Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 299 - 5: Find a Reason to Give Them a Beating

Roman frowned slightly, "The Church Court knows I have a Witch here?"

"Almost certainly."

Laisa showed a touch of surprise in her eyes as she scrutinized the young noble before her.

Upon hearing such news, he neither grew angry nor showed fear but calmly acknowledged the situation.

The Astrologers of the Church Court had an unfathomable understanding of the mystical domain, capable of matching wits with a Prophet.

The Witches had arrived at Origin City in May, and now it was already July.

They had lain low for two months, giving Roman some crucial time to develop—never underestimate these two months, for Roman had accomplished many things during this time, and his power had been growing exponentially.

However, developing in secret always risked the day when one might be exposed.

The Church Court had now reacted and pinpointed the Witches’ location.

Laisa said, "It seems you’ve been prepared for quite some time."

After all, which foolish Noble wouldn’t consider the consequences before offering refuge to a Witch? Laisa Silver Moon thought to herself.

Roman sidestepped the topic, "I have my plans. Laisa, since you have come to me, does this mean you are willing to offer me your loyalty?"

He asked directly, seeking a verbal confirmation of her allegiance.

"The obvious, Your Highness, as long as you don’t hand me and the other Witches over to the Church Court, I am naturally willing to serve you loyally." Laisa approached Roman, delicately grasping his right hand, and gently kissing it as a sign of homage.

Roman recognized this as an act of nobility etiquette.

It was the etiquette of someone of the opposite sex, of one of lower status toward someone of higher status.

None of the other Witches had treated him like this; the court Witches had their own etiquette, simply curtsying was enough.

Laisa was very conscious and well-mannered, and her freckles seemed somewhat playful on her face.

Freckles were common on the faces of girls from this land, but they usually faded naturally with adulthood.

Laisa appeared to be about twenty years old, and her freckles hadn’t completely disappeared but were still faintly present, like the spot of a little sparrow, which was somewhat endearing.

After swearing her loyalty, the formal atmosphere began to relax.

Gwen couldn’t wait and cried out, "Little Laisa..."

Seeing that the chatter was about to start, Roman immediately knocked on the table, "If you want to catch up, you’ll have to wait until I’m done!"

Gwen shrugged, "Your wish is my command, Your Highness."

The rest of the Witches also fell silent.

Roman summoned Gwivelle and said to Laisa, "I need you to help her."

The freckled Witch glanced at Gwivelle and responded with a smile, "Your Highness, you called me all this way from Cangyue just to help this little sister here? Her Spells must be terrifying."

Roman nodded, "Yes, quite terrifying."

"And what is her ability?"

Roman said, "To rewrite Destiny!"

Laisa was even more astonished.

If one mastered such a Spell, she was at least guaranteed to be a genuine Seat Witch.

"Your Highness, I am but a Low-level Witch and can only do so much, I’m afraid I might disappoint you," Laisa felt compelled to say.

The Spell was too terrifying, and she wasn’t just being modest. A Low-level Witch really wouldn’t be of much use.

Especially when dealing with such ethereal High-level Spells—she worried that even being a cheerleader on the sidelines might disturb the maestro’s performance.

Roman said, "You can do it."

The freckled Witch could only nod, "Alright, since you say so, whose Destiny do you want to rewrite?"

"Rice... and wheat," Roman added.

Laisa dug her ear.

"You heard me right; you need to assist Gwivelle in farming for me."

Laisa blinked, and after a long moment of amazement, said, "You’ve brought me from Cangyue to help you farm?"

Roman frowned, "Is that a problem?"

"It’s not out of the question."

I came all the way to Origin City, and this is what I get?

Do you have some twisted hobby, enjoying the sight of me traveling so far just to farm for you?!

Although Gwivelle was all smiles on the surface, her heart painted a different picture.

"What can you do to what extent?" Roman asked again.

This had the trappings of a job interview; he needed to know the specifics of Laisa’s power.

"She can do well, Your Highness. Laisa is a rare Low-level Witch with a Talent Spell," Edith said.

"Don’t interrupt!" Roman said, dissatisfied.

"Then I ask for your forgiveness," Edith also said with a shrug.

All these people share one annoying habit when they do something wrong, not one could maintain a proper demeanor.

Roman pondered finding a reason to give them a good thrashing.

Laisa spoke, "Your Highness, they all call me ’Amplifying Laisa.’"

The nature of Talent Spells was vague.

Take Monica, for instance; she was a Void Witch, and Roman also thought of her as a Witch of the Space System, but testing revealed that wasn’t the case.

In Roman’s view, Monica harbored a telekinesis-like Spell, which is why she could exert force from a distance.

The Witches didn’t care what their Talent Spells were; they only cared about what the Talent Spells allowed them to do.

However, just as not all Angel Envoys were of High Star Level,

most Witches didn’t have Talent Spells either.

The Prophet had tried to boost their power by unlocking all Witches’ hidden potential.

Laisa was extremely rare, possessing a Talent Spell but no potential to harness it.

She might manage to become a Middle Rank Witch after toiling for forty or fifty years, but that would likely be her limit.

So, the Seat Witches deemed her as merely a support Witch—that is, one of those folks at the Witch Camp who serve tea, wash dishes, and cook for the Battle Witches.

Although Laisa had the ability to enhance a Middle Rank Witch’s spells, she didn’t participate in the Battle of Holy City.

The battlefield is full of rapidly changing scenarios; even High-level Witches fall in succession, and with no time to prepare, her limitations were remarkably pronounced.

But Roman didn’t care about that.

Farming wasn’t like warfare; the latter demanded immediate life-or-death outcomes, while the former needed patience in abundance.

"Amplifying? Excellent! From now on, you’ll stay by Gwivelle’s side," Roman said.

Curious, Gwivelle glanced at Laisa. Noticing the gaze, Laisa returned a friendly smile, her surface demeanor warm yet a whirlpool of thoughts churned beneath.

She didn’t see how her ability could be of any use. None of her sisters ever asked for her help, and she couldn’t wrap her head around what the Riptide scion wanted her to do.

There was no way she would stoop to tilling the soil.

One could manage for a day, but no one could endure that for long.

Moreover, it wasn’t work befitting her status.

Her predecessors must have established a firm footing by now, so it’d suffice to seek their assistance when necessary.

After all, Witches should help each other out.

Laisa, still smiling, approached Gwivelle—her nominal supervisor, who was so young yet already on the threshold of Middle Rank Witchdom. Rumor had it she had partaken of Leanna’s Magic Potion, and it was certain she would one day become a High-level Witch, unlike Laisa. Her life was destined to remain unchanged, merely destined for menial tasks without much prospect. Therefore, it was best to secure a good relationship and support from her early—Laisa thought to herself while her eyes took in the spacious estate with novelty. It wasn’t even a castle.

She was genuinely curious about why the Riptide scion dared to shelter Witches against such immense worldly taboo.

What was his confidence, his reliance?

Was it the reliance on easily defended and hard-to-attack terrain? Once the crossing was secured, would it be impregnable?

Or was there something unique about this place?

She thought back to the fleeting glimpse she caught as she crossed the sky.

The land was open, the houses were stately, paths crisscrossed everywhere, and agricultural activities bustled...

She had to admit, it was a nice place.

At the very least, it was far better than the bewitched land of Cangyue.