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

Chapter 217 Nobody Can Touch You
"Sir Knight, thank you for your assistance! Please tell me your name, and we at Stag Heights will treat you to a drink!"

Bucks rider Toran removes his stag helmet.

His face was dark with soot, and he offered Dick his sincerest gratitude.

The battle was surprisingly simple.

They weren't even seriously injured.

The 1,500-1,600 pound steed ridden by the stag rider was extremely intimidating, weighing twice as much as a warhorse.

Each male stag is agile and can move freely in the forest, making them invincible in the wild.

However, they are not good at direct attacks.

If they launch an attack with only the remaining forces gathered by the Stag Knights, they will only be picked off one by one by the Broken Archers.

However, the unfamiliar thousand elite soldiers pressed forward and routed Trek's army in a single encounter.

They harassed the enemy from both flanks, swept through the routed troops, and disrupted their own formation.

With both sides working together, the war ended quickly.

The Broken Archers were individually extremely strong. However, faced with the overwhelming defeat, they were stretched thin and had no choice but to retreat from the battlefield.

And prisoners of war couldn't be taken away either.

This kindness was etched in Toran's heart.

“Lord Tolan, I am only following orders and cannot reveal my name. There is no need for drinking. My master only instructed me to ensure Mr. Morey’s safety. The journey back is long. We will meet again if fate allows.”

Dick wore a steel mask to conceal his true appearance.

He was heartbroken to see forty or fifty of his heavily armored warriors killed by the broken archers, and his spearmen also suffered some losses.

At that moment, the soldiers also found Morey in the cage.

He was in a sorry state; his robe was dirty and tattered, as if he hadn't bathed for dozens of days, and he smelled foul. He looked haggard, and life as a prisoner was not easy.

“Mr. Morey, the King of the Valley invites you to be his guest,” Dick said, bowing.

Morey looked bewildered, unsure whether the newcomer was friend or foe.

He's been stuck in the Bucks' highlands for the past two months, living in constant fear.

The worst thing still happened.

Lord Owen made a single careless move and lost everything. He was captured, locked in a cage, and filled with gloomy thoughts, feeling that life was hopeless.

Walking on thin ice, they drowned before even reaching the other side.

They were struggling in the water, not knowing who to ask for help, feeling utterly hopeless and helpless.

Then, he was pulled up by a strange, large hand.

He did not recognize the knight before him, nor had he ever heard of the King of the Valley. The emblem of the Thorn Ring was also completely unfamiliar to him.

He only befriended one nobleman, but that man was far away in the valley, and although he had repeatedly performed miracles, defeating the combined forces of six nobles in one fell swoop, his army shouldn't have been here.

“Please come with me,” Dick repeated.

He didn't know Morey, and Morey didn't know him either.

This is to be expected, as the latter had visited Origin City but only briefly and did not stay for long.

Roman deliberately created a fog of war—prohibiting all unrelated personnel from entering, thus concealing the true development of Origin City.

His army's training was also kept secret, and outsiders had no way of knowing about it.

Faced with the Iron-Faced Knight's repeated invitations, Morey had no choice but to nod.

Having been in business for some years, he could tell that the other party had good intentions towards him and must have come to rescue him; there was no doubt about that.

Dota collected the remains of his soldiers and led his army away swiftly.

"Fate, are you alright?" Toran approached a blond boy.

"Uncle, where did that army come from?" Fate asked, watching the departing army.

"I don't know, but the feeling they gave me was..."

“Elite!” Fett exclaimed. He had witnessed it firsthand from the cage of the carriage, and by the dim moonlight, he saw the heavy shield infantry charging forward relentlessly, pushing straight ahead, while Trek’s conscripts were routed, their spears, swords, and armor clashing, and they were utterly slaughtered.

"If the Bucks had such an elite team in the highlands, how could we have ended up like this?"

"It's too difficult." Tolan smiled bitterly. Everyone wants an elite army, but they can't afford to support it.

It would be difficult for the Bucks Highlands to support more than a hundred buck riders, and that's assuming the bucks can roam freely.

"But the Bucks need a powerful force to protect our crown! To avenge Father! Uncle Toran, you know the Bucks family is 'clear about grudges'!"

Toran pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded: "When you return to Bucks Castle, I will recommend you to be the Lord of Bucks."

"Thank you for your support, Uncle."

“Fate, this is not a good thing.”

“I have to tell you, we are now at a critical moment of life and death, and those witches will never succeed.”

"Next, we will not only face threats from Lord Gale, but we may also face something even more terrifying."

"The nobles of this land have been in lukewarm water for too long, thus losing their sense of danger. They are unable to cope with the upcoming decisive battle, the intensity of which will far exceed their imagination."

"We've maintained contact with the witch, and thus glimpsed a corner of that shadow. Being the Lord of the Stag is a noble honor, but it also means the heaviest responsibility. You must lead the Stag Knights to find a way to survive; we cannot simply perish like this..."

On this chilly autumn night, the Stag Knight was instructing the newborn Stag Lord.

……

The cool autumn season is coming to an end.

He was overjoyed when he learned of the army's triumphant return.

Roman stood at the dock to greet Morey as he disembarked, saying, "My friend, welcome to my home."

"Lord Roman, you mobilized so many troops to save me..." Morey was so grateful he didn't know what to say.

Military strength is extremely important to nobles.

After Count Condé's army was defeated by Roman, he was powerless to fight back and could only watch helplessly as his population dwindled.

"You already paid the price," Roman said casually.

His gaze shifted away from Morey.

He saw the soldiers coming ashore one by one, in neat formation, and that they hadn't suffered many casualties, and he immediately relaxed.

This is hardly a risky move.

But Roman always had a special kind of maternal concern, like a mother worrying about her son even when he's far away.

"You've worked hard. I've prepared a feast to welcome you back." Roman patted Dota and Dick on the shoulder.

Not only non-commissioned officers, but all soldiers on the expedition had to eat this feast.

This was just a routine business trip; Roman couldn't offer any special rewards, but the material benefits had to be top-notch.

Those soldiers didn't return for three months, and each of them had lost at least three to five pounds, looking much thinner.

He instructed Seth to arrange the funerals of the fallen soldiers, and then led everyone back to Origin Manor.

The banquet was, of course, exceptional.

Extremely high specifications.

Roast suckling pig, stewed lamb, beggar's chicken, braised beef, pepper-roasted peacock, cheesecake, etc.

The livestock raised are now ready for market, totaling hundreds of thousands of kilograms of meat.

So Roman was generous and served all kinds of meat.

Even the bread wasn't the most common whole wheat bread in Origin City, but rather milk bread made by fermenting pure white flour with milk and baking it.

It's soft and elastic to the touch, smells pure white and sweet, and when you spread a layer of blueberry jam on it, the taste is absolutely amazing.

At the banquet, Roman said to Morey, "You can stay here from now on. As long as you don't break my laws, no one can touch you."

The young businessman was deeply moved.

(End of this chapter)