Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 343 - 16: Silly

Roman arrived at the Bridgehead.

During winter, the river was low, and the boatmen walked barefoot on the exposed riverbank, transporting the cargo of the longboats to Fertile City.

Standing at the bow was Edith, the Mind Reader.

"Oh my, Your Highness, I didn’t expect you would personally pick me up," Edith said with a smile as she approached Roman.

Behind her, workers were unloading honeycomb coal, iron stoves, sheepskin coats, and woolen garments from the ship.

"How is Origin City now?" freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Edith shrugged, "All is well. As per your order, I’ve visited all the settlements and met every agent and steward. I’ve noted down all the corrupt officials and sent them to the mines for blasting."

"Very good," Roman nodded, "The same here."

Edith groaned, "Spare me, do you know how difficult it is to read the minds of hundreds of people? Surface thoughts are fine, but those deep thoughts are not easily unearthed—unless you have Shasta assist me."

Combining the Nightmare Witch’s magic with hers, even the determined High Order Knights couldn’t withstand it.

"What are you thinking? Shasta must stay by my side," Roman frowned at her, "I’ll give you two pearls."

"Five!" she said immediately.

Roman contemplated for two seconds, then nodded lightly, "Agreed."

"Oh my! Working for Lord Roman is truly my honor," Edith said with a bright smile.

Roman felt like punching her.

But Edith turned away to chat warmly with Margaret, giving him no chance.

Roman thought Edith was too slick, but he couldn’t do without her at this stage.

Functional witches were far more useful than battle witches.

Edith helped him monitor the officials, leaving no room for escape.

His administration couldn’t allow any corruption!

But Roman was also helpless.

He had been away from Origin City for too long, and some people’s thoughts easily strayed without attention.

Not just Origin City, but even the current Fertile City too.

Due to fragmented territories and such, Roman could only allocate resources based on population to be distributed by settlement agents.

These agents were akin to village chiefs.

In a settlement full of fools, it was all too easy for a chief to embezzle resources.

Damn it!

Kill!

Replace one corrupt agent with a new one, and kill again if they misbehave!

Does human depravity outpace the butcher’s knife?

Roman picked up Edith, then went to receive the slaves brought by the caravan.

This group of slaves was about three to five hundred strong, mostly elderly, sick, and weak; fewer than half were able-bodied.

Roman frowned as he broke them up and assigned them to various settlements.

At this moment, Edith whispered to Roman, who frowned even more, looking questioningly at Edith, who nodded innocently.

Roman sighed, pointing to a nondescript slave within the crowd, "Shasta..."

Before he finished speaking and before Shasta could act, Margaret raised her head, her crimson eyes penetrating through her blood-red hair, gazing towards the direction Roman pointed at.

Her action was simple.

She gently raised her right hand, causing the assassin hiding within the slaves to lose control of his body and levitate.

Margaret’s fingers clenched into her palm.

"Margaret!" Shasta screamed.

Boom!

The faceless Death Soldier burst apart, exploding into a mist of blood mid-air, and the scattered flesh fell onto the snow, staining it a wide swath of crimson.

Witnessing such a change, not to mention the slaves who were terrified, even Roman was quite shocked.

Using a spell to pull someone out of thin air and then crush them was, without a doubt, using full power!

Margaret lowered her trembling right hand, her chest heaving violently, unsure if it was from exhaustion or excitement, standing solitary on the snowy ground without further action.

Seeing this, Roman slowly relaxed.

He reassured the slaves, hastening to distribute them, fortunately encountering no further trouble.

Roman, feeling a bit of a headache, led his people back to the castle.

"Are you thinking of killing someone again?"

"I am not!" Margaret said. "Then why did you..." Roman was a bit incredulous, as her cruel and violent methods were quite shocking.

"Your Highness, you wanted him dead," she said softly.

Margaret glared at Roman with her crimson eyes through her hair.

Roman found her gaze a bit chilling; his intuition was sharp, sensing some underlying pressure.

Even wearing amber and gemstones, he lacked the confidence to oppose Margaret’s magic. She was a lethal weapon, mentally unstable, depressive, with a sick character, heavy and twisted.

He nodded, saying, "Yes, I wanted him dead."

This was his order; there was no need to blame anyone for the result. If he were to attribute the guilt of slaughter to the weapon in his hand, removing himself cleanly, then such a person would neither deserve to wield a blade nor have the right to issue commands.

"But you acted alone." Roman was dissatisfied with the procedural error; he had instructed Shasta, not Margaret.

She was a little surprised and somewhat disappointed, bowing her head again, "I...am willing to accept punishment."

Roman suspected that even if he were to hang her for three to five days, Margaret would accept it calmly, but he feared it might provoke her.

A hot potato, Roman thought.

He handled his relationship with Margaret very cautiously.

"Then you won’t have dinner as punishment."

"Yes," Margaret, kneeling, replied, but she did not rise for a long time.

Roman couldn’t figure out what she was thinking; he didn’t have mind-reading skills. Edith did, but when Roman asked her upon their return, Edith said she couldn’t read the thoughts of someone who didn’t even know what they themselves were thinking, especially a High-level Witch’s thoughts. Some high-rank spellcasters knew how to use magic to conceal their true intentions, but Margaret didn’t do that.

She didn’t know what she was doing, but she did it anyway, as if becoming increasingly uncontrollable.

After Roman left, Margaret slowly got up, looking somewhat lost.

"Margaret, are you very confused?" Edith said with a smile, "I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can tell what you want at a glance."

"What do I want?" She turned her head to look at Edith.

But the latter showed no fear of her, putting her arm around her shoulder and sitting down nearby.

"You really are clueless, aren’t you? Your Highness is one thing; he’s scared of you, but with Shasta, it’s different. He looks smart but ultimately is just a dense fool."

"I don’t understand what you’re saying."

"Do you want to sleep with His Highness?" Edith asked bluntly.

"But His Highness only has Shasta warm his bed."

Edith immediately understood what the Highness felt regularly; she felt like hitting her too.

She lamented, "Then what did Shasta say?"

"She said she has no reason to refuse," Margaret said, her delicate brows slightly frowning, "She said we are Chamberlains and should stay close to His Highness, preferably to protect his safety."

Edith saw Margaret’s expression and knew she thought there was nothing wrong with that.

"So why can’t you be the one to stay close and protect His Highness’s safety?" Edith coaxed.

She stumped the simple-minded girl right then and there.