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

Chapter 159 Life is definitely not in her hands

Laura waited in the red brick house.

She sat on the stool, her expression calm, but her heart was filled with helplessness.

She was a peasant girl whose whole family had been abducted to this place. What could she do?
She was asked those questions, and she answered them truthfully, yet this is the result she received. What can she do?
Old Richard huddled in the corner, looking worried.

The scars from the beating he received months ago remain on his face, hidden by his graying hair.

He was only in his forties, but the heavy labor was almost draining all his vitality. Perhaps in less than ten years, he would cough up blood and die in the field.

The neighbors who were temporarily sharing the room with them comforted his wife and daughter.

“Those soldiers eat meat at every meal.”

Is it more powerful to hit his daughter?
“Those soldiers have to train every day.”

Does his daughter have to do all the housework?

“Those soldiers have a high income; they get several copper coins every month.”

Would you kill his daughter and then buy a new wife?
He couldn't help but think the worst, and he'd been tossing and turning all night.

He dared not resist this matter.

They were fed well and provided with three meals a day. Although they were assigned tasks, they hadn't actually started working yet. Everyone stayed at home, and when it was mealtime, someone would call them to the main kitchen to get their food. They were quickly adapting to the lifestyle here.

In Doug Village, he had connections and influence. He refused the steward's marriage proposal to his daughter and was treated cruelly. He only survived because of the pleas of his neighbors.

But now, who dares to resist?

The head of the steward who had once wanted to marry Laura had been watching them the whole way.

A family has more than just a daughter; does that mean the whole family should be dragged down with her to be buried with her?
His heart was breaking, but he had no choice but to make the sacrifice, sacrificing his daughter to save his family. This was the reason for his compromise.

Those big shots have plenty of ways to make them suffer terribly.

"Coming, coming!" The neighbor's son, who lived next door and kept watch at the door, lifted the stiff curtain made of thick burlap.

The cold wind outside seeped into the warm room through the cracks.

All ten people in the room tensed up.

Soon, a hand lifted the curtain, and a strong young man entered the room.

"Is the house number 1276?" he asked.

This was met with approval from everyone in the room.

There are too many brick houses here.

The staff patiently and repeatedly told them the house number so they wouldn't get lost and not know where to go.

Soldiers cannot get lost; the house numbers are clearly written next to the door of each brick house.

They knew the words and the numbers; some soldiers could even spell their own names and read the names and addresses on the slips of paper, so they could always find their way.

But he felt he still had to ask one question.

He held up the note with his left hand, and read the name somewhat awkwardly: "Lola who lives here! The lord has betrothed you to me, and I'm taking you away."

He was extremely nervous, feeling that going to the battlefield was nothing compared to this.

The men stared intently at him, making him somewhat apprehensive. He knew what he was doing—taking a family's daughter away—but it was the lord's order, so he was filled with courage and confidence. However, he had no experience in this matter, and his words came out stiffly.

When he said that name, he didn't even know who Laura was, even though there were four or five women in the room.

But his gaze unconsciously focused on the prettiest girl.

She had long, ginger-yellow hair, sat with her legs together, and her face was as soft and beautiful as a chamomile.

When he met those gray eyes, he felt his heart stop beating, and he prayed to the gods that it must be that girl!

“Sir, I am Laura’s father.”

His gaze struggled to leave the girl and landed on an old man with gray hair and a haggard expression.

As he sized him up, he was also sizing up this unfamiliar, important figure—not particularly tall, with small eyes and sparse eyebrows, but with an upright posture and a spirited air about him. He wore a standard military uniform, a blend of wool and linen, which was both warm and durable, giving the impression of being impeccably dressed and upright.

Finally, his gaze fell on his empty sleeve, and he asked in a humble voice, afraid of angering the soldier, "Your hand..."

These soldiers were completely different from Lord Has's conscripts, who were assembled and trained during wartime, while they trained day and night. Others regarded professional soldiers as rulers of a higher class than them, just as they would a knight of war, addressing them respectfully as "Lord" to avoid provoking the latter's anger.

“It’s broken.” He raised his bandaged right arm, which was bare.

He can no longer handle weapons and is about to retire.

Their lord did not ignore him, but did his best to guarantee their future livelihood and promised that one day he would find a way to make them fight for him again.

Old Richard accepted the cruel reality that his daughter was about to marry a disabled man.

But one hand might not be enough to kill someone. He thought to himself, trying to find a bit of humor in his predicament.

“Who is Laura?” He stared intently at the girl.

“It’s me.” Laura stood up in his eyes, her face as calm as a lake. She had been preparing for this for months, but there had been too many twists and turns along the way.

She prayed to the gods, but they told her again and again that life was never in her own hands.

She approached him and heard the soldier say, "I...I am Tucker..."

The voice sounded even more nervous than hers.

She looked into his somewhat small eyes, then lowered her head and nodded, saying, "Master Tucker, where are you taking me?"

She will comply.

“No, sir, call me Tucker,” he stammered.

Laura readily agreed. She could tell he wasn't good with words and didn't want to embarrass him, otherwise it would only embarrass their family.

"The lord wants me to bring you over," he said dryly. The girl was standing right in front of him, and he didn't know what to do.

Laura nodded, seeing him standing there motionless, neither savage nor vicious, but rather seeming somewhat out of place.

Her eyes darted around, she tilted her head, and tentatively said, "Then let's go."

"Oh, oh... Let's go." He suddenly realized, made a standard about-face gesture, stepped out of the door curtain, and went out alone.

Laura seemed thoughtful. This soldier was more clumsy than she had imagined. She had thought he would be arrogant and domineering, after all, they had killed so many people before.

Old Richard held her right hand, his expression filled with reluctance, as if it were the last time they would see each other. Laura gently pulled her hand away, shook her head slightly at him, and then followed Tucker out.

(End of this chapter)