Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest

The extraordinary power of the mortal world is a projection from the Netherworld, reflecting everything on earth in its darkness and depth — this is the theory advocated by Margaret.

But the theory was not proposed by Margaret, rather it is an ancient saying.

Weak mortals die and their souls walk the Path of the Dead, heading towards the afterlife.

Yet powerful Conquest Knights and Court Witches... these Transcendents can act in the Netherworld while alive, though their actions are usually unconscious, merely repeating everything from the real world, like a phantom in a mirror.

Margaret believes that those steel phantoms are essentially the souls of Transcendents reflected in the Netherworld.

All things with extraordinary power on earth have a place in the Netherworld.

If all things must eventually perish, then Transcendents have already found their place in the Netherworld while alive.

The energy within Transcendents, the magic steel weapons in their hands, the mountain copper armor on their bodies... all of it, the extraordinary power is from the Netherworld.

This absurd theory has little support.

If the theory is true, then Transcendents are not beings of the mortal world but rather spirits of the Netherworld, and the phantom of the Netherworld is the true nature of Transcendents.

Such heretical thinking naturally wouldn't be acknowledged.

Theories that do not gain public approval will be rejected, and so was Margaret.

Other witches never engage in deep discussions with her. She is seen as an outlier, a madwoman among witches.

Roman feels the point worth pondering in this theory is: if the real world cannot interfere with the Netherworld, and the only power that can interfere with the Netherworld belongs to the Netherworld itself.

Then, what is the real world to the Netherworld?

How do the gods of the Netherworld view the mortal earth?

Roman has a scientific mind, and openness is of utmost importance in science.

He never denies objective facts nor the existence of gods.

But he knows a society with low productivity cannot create a heaven on earth.

If the gods could create a heaven on earth, it would mean that the gods' productivity is above all, just like the two magic cannons of Philicia's sisters equate the labor of hundreds of workers for a day.

But the reality proves that the believers of the gods still live in deep distress, hunger, and cold; there will be no manna from heaven.

Most people, even if they manage to survive this harsh winter, will face an unprecedented famine next year.

It is precisely the period of food shortage; those at the bottom, out of hunger, may even eat the seeds for the next season.

Yet the believers of the gods and the believers of the Dragon Clan are still fighting desperately to spread their faith.

Roman knows these things but has no other options.

Fertile City is still confronting Makor's hundreds of thousands of troops, and they have been winning.

This kind of victory is a burden to Roman, consuming his resources without bringing any substantial benefits.

Makor knows this well; he has always hoped to use his substantial Black Iron reserves to drag down Fertile City, leaving Roman scrambling and exhausted.

And Roman is also dragging, waiting until Makor can no longer bear the costs of garrisoning here.

This standoff is destined to be prolonged.

In the past six months, both sides have been fully focused on this confrontation.

Roman has always been in control.

In the State of Qin, Wang Jian led an army to destroy Chu. Even with a force of six hundred thousand, Wang Jian chose to fortify defensively, camping at the gates of Chu for over a year until the State of Qin exhausted Chu with its abundant national power.

War is all about logistics.

Tens of thousands of idle people, Qin fed them for more than a year just to camp at your doorstep, and anyone would feel daunted seeing that.

However, not that Roman looks down on Makor, but given the current situation, unless the Church Court turns their arms and abandons the Northern Front, Black Iron will not be able to wear him down.

Not to mention a year, even making it through this winter would already prove Makor's excellent command.

...

"This winter..." Roman murmured a few words as he placed Nellie's letter on the table.

An agricultural society relies on good weather for a good harvest.

Winter is a season when agriculture halts.

Lower-level farmers exhaust themselves gathering heating fuel and living supplies, spending winter cooped up at home, finding ways to lower energy consumption.

However, under Roman's rule, it looks quite different.

Everyone is fervently engaged in various constructions.

The retrieval of agricultural laborers means Roman can reassign them to other projects.

Because if they stop working, they're simply living off reserves, they haven't even paid off their debts to the Lord yet, so how can they not work hard?

Farmers need free food, and the Lords need free labor.

What is a match made in heaven? This is a match made in heaven!

...

Roman was secretly calculating the winter construction plan.

Build two more schools. Given Fertile City's development speed, they would inevitably be needed, with newborns increasingly more numerous.

Hospitals too, health clinics are always beneficial. Allicin's antibacterial effect is strong, and those familiar with herbal remedies, with Galin acting as a doctor, can handle minor illnesses and disasters.

Breeding farms, should another be built? But silage feed is an issue, Fertile City's breeding scale has reached its limit; in the future, if there's a meat shortage, it can be brought over from the meadow pastures.

Build a brewery. Currently, of all products, beer sells the best, sometimes even in short supply. Simply build a brewery in Fertile City.

Then there's military development; the Silver Moon Knights have already reached the scale of a squadron. What other ways can improve army combat strength? Have them crush the Gods' Knights...

"Roman!" Just as Roman was pondering, a lively voice suddenly sounded in his ear.

Roman turned to look and saw Sanna enthusiastically running towards him.

Sanna's wheat-colored skin exuded a healthy vitality, and her expression was full of joy.

"Hehe, I've come to see you, hope I'm not bothering you." She smiled brightly, standing in front of the desk.

Roman beckoned and waited for her to come over, reaching out to brush the snow off Sanna's head and to tidy up her somewhat messy hair.

She came on horseback, dust-covered from the journey.

"Are you resting today?" he asked.

"Boss Monica said they aren't attacking today, gave me a day off," Sanna replied.

She was also on the frontline, only a dozen kilometers from where Roman was, so whenever it was her turn to rest, she would come running.

She had talent; it wasn't useful on the frontal battlefield, but in guerrilla warfare, she was extremely effective, serving as the most excellent scout and sentry, thus achieving remarkable merits.

"Then they won't be attacking anytime soon." Roman remarked.

Winter is not suitable for battling.

Makor couldn't win in field battles, nor in decisive battles, only relying on small units' harassment tactics, but these were futile, having been thwarted many times.

Just Sanna alone could establish a five-kilometer-wide vigilance line, no troop movement could escape her sensing power.

Sanna casually sat on Roman's lap.

She wore a light black woolen sweater, with a slender waist, full of explosive power, her skin was taut, and her thighs were tightly tensed.

She reached out both hands to cup his face, staring intently into his eyes, looking at his face, feeling all fatigue and coldness fading away.

Roman felt Sanna's hands were cold and rough, against his face, the hard calluses were from years of sword wielding, her body also carried an indelible faint scent of horse manure.

Roman embraced Sanna's waist; the burdensome political affairs needed some flavoring agent, so he didn't reject the Court Witches' intimate actions towards him.

But Shasta was restrained, Margaret was simple-minded; they rarely took the initiative and were no longer inclined towards girlish sentiments.

However, Sanna was different; at only twenty years old, still young, enthusiastic, and proactive, she was Roman's first Five-star Apostle, whom he was very fond of.

"Why not go find Gwivelle?" Roman thought their relationship was very good.

Gwivelle was still in the greenhouse; everyone was protecting her, and Roman had never touched her.

Whereas Sanna had already been through the trials, galloping across the battlefield, she was a qualified guerrilla fighter.

"I'm thinking of you." She said with a cheeky smile.

"Is that so." Roman chuckled lightly.

Sanna nodded earnestly, her eyes turned, leaning close to Roman's ear and whispered, "Has Kao gotten stronger again?"

She got along with everyone, everyone spoke highly of her, but not with Kao.

The rivalry between the siblings was intense, Kao never acknowledged Sanna, and Sanna remembered Kao's blows.

She vowed to defeat the strong and cold-hearted Kao, to let him experience the pain she once felt.

"Yes." Roman nodded, upgrading Kao from Third Rank to Fourth Rank, having expended quite a bit of resources.

"I want it too..." Sanna looked at Roman with a pitiful gaze.

"What do you want?"

"I want everything." The Court Witch leaned down.

Roman gently stroked her head.

This was within the plan; now, the average level of the Apostles had been raised, and Roman temporarily didn't plan to recruit new Apostles. It was time to elevate the high-end combat power.

It's not just Kao, Green, Aaron, Nathan, and others had also advanced to Fourth Rank.

While Dick and Jet had become Fifth Rank Knights.

Roman picked up a pencil and listed the construction plans on paper one by one.

Start by building two schools, then proceed...