Chapter 418: Chapter 22: I Want to Talk to the Prophet
Roman’s agricultural tasks were very busy.
Even during the war, production shouldn’t stop. The transition between spring and sumr is the perfect ti for cultivation and planting.
The wet and rainy days had just passed, and the sky finally cleared up. Many farrs seized the ti to work, coming and going, full of smiles.
With the Black Iron forces’ great defeat, the news of the River Valley Army’s victory spread throughout the residential areas of Fertile City:
“The River Valley Warriors launched a powerful attack and crushed 800,000 enemy troops!”
This is the literary way of putting it.
The common saying is that Roman kicked all the Black Iron Nobles’ butts hard, made them howl, and the group of lords ran off head over heels, chased like crazy — those fools love to hear this kind of thing.
The numbers are sowhat exaggerated, the combined forces didn’t reach 800,000.
But Roman doesn’t care about that; you boasted about an army of a million surrounding us, so count how many went back.
He even underestimated.
Boasting about one’s victory can boost the people’s confidence and stabilize internal affairs — if calculated carefully, Song Dynasty’s foreign wars actually had positive results.
This war had a huge impact. Roman mobilized thousands of militian as a reserve force, deploying them at the crucial mont. The personnel movents couldn’t be concealed from others, and an atmosphere of impending storm was evident, with all the people paying attention to the matter.
The war’s outco is closely related to their future; if their lord is defeated, it ans the destruction of this earthly paradise, with predators pouring in.
Fortunately, the Lord’s army did not let the flas of war reach ho ground.
Upon hearing the news of victory, worried farrs learned from various sources that there was no foreign threat and only then focused on production, preparing to kneel here as serfs for life.
Just like this, many people want to kneel and don’t even have the way!
Farrs have low status, and their group is large; in an agricultural society, they are naturally seen as green shoots.
Noble Knights don’t farm, and the land doesn’t spontaneously grow food, so they reap the farrs’ labor.
Taxes on Black Iron Land are heavy; Noble taking seven out of ten is considered rciful, even worse ones take eight or nine, and such cases are not uncommon.
Whereas Roman only took half of the taxes, which by the standards of the ti seed sowhat inhuman.
Moreover, this half of the grain wasn’t the past half but the post-increase half.
Anyone who knows basic economics knows that an inco of 5,000 a month and an inco of 10,000 doesn’t an living quality increases twofold but three to five tis.
After Roman’s agricultural reforms were implented, Fertile City’s land yield improved from less than 100 pounds to nearly 200 pounds. Now an acre produces what used to be three acres’ worth of food — only a few plots yield around 100 pounds.
Though the yield is quite low, the food in the hands of farrs results in an inco of up to 50 pounds per acre!
Solid, actual 50 pounds!
Farrs are all dirt poor with no oil to squeeze; Roman never intended to squeeze money from the poor.
Other fees were also waived!
For instance, seeds, farming implents, and livestock are all freely distributed for use.
He is conducting a historically unprecedented collective large-scale production; if he were stingy, how could he make this movent vibrant?
Roman was extrely focused on food security, almost to a fanatical degree.
In his first year on this land, he personally fard, seeking resources everywhere, fearing a food crisis.
But he didn’t mind hiding grain among the populace.
To a highest leader of a political entity, farrs having grain ans Roman has grain.
The most intuitive result is that farrs, after tasting benefits — most of them have fard for a year or two; after stepping on this land, no one has ever voiced their hunger, everyone’s work attitude was enthusiastic.
There is grain at ho, grain in the belly, the lord possesses ample martial virtue, and the sense of security is overwhelming. What’s there to complain about?
Roman spent two days inspecting the cultivation situation and construction progress.
Then he went to the Ice and Fire Pass.
This pass is constructed by scorched water quenching stone, carving through mountains, but the project is colossal, with Roman deploying thousands day and night.
Months passed, and only a third of the progress was completed.
Roman asked the supervising captain: “Can we pierce through this year?”
“Your Highness! I swear on my life!” said the supervisor with assurance.
This person isn’t Olei but a newly promoted official.
Once the Ice and Fire Pass is completed, it will be the traffic lifeline, and Roman takes it very seriously.
“Very good.”
After inspecting all the work in Fertile City, he went to Origin City.
The basin has abundant resources and complete industries.
As Fertile City develops, Origin City is also advancing. It’s evolving constantly, lively and vibrant, genuinely serving as a military and industrial rear.
Roman checked for several days and finally confird one thing.
His territory population was only slightly over 200,000 — not everyone was submissive. The foundation was shallow, illiteracy was prevalent, prenatal education lacked, and those literate were at an elentary school level, making it difficult to innovate epoch-making creations.
Technology couldn’t counter magic, so he would use magic against magic.
The first thing he did after leaving the basin was tell the Witches:
“I want to speak with the Prophet.”
…
A deep night backdrop. Giant tents stood tall, with hundreds of campfires burning along the march with dinner banquets, accompanied by red wine and beauties.
Candles quietly burned, glow-worms fluttering among the tents.
And…
Rough hands, brutal actions…
Panting, heavy, painful, involuntary…
“Hu…” izer suddenly awoke from her dream, eyes imdiately dilating, shivering all over,
She beca aware of her identity as the slave of Lord Lante. They wore kerchiefs, traveled in a carriage over a hundred-mile road, and finally joined the group.
They were living cash cows, never treated poorly by the rchant, who spent money on light, soft garnts so the guests felt they got their money’s worth, but they certainly didn’t spend money for those clothes.
Three companions died.
One died on the bed of the Wolf Head rcenary Group’s commander, as the prostitute couldn’t satisfy the lustful madness of the Wolf; another perished at the hands of an old rcenary, his eyes gleaming green, deliberately murdered her as if seeing her as an evil Witch; the final one died in a dispute between two rcenaries.
Those ruffians were generous, willing to compensate, so Lante never pursued, secretly hoping they all died out.
Then…
All enemies donned armor, seemingly heaven-sent, utterly ruthless.
They were exposed naked before them, the hairy, bell-ravel rcenary barely woke from his bed, couldn’t get weapons, and was executed on the spot…
Bound hands, like refugees, traversed considerably far and arduous distances.
Locked in cages, laying like beasts on the cold floor, weak and tired.
Suddenly heard that all past rcenary lords were executed…
Suddenly saw Lante beheaded rcilessly…
Suddenly knew they would be…
“Stop worrying, you are innocent.”
That silhouette just walked away, growing further and further.
The cage was opened, there were no beatings, no harm, as if it was a predetermined convention.
Received a set of normal clothes, neither light nor soft.
Took a hot bath, clear water, slick soap, purified the body’s filth.
Ca to a stone-built residence, neither stable nor sheep pen, nor a bed of so big shot.
“Where is this…?”
izer walked barefoot, arriving before the door, her vision widened, seeing crisp lettuce, green asparagus, heaps of onions, fresh dill, freshly slaughtered pork…
Many people were at those posts handling those ingredients.
People ca and went, ordinary and busy yet mundane.
She leaned against the dorm doorway, her slender body standing there, blankly staring.
Only seeing the sky clear, the gloom dissipated, no dust remained.
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