Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 332 - 5: Because He is Kind (Alliance leader adds more, asking for votes)

Chapter 332: Chapter 5: Because He is Kind (Alliance leader adds more, asking for votes)

After the celebration ended, Roman also tallied the total amount of grain harvested in Fertile City this round.

It was better than expected.

One hundred thousand acres of land, nearly twenty million pounds of wheat.

He planned to increase the population of Fertile City to one hundred thousand this year, two hundred pounds of wheat per person, it was barely enough.

But the more grain, the better.

...

At that time, the soul of Fertile City had awakened from the harvest celebration.

In the past, no one had told them what they were doing, nor had anyone explained what good it did; they just kept on working.

Roman could force them to labor because there were three meals a day, and they wouldn’t go hungry.

But enthusiasm was not to be expected; three meals a day were three meals a day, and there was no telling when the master might cancel them out of discontent.

They had all been through such experiences before.

Most of these people had suffered tragedies like family ruin, exile, slavery, or capture after defeat.

If you asked them why they were still alive, they couldn’t give a reason.

They lived instinctively, numbly, like the walking dead.

Without direction or purpose.

This was their life.

Soldiers often told them that they were no different, that by following the master, they could eat well and live well.

Those soldiers came from the former Kant Territory and sincerely hoped that this land would prosper; they worked the hardest when it was time to labor.

But no one believed this; it was too fanciful.

You’re a soldier, and I’m a slave; if you don’t beat me when I walk on the road, I still have to bow to you.

It’s as if a slave who works hard can live a good life, ha ha ha.

Now...

Oh no, this might actually be true!

Their souls were as if jolted awake from deep slumber.

When they looked again at the land, they were astonished to find it had truly improved.

...

The bumpy dirt road used to turn into a quagmire whenever it rained.

After road construction, the bottom layer was made of broken stones, the middle of gravel, and the top of cleanly chiseled flagstones, all held together with lime.

The stone-paved road was smooth and tidy, full of beauty, and stretched straight into the distance.

The efficiency of transportation had more than doubled. Now, it was they themselves who benefited.

Because it wasn’t just the speed that had increased, but also the ease of transporting goods.

By the All Gods, this was the road they had built with their own hands.

What a wonderful thing indeed.

...

A few months ago, this had been a wasteland overgrown with weeds, difficult to cultivate.

Now, unfamiliar brick houses rose from the earth.

Construction teams systematically excavated foundations and stacked bricks, coal transported from Origin City as if it cost nothing.

The blazing fire from the coal turned stinking mud into hard bricks.

By the hands of the construction team, hundreds of numb farmers moved bricks and built walls, thinking they were building a larger castle for the master.

Now, looking dazedly, they realized it was neither grand nor imposing, with sharp edges that carried a sense of order not belonging to this chaotic and miserable era, and exuded an approachable air—it wasn’t the kind of house a noble master should live in, nor was it a house befitting lowly slaves.

Low-lying buildings connected in clusters, sturdy tiles forming mountains.

Standing in front of these houses now were none other than themselves.

My lord above, these were the houses they had built with their own hands.

What could be more beautiful than this?

...

"Number 3 White!" A youthful voice shouted.

"Little master, I’m here." A figure squeezed out from the crowd. His face bore deep wrinkles, his skin cracked, and his manner was humble and ingratiating.

"Are you Number 3 White?"

"Little master, it’s me, they say I’m Number 3..." White stammered, and his family behind him watched nervously.

"Did you come here last year from the Baron Lester’s territory?"

"Lord Priest said we wouldn’t have to suffer any longer if we came here, oh, All Gods above, I was bewitched at that moment..."

"Here there is only the River Valley King! Not allowed to speak of All Gods! How many in your family?"

"Gracie, Avin, Arthur..." He counted on his fingers, looked back at his family, and finally confirmed, "Three, little master, we have three in the family!"

"And you?" The boy could hardly believe it.

"Four people! It’s four people!" He corrected himself in a fluster.

The boy looked at another boy who flipped through a stack of papers and nodded.

"Checked out, Number 3 White is the Family Head, his wife Gracie, son Avin, daughter Arthur."

The boy said to White, "Alright then, our great lord has bestowed this house upon you, because you are good. It’s the first one I’m pointing to; don’t go to the wrong one. You and your family must move in, but you’re not allowed to change places, do you understand?"

"Thank you, great lord, thank you little master."

This was the Number 5 residence zone. The temperature in June had clearly risen, but it was cooler here compared to Origin City.

The summer breeze blew gently, the wild grass was lush, and the crowd lined up under the shade of trees to allocate houses.

"That... that... the great lord won’t take back the house, will he?" White’s wife asked in a hesitant murmur.

"As long as you work properly, it won’t be taken back and there are even rewards, just get that piece of land, right, the one next to... four thousand acres, plowed and sowed within this month, and the great lord will reward you with a bed, a table, and three stools next month..."

The boy struggled to read the words on the paper.

But this task was a bit hard for him, he stuttered as he read them out.

Finally, the boy said loudly, "Do you understand?"

"I understand, I understand!" White nodded vehemently, as if to say that farming was nothing; not to mention four thousand acres, he wouldn’t even blink at double that.

The other boy wrote down some basic information about Number 3 White on a paper identification.

Number 5 residence zone, house number 05001.

Handing the identification to the farmer.

"Keep it safe, you’ll rely on it to claim benefits."

White didn’t understand what benefits were, it was a strange, newly coined word, but he grasped its meaning; something directly given to him by the lord must be of great importance. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

By the next month, he would even get a batch of furniture...

Did he deserve it? The startled and grateful White wondered.

But there was no helping it; it was a decision made by the great lord himself.

"Gracie, Gracie, look, we have a house now."

His wife said, "Such a sturdy and spacious one at that, look how solid the material is, is this really given to us by the great lord?"

"Certainly!"

The lord had said so.

Because he was good.

So he was given a house.

At this moment, White felt a deep guilt and remorse for his laziness in the fields last month.

All Gods above, I confess my sins to You, I will surely clear my sin with the great lord from now on, whatever the great lord says goes, whatever the great lord asks me to do, I will do.

After concluding his mental confession, the farmer looked at the brick house before him and was filled with joy.

And behind White, each brick house now had its inhabitants.

Some were slaves from the North, some were converts of the Holy War Army, some were war prisoners seeking refuge, but even more were the destitute of the former Kant territory.

With a home, they had set down roots.

Nothing could be better than this.