Chapter Seventy-Six

After the initial tests of the crows’ abilities, Kevin began to further assess and train them. Adhering to his usual principle of asking when in doubt, Kevin went straight to the communications department of the military camp and began questioning the many parrot mages stationed there. Although no one there had ever kept crows, many avian behaviors overlapped, and Kevin was certain that asking around would yield some results.

Unfortunately, he had no acquaintances in the department, and his sudden barrage of questions was considered rather impolite; few were willing to respond. Most just brushed him off with, “Not really sure,” or, “My parrot was assigned to me already awakened, so I never had those issues,” and so on.

Left to his own devices, Kevin returned to experiment independently. He devised a series of puzzles to test their intelligence, such as tying a piece of meat to a thin string and wedging the meat in a crack between the table planks. The crows couldn’t reach the meat directly, but each one figured out how to grab the string and pull the meat out to eat it.

Kevin added a small hook to the meat and tied it to the end of the string, placing it aside. He started with the strongest crow, which fluttered around in confusion. With no progress, Kevin placed a piece of meat inside the cage; the dominant crow immediately returned, allowing Kevin to close the cage and test the other crows.

The results were clear: the other three crows easily grabbed the string, lowered the hook through the crack, hooked the meat, and pulled it out. After observing the others, the strongest crow was able to imitate their actions and succeeded as well.

Kevin then increased the complexity, separating the hook from the string to see if the crows could attach the hook themselves. This was a significant challenge, given that crows have only beaks to manipulate objects, and even though Kevin had demonstrated the process several times, it remained difficult.

The experiment lasted half a day, but eventually, when two crows were released together, they managed to solve the problem through teamwork—one wedged the hook upright between the pages of a book to hold it in place, the other threaded the string through the hook, and together they tied the hook, lowered it, and retrieved the meat. There were several failed attempts, but they ultimately succeeded.

Then, the two crows began fighting over the meat.

Kevin quickly separated them and tried with the other two. But among them was the dominant crow, and whenever it was released with another, the others would not dare to come out, no matter how much he coaxed or tempted them with meat. Clearly, the dominant crow’s strength outweighed even the lure of food, especially since they were not hungry.

Kevin recorded all the data: crows 7, 8, and 9 were notably more intelligent, understanding how to use and even create tools. Crow 6 was the strongest but slightly less intelligent, though it was able to learn by imitation. The six magpies, on the other hand, were less clever and could not copy the crows' actions.

The next stage of training would be more difficult—Kevin needed to train them outdoors but worried they would fly away. He sought advice from several parrot mages in the camp, but none could help; their parrots were intelligent enough to always return on their own.

Regardless, Kevin decided to start by explaining the principle of the catapult and their intended roles to the birds: “First, this is our catapult model! The real catapult is many times larger than this.”

He repeated the explanation three times to the ten birds, dismantling and reassembling the model to demonstrate, and even launched a small stone with it. The model was small enough for him to control by hand, and the pebble simply landed back in his palm.

“What you must do is stand on the loading slot, grab the projectile, and when I launch it, fly with it. Use your wings to adjust the stone’s trajectory in the air for a precise strike on the target. Do you understand?” Kevin repeated this twice more.

The crows and magpies showed no reaction.

“In actual combat, the catapult stones will be smooth and heavy; your claws alone won’t hold them. I’ll modify the projectiles—perhaps add wings, or create a device you can control. But first, you must understand your task!” Kevin continued, undeterred by their lack of response.

At that moment, the dominant crow finally let out a string of cries, though Kevin had no idea what it wanted.

He wondered if the crow might have actually understood, but given its consistently low intelligence, Kevin suspected it was simply hungry.

He tossed it a kernel of corn—crows are omnivorous, after all. The crow took the corn, but instead of eating it, quickly hid it under Kevin’s pillow, then returned to the top of the cupboard and called out again.

Kevin was speechless.

It was well known that crows have a habit of storing food, even to the point of instinct, but hiding it under his pillow was a bit much. He was thankful it wasn’t meat this time.

“All right, you get in first.” Kevin tossed a piece of meat into the cage for the dominant crow. As usual, he expected it to go in and feed, allowing him to shut the cage.

But this time, the crow refused to enter. Instead, it crouched outside, reached through the bars, and pulled the meat out. Kevin was startled.

The crow then quickly flew to Kevin’s pillow to stash the meat and returned to its perch, cawing loudly in triumph.

Kevin could only grimace as he retrieved the corn and meat, noticing the oil stains now marking his pillow and sheets. It was already late November, the weather had turned cold, and he’d started sleeping with a quilt.

“Listen, from now on, don’t hide things under my pillow!” Kevin warned the crow.

The crow simply cawed in response.

Resigned, Kevin took his pillow and sheets out to wash them. When he returned, the crow was playing with his catapult model, hopping from one end to the other and seeming quite pleased.

Seeing its delight, Kevin offered it a piece of meat by hand, hoping to build rapport. The crow hesitated momentarily, then took the meat, only to dash off and hide it in Kevin’s shoe, then return to its perch, cawing with satisfaction.

Still nursing a sore chest, Kevin could only sigh and quietly dump the meat out of his shoe, then go wash it.

After washing, he returned and warned the crow again, “What I give you, either eat or give back to me. Do you understand?”

The crow’s response was the same as ever.

Kevin decided that from now on, he would only feed it grains, not meat—if the crow insisted on hiding food, at least grain wouldn’t be a problem.

Aside from training crows, Kevin was also conducting experiments with catapult models. Two iron models, one large and one small, soon arrived. He tested them with various projectiles, observing differences and noting the shaking and deformation during actual launches.

The more stable the catapult, the more accurate it was; in theory, with identical settings, the projectiles should land in the same place. The small model performed best, the large one showed some deviation, and the real catapult was wildly inaccurate.

Aside from changing all the materials, the simplest solution was to use hardening enchantments. Kevin’s current challenge was to determine which parts should be hardened and to what degree—strong enchantments were beyond his capacity to power, while weak ones had no effect. Some joints required greater reinforcement, others could be ignored. This demanded extensive testing.

But Kevin was in no hurry; as long as everything was ready by March, in time for the annual military exercises, he had more than three months—plenty of time. As for the crows, he harbored little hope. If they succeeded, so much the better; if not, there was nothing to be done.

A few days later, the dominant crow became increasingly bold. Since Kevin had stopped giving it meat, it began opening the other birds’ cages, stealing their food, beating them up, and then locking the cages again—all in front of Kevin, who watched in alarm.

The cage locks were simple bolts, inaccessible from inside due to dividers, but easily opened from outside. After watching Kevin open and close cages for days, the supposedly low-intelligence crow finally figured it out and began coming and going as it pleased, terrorizing the other birds.

The next day, Kevin was forced to lock the cages and keep the keys on his person, finally curbing the crow’s rampage.

At the same time, the crow grew less and less afraid of him. In the evenings, as Kevin read or wrote, the crow would hop onto his shoulder, and Kevin could even stroke it without it shying away. Kevin continued reading, the crow perched calmly as if it too understood the words.

The books Kevin borrowed from Sarkar City’s library included many on military strategy and tactics, all open to the public. Even so, he learned a great deal; he had never studied such matters before.

One book detailed the use of catapults in battle, asserting that they would not soon become obsolete. Catapults could hurl not only stones and firebombs, but also magic. Many spells wasted a portion of their power on flight; if the flying portion was replaced by a catapult launch, the remaining energy could be used to amplify the spell’s destructive force.

Some even suggested outfitting catapults with shields to create armored vehicles for direct assaults, or mounting repeating crossbows to turn them into mobile fortresses.

Others dismissed these ideas, arguing that with the prevalence of magic, such slow-moving fortresses would be easy targets—little more than sitting ducks—and mocked the proponents as attention-seeking contrarians.

Some felt that prevailing military thought was too limited: in the past, with few mages, conventional infantry, cavalry, and archers dominated. But as the number of mages grew, entirely new systems of warfare should emerge.

There were even designs for new weapons, like a crossbow mounted on a spear—the so-called “crossbow-spear”—for both melee and ranged combat. But many scoffed, calling such hybrid weapons impractical; the more complex the mechanism, the more likely it was to break in battle. Why not carry a crossbow and a spear separately?

Others proposed improving shields with spikes, so they could be used to attack as well as defend. If the spikes were long enough, a shield could function as a sword. Critics argued that in a massed infantry charge, if the front rank was stopped, those behind would impale their own men, though proponents countered that proper training or assigning spiked shields only to the first rank would solve the problem.

Such tactical debates were common. The authors of these works were often respected scholars or retired or active military personnel, though some were mere charlatans. But with the country peaceful and prosperous, people had time to indulge in such speculation. Even when their ideas were incorrect, Kevin found some points worth considering. No one reaches the summit in a single leap; only constant learning brings progress.

By the end of November, the time for veterans to retire had arrived. Every year, discipline in the army grew lax at this time, making management difficult—the officers could hardly be bothered to reprimand soldiers about to leave. The relaxed behavior of the veterans influenced others, but this was tradition; the army was used to it.

The patrols had also loosened up—after all, with everyone about to depart, it seemed unreasonable to keep strict watch. Start took advantage of this to visit Kevin more often.

By now, everyone in the camp knew about Kevin’s birds—it was no secret. Some said he was conducting a great experiment; others said he had fallen into idleness, playing with birds all day. The general even sent guards to inquire, and Kevin answered truthfully.

The general neither supported nor opposed him, tacitly allowing it. In any case, Kevin had not fully recovered from his injuries and could not have been assigned other duties.

Of everyone, Start understood Kevin best, though he was something of a conspiracy theorist. He was convinced Kevin had some grand scheme up his sleeve, waiting for the perfect moment to astonish everyone. Despite Kevin’s repeated insistence that he was simply training the birds, Start refused to believe him.

Recently, Start dropped by often. “Hey, how’s your crow? Turned into a monster yet?”

“As you can see, the strongest is still the strongest, and the dumbest is still the dumbest,” Kevin replied, carefully closing the door.

“You’re still keeping them indoors?” Start was surprised. “Shouldn’t you let them out to stretch their wings?”

“What if they fly away?” Kevin asked. “They’re wild, not domesticated. I have plenty of time; I’ll keep them a while longer.”

As they spoke, the crow deftly perched on Kevin’s shoulder.

Start observed, “Looks good. What’s its name?”

“Uh… Disqualified Number Six,” Kevin replied.

Start shook his head. “If the crow could understand, it would surely find that name insulting.”

Kevin laughed. “If it ever does understand, that would mean it had earned a better name. I’d happily replace the label then. Right?” he asked the crow.

The crow only looked around, paying little attention.

“Interested in letting it compete in the parrot duels?” Start suggested. “I hear there’ll be something like that at the retirement party. The strongest parrot wins mating rights.”

“First, it’s not a parrot,” Kevin chuckled. “Second, awakened parrots and non-awakened birds are in completely different leagues. Military parrots are specially trained; even if mine is a brawler among crows and magpies, it’d be no match for a trained parrot.”

“You’re a terrible owner,” Start said, shaking his head. “If your pet could understand you, it’d be furious.”

“I’m just being honest,” Kevin replied. “I haven’t trained it to fight, and besides, it’s a parrot competition, not a general bird or pet competition. It’s not eligible.”

“That depends on your skills,” Start countered. “You could trash talk the others, make them underestimate your crow, and then let it surprise everyone.”

Kevin shook his head. “Then they’d suspect my crow was too intelligent and take it for investigation—and me along with it. To be honest, I once asked Professor Rook about this; the Royal Academy bred a batch of high-intelligence crows once, but I don’t know what became of them. The professor told me not to ask.”

“Were the intelligent ones all executed?” Start was shocked.

“I don’t know,” Kevin shrugged. “I’m only telling you what I was told; the rest is up to you.”

Start sighed.

Kevin turned to the crow. “So behave yourself, and forget about mating with parrots. That’s not going to happen!”

The crow cawed loudly in response.

“No need to be so pessimistic,” Start said, changing his tone. “Even awakened parrots get caught by wildcats sometimes. Being smart doesn’t make them invincible—if your crow wins, it’ll just be a fluke, not a cause for an investigation.”

Kevin considered this and agreed that Start had a point; it would depend on the circumstances. Meanwhile, the crow on his shoulder began hopping about, as if struck by some sudden impulse.

“What are you doing?” Kevin asked, turning his head. “Thinking of mating with a parrot?”

The crow was silent.