Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 172 - 9: Wedding Vows

Chapter 172: Chapter 9: Wedding Vows

Lola followed behind Tucker, seeing many pairs and several lonely girls like herself on the road, their faces full of unease.

They were peers, the older ones about twenty, and the younger ones were around seventeen or eighteen.

She hid her emotions deep inside, while they wore theirs on their faces.

"Are they your comrades?"

Lola struggled to keep up with Tucker’s pace.

The latter walked with his upper body straight, legs taut, arms swinging high, marching.

Hearing Lola’s words, Tucker stopped abruptly, nearly causing Lola to bump into him—thankfully, she stood firm.

"Yes!" Tucker nodded.

Lola had some grievances against him but didn’t dare to say much, "Are they also going to get married like us?"

"Yes!"

"So are we going to the church?"

"No church, no priest, Mr. Roman said to drive them all out."

Lola wasn’t surprised; they had murdered dozens of devout believers during their raids, including the priests who had preached to them over the years, all of whom fell in pools of blood.

But this was a struggle between the Church Court and the Nobles, having nothing to do with small people like them.

"Then how do we marry?"

"Mr. Roman will witness."

Lola asked, "How much gold is needed?"

"No payment."

Seeing him finish speaking, he was about to resume the previous marching pace.

The residential roads were well maintained; she had never seen such a hard and flat lime road, but he marched with chest out, head held high, with a stride that was both swift and urgent, forcing her to quicken her pace to keep up.

She thought he might not realize this.

So Lola had to grab his clothes and, under his surprised gaze, took his arm.

Lola could feel his tense arm, with a somewhat stiff movement.

This action indeed slowed his speed, letting her breathe a sigh of relief, walking alongside him and slowly following the crowd towards their destination.

Along the way, other pairs also noticed their action, with some men or women imitating them, linking arms, but the actions were equally awkward, as they had never met before but now had to spend the rest of their lives together.

Roman was also setting up the grand wedding venue, expelling everyone except for the servants.

He instructed people to bring over fifty tables, setting them with exquisite beers, honey-roasted meats, cream cakes, pan-seared chicken breasts, rich soup-braised fish, and bacon-egg rolls.

The wedding banquet dishes were incredibly sumptuous, with aromas lingering in the air.

When Roman and others gathered, he called them to stand in front of the platform, stood on the high stage, lifted his chin, and spoke lightly, "Form a line!"

"Let the women beside you take your right arm."

In less than two minutes, the originally scattered crowd began to form neatly.

This scene was very efficient and aesthetic, with chaos transformed into order in an instant, making Roman nod with satisfaction.

"To whom do you pledge allegiance?"

"We pledge allegiance to Lord Roman, kneel not to All Gods, bow not to the Demon, to open borders for him, to expand lands for him!"

"Whom do you protect?"

"We protect Lord Roman, becoming swords, becoming shields, born for it, die for it!"

"So where do you come from?"

"From the people!"

The response to Roman was unusually orderly.

Roman kept nodding, "Yes! Yes! Yes! You ought to remember, you ought to remember! I am the supreme! I am Heavenly Destiny! I am everything, and they too are manifestations of my will; obeying them is akin to obeying me; protecting them is like protecting me!"

Roman, standing casually on the high platform, his left hand on his waist, right hand held high, etching his upright posture into everyone’s pupils.

That expression was both confident and arrogant as he said, "And I will grant you everything!"

"Now, listen to my command!"

"Answer me, are you willing to marry the woman next to your right hand as your wife?"

"I am willing!"

The response was uniform, resonating like a drumbeat.

"Are you willing to marry the man to your left as your husband?"

The atmosphere fell into silence.

Lola glanced at Tucker, fearing refusal would embarrass the Lord, she had to say, "I am willing."

That voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for others to hear.

Other women also belatedly voiced, "I am willing."

Roman appeared indifferent to the cold reception; it didn’t matter if no one answered, as he knew full well the bastardly act he was committing.

"You shall live together henceforth; on this land, everyone has full human rights, equal identities, fair personalities, and no one will be nobler—except me. Unless the earth crumbles, the sky collapses, these rules will never change."

"I witness your wedding, so from now on, your wedding is sacred, if anyone dares to ruin this, I will not let him off!"

"Now, my warriors, tell me, can you protect the women beside you? Answer me three times!"

Many women were startled upon hearing this, then heard their male partners shout.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

The response grew louder each time, like a tsunami.

"Good! So, do you abide by the following vow—whether in poverty, wealth, sickness, health, joy, or sorrow, I shall love you, cherish you, respect you, not harm you, and will always protect you?"

"I am willing!"

"Not swearing to me! All turn right! Look at her and repeat after me! Whether in poverty! Wealth! Sickness! Health..."

Roman performed a standard turn on his right heel.

He spoke solemnly, word by word, which they repeated, one word at a time.

Lola heard Tucker clumsily repeat those words; there was no romance in the muddy rural roads.

She heard Tucker utter those words.

Her life was never in her own hands, Lola repeated this phrase in her heart.

"Alright, girls, it’s your turn now, repeat after me..."

Roman turned again, repeating those vows for the men, word by word.

The scattered voices gradually grew, converging into one, louder and louder.

Whether it was an illusion or not, the previously awkward and cold atmosphere seemed to transform into solemnity, all participants feeling a surge of power, a strong sense of sanctity, becoming instinctively devout, unforgettable for a lifetime.

Lola couldn’t remember when the wedding feast ended.

She only remembered the intense atmosphere of that day, everyone partaking in an endless lavish feast of flavors they had never tasted before, and endless beer, leaving them all a bit drunk by the end.

The leftovers were allowed to be taken away.

The Soldiers chose to give all the food to their female companions—having long tired of camp meals.

When they left, the Lord on the high platform had them queue for a fur coat, not wool but tanned from wild animal pelts.

Those cloak-style coats were soft and warm.

Some were made of more than ten marten furs, some of fox fur, some of otter, ermine, bear, beaver, and raccoon.

Outside, such things were impossible.

The Nobles had the appearance of Nobles, farmers like farmers, with only an impassable class divide.

Moreover, who knows how many furs it took to make a coat wrapping a full-grown adult, with Tucker saying their Lord used all the furs hunted in the past years of Sige Town, thus everyone got one.

The honorable Lord presented these as wedding gifts to all newlyweds, wishing them a happy life together, and by the way, issued marriage certificates.