You were made to farm, and now you're the emperor of an empire?

Chapter 1: Should We Create Destiny?

The weather was clear, the snow had not yet melted, and the clouds in the sky looked like large fish scales arranged neatly.

Today was not a good day for Moore, the agricultural officer of Sig.

He directed a large group of slaves to painstakingly cultivate a flat piece of land on a hillside far from the town of Sig.

These forty or fifty slaves were the maximum number he could muster.

It's the busy spring farming season, and even if he were an agricultural official, he couldn't bring all the farmers over for temporary labor.

So the only ones doing the work were these slaves.

Some were weeding, some were chopping wood, and some were moving stones. Looking at this group of slaves who seemed busy but were actually taking a break, Mohr cursed them as useless peasants who couldn't be helped. He kicked a few slaves in the buttocks and urged them repeatedly, but their efficiency still didn't improve. Mohr was both angry and anxious.

When he learned that the Lord of the Cracked Armor had granted this territory of the wilderness to one of his sons as a fief, and that the Cracked Armor son was about to arrive in Sig Town, Mor began to sweat profusely.

It should be noted that the town of Sig has not had a true lord for decades.

That duke probably doesn't think much of this land.

No wonder...

Firstly, this area is on the edge of the Black Iron Kingdom, dominated by towering mountains, while Sig Town is located in a basin, resulting in traffic congestion, a poor environment, harsh conditions, and the presence of monsters.

Secondly, the original town of Sig was a gathering place for runaway slaves and thieves.

When the young Duke Liejia conquered this place, he only sent an agricultural official to manage it and facilitate tax collection.

As a descendant of that agricultural official, Mohr felt that the Grand Duke had probably long forgotten about this poor place when he paid his land rent, taxes, and various agricultural products every year.

Until he suddenly received news that Roman Riftarms was about to arrive as lord and take charge of the area, and the duke's illegitimate son was suspected of being exiled.

To make matters worse, he had barely received the message when Roman Rift Armor set off.

When Moore learned of this, his heart skipped a beat.

The town of Sig has long been lacking in order, relying entirely on guards to maintain order; there isn't even a knight.

Without being asked, Moore could not possibly have ordered these unruly people to undertake large-scale construction to build a manor or castle that they might never use in their lifetime.

In other words, this descendant of the Cracked Armor had nowhere to stay after arriving.

Should the lord stay in Sig Town temporarily?
The idea was shattered as soon as it came to mind.

As the agricultural officer, Moore's house was the most luxurious place in Sgard, but for the Grand Duke's illegitimate son, it was still the countryside.

More importantly, how could the lord live with a bunch of peasants?

If these unruly commoners offend or disrespect the lord, wouldn't that be a capital offense?

It doesn't matter if the troublemaker dies, but he doesn't want his head to fall off with him; that would be too unjust.

So Moore quickly gathered a group of slaves and prepared to start work on site.

However, it was still too late.

While he was busy, he saw a convoy approaching from afar.

The most striking feature was a flag fluttering in the wind atop the carriage, embroidered with a powerful bow.

The crest of the Cracked Armor family!

Roman Riftarmor has arrived in his territory!
Moore's face immediately turned pale.

Grand Duke Cracked Armor is one of the three Grand Dukes of the Black Iron Kingdom, second only to the King of Black Iron.

The first Duke of Cracked Armor followed the Conqueror Emperor in conquering vast territories.

He used a longbow as his weapon and once shot through the fire dragon's indestructible crimson scales, nearly slaying the dragon in one battle, thus becoming a legendary figure.

The Liejia family has survived to this day thanks to the legacy of its ancestors and the Liejia archery skills passed down through generations.

The fact that the illegitimate son of the Grand Duke of Cracked Armor was granted a fiefdom in what outsiders considered a barren land suggests he was being exiled.

This was the first time Moore had met the head of the family.

He had heard how difficult it was to serve noblemen; they were all ruthless killers!

Considering that this descendant of Liejia, who seemed to have accepted a fiefdom but was actually exiled, might be burning with rage right now and preparing to kill a few people to vent his anger!
Moor ran wildly down the hillside, his obese body rolling down the slope until he reached a carriage.

The carriage stopped, and before Mohr could catch his breath, the curtain was lifted, and a rather dashing young man emerged.

He had dark brown hair with naturally curled ends, thick and draped over his shoulders. His bright red eyes were very focused. His face was rugged with defined features, showing no signs of youthful immaturity. His expression was very peaceful.

"Your Excellency Roman Cracked Armor, welcome to Sig Town..." Moore recognized the man's identity from his fiery red eyes and stammered.

When Roman Rift-Armor jumped down from the carriage, Mor noticed the imposing presence of the young man. He was easily over 1.8 meters tall, with a robust and well-nourished physique, developing like a fully grown adult warrior. Mor had heard that this newly appointed lord was only 16 years old, barely considered an adult, yet he was still a head taller than Mor himself at 25.

Moll dared not look directly at him, but kept his head down, his pale face covered in cold sweat, which rolled down his face. He clenched his handkerchief tightly in his other hand, but dared not wipe away the sweat.

As an agricultural official, he held a high social status in the town of Sig.

But these statuses and honors all come from the Cracked Armor family.

If his performance fails to gain the other party's approval, then Roman Riftarms can erase his position or life with just a single sentence.

The current situation is that his inadequate preparation may have already displeased the other party.

"you are?"

Roman looked at the chubby, fair-skinned man in front of him and inexplicably thought of the phrase "a fat man with a full head of fat intestines".

"The agricultural officer of Sig Town, Mor Bass..." Mor was very nervous. This was the first time he had received his master. He had only met the tax collectors sent by the Liejia family before. It was impossible for him not to be terrified.

Or rather, he was quite afraid of this unexpected gentleman.

"Who is Hollo Bass to you?"

“He’s my father’s uncle,” Moore replied instantly.

“Oh.” Roman nodded.

Hollo Bass is the old steward of the Cracked Armor family, diligently and steadfastly holding his post for decades.

I reckon Moore's father or grandfather was a good-for-nothing, but had some connections, so they were sent here to work.

In Roman's view, Moore was also a steward, managing the family business in Sig.

Although it was an exile for him, it should be considered a good job for an ordinary person.

Thinking of this, Roman looked up curiously at the hillside where the slaves were busy, completely unaware of their impending fate.

He was born into a good family.

When the first Grand Duke of Liejia followed the conquerors into the pass, he devoured all the suffering of the Liejia family, leaving nothing for his descendants.

The residual power of the armor-splitting technique was still present. Roman was an illegitimate child, and although he had no right to inherit, he was not like some second sons of lower-ranking nobles who, upon reaching adulthood, could only receive a share of the inheritance and then be driven out. Some even received nothing and had to work as slaves for their eldest sons.

Having such a fiefdom is already an excellent starting point for him.

Without this identity, he might have to spend much longer growing and developing, and he might even die prematurely, which is something he cannot accept.

Roman asked, "Is that where I'll be living from now on?"

More sweat broke out in his brow: "Your Excellency, Mr. Roman, time is short, we... this..."

This is not his fault. If he had given six months' notice, even if the castle couldn't be built, he could have at least built a decent and spacious manor.

If you can only give two days' notice, then all you can do is wait and see.

These unruly peasants are hopeless, but at least there needs to be a wall to support them.

Roman knew he had arrived in a hurry, so he wasn't angry.

He came here purely to become a local tyrant.

Looking at that hillside overgrown with weeds and littered with stones.

The terrain is flat and the area is vast, making it easy to cultivate.

In the distance, the mountains and forests are lush and green, and there is an even more expansive river beach with the silvery white river flowing endlessly.

Roman was very satisfied.

This is his ideal farming environment.

At the same time, a virtual panel gradually appeared in his field of vision.

[Game loading complete]

[Establishing Neural Connections]

[Begin to awaken consciousness]

[1%, 2%...99%, 100% ————]

[Awakened]

[Should we create a Destiny?]

(End of this chapter)