Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 323 - 29: Conventionally Known as Defying Superstition (Extra for Alliance Leader)

Chapter 323: Chapter 29: Conventionally Known as Defying Superstition (Extra for Alliance Leader)

In Origin City, it was easy to make excuses. The terrain was treacherous with natural barriers shielding it from all external eyes.

But in Fertile City, that wouldn’t work, some things couldn’t be hidden.

Of course, once exposed, they were exposed.

Now that the foundations were laid, Roman no longer cared about these things.

These were but basic agricultural knowledge, and spreading this knowledge across the land could do no harm.

Indeed, such knowledge really could increase food production.

However, willing hearts were powerless in the face of reality.

The people of this era were fearful of new technologies.

This was because the Church Court was restraining the development of civilization.

But for civilization, not progressing is akin to regressing.

The Church Court was conservative.

Roman was a radical.

That’s why he saw the Church Court as his arch-enemy.

An ecclesiastical institution that believes the world was created by All Gods and everything endowed by them cannot accept rational knowledge.

Believers say every day to the sun, "Sun God above," and if you tell them it’s just a big fireball, they’ll either think you’re a lunatic, a fool, or they’ll send you to court to be judged guilty by a judge and Priest in unison for blaspheming the Sun God.

You say, can’t we just talk sense? How about I conduct a scientific experiment for you?

They respond that they’re speaking the truth of All Gods, and science is witchcraft! It must be burned!

The entire society was in such a state of ignorance.

So direct promotion was not an option, and even if it could be done, it would face difficulties and require a long time to develop.

Spreading heavy plow and fertilization techniques across the Black Iron Land within decades would be a win.

Roman couldn’t wait that long.

He didn’t fancy doing thankless tasks either.

Must cut through the mess swiftly!

Talk reason? Talk science? Do you deserve to hear it?

A punch from me, and you’ll know who’s right and who’s wrong.

Roman gave the Holy War Army a punch, and Kant Territory instantly became Fertile City, beginning deep cultivation with heavy plows.

A veritable development miracle!

Isn’t this faster than reasoning with fools?

When things reached a certain point, it was the fool who would start discussing sense with you.

Like the fool before him now.

Sir Damian’s face unexplainably lit up with excitement, "Lord Roman, is what you’re saying true?"

’I believe it if you believe it, get lost if you don’t!’ Roman really wanted to say that.

But he was a boxer with manners; there was no enmity between Damian and himself, no need for such aggressiveness.

"I’m not joking with you," he said.

Of course, Damian believed him.

The development trajectory of Roman Riptide had already been thoroughly studied by all the major powers.

What puzzled everyone the most was how he could afford to maintain such a large army.

The King needs an army to rule over a vast territory.

And an army needs food and money.

Let’s not even mention burning money, just talking about food.

A hundred Conquest Knights would need three hundred catties of grain a day.

Everyone commonly spreads the costs of one hundred Conquest Knights over ten thousand lower-class farmers.

That’s under the most ideal conditions, because not everyone can be a farmer, there are other professions, so often you need even more people.

How come only you are exaggerating like this?

How can you afford such a population?

Now Damian understood.

If food production could be greatly increased...

If, hypothetically, it could be doubled.

That would mean the carrying capacity of the original land could also be doubled, and the surplus grain could support even more Conquest Knights.

With that grain, what kind of army couldn’t you afford?

Damian’s heart was hit by a storm surge. As a minister of the Black Iron King, he was among the most astute in the Black Iron Kingdom; otherwise, he would not have been able to manage those complex and tedious accounts.

He didn’t understand farming but he could do the economic calculations.

The minister’s throat was inexplicably dry: "Lord Roman, may I ask how much it can increase food production?"

Roman got serious for a moment: "Using a heavy plow can increase production by fifty percent, and using fertilizer can also increase it by fifty percent. If both are used, it can double... relatively speaking."

He was erring on the side of caution. The land conditions vary everywhere, as does soil fertility, and it would be exceedingly complicated to explain in detail.

Generally speaking, a yield of sixty catties per mu was normal, and it wasn’t an exaggeration to raise the yield to over a hundred catties per mu with proper techniques.

"I must tell His Majesty, I have to tell His Majesty!" the minister said solemnly.

"Then you go," said Roman.

He had never hoped for any man—idiots who couldn’t even understand farming. Forcibly changing the system would only backfire in the event of an accident, turning everything into a complete mess.

"No, no, no, you have to come with me to see His Majesty."

"What kind of joke are you making?" Roman’s face grew cold.

A bucket of cold water seemed to be poured over Damian, who calmed down somewhat, "But you need to give me a detailed farming procedure... I mean, your method."

Roman looked at him for a moment and nodded, "I’ll give you some materials."

Black Iron law did not dictate that nobles must obey the Black Iron King without question.

Roman gave face; he then was a king. Without face, he was nothing.

Kings collect taxes, nobles pay taxes.

Kings summon, nobles send troops.

Nobles accepted the lands enfeoffed by the king: doing just this much was already all of duty and decency. What more did the king expect from the nobles? At most, it was about hosting the king’s envoys, and that would be sufficient.

Within their own territories, they were essentially a "king".

I respect you; you also need to respect me.

This was a right that great nobles should have.

If a vassal of the Riptide Family rebelled, it wouldn’t be the Black Iron King who suppressed it, but the Grand Duke Riptide.

As long as the rebelling vassal fulfilled his obligations to the Black Iron King, the king would rather not meddle in the dispute between the vassal and his lord, as long as both forces pledged loyalty to him.

The problem also lay here.

Adversity reveals the sincere; chaos tests the loyal.

Without incidents, how could the king know if his vassals would send troops?

The Grand Duke Riptide went to war against pirates, yet you were nowhere to be seen; when it came to fighting the rebel army, you struck with an iron fist.

Even on the surface, Roman and the Black Iron King were firm "Anti-Church Court allies," seemingly a united front.

But this relationship was unstable; the two needed to forge a closer alliance of mutual interests.

Becoming kin through marriage was the most common political strategy in the world.

Common, yes, but not for someone like Roman.

He had no desire for a political marriage.

Men are fools, women are idiots. Give them both punches; only he is invincible!

...

Roman put all the details, such as the Heavy Plow Diagram, Fertilizer Fermentation, and the Peat Effect, in writing on parchment, and made sure to include explanations and instructions based on local conditions.

After staying here for a few days, Damian closely observed those steps in the fields and compared them to the farming materials given by Roman, finding them identical and even more meticulous in the instructions.

Yet, he would bet that the current River Valley King’s prowess was not limited to advanced cultivation techniques.

At least, the source of those plate armors was something he’d never heard Roman mention, and sending spies yielded no results.

The military did not participate in the forging in Coal Iron Town.

Even if everyone said they had those plate armors, unless someone witnessed it themselves, they wouldn’t truly believe it.

Even now, the Black Iron King was half-convinced, feeling that the Church Court might have exaggerated a bit.

...

The bushes have a boxer, I was knocked down with a punch.JPG

Let me see what happened.JPG

(After getting punched) So that’s what happened.JPG

...

Often termed as not believing in curses. freewēbnoveℓ.com

One never knows the pain until the iron fist hits them.

But the fact that the Holy War Army got trashed is also true.

Whether true or not, it’s impossible for the king to investigate thoroughly.

"Your Highness, River Valley King, just these won’t suffice," Damian gathered up the parchment and looked at Roman with a smile.

He hadn’t forgotten his original intention; the man before him was too terrifying, and he must strengthen their relationship.

"What do you want?"

"Weapons, arrows, plate armor..." Damian listed confidently.

"I don’t have plate armor, but I can give the first two."

How could he possibly give out plate armor!

Roman would want to ask if the Black Iron King knew that hoarding armor was a capital offense that warranted decapitation.

Are you trying to rebel!

As for other weapons and arrows, give as much as needed.

One’s downfall can chill the other.

If the Black Iron King fell, he wouldn’t fare well either.

"But I have a condition as well."

"What condition?"

"I want trade privileges."