Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 206 - 11: No worries, I’ll do the same for all of you!

Chapter 206: Chapter 11: No worries, I’ll do the same for all of you!

Nathan led his men all the way from the valley in pursuit of the Noble Coalition’s camp.

Nearly with axes chopping at their behinds.

The nobles, in their panic, were unable to take many of their belongings.

Let’s not even talk about logistics and supplies.

What mattered were those two hundred and more warhorses.

The Conquest Knights initiated a surprise attack, but due to the dire situation on the battlefield, they were unable to withdraw.

All major families had gathered about seventy Conquest Knights, and now the majority were dead, the remaining few captured.

Only a small number of knights and their squires managed to escape, accompanying the major nobles as they retreated from this collapsing battlefield, taking with them only a limited number of horses.

Roman did not continue to pursue.

He ordered his men to clean up the battlefield and rescue the wounded soldiers.

The casualties this time were too severe.

At least one-third of the casualties were related to this group of Conquest Knights.

As for their fate, Roman had already come to a decision.

Execution for them all!

Certain knights believed Roman would ransom them in exchange for gold, and upon hearing the soldiers say otherwise, they all panicked, claiming they wanted to meet with Roman, asserting they still had value.

But Roman’s determination was unwavering!

He couldn’t bear to see others beg for mercy before him.

Thus, those knights who struggled and resisted didn’t even get a chance to meet Roman, their heads were chopped off and piled into a—gold pyramid.

Using blood and heads to offer sacrifice for his fallen Angel Envoy and soldiers.

By evening, everyone was settled in the nobles’ camp.

Many were busy, some guarding prisoners, others tallying casualties and counting gains.

Especially Roman and Dick, who had various lists to write.

By the next day, the army had been mostly reassembled.

Those wounded soldiers, prisoners, and the bodies of dead soldiers were escorted by military servants towards Sige Town.

While Roman led all soldiers able to fight, along Black Iron Avenue, toward Kant Territory.

...

Midsummer early days.

Roman arrived at Kant Territory.

Earl Kant returned to his castle, fully prepared to defend.

But Roman had no interest in raiding castles.

He rode his horse and led his troops down the road to those villages, turning to address his soldiers, "Go and do what you must."

The soldiers entered the villages.

Soon, the villagers were driven out by the soldiers.

Roman looked down on them from his lofty position, "Take your food and livestock with you, follow me."

He spoke indifferently, without explanation, those poor villagers turning ashen, resigning themselves to their fate, heads down, "Lord, we’ve got no food left, nor livestock."

Roman furrowed his brow.

"Where is your food?"

"It was borrowed by other lords," he explained. "There’s a Viscount something, a Gaius, and a bunch of very fierce ones who seemed like beasts..."

Roman, mounted on a white horse, asked, "Did they take your food?"

"Uh, not taken, borrowed. Everyone’s been borrowed from, they said they’d compensate us later."

"And what did your Earl do?"

"The Earl... Lord Earl said that the lords had plans to attack a bandit named Roman, a bad guy who took a lot of Lord Earl’s things, raided a lot of people, showed no mercy to men, women, or children, basically committed all sorts of evil. Those lords went to fight against him... The lords said, as long as Roman is defeated, we’ll have better days."

The villagers’ expressions were numb, their voices monotone, with only a hint of confusion.

Why had they never seen this lord before?

"I am Roman," he said.

Surprise finally showed on the villagers’ faces as they quickly glanced up at him, then promptly lowered their eyes to the ground.

No wonder those stewards escaped faster than each other, taking their families with them.

They could flee, but could they?

Some are lords of the land, wherever they go.

Others are slaves to the land, wherever they go.

...

Roman didn’t like dealing with the villagers.

Gloomy, numb, despairing, with an oppressive atmosphere that clung to you.

Disheveled, faces filthy, eyes dim—as if they were cow dung on the roadside giving off a foul stench. It wasn’t just them; the villagers of Sige Town carried the same scent.

But Roman felt it must be due to differing fermentation environments.

He had adapted to the smell of Sige Town and gradually made them shed that stench. However, he hadn’t adapted to the smell of Kant Territory.

"Don’t you blame your earl?"

The villager didn’t understand why he was asking and could only nod nervously without speaking.

"Speak!"

"The earl is good to us, it’s because the other nobles are afraid of our earl that they don’t dare kill anyone here. When they take away our grain, those lords even say they’re borrowing it from us."

Everyone clearly understood what ’borrowing’ meant.

At the very least, it offered a hopeful consolation one could accept in good conscience.

Without the earl, their situation would only be worse.

"What else have they done?" Roman asked again, "Speak up, I want to hear, and everyone must say one thing at least."

With that, the villagers exchanged glances and reluctantly began to speak.

"The Yide Family’s land was trampled, this year’s harvest will definitely be much less..."

"The mill steward’s daughter was taken by one of those beastly lords. He was in charge of the mill, and while his daughter was grinding the wheat, that lord pinned her right there—in the end, he gave her a sum of money for her trouble..."

"Seth bumped into a lord of the Saline Family while herding sheep, so they hung him up and lashed him over a dozen times. Seth couldn’t survive it and died..."

Roman interjected, "Didn’t you say your earl doesn’t let them kill anyone?"

"It’s just that Seth didn’t make it through," that person explained.

Roman nodded, not saying much more.

"Continue."

They spoke of many things, all bad.

The five great nobles had sent three to four thousand soldiers, all stationed in Kant Territory—what good could come of that?

If it hadn’t been for Roman initially helping Earl Kant reduce the population pressure by five to six thousand, they would probably be going even hungrier by now.

If they weren’t screwing one person over, they were beating another.

Stealing poultry, looting property, extorting money, playing the bandit on the side.

Today they’d kill a chicken, tomorrow slaughter a sheep, then dust off their hands and be on their way.

As they spoke, everyone fell silent, and the atmosphere grew somber and quiet.

The leading villager hung his head, muttering, "Lord, what do you want from us? See, I was brought here by your warrior while I was still out digging for wild vegetables. There’s no spare grain at home, and the summer harvest is just days away. If you’re short on grain, we’ll harvest early for you—wheat is nearly ripe, so we’ll just ask you to leave us some seed."

"I don’t want grain," Roman said.

"Then what do you want? We will give you anything, just please leave us a way to live, my lord."

"I want to play with your daughters, screw your wives, beat your mothers. Call them out, and I’ll take my turn with each one. Once I’ve had my fun, I’ll be on my way."

No one responded.

The leading villager continued to mutter, "My mother died long ago, she lay down at the edge of the field one rainy day saying she was tired and wanted to sleep, then never got up again."

"What about your wife?"

"She’s dead too, died in childbirth. I was working in the fields when it happened."

"And your daughter?"

"My daughter died with my wife, all I have left is a son."

"How old?"

"Seven."

"That’s fine, I’ll screw boys all the same!"

"Lord, I beg you, please give us a way to live!" the villagers shouted.

"What are you standing around for? Take them all away!!"

Roman turned and barked the order to the soldiers.

The soldiers were somewhat hesitant, there was no perceived urgency, no need to be too violent. What if they frightened them somehow, so they prodded the reluctant villagers, whispering, "Quick, come with us."

But their feet seemed rooted to the spot, unmovable.

Like the dry, sparse wheat in the field.

Desperately, desperately drawing from the scant nutrients of the soil.

Roman flicked his riding crop, knocking the lead villager to the ground.

"Get moving!"

That familiar authoritarian smell was in the air.

The small, emaciated group of wheat stalks finally moved, their steps as arduous as pulling short, shallow roots from the soil, following the man on the white horse toward the front.