Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest

Chapter 26: Then, there's only one answer left!



About ten thousand people are gathered around Lion Castle.

They are dressed in rags like refugees, huddled together for warmth, making all the roads impassable.

Seeing that the castle gates, closed for several days, are about to open, everyone desperately pushes forward, jostling shoulder to shoulder.

The Golden Lion Knights waved their hands, and the Guards, acting on orders, violently push back the throng of commoners with spear shafts.

The refugees have gaunt faces, desperately reaching out for help, as if trying to grasp the last straw before drowning.

"Lord, save us, the Demon who blasphemes the gods has come out of the River Valley, he will kill us all..."

"Get out of the way! Don't disturb the lord's passage!" The Guard yells angrily. They are strong and can fight three opponents at once.

But there are only about a hundred Guards, while the commoners number in the thousands, a seemingly endless throng.

Heaven knows how these wretched folks survive, able to camp around the castle for days without leaving.

They patrol day and night from atop the walls, peering down, clearly seeing the trees outside the castle suffering unjust calamities, stripped of bark, trunks toppled and used as fuel for boiling iron pots filled with dark brown soup and unknown ingredients, even grass roots are not spared, turning the once beautiful hills into pockmarked wastelands, covered only in foul-smelling waste.

Locusts! A plague of locusts!

The Guards muttered in their hearts, pushing the spears forward with all their strength, trying to clear a path for the Earl.

But the spears they just pushed out were forced back again.

Both sides tugged back and forth, and the Guards felt inexplicably fearful.

Countless hands, like reaching out from a prison, grasped at them, clutching at straws, smudging their golden cloaks with black handprints, and some emaciated hands instinctively grabbed the spear shafts, tussling with the Guards.

Oh no, the commoners have turned into rioters!

The castle Guards couldn't expel the commoners, whom they usually scorned, within half a minute; instead, they were pushed back, threatening to overturn the heavens.

The Golden Lion Knights finally couldn't bear it, drawing guns or swords, charging towards the crowd at the castle gates.

"Do you intend to rebel?!"

They are Count Filin's trusted aides, conquest knights unique to the Lion Territory, clad in armor cast in brass, shining golden and exceptionally dazzling.

If they couldn't defeat the Steel Army of the River Valley King, could they not handle these defenseless bugs like you?!

In an instant, blood splashed, and limbs flew.

Within mere seconds, dozens met untimely deaths!

Like a basin of cold water suddenly poured over their heads, silence spread from within, and all the refugees gradually quieted down, without a sound.

But soon, a voice came from the outskirts again.

"Earl, the man-eating Devil is approaching here, show mercy!"

Like a drop of water in a boiling pot, it caused an explosive reaction.

"Show mercy..."

"Have mercy..."

Crowds of people knelt one after another, like waves surging on the sea, forming a dark mass.

The Golden Lion Knights angrily drew their swords again, furiously slaughtering dozens more; no one resisted, but it was to no avail, the pleas continued unabated.

The conquest knights were helpless against this nonviolent disobedience and could only look helplessly towards their lord.

Count Filin, dressed in black velvet with lion-head-shaped golden clasps, a necklace of soft gold around his neck, a deep red gold-trimmed cloak draped over his back.

He looked haggard, unshaven for days, his image unkempt, now looking coldly at the dark mass in front of him, exceptionally irritable inside.

In the past few days, he has been in constant pain, even his favorite apple roast pig now tastes bland.

How could these starving refugees know his current struggles and torment?

How could they understand his current distress?

The pleas and cries echoed in his ears, like being surrounded by flies, with the air carrying the stench of rot.

How could these wretched commoners understand the difficult choices he had to make!

You are merely starving, while my position is in jeopardy!

The Earl spoke in a heavy tone: "Make way! I am going to negotiate with them now!"

The refugees were instantly overwhelmed with joy, as if seeing hope.

If this had been said earlier, perhaps it would have avoided a bloody incident.

But who would explain so much to serfs?

In any case, Roman wouldn't explain.

Count Filin took a deep breath, instantly overwhelmed by the pungent smell from the crowd, causing his face to turn blue again.

Lion Territory is now isolated and without assistance.

Even if he gathered all his vassals and armies, they could not withstand even a gentle strike from the River Valley, only to be crushed mercilessly.

Therefore, only one answer remained!

...

"I will pledge my loyalty to you, Princess!" Count Filin announced loudly.

Upon learning that the inheritor of Lion Territory was not the tyrant Roman, but the White Steel Princess, the Count immediately knew what to do.

According to the Conqueror Order, those who surrender can retain their honor and status.

This was a last resort!

The Earl did not believe the White Steel Princess had any chance of victory—unless she gained the support of Duke Oak.

From the apparent powers, the gods rank first, the Dragon Clan second, and the River Valley third. Only with Duke Oak's support and one of the Black Iron Dukes' backing does the White Steel Princess have the right to intervene in the future battlefield.

Currently, however, Duke Oak does not support the White Steel Princess.

Without a stable rear, the White Steel Princess only has a claim, without a foundation, and cannot win against Fury and the Church Court.

Count Filin would prefer to pledge to the River Valley King; to him, Roman already demonstrated unassailable dominance and potential, sweeping through all wars without opposition since his emergence.

But that tyrant is notorious, never recruiting other Nobles, and refuses diplomacy.

All signs indicate that the Blasphemers Roman is entirely different from other Nobles.

He does not have vassals, does not require fiefs, and his military efficiency is extremely high—the flag style shows this, the Blasphemers' banner is always the Thorny Iron Ring, pure and strong.

Look at other battlefields, as long as large-scale warfare is carried out, various banners are indispensable.

Colorful, with all sorts of emblems and shapes.

A conscript army of five thousand likely has three different banners, belonging to different Noble Lords, mixed together, making it difficult to advance and retreat together.

But because of this, Nobles are Nobles.

Without a ruling system of vassals and fiefs, where do Noble Lords come from?

Expecting that tyrant to accept Noble allegiance would make the dead die laughing.

The White Steel Princess is different; she has noble blood, from the Black Iron Royal Family, and should believe in and maintain the Conqueror Order.

This is the law of the ancestors!

Now, Makor has abandoned him, the tyrant will not let him keep his title, only the White Steel Princess can tolerate him.

He offers a few more praises, mentioning Ioannos' conquest of the land, accepting many Lords, Nobles showed their sincerity, offering food and ale to welcome the king's army.

The Conqueror's influence grew stronger, with an unstoppable momentum, conquering south and north, conquering the Seven Kingdoms within a few short years.

The Black Iron ascended as King. Nobles retained honor and status, remaining Nobles.

If Iota Hina nods, the Earl will immediately support the White Steel Princess to become the second Conqueror.


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