a label reading “Unqualified 1” to its leg, and released it.

He was looking for a crow with high intelligence, hoping to find one that would amaze him and be easier to train. To avoid catching the same bird repeatedly, he decided to label all the crows that fell into his traps.

Soon, another crow was caught. Kevin tied a label reading “Unqualified 2” to its leg and let it go.

That day, he caught six crows in all, and released every one. Kevin began to wonder if he had overestimated their intelligence; perhaps his experience with parrots had made him expect too much. After all, a wild crow was just a bird.

On the third day, Kevin returned to the fields to write, as the catapult models were still not ready and he had nothing else to do, so he continued his bird-catching experiment.

Snap! Another crow was caught. Kevin approached and saw it bore the “Unqualified 6” tag—it had already been caught the day before.

Kevin frowned. “You again?” He let it go.

A moment later, another crow was trapped. Once again, it was “Unqualified 6.” Kevin was astonished. “Why is it always you?” But he let the crow go anyway.

A little while later, another came, again the same “Unqualified 6.” Now Kevin was truly amazed. “Do you think I won’t kill you, so you keep coming back for my meat?”

The crow thrashed about like the others. Kevin raised his fist to scare it, then released it once more.

Moments later, two crows flew down at once; one fiercely attacked the other, driving it away before being caught in the net itself. Kevin looked closer—it was, once again, “Unqualified 6.”

“Are you clever or just foolish?” Kevin stared at the crow for a long while, unable to tell it apart from the others; it struggled just the same.

“Fine, you’ll do.” Kevin gave up on further trials and decided to take this crow home with him. Whatever its intelligence, it was at least persistent.