Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 309 - 15: A Small Origin City Shock to the Entire Land! (Requesting Monthly Tickets at the End of the Month)
Chapter 309: Chapter 15: A Small Origin City Shock to the Entire Land! (Requesting Monthly Tickets at the End of the Month)
Roman’s title was that of a King and also a Lord.
The latter was a special title.
The one who conferred the title not only received the highest honor of the land but also bore a mission.
The mission to uphold the Order of the Conquerors.
Roman still remembered the words spoken to him by the minister sent by the lord of Black Iron when he was invested in this remote River Valley—"You need to dispatch troops to quell disturbances, pirates, barbarians, evil demons, foreigners, whatever threatens our safety, you go fight."
Damian might or might not remember these words.
For a scheming advisor adept at playing power games, there was no knowing how many words he spoke each day.
But he certainly remembered how he had egregiously demanded a hefty shield tax from Roman last year because of these words.
And now, he had come again.
He stared intently at Roman, praying in his heart that the Lord wouldn’t shirk the task.
If the Lord in front of him said, "This isn’t about seeking a corner of peace, but peace for the people," or "With all the nations in chaos, we should appoint shepherds to stabilize,"
Taking this as a reason not to dispatch troops and just sleep behind closed doors, then even the Black Iron King really couldn’t do anything to him.
Otherwise, what?
If you push someone too hard, they just might rise in rebellion against you!
Then Black Iron would have to send troops to suppress the rebellion.
After the River Valley King rebels, close the door and sleep soundly in the valley.
How would Black Iron suppress the rebellion?
Stand with the Church Court’s Holy War Army at the door?
The forces of Divine Mysterious are abundant, while the Church Court has an inexhaustible number of believers. They can afford the attrition, Black Iron cannot.
More importantly, once relations deteriorate, the taxes from Origin City would definitely not be coming Black Iron’s way.
Ah, Alster, the fine mess you’ve made.
Roman pondered carefully and after a long while, spoke again, "You want me to dispatch troops, but how can I possibly dispatch troops now?"
"For this very reason, a King as young as you should not always stay in this valley, otherwise you will become just like Lord Alster, isn’t the Church Court your enemy? You have openly provided protection to the witches, they all say you have carried on with Lord Alster’s legacy..."
Roman frowned, "Who says that?"
"Everyone is saying it," Damian shrugged.
Roman fell silent. Under Damian’s somewhat anxious gaze, he slowly nodded and said, "I will dispatch troops."
The minister breathed a sigh of relief, "We can’t delay too long."
"Next year."
The minister tentatively asked, "Before autumn?"
"Possible."
The minister praised effusively, "You are truly the son of Alster!"
Now he could return reassured to his King.
Roman asked, "But, Mr. Damian, I must ask, what exactly does His Majesty the King have in mind?"
Political warfare isn’t about speaking in riddles or responding to secret codes. You need to speak clearly to avoid misunderstandings.
"I would have told you this even if you hadn’t asked... but before that, Lord, may I know the current strength of your forces?"
Roman shook his head, "That’s not important."
Damian emphasized, "Knowing this, I can ascertain how much chance you have of winning."
Roman glanced at him, "If I win, isn’t that enough? It’s not your concern."
Damian wasn’t annoyed and replied with a smile, "With Lord Roman being so confident, I am reassured."
Roman had no interest in reporting the family wealth of Origin City to an outsider.
He had placed a War Fog over Origin City from the very beginning.
The purpose of the War Fog was very simple, to ensure the outside world knew nothing about this place.
This was easily achieved.
Just take this for example; Roman wasn’t sure how many people he had plundered in the Kant Territory, nor how many slaves the pirates had shipped over. Even they didn’t know and had to count each one upon arrival in Origin City to determine the final numbers.
This wasn’t an exaggeration.
Take the flood incident, for instance; the pirates dispatched more than three hundred warships, some large, some small, carrying close to twenty thousand slaves in total.
Did you think they counted each slave as they boarded the ships?
Wrong!
Such a massive and swift operation involved tens of thousands of slaves.
Even the Pirate King might not have been clear on the number of ships sent.
After all, it was business—quick there, quick back. It wasn’t war; there’s no need for precise allocation of forces.
Counting people would delay time; however many there were, they stuffed them in until it felt about right or could fit no more, then set sail to trade with Roman in Origin City.
If Roman deliberately concealed the count of a few hundred slaves, the pirates wouldn’t notice a thing.
Roman simply couldn’t be bothered with such trashy behavior.
But the so-called degree of organization also manifested in such areas.
Pirates, while possessing knowledge of survival passed down through their tribes, were considered barbarians compared to civilized worlds.
Civilized worlds weren’t much better, just a slightly more advanced type of barbarian.
Now, to the outside forces, Origin City was a black hole.
They knew nothing about the population, size, military, or systems of Origin City.
All the residents of Origin City were the same; they couldn’t even sell any intelligence.
Not to mention, even those living in the modern countryside, where most people are unclear about the specific population numbers in their own villages.
Origin City had nearly eighty thousand people, nine thousand brick houses, and ninety living areas.
Each living area was a small village, with as few as three to four hundred people or as many as over a thousand.
Just the difficulty of commanding and dispatching was unimaginable.
"Since there is a chance of victory," Damian said, the young man’s face was devoid of fear, anxiety, or tension when he agreed to dispatch troops. He was clearly trapped here, yet remained calm and composed, as if the Holy War Army outside was merely a paper cage, and all he had to do was tear it up with a slight effort.
Damian, who considered himself experienced in reading people, could tell that this confidence was not an act; Roman truly believed it.
Damian wondered if he had made some deal with a being from the Netherworld, thankfully scholars from Academic City and astrologers from Divine Mysterious had never received any revelation among the stars.
Thinking about those matters of gods and spirits, Damian nevertheless said, "Then, crush the Holy War Army, and His Majesty the King might use this to negotiate with the Pope and get the Church Court to withdraw their troops."
Roman immediately understood, saying, "And what if the Pope refuses? What if things turn worse?"
Roman felt this was a gamble, and that Black Iron was likely to lose.
The situation had developed to such a point that a single victory wouldn’t contain the Church Court’s trend of expansion.
"Then that’s a matter for His Majesty the King to consider." The minister spread his hands and said,
"Lord Roman, we all need to act. You know, nobody dares to be your neighbor, Lord Kant has moved to his distant relatives’. Now the Holy War Army wants to occupy this place. Leaving after a year or half would be one thing, but if they stay longer, then whose land would it be? That’s not a good sign at all."
Indeed, it wasn’t a good sign. The Kant Territory didn’t have many resources, but it had a considerable food output.
The noble alliance had been here, but no one had the intention of swallowing Kant Territory.
For one thing, poverty was a factor—it wasn’t worth it as it would tarnish the family’s reputation.
Secondly, at that time, the Conqueror Order had not collapsed yet.
But it was different with the Holy War Army: they came to burn witches. It wouldn’t make any difference even if Earl Kant hadn’t fled; to have one’s nest overtaken by another was equally unbearable.
Once those twenty thousand Holy War Army soldiers resumed production, they would be settled in. By spring, they would surely start sowing...
Roman said, "I’ll take that land."
Damian was startled, "You mean the Kant Territory? You can have it. I’ll explain the situation to His Majesty. You just need to pay a certain tax, but can you hold it with so many Holy War Army soldiers?"
After all, the Black Iron King only asked Lord Roman to fight a crushing battle.
Roman said, "It’s just twenty thousand Holy War Army soldiers." Not being able to hold them in the past doesn’t mean not being able to now.
Damian was stunned again, "Who told you it was only twenty thousand?"
Seeing Roman start to frown, he continued, "It seems you really don’t care. They started out as twenty thousand, but now there are over thirty thousand, and by next year, there will be forty to fifty thousand. You might ask where the population comes from, but I must tell you, believers of the All Gods in Black Iron Land are plentiful. Those peasants, hearing about the Holy War Army, fled with their families. Many nobles are dissatisfied with this, and His Majesty the King currently has a dozen or more complaint letters on his desk. Those nobles don’t dare to go to Kant Territory to reclaim the fleeing peasants, as the Holy War Army would truly launch a war over those doubtful believers..."
After finishing, he looked at the contemplative Roman, "So... Lord Roman, you’d better prepare yourself."
Previously, Black Iron Land prohibited gatherings of believers and large-scale proselytizing and parades.
Conquest Knights watched the unarmed lower-class peasants with eager eyes—daring to rally together earned them a sound beating.
But now it was different.
The Holy War Army was here; every believer could receive the protection of All Gods; many unhappy peasants instantly thrived.
Another three years of development, and not just Kant Territory—other lords would have to kneel before the priests.
Roman’s attitude remained unchanged, saying, "I understand."
"I’ll be waiting for your victory at Black Castle, together with His Majesty the King," Damian said, "Oh, one more thing: since you were able to mine a thousand catties of gold this year, next year’s tax will only be three hundred catties. Of that, two hundred catties are the mining tax, the remaining one hundred for other miscellaneous items from this year. I assume you don’t need me to list them all?"
Roman closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded lightly.
On one hand, they wanted him to go to war without any military or material support.
On the other hand, they would take a hefty tax equivalent to fifty thousand Gold Coins, but those tax terms were there from the beginning; it’s not uncommon in the nobility system of the Middle Ages and not a matter of being targeted.
It’s just that Origin City was too lucrative.
On the other hand, as long as he paid the tax, his autonomy would be extremely high, akin to an emperor.
Even when facing the questioning Finance Minister about Origin City’s population and military strength, Roman could make him keep his mouth shut.
After conveying the edict of the Black Iron King clearly, the minister left Origin City with the gold that same day.
It started to snow again in December.
Roman wasn’t in a rush; after getting through winter and reaching spring, the dormant wheat would grow swiftly...
By then, he would give the entire land a little shock from Origin City!
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PS: It’s the last day of the month; seeking Monthly Tickets.
