Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 317 - 23: Fertile City

Roman didn’t return to Origin City after the sweeping war ended.

He went directly to the Kant Territory’s Earl Castle.

Such a move could bring the greatest deterrence to the residents of this land.

Anything that happened within the territory could be reacted to swiftly.

Roman’s prestige was extremely high in Origin City. The people of Origin City not only revered him but also genuinely adored him.

But it wasn’t the same with the people of this land.

They would have loved to kill him, and if someone found him walking alone at night, it wouldn’t be uncommon for him to be knocked out with a club.

Alas, integrating these people into the king’s rule was no easy task, it would take at least three to five years of transformation.

This also meant that as long as Roman could be patient, after three to five years, his rule would be stable.

However, building a new territory required a significant investment of manpower, material resources, and energy.

The materials transported from Origin City alone were calculated by the ton.

...

Kant Castle.

The Holy War Army had also tidied up this place, Roman moved in with his luggage, patiently waiting for the delivery of supplies.

In the meantime, he discussed with a group of Conquest Knights, Squad Leaders, Witches, and civil servants at the dining table about what names to give to this land and the castle.

The new era called for elegance in governance.

Roman had conquered this land through four solid victories.

It wouldn’t be quite appropriate to call it Kant Territory and Kant Castle anymore.

It was time to foster a new sense of identity quickly.

"How about we name that ferry downstream?" Dick suggested.

After all, it was where the River Valley King had emerged, which carried significant meaning.

After reflecting for a moment, Roman said, "Let’s call it ’King’s Crossing’."

That place had not yet been developed, a wilderness of untamed forests with only a small cleared trail and encampment, but it held great potential for future development and town construction.

There was no dispute from the group.

The sweeping battle was fought comfortably, and although there were injuries, the outcomes were far better than expected.

Their moods were all relaxed and at ease.

Green asked, "What about this place?"

"Fertile City," Roman replied.

Wasn’t he going to bring a large amount of cultivation tools from Origin City to develop this area into a land of abundance and wealth?

"Ah, Fertile?"

"It might not work now, but what about later?" Roman glanced at Green, "I want to give everyone living on this land the saying ’Cultivation is better than gold.’"

"Let’s hope so."

"You all need to work hard."

"Ah, fine, fine, fine, work, work, work."

With just a few words, they determined names that would accompany this land for thousands of years.

In times to come, when people spoke of this city, they would always marvel at its abundance and believe it deserved its name, yet they could no longer conjure the scene of human history’s great Emperor and epic figures discussing merrily at the dining table when the name was first created.

...

After lunch, Roman called for Margaret.

The castle lacked a desk and study, and the bedrooms were somewhat cold and damp, not as comfortable as living in Origin Manor.

Roman had to converse with Margaret in the great hall.

Shasta stood nervously beside Margaret.

"Tell me, what happened that time?"

"I couldn’t hold back."

"What?"

"I saw that violence, I saw that blood, and I wanted to kill," Margaret said softly, her blood-red eyes quietly watching Roman through the gaps in her hair.

"So you mean to say, if you were my guard, you could just abandon me?" Roman had also witnessed the scene: Margaret on the battlefield, killing in a frenzy, looking mad but fortunately sane enough not to harm her allies, killing only the Holy War Army.

"I can’t control it," Margaret said. Roman, having seen her madness and spent days and nights with the silent Margaret, was understandably curious when he first saw her in that state, "If you can’t control it, then would you kill me?"

"Your Highness, Margaret wouldn’t!" Shasta said hurriedly.

"I didn’t ask you to speak!" Roman replied discontentedly and then looked again at the bloody witch, "Would you?"

"...I don’t know if I would kill you."

"Margaret!" Shasta exclaimed in shock.

Roman immediately frowned; he was very dissatisfied with this answer, an unstable factor, feeling that Margaret must have some kind of madness.

"You seem fine most of the time."

After a moment of silence, Margaret kneeled on one knee, bowing her head, her blood-red hair also touching the ground. The witch said, "I am willing to accept any punishment."

Roman felt somewhat helpless; he had a very good impression of Margaret.

After all, a good subordinate is hard to find, and in his heart, Margaret was among the top three in importance.

Obedient, silent, solitary, elegant, and strong enough.

She perfectly fit all his fantasies about a witch.

But now he could phrase it differently.

Dull, honest, not good with words, a bit slow.

"I didn’t say I would punish you," he said, "I just wanted to understand the situation."

Upon hearing this, Margaret’s lips moved slightly as she said, "I crave to take others’ lives, to drain their blood, to exile their souls to the Underworld..."

"Anything else?"

She bowed her head very deeply, "I... am very dangerous."

"Look up," Roman said, sitting in a chair, leaning forward, and lifting Margaret’s chin with his hand.

Through those disheveled blood-red locks, Roman saw her pupils were very beautiful, brightly red and crystal clear, like gemstones, more translucent than Roman’s own crimson eyes, a different color than Nillie’s deep blue eyes.

Roman suddenly noticed a flicker in Margaret’s gaze, her expression inexplicably showing a hint of vulnerability.

But Roman preferred to believe he was mistaken; the person in front of him was truly remorseless in killing, someone who did not fear slaughter or death should not fear anything else.

"Your Highness, I am very dangerous..." Margaret said.

Indeed, if she were an ordinary farmer, they would find Margaret unusual, throwing stones at her if they didn’t.

"I know you’re dangerous, you even said you might kill me too, no one has ever dared to talk to me like that, you’re the first,"

Margaret remained silent.

Roman realized she wasn’t just a bit slow, but very much so, daring to say anything.

But he just couldn’t get angry looking at her.

Margaret’s face was truly young, like a girl’s, even though she was several years older than Shasta.

"I... am willing to accept punishment," she said.

Roman liked her straightforwardness, admitting her faults, standing tall if punished.

"If I hit you, you wouldn’t want to kill me, would you?"

After hearing those words, Margaret replied, "Your Highness, if you think so, then you might as well kill me." A touch of sadness and relief colored her beautiful face.

Shasta stood by, watching the scene with great tension.

Roman suddenly realized Margaret was telling the truth.

She was not someone to joke with; she really could take it seriously.

He changed his statement, "Then, as a punishment, clean up my room, and make it comfortable enough for me to sleep well tonight."

"I understand," Margaret finally stood up, "Will I go to the military camp later on?"

She felt that was where she belonged, with the other Battle Witches.

"I need you to protect me," Roman said, "That is more important than anything."

"Can you tolerate me?"

"All of you witches are dangerous, but as long as you obey me, I can tolerate everything."

Receiving her answer, Margaret left with a noticeably more relaxed back.