Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest

Misty morning.

Today marked Roman's 10th day since his arrival in Sige Town.

He entered the manor's great hall.

Origin Manor had only been established for a short time, everything was still quite rudimentary, yet Roman was filled with confidence about the future.

Joining him for the meal were Aaron, Green, and Gwivelle.

Conquest Knights held high status, some with fiefs, some without, they might not have the privilege to sit at the table in Duke Domain, but in Sige Town, they definitely had that right.

Roman valued Gwivelle highly and had appointed her as a chamberlain.

He sat carelessly in the seat of honor, picked up a piece of bread, and was about to bite into it when he saw Gwivelle and paused, asking, "Gwivelle, how old are you?"

Gwivelle had chosen to go home.

But Roman wasn't foolish enough to really send the little witch back, keeping her at Origin Manor was the best choice.

This young witch, now looking fresh-faced, seemed uneasy, her tiptoeing about reminiscent of a small squirrel.

She stared absentmindedly at the white bread on the table, the fried deer steaks, roasted wild boar, stewed bear meat, thick vegetable soup, cheese…

Her nostrils quivered gently, trying not to make it noticeable, as she detected the sweet and rich aroma lingering in the air, making her mouth water uncontrollably.

She wanted to touch the food but didn't dare to without permission, yet she really wanted to eat, finding herself trapped in a dilemma—when she had followed Roman back to Origin Manor last night, it was very late, and Roman had handed her over to Deacon Seth, who commanded the maids to take her to a makeshift bathing area for a thorough wash, then sent her to a wooden hut fit for living, and when they heard her stomach growling, they even specially brought her supper—a hot bowl of wheat porridge, a plate of salted meat cubes, and some cold slices of bread.

To be accurate, that meal was the most decent she had ever had in her life.

But compared to the feast laid out before her now, it seemed quite lacking.

Gwivelle had never seen such an abundant spread of dishes, not even when she was a child and had gone with her parents to borrow grain from Agricultural Officer Moor, she had never seen such a variety of delicacies on Mr. Moor's dining table.

She desperately wanted to eat! Could I eat? Is this really for me?

Caught in her dilemma, she wore clothes lent to her by Roman's maids, which though somewhat ill-fitting, were far more comfortable than her previous linen garments.

The bed from last night was also very warm, and she had slept soundly until woken by the maids, feeling all her bones had softened.

Just like that lady Shasta, the people here did not despise her for being a harbinger of disaster.

The strict-faced old gentleman who had led her here must have wanted her to come eat, but could she really eat…

Roman called out to her again, "Gwivelle!"

This time Gwivelle heard, leaping from her chair in fright, nearly losing her balance and almost hitting her forehead on the table before Green, who had been watching her, swiftly extended his hand and caught her by the back of the neck, steadying her back into an upright position.

Gwivelle looked at Roman timidly.

Roman pressed down with his hand, signaling the unfortunate child to calm down, then asked again, "Gwivelle, how old are you this year?"

The girl blinked her eyes and then frantically raised her two hands in front of her, her ten fingers moving as if she was playing the piano, but whatever she was playing was not a beautiful melody—for Roman's question had puzzled her.

She was at a loss, "Ten years old… no, wait, I'm eleven..."

Roman smiled, knowing Gwivelle was very young, her small stature around one meter thirty, likely only twelve or thirteen years old. With black, rough hair and brown eyes like those of a timid deer, her whole body was quite emaciated, even skeletal.

Her arms were slender like twigs, cheeks hollowed like a little skinny monkey, only her big eyes remained lively. In combination with her gaunt appearance, they made her look rather eerie.

It's a wonder that this poor child is still alive.

Somebody else would have died in the mountains by now.

Roman asked her age simply to start a conversation, he said, "Gwivelle, you know who I am, right?"

Gwivelle timidly responded, "I know, you are the Lord."

Roman nodded in satisfaction, "Hmm, you are now my chamberlain. A chamberlain is someone who stays by my side. Whatever I eat, you eat. Alright, you can start eating now."

Gwivelle sat down with a confused expression. She didn't understand the meaning of chamberlain, but Roman's words were straightforward, and she felt she understood them. Moreover, she felt extremely reassured that Roman had specifically mentioned this.

Therefore, when Gwivelle sat down, instead of using the cutlery in front of her plate, she quickly grabbed a white bread roll and stuffed it into her mouth, puffing out her cheeks as if she were a starving ghost reincarnated.

Aaron, sitting opposite her, noticed how voraciously Gwivelle was eating and quietly pushed a cup of milk to the side of her plate.

But Gwivelle didn't choke.

She swallowed a lot but chewed slowly and finely, grinding all the food into tiny pieces before swallowing.

Seth watched with a frown, about to teach her dining etiquette, but Roman stopped him with a hand.

The child was scared of hunger, let's correct it gradually.

Roman had a lot of patience with Gwivelle, after all, it was not easy to snatch her from Shasta's hands.

After breakfast, Roman took everyone to inspect the work in Sige Town.

Gwivelle felt nervous as she grew closer to her hometown and started to become increasingly uneasy.

When Roman entered Sige Town, he found that yesterday's progress was acceptable; just in sight, they had piled up over thirty tons of fertilizer.

After all, mobilizing so many people, the residents of Sige Town had mostly treated dung collection as corvée labor, and their willingness to cooperate was high.

Of course, this might also be due to the provision of lunch and the reward of wheat at noon.

Moor received the news and immediately came to welcome Roman.

Behind him followed a pair of farmers with expressions of panic.

"Lord Roman, these two are Hade Nova and Sima Nova, the parents of Miss Gwivelle Nova."

When the two of them saw Roman and Gwivelle, particularly the latter, Hade's knees weakened, and he fell to his knees begging for mercy, "Honorable Lord, please have mercy. This devil is not my daughter; please don't burn us to death."

Gwivelle's eyes had brightened at first, but after hearing her father's words, her expression dimmed again.

Roman said indifferently, "Gwivelle is now my chamberlain. From today on, when you see her, treat her as if you were seeing me!"

Witches were stigmatized among the common people.

This was thanks to the Church's vigorous propaganda and cruel methods; discovering a witch meant burning all her relatives to death as well.

This caused mortals to fear any association with witches, as if avoiding vipers and scorpions.

Upon hearing Roman's words, Hade was overjoyed. The Church represented fairness and justice, and the nobles represented power and status. Now that Gwivelle had become the chamberlain to the Lord, his whole family didn't have to die!

Suddenly, Sima said, "Lord, a witch approached us the day before yesterday..."

Hade tugged at his wife's arm forcefully, but Sima persisted and told the events of that night.

Roman's expression remained calm as he nodded, "I understand. Do not let this spread. Go about your business."

"Praise the Lord!" Hade hurriedly exclaimed, then pulled Sima away as if fleeing.

Yet, as Sima turned around, her expression and complexion when looking at Gwivelle were very complex. Gwivelle watched her mother leave with reluctance.