Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 120 - 24: Pick Up Your Own Weapon

Chapter 120: Chapter 24: Pick Up Your Own Weapon

"Master Roman, do I also have one?"

Gwivelle lay on the table, watching Roman, who was focused and sweating profusely.

He arranged the type molds, brushed on the ink, and placed them in the printing press.

A sheet of paper, smelling of ink and printed with words, appeared freshly.

He admired it for a moment and then nodded, answering, "Yes, everyone should have one. I have high expectations of you all. At the very least, you must master most words, read and write without hindrance."

"How many words do you know now? How high can you count?" Roman glanced at the Witch of Calamity.

She seemed increasingly cute, her innocent brown eyes like a doe’s, and her once coarse hair was now silky and smooth, tied up in a complex hairstyle, likely managed with Nillie’s help.

Sanna also had a part in this; he noticed the fisher girl had a similar hairstyle. Once the young girls’ love for beauty found a suitable ground, it grew rapidly, and they became more mindful of their appearance, especially when the two girls gathered.

Like Gwivelle, Nillie was also Roman’s chamberlain.

But the former was very busy; Roman tasked her with teaching the children, dealing with hundreds of them daily, which made anyone’s head spin. She hardly had a moment’s rest, which was good, as it kept her from wandering around him idly.

In comparison, Gwivelle’s tasks weren’t heavy, merely needing to quickly pass the foundational education assessment.

"Count to 50..." The Witch of Calamity felt unsure.

Roman thought she was smart and believed that if she studied earnestly, she would excel, so he asked her to memorize numbers.

Gwivelle got stuck at 25.

Perhaps the numbers beyond 25 had existed in her mind briefly, but they slipped away without lingering.

With an unstable foundation, it’s no surprise to have such results.

Roman sighed, and Gwivelle immediately became nervous.

She didn’t want to see Roman disappointed because of her.

"Do you intend to keep going like this?" Roman quietly looked at Gwivelle, who lowered her head, not daring to meet his gaze.

So he turned to a maid and said,

"Go and call Sanna over."

The fisher girl quickly appeared before Roman. She was anxious, unsure of what had transpired. She looked at Gwivelle next to Roman, hoping the latter would give her a hint, but the little witch was preoccupied with self-pity, making Sanna increasingly uneasy.

"How long have you been studying at the manor?" Roman asked her.

Sanna’s brain was working like never before, and she cautiously replied, "Five months, sir."

"Five months of study, is that right?"

"Yes."

"How many numbers can you count now?"

"50."

Roman nodded: "Also 50, huh? Then count them out."

Sanna deftly counted those numbers.

Different living environments can have various impacts.

For instance, Yaki lived on the plateau, while Sanna lived by the seaside.

From a young age, they were accustomed to tallying things, and their sensitivity to numbers was unlike the mountain folks of Sige Town, even having numerical abilities without reference points.

Sanna stopped at 50, sneaking a glance at Roman, seeing no change in his expression.

"Continue," Roman signaled to her.

Sanna had to continue counting. Under Gwivelle’s incredulous, seemingly betrayed gaze, the numbers quickly surpassed one hundred.

Once the technique is mastered, instead of rote memorization, counting itself presents no difficulty.

"Sanna, you are a smart child, but Gwivelle is not. She is aimless, living comfortably, has lost her sense of urgency and competitiveness. This is not right. Gwivelle, if someday I am no longer by your side, will you hide in the mountains?"

Gwivelle shook her head painfully; she approached Roman, clutching his hem with her small hands, looking up and saying, "I want to follow you, no matter where... You said it yourself, I’m your chamberlain."

"Chamberlain is just a status, and status is illusory. You cannot rely on a status to provide you with all comfort and ease. My dear Gwivelle, life in the mountains is not pleasant, as it is for anyone. Escaping is an option, but escaping is painful. You cannot retreat; the more you retreat, the more you lose. No one can be your eternal support. You must take up your own weapon!"

He spoke gently, with great patience.

Gwivelle couldn’t fully understand these words.

Roman didn’t blame her; a person’s growth is destined to be a long journey, as the saying goes, "Live and learn."

"If you can’t keep up with Sanna’s progress, I’ll confine you. I’ll give you just one month... Now go."

Roman watched Gwivelle leave, dejectedly following Sanna, and at the moment she stepped out of the hall, the whispers of the two girls arose.

He heard Gwivelle accusing Sanna, asking if she had secretly made progress at night.

The latter replied innocently, "If you don’t improve, should I not be allowed to? Kao pushes me to improve every day; I can’t afford not to..."

Those arguments gradually faded away.

Roman shook his head.

These two girls might become quite competitive in the future.

Gwivelle wasn’t seriously studying, but she wasn’t a fool.

Sanna’s actions hurt her, but can you blame Sanna? He only saw Sanna as promising material, seeing Kao teaching his sister well.

He summoned Seth, asking him to bind these printed sheets with straw rope and distribute them to the children and the army.

The children gradually became accustomed to coming to the manor every day.

While it was said to be for learning, in reality, there were only two or three classes a day, lasting about two hours, with the rest of the time spent laboring—the wells at Origin Manor were dug by them.

Roman spent five days completing the movable type printing, although mass printing was not possible at this stage.

However, their education level had to be prioritized.

The content of learning for the children and the army differed as well.

Children needed to learn daily language, while the army needed to learn combat instructions.

In the past, low learning efficiency was unavoidable, but now it had to be accelerated!

From two hours a day to six to eight hours.

Roman placed great importance on these matters, telling Seth, "Find people from the construction team, and build a school next to the manor. I will be the headmaster—when I’m free, I’ll also teach them."

...

That intolerable period of high temperatures finally ended, and the temperature gradually lowered.

Roman busily gathered everyone together.

They had rested for nearly ten days, and he had long been displeased with them.

He first recruited a batch of young laborers to become soldiers.

Roman lowered the recruitment threshold, expanding the forces directly by 100, raising the total army size to about 250.

Some became soldiers, while others were eliminated.

The atmosphere in the military camp was unique; new recruits would follow the rhythm of the veterans in physical training.

The distinct atmosphere would constantly remind them that the survival rules here differed from the outside world.

Roman didn’t care whether the new recruits were weak-willed or had character flaws.

As long as they were physically healthy and had the potential to become warriors, they could become soldiers.

The camp he and Jet designed was a great forge, much like the process of iron refining: melting impurities away, only preserving sponge iron, then repeatedly tempering them to forge their will.

Ultimately forging qualified soldiers capable of standing against the charge of a Conquest Knight.

Those defective rejectals would be weeded out during training, never even reaching the battlefield.