Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest

Enfeoffment meant splitting the family assets, and naturally, Roman had brought along everything he had, which included a vast array of crop seeds.

Nobles did not engage in production; he was an exception. He had secretly meddled with farming in his lifetime and his farming movements were fairly standard.

Roman had an understanding of farming.

Although not extensive, it was no matter—as he kept at it, he would master it.

For the manor, five wooden houses were temporarily sufficient. He would take his time with the rest.

Today, Roman sent those slaves off to build the latrine and kitchen. He could not tolerate people defecating all over his manor.

And a great hall was also necessary, given that there were many matters to attend to.

After breakfast, the slaves, feeling warmth throughout their bodies, set to work with gratitude, showing a slight increase in efficiency.

This Lord was easy to deal with!

Their understanding of the Lord was clear. Generally speaking, these lowest class folk had no right to speak to the Lords—but it didn't stop them from judging the Lords privately in their hearts.

A Lord who allowed them an extra mouthful would be privately called a kind Lord.

A Lord who allowed them two extra mouthfuls would be a generous grand Lord.

A Lord who granted them a whole bowl, especially a thick and warm bowl of wheat porridge, and let them work in the fields... Good gracious, what sort of lofty grand Lord must that be!

...

Elsewhere, Roman found a suitable patch of grassland and, shouldering a hoe, began to till the earth.

His body was strong, having developed quite early in life—no choice there, such was the result of ample nutrition.

Only high-quality protein could bring human genes to their limits.

Of course, farming was not an easy task. Early development was one thing, but lacking endurance was another, especially for a novice who couldn't quite manage. A true 16-year-old boy would be wiped out after a hard ten minutes of work.

This was, after all, a task demanding considerable physical strength.

But fortunately, Roman was no ordinary individual.

[Planting Experience +1]

[Planting Experience +1]

[Planting Experience +1]

...

After an entire morning, he plowed an acre of land without much pause, Roman was brimming with vitality, not feeling tired in the least.

[Level 1 Planting: 5\100]

The experience gained was quite satisfactory, growing faster than even his [Construction] experience.

Roman felt this was due to his natural talent for farming.

Innate Cultivation Holy Body!

In the vision of the [Breathing Story] interface, beyond the five wooden houses, a freshly plowed patch of ground was also displayed.

After tilling the land, came the need to level it, as there were too many clods of compacted soil that needed breaking up.

Raising ridges and digging ditches, basically piling up tidy rows of small mounds, had the effect of retaining water, preserving soil, and preventing wind damage.

Roman had gradually come to understand these things after gaining planting experience.

Yet, in the current medieval context, such cultivation methods were unconventional, scientific perhaps, but not medieval.

Roman thought it necessary to educate all of humanity's nations to understand the beauty of this unconventional method!

You can't reach a thousand miles without taking the first step, so let's begin with farming.

Develop quietly, and then conquer the whole world!

...

All morning, Roman stayed beside his field.

He scattered the seeds of windbreak grass.

Windbreak grass was a spring vegetable, referred to as grass but in reality, it was a radish.

Planted in early spring, by the end of the season, it was ready to harvest.

At lunchtime, Green inquired of Roman, "When shall we go to Sige Town?"

He was asking Roman when they would attend to official business.

They should have assembled the residents yesterday for the populace to meet the Lord who would rule over them from now on.

"Sige Town is right there; it's not going to run away. What's the hurry?" Roman glanced at Green.

Green and Aaron were Conquest Knights specially trained by the Riptide Family.

Following him to this basin meant they might not encounter war for decades to come, for there was no opportunity for combat here—even the King's conscription couldn't reach this place.

And right now, Roman was not prepared to break out and fight.

The always composed Aaron was becoming restless, quietly stating, "Then, when shall we wait until?"

He was reserved and reticent, seldom speaking out of turn.

He could tolerate building houses, living in villas, and even watching Roman get engrossed in planting vegetables all morning with plans to continue in the afternoon.

But upon hearing "What's the hurry?", he could no longer hold back.

Aaron's idea was simple, as Roman would be the ruler of this land in the future, the sooner he issued decrees, the better, especially concerning the livelihoods of the farmers.

Roman's attitude toward Aaron was quite favorable, "I know you all want to do great things, but I'm already doing great things, and I will continue to do great things with you in the future..."

Green sarcastically said, "Do great things together by farming with us?"

Roman glanced at Green and couldn't help but snort with a hint of smugness in his tone, "Aaron is not bad, but you can't farm well."

Green was speechless. Was this really something to be competitive about? What serious Conquest Knight would farm?

Hearing this, Aaron's lips slightly curled into a smile, but he quickly returned to his usual expression, continuing to maintain the demeanor of a silent knight.

...

After finishing lunch, Moor came over with a stack of thick parchment.

This was all the information about Sige Town.

Roman handed those things over to Seth to keep him busy so he wouldn't be constantly nagging at his ear.

He had tilled another acre of land that afternoon, planning to plant strawberries or tomatoes.

Working all day, swinging the hoe and carrying water, even his sturdy constitution was struggling to keep up, and by nightfall, when he lay on the bed Moor had brought, he felt his lower back ache.

Youth's advantage is rapid recovery, and Roman felt he would soon adapt to this intensity of labor.

Two days flew by in a blink.

On the plains north of the wooden house, Roman had cultivated five acres of land where he planted a variety of vegetables and fruits.

Unfortunately, the rate of increase in his experience began to decline. Perhaps it was because he couldn't skillfully apply the knowledge that surged in his mind.

[Level 1 Planting: 59/100]

At this time, Moor appeared again after a lapse of two days.

He had conducted a population census according to Roman's order, and the more he counted, the more shocked he became, feeling as if he had sweated out a lifetime's worth in just three short days, even soaking his handkerchief.

He found Roman wielding a hoe, who was wearing a woolen shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing smooth and strong arm muscles.

Moor trembled as he handed over the information to Roman.

Roman noticed his uneasy expression, put down his hoe, and asked him to report orally.

"Lord Roman, the population of Sige Town is estimated to be between 1,800 and 1,900," Moor said nervously.

Roman burst into laughter and said, "Really? I thought the population of the territory was only around 700, considering you have always paid taxes based on that number."

Moor's face turned pale, his ample body trembling like a sieve.

He had known about this situation beforehand.

But his now departed old man never conducted a population census, much less reported it voluntarily, so he didn't either.

The thought 'Grand Duke Riptide must have forgotten about this place' flashed through his mind and thus he muddled through more than a decade.

After all, the Grand Duke lived a prosperous life, and so did he, as well as the farmers here.

But some things can't withstand scrutiny, and when examined, issues arise. Moor knew he was in big trouble; the official population was just a fraction of the actual number, and as an Agricultural Officer, he could lose his head over it.

So he was very afraid when he saw Roman, fearing this landmine would blast him into the sky or into a pigpen.

Now, he had ignited this landmine himself, and there was no hiding it.

"Hmph."

Roman knew this wasn't Moor's fault.

The Grand Duke Riptide had personally conquered Sige Town when he was younger and had since assigned a Steward to manage the land, for over fifty years now.

But in truth, for all these years, he had never sent anyone here to recount the population and land or reevaluate the taxes.

Each year, tax collectors came and took away the taxes paid for that year.

The place was secluded and remote; nobody would voluntarily come here.

Maybe he had forgotten, who could tell?

Now closing in on eighty years, Grand Duke Riptide had Roman in his early sixties, surviving to this day on the vigor of his earlier years.

Sometimes Roman even thought the Grand Duke was a bit senile, forgetting things wouldn't be unusual.

In this era, much of the land remained undeveloped.

Any noble with a name, who didn't have a few inconspicuous territories under their control, was disorganized and shambolic.

Before coming here, Roman had not envisaged that the basin would exceed his expectations.

It was a land of natural fortifications, fertile soil; honestly speaking, it was akin to a land of plenty—the population couldn't help but increase.

Roman furrowed his brows and asked, "Why is there a fluctuation of 100 people?"

He demanded precise figures, even accounting for those yet unborn; it would aid in the future allocation of labor.

Seeing Roman casually turn the page without dwelling further, Moor breathed a sigh of relief, knowing his life was probably spared, and he suddenly felt his entire body drenched in sweat.

Roman didn't care how much Moor had profited over the years from the discrepancy between the official and actual populations and taxes.

It wasn't that he looked down on Moor; with such a population and such low productivity, even if he squeezed every last bit, how many resources could one wring out? Perhaps enough to forge a few sets of armor, but could a Conquest Knight really sprout from the effort, and if one were so capable, why would they stay in this place as a mere Steward?

This Steward was essentially honest and hadn't done anything more egregious; and Roman was somewhat short-staffed. If he could be of use, then so be it.

However, Moor's expression became troubled again upon hearing this question.

Under Roman's calm gaze, Moor revealed the reason.