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

Chapter 250 Interview

Chapter 250 Interview
"How long will the witch wander?" Roman asked her.

The Nightmare Witch was stunned for a moment.

She asked the same question.

Other witches were asking the same question.

But they are a moving forest, never able to grow their own roots.

"To the end of my life." She spoke softly, not so afraid as to be unable to face the answer.

Roman's chest heaved instantly, and he took a breath.

Eyes closed, eyes open, hands outstretched, hesitant to speak, unsure of what to say.

"that's it?"

Shasta suddenly became unsure of his attitude. If Edith were here, she would probably be able to glimpse a corner of his mind.

"Yes, that's it."

“Witches! You disappoint me. You have no principles and no plans... Sigh, why am I telling you this? Judging from your appearance, I thought you would be smarter.”

Shasta blinked.

She has a rather shrewd and capable face.

Roman suppressed his disappointment and said, "Let me put it another way. If I could stop you from wandering, how would you repay me?"

"...Can you do it?"

Roman shook his finger and said, "Don't answer questions with questions, it's disrespectful to me—whether I can do it or not is my business, it has nothing to do with you."

Shasta was left speechless by this unreasonable and absurd statement.

She said, "We'll do anything as long as you don't send us to our deaths."

"Then you don't ask for much."

"Because that alone is unattainable."

"Isn't there anything else? I think the Witch Forest should have some grander goals."

“That grand vision has long since vanished; we are merely losers…” Shasta’s face darkened.

Roman had an unpleasant encounter with her last time.

But one must admit, she did possess a mysterious and elegant air about her at that time, dangerous like a rose with thorns.

Now she's like a female dog with a broken spine, still struggling, but with a feeling of lying down and letting herself be fucked.

"Then pledge your loyalty to me, and I will protect you as long as you obey me. This promise will last forever. What do you say?"

Shasta stared at him.

She wanted to say that the Holy See wouldn't let you off the hook; the Silvermoon Lord was a prime example of what would happen to you. You didn't know how many followers the Holy See had, and the Dark Iron King would also put pressure on you. You couldn't withstand that endless onslaught...

But in the end, she only said one sentence:
"I need to discuss this with my sisters."

……

The only reason the witch failed.

It's just that my fist isn't big enough; I don't have the power to flip the table.

They were essentially a formal organization that was reorganized after the disbandment of the court witches, and they had a relatively complete organizational structure.

Very strong, but not that strong.

When we say it's not strong, we mean it's relative to the entire land.

The reason it is considered very powerful is because Roman believes that the witch forest mentioned by Shasta can take away a Black Iron Duke and his forces—this is not a joke.

He could now understand the significance of Shasta's words from two years ago, when he suggested inviting several witches to his place.

Even if he had just arrived in Sig Town back then, even the current Origin City wouldn't be able to accommodate the Witch Forest.

It's too big; I simply can't handle it.

Whether he can still control Origin City remains to be seen.

However, there is no conflict of interest between Origin City and Witchwood.

Roman needs the witch as his help.

If you can fly in pairs, there's no need to go solo.

Now it's even easier to say.

The stray dogs had nowhere to go, so Roman took them in; all he had to do was provide them with dog food and a doghouse.

But these guys were different from the other slaves; Roman had to see them for himself.

There were seventeen witches in total who followed Shasta to the Origin Manor.

Six were seriously injured, seven were slightly injured, and five others were in relatively good condition.

Instead of beautiful women, Roman only saw a group of ragged beggars.

Of the group, only Shasta was in relatively good condition; her black robes were not visibly dirty, showing that she paid attention to cleanliness.

“Oh my, someone actually took us in, and it was even the kid from the Liejia family. You have more conscience than Ulster.”

The witches chattered noisily, like a flock of ducks. Roman coldly observed the scene before him and said, "This is an interview! Whoever doesn't satisfy me can get out! Of course, it's a two-way selection process, so whoever isn't satisfied with me can also get out!"

This statement had an immediate effect.

The chaotic scene immediately fell silent.

Some witches may be unruly, reckless, ill-mannered, and foul-mouthed, like sons of bitches.

But they're not stupid.

Those who go against aristocratic authority never have a good ending.

The main reason they were able to come was because they believed Shasta wouldn't lead them to their deaths.

The seriously injured witch was taken to the hospital, where selected nuns and medical staff will treat her injuries until she recovers.

So there were only twelve witches present, standing in a row of varying heights.

Roman inexplicably felt like he was choosing a princess.

“From left to right, I will ask you questions, and you will answer them.” Roman took out a piece of white paper and a pencil.

"name?"

“Gwen.” The witch curled her lip.

"age?"

"Oh, my lord, how about I tell you how many men I've been with?"

Roman immediately threw the pencil away.

Snapped!
It hit him right on the forehead!

Gwen stood there lazily, her pencil slipping from her hand.

“Sir, she’s a madwoman. If you have any questions, just ask us. My name is Monica.” Another witch picked up the pencil from the ground and placed it back on the table obsequiously.

Roman looked at her: "Did I tell you to speak?"

Monica shrugged and said, "No."

Shasta was furious, she glanced at Margaret.

Margaret, dressed in blood-red clothes with her long hair disheveled, said calmly, "Have you made enough of a scene?"

In an instant, an even quieter atmosphere than before appeared.

The unruly witches all straightened their backs and their faces became solemn.

Roman glanced at Margaret with surprise.

“62 years old,” Gwen said honestly.

"What are you good at?"

"Defensive spells, you are a master of armor-breaking techniques, but your archery skills may not be able to harm me in the slightest."

Roman lost interest in her.

"next."