Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 150 - 22: Do You Think I’m Made of Clay? (Extra for Alliance Leader Torch)

Chapter 150: Chapter 22: Do You Think I’m Made of Clay? (Extra for Alliance Leader Torch)

"Go ahead, and if that’s not enough, grind these two green gemstones into powder as well," Roman said resolutely as he handed over two green gemstones to Green.

Green had no choice but to comply.

Both green gemstones and Peacock Stones had similar effects, belonging to the green gemstone series.

He felt it was a waste of precious resources.

A single green gemstone or Peacock Stone was worth at least several gold coins, the higher the quality, the higher their value.

But such things couldn’t bring the dead back to life. They could only promote wound healing and the regeneration of new flesh—equating to a sort of super-effective anti-inflammatory drug.

A single Peacock Stone could only be ground into enough powder for about twenty or thirty people, giving each person just a pinch, barely enough to suffice.

For the amount required by the Conquest Knights, it would be even less.

Using several gold coins to exchange for the anti-inflammatory medicine for twenty or thirty people was too costly; with that money, you could buy the same number of slaves.

Roman didn’t see it that way; he had his own standards for judging the value of inanimate objects and living beings.

Those Conscripted Soldiers were not his enemies but his future subjects to govern, and there was no reason to be overly harsh with them.

Roman was busy until dawn, and only then did he find some free time to rest.

He wasn’t afraid of night attacks.

As long as they could organize a force that could advance more than ten kilometers in the dark without collapsing, they would win.

Therefore, it was only necessary to arrange a few Scout outposts.

...

Roman slept for about four or five hours before his biological clock woke him up.

The sky was beginning to lighten, the grey-white mist making it look very chaotic.

It was now the end of winter, and the temperature was rising instead of falling.

Through "Breathing Story," Roman could check the weather at ’Origin Farm,’ but he was unclear about the weather outside of the farm.

But there was going to be heavy snow in Sige Town tomorrow.

That meant Kant Territory might also be welcoming snowfall.

Things were somewhat bad.

Both the weather and Roman’s mood.

What was worse was that today they would have a proper fight with the vassals of Earl Kant.

A whole day had passed.

Even if Earl Kant was slow to react, he should have come to his senses by now.

It was impossible to immediately call upon all the Conscripted Soldiers.

Especially since they had lost a good number of Conquest Knights and Conscripted Soldiers yesterday, leaving them with even fewer hands to deploy.

In such a hasty time, they could at most muster an army of a few hundred men.

...

By six o’clock in the morning, preparations for departure were complete.

Menial workers rose early and went to bed late.

They were responsible for the logistics and miscellaneous tasks during the march, and the workload was not insignificant.

Particularly, managing those slaves to prevent them from escaping—four hundred menial workers were also armed with curved blades—Sige Town may have lacked other things, but it produced a massive quantity of steel weapons.

But someone had to do the dirty, tiring work.

Roman’s Soldiers were meant to kill the enemy, not to handle odd jobs.

There were some benefits, however.

After the task was accomplished, each menial worker, without having to go to the front line, would receive a reward of five copper coins.

In total, Roman would have to pay out twenty gold coins in raiding fees.

With money, they naturally worked very diligently, and their tolerance for the cold increased significantly.

They woke up all the slaves one by one, tied them back onto the ropes, and then gave each a piece of roast meat and the remaining food.

The villagers of Pudun Village watched with burst veins in their eyes.

The roast meat came from the livestock they raised.

The food came from their winter provisions.

Theirs!

All theirs!

But they dared not express their anger!

Baron Crow’s corpse was still swaying on the branches.

By all the Gods!

That was the noble and prestigious lord, now dead so crisply and cleanly.

"May the All Gods punish these lawless thugs, and let us return to our normal lives!"

All the farmers were silently praying.

This must be a nightmare!

Their current identity was that of slaves, honestly bound by their hands, clustered together like grapes.

Due to a shortage of menials, some of the stronger slaves had to be released to help Roman herd the cattle and carts, tend to the wounded from the day before, and care for the immobile babies on the supply wagons.

A single soldier was enough to deter dozens or even hundreds of slaves, keeping them from making any rash moves.

Under the influence of the herd mentality, no one dared to stick their necks out.

Besides, they were not subject to any abusive treatment.

It was only that they had been forced to leave their homes, lose all their land, possessions, and social status, and become the lowest class of slaves... that’s all.

"Move it! Don’t dawdle!" the menials kept urging, their breath forming thick clouds of mist.

Everyone’s fingers were frozen stiff.

The cold season had not yet passed, and the land of Kant Territory was much colder than Sige Town.

They were somewhat unaccustomed to it, but they had to adapt whether they liked it or not.

Roman wanted them to quickly reach the fourth village, aiming to leave this land by tomorrow; the empty merchant ships had long been prepared upriver on the Bro River.

But this required passing through Kant Territory.

The Earl of Kant’s territory was vast, located upstream from Sige Town, and actually not adjacent to the tributary of Silver Dragon Canyon, but bordered another tributary.

To be precise, the Bro River was diverted next to Kant Territory, and that tributary brought a certain prosperity to the region. However, Kant Territory had no special products, so most merchant ships did not stop there, at most considering it a supply point.

A Baron was in charge of guarding the points of diversion, with a bridgehead—a fortress without a bridge, whose purpose was to guard against enemies coming downstream.

No one expected that the ones to stab them would be their downstream neighbors, utterly ridiculous!

Roman wasn’t worried about the Baron of the bridgehead interfering with his retreat plan.

No other reason.

He was hanging from a tree.

The route Roman planned for looting was winding.

After all, the locations of the villages could not possibly line up in a straight line, their destinations varying, so naturally, they had to zigzag, plundering some small villages along the way.

And the fourth village was the deepest into Kant Territory, qualifying as a venture into dangerous territory.

According to what Daken said, the terrain of that village was very open, which was conducive to the actions of the Conquest Knights.

Their direction of march could not be hidden.

This also meant that the likelihood of battle was extremely high.

Of course, if they just wanted to retreat without passing through the fourth village, there was a side path they could take, which would have a high chance of avoiding combat.

But this contradicted Roman’s original intention.

To save time, they had to eat breakfast on the road; otherwise, they wouldn’t have the strength to continue.

This was basically living off the war; there were practically no supplies, and the convoy was carrying the shields for the Heavy Soldiers, but the walking speed of the slaves equalled their progress.

Walking two kilometers in an hour was barely acceptable.

Whether rushing or dragging their feet, they approached the fourth village before the morning was over.

At that moment, the sound of a whistle reached their ears.

Scouts sent to investigate alerted them to ambushes in the distant forest.

Once their numbers exceeded a hundred, it became impossible to hide everyone in a stretch of forest. The traces left by the people and horses were too many, and the observant scouts could spot them at a glance.

However, the second piece of intelligence from the scouts caused Roman to furrow his brow.

The inhabitants of the fourth village were moving out.

Clearly, the pillaging of the three villages yesterday and the failed ambush had greatly shocked the inhabitants of the fourth village.

When they learned that Roman’s convoy was heading this way, it scared them witless.

Most of them hastily took their families, property, and livestock and fled elsewhere.

Holding his horse’s reins, Roman said to Dick and Jet, "Heavy troops hold the formation, light troops grab people, grab as much as you can... This time I’m going with Aaron and Green."

He didn’t care about Kant’s military forces, which were utterly worthless to him.

But he couldn’t ignore those valuable people.

If he looked on as the fools from the fourth village all escaped, wouldn’t his trip be in vain?

Dick exclaimed in surprise, "Ah? You..."

He was worried about Roman encountering danger.

"You think I’m made of mud?" Roman glanced at Dick. He, too, could take to the battlefield and was terrifyingly strong, invincible among those of the same rank.

Dick sighed, "I’ll go with you, let Jet stay to command."

Roman considered it and nodded in agreement.

Admittedly, Dick was now the strongest in the army, even Jet couldn’t beat him.