Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 303 - 9: The Second Conqueror

The Church Court’s first attempt at assassinating Roman had ended in failure. frёewebηovel.cѳm

From then on, they would not have a second chance.

Some witches were particularly suited to become personal guards.

Shasta and Margaret were among the best of the witches.

Pure battle witches like Lucia, Mabel, Brenna, Zelda, Martina, and Sanna had to undergo military training in the field with the troops to foster coordination.

Witches like Edith, Gwivelle, Laisa, and Sharulu had other uses, which could be quite effective when appropriately applied.

Shasta and Margaret were a bit special, however.

The former was an assassination unit with exceptional individual capabilities, and asking her to work with the army was a limitation on her potential.

The latter was a Seat Witch, representing one of the faces of the Witch Forest.

There were some things that simply couldn’t be guarded against, and only with sufficient protective forces could he execute his grand strategy without worry.

Roman had readjusted the work schedules of the seven thousand farmers.

They had lived in Origin City for quite some time, so Roman trusted them.

He ordered these people to work only half a day, and the other half was spent practicing with crossbows at the range.

They had previously practiced with crossbow, exchanging tips on its use with one another.

But it was only to a superficial extent, due to the heavy burden of their work.

However, time could be squeezed out, so they managed to find time every day.

It was essentially sanctioned procrastination at this point.

After all, what Origin City lacked now was food and military strength, not labor.

To be precise, the population of Origin City had long surpassed the direct control of Roman.

The sanitary conditions of Origin City, clean for two years, had also become somewhat worse.

Roman allocated daily tasks based on the headcount and positions.

It was impossible to distinguish one person from another.

Everything was chaotic, but Roman was used to it by now.

Origin City was like a cup of muddy water, and if left to settle, it would eventually separate clear from turbid and become clear one day.

...

It was on the day that Roman was assassinated.

Commander Matthew arranged for the Holy War Army to encamp in the Kant Territory.

It was an ideal encampment location, situated on the upper part of a basin.

If they were to attack Origin City, it would be better to go downstream rather than fighting against the current.

They were all exhausted.

The members of the Holy War Army were either nobles or peasants from Divine Mysterious, who had set off from the Divine Mysterious Peninsula and it took them more than a month to arrive here.

He had been studying the terrain of the River Valley on his journey and still had no clue how to attack.

What a headache!

If Origin City were a strong and tall walled city on the plains, Matthew believed he could organize manpower to build catapults and siege equipment to launch a strong assault.

But what stood before him was not any city wall.

Without taking the water route through Silver Dragon Canyon, one would have to climb over mountains, and it was highly likely to get lost in the mountains without finding the correct path.

Twenty thousand men going in, without fighting, it would be good if even ten thousand could come back alive.

With things as they were, it was best to settle down first.

Matthew and a group of Divine Mysterious nobles took up residence in the abandoned castle.

Overgrown with weeds, anything of value had been removed, even the doors had been taken down.

He heard that last year, six nobles had discussed attack plans here, and now it welcomed new masters.

"Lord Matthew, His Holiness from the Holy Seat says if we cannot see a chance for a quick victory, then we must prepare for a long-term blockade," Elva said.

He was slender and around forty years old, the Bishop of the Church Court.

"What chance of victory?" Matthew asked.

"I have no idea, His Majesty said if there is no chance of victory, then we’ll just have to stay here..." the Bishop said, "All of us must put our full weight here, to block the way out for the blasphemers, otherwise... the second Conqueror will come to rule this land."

Matthew’s expression became grave, knowing that this statement was no exaggeration.

The rise of the River Valley King had been too fast. If this were to continue, the Church Court might have to return to its darkest moments of a hundred years ago.

Pirates, barbarians, times of chaos...

Now was just like then.

Although times had changed, and the Church Court had developed considerably over the last hundred years, far surpassing that of a century before.

Still, they harbored extremely complex feelings toward the man who wore the Black Iron Crown.

"He is not His Majesty the Conqueror, the Conqueror’s own hand could firmly strangle the throat of demons and could tame the witch’s devilry. The blasphemer is just a robber, ah, there is not one here who is not afraid of him! Look at their pitiful appearance." A young Divine Mystery noble angrily pointed at the local farmers they had caught by chance.

"M’ladies and lords, I swear it has nothing to do with me." The farmer in tattered clothes immediately knelt to plead for mercy when he saw the young noble pointing at him.

"Sir Angus, you’ve frightened him." Matthew waved the farmer over.

He asked, "How many of you are still left?"

"Well... there used to be many, many people, but later they were all caught or they all ran away!" the farmer said with a face painted with fear.

"What does Roman the blasphemer catch you for?"

"They say there’s food three times a day, they must be talking nonsense, I only eat twice! They say it’s wheat bread, soybeans, even meat. But no one believes it, I don’t believe it, once gone, no one ever comes back, truly! So we all avoid them. Later our His Majesty the King’s ministers came, warned him, and only then did he stop and spare us."

"Everyone, listen to these brutal acts!"

Angus banged on the table in anger.

Dust rose from the ancient stone table, and the autumn sun made its every detail visible.

The nuns and priests had gone to check the situation, and Sword Master Marshal Archil found himself a three-legged chair and sat down without a word.

"A piece of good land! Ruined like this! Oh All Gods above! Is there still justice here! I must use my sword to judge him! Make him repent!" Angus exclaimed righteously.

"You can shout all you want here, but he won’t hear you," the Bishop said.

These young nobles, with their sincere hearts, joined the Holy War Army, and although they were impulsive in their actions, they were formidable in combat and had joined with their own finances and troops. Some even sold their family estates to sustain one third of the logistical support for the Holy War Army.

"Ah, we are the warriors of the All Gods and are here to help you against Roman the blasphemer. But the warriors of the All Gods need to eat as well," Matthew told the farmer.

"M’lord, I understand! Some lords came last year saying the same, but they were all defeated, then the great Kant lord left as well, we didn’t know who to pay taxes to, we stored all this year’s wheat at home for the lords, now that you have come it’s great, I will bring the wheat from my house right over, and this year’s beans are about to be harvested too, I’ll bring them over for the lords... But, how much should I pay?"

Time and the era had etched humble wrinkles onto the farmer’s face, each one of them dark and deep, as if these deep wrinkles were carved into his facial bones as well.

"Seventy percent, just seventy percent! The other thirty percent is yours!" Matthew said.

The farmer’s face immediately lit up with joy; last year’s noble lords had taken ninety percent in taxes.

The wrinkles on his face seemed to ease, yet at the same time they appeared even deeper.

"Only need to pay seventy percent?! I’ll spread the word right away, the Church Court lords only collect seventy percent tax, we are saved, you truly are a merciful lord!"

Angus spoke generously, "Of course! We are the warriors of the All Gods, we are here to confront the blasphemer and his evil claws, and the reason we do so is to protect you, how could we possibly take all your food! The glory of the All Gods will eventually shine over this entire land!"

He spoke eloquently.

The farmer was both grateful and worshipful, saying "All Gods above" several times.

It seemed he had finally met a truly conscientious lord.

However, in reality, no one expected this land to satisfy the logistics for the more than twenty thousand soldiers of the Holy War Army.

Divine Mystery had conquered vast tracts of land in Cangyue, the origin of the Bro River.

The King of Divine Mystery had already begun the process of establishing reliable ferries along the Bro River to transport supplies.

Before long, the Holy War Army could receive continuous logistical support via water transport.

In fact, once a war breaks out, the only way to transport supplies on a large scale is by water.

Because the losses and difficulties of land transportation are too high to accept.

Water transport, however, is different; a few ships can transport tens of thousands of kilograms of supplies.

This was the confidence that allowed the Holy War Army to dare to be stationed here for a long time.

Not to mention next year, even ten more years would not be a problem.