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

Chapter 280 I need to find a reason to beat them up.

Roman frowned slightly: "The Vatican knows I have witches on my side?"

"pretty close."

Lysa looked at the young nobleman with a hint of surprise in her eyes.

Upon learning this news, he was neither shocked nor angry, nor fearful; he simply learned of it calmly.

The astrologers of the Papacy have unfathomable knowledge of the mystical realm and can rival the prophets.

The witches arrived in Origin City in May, and now it's July.

They disappeared for two months, giving Roman time to develop—don't underestimate those two months, Roman did a lot during that time, and his power increased exponentially.

However, secretly developing will eventually be exposed one day.

The Vatican has now realized what happened and located the witch's position.

Lysa said, "It seems you were prepared all along."

After all, what foolish nobleman would protect a witch without considering the consequences? Lysa Silvermoon thought to herself.

Roman avoided the question, saying, "I have my own plans. Lysa, since you're here, it means you're willing to offer me your loyalty?"

He asked her in person, wanting to get her personal promise.

“It’s obvious, Your Highness. As long as you don’t hand me and other witches over to the Church, I will naturally be willing to serve you.” Lysa came to Roman, gently took his right hand, and lowered her head to kiss it as a gesture of goodwill.

Roman recognized this as aristocratic etiquette.

Etiquette between members of the opposite sex, and etiquette between subordinates and superiors.

Other witches never treated him like that; court witches had their own etiquette, and a slight bow was enough for them.

Lysa was very self-aware and polite, and the freckles on her face made her look somewhat playful.

The girls in this land generally have freckles on their faces, but they will fade naturally after they grow up.

Lysa looked to be about twenty years old. Her freckles hadn't completely disappeared; a few remained, like the spots of a sparrow, which was rather cute.

After she swore allegiance, the originally formal occasion became more relaxed.

Gwen couldn't wait any longer and cried out, "Little Lysa..."

Seeing that the ducks were about to start a meeting, Roman immediately tapped the table: "If you want to catch up, you'll have to wait until I finish speaking!"

Gwen shrugged and said, "As you wish, Your Highness."

The other witches also kept silent.

Roman beckoned to Gweil and said to Lysa, "I need you to help her."

The freckled witch glanced at Gweil and replied with a smile, "Your Highness, you summoned me, Cangyue, for this young lady? Her magic must be terrifying."

Roman nodded: "Yes, it is quite terrifying."

"So what is her ability?"

Roman said, "Rewrite your destiny!"

Lysa was even more amazed.

If you master this spell, you're guaranteed to be a genuine seated witch.

"Your Highness, I am merely a low-ranking witch, and there is only so much I can do. I fear I may fail to live up to your expectations," Lysa had no choice but to say.

This spell is terrifying. She wasn't being modest; a low-level witch really can't do much with it.

Especially when it comes to such ethereal and high-level spells, even those who are cheering on the sidelines are worried that they might disturb the performance of the big shots.

Roman said, "You can do it."

The freckled witch had no choice but to nod and say, "Alright, since you've put it that way, whose fate do you want to rewrite?"

“Rice…and wheat,” Roman added.

Lysa picked at her ear.

"You heard me right, you have to help Gavier with my farming."

Lysa blinked, and after a long while, she exclaimed in surprise, "You brought me from Azure Moon just to help you farm?"

Roman frowned: "Is it not allowed?" "It's not that it's not allowed."

I came to Origin City, and this is what I get?
Do you have some kind of weird fetish? Are you happy that I came all this way to farm for you?!
Lysa smiled, but her heart was filled with a different story.

"To what extent can you do it?" Roman asked again.

This is like an interview assessment; he needs to know Ryza's specific power level.

“She can do it, Your Highness. Lysa is a rare low-ranking witch with a talent for magic,” Edith said.

"Don't interrupt!" Roman said, displeased.

“Then I beg your forgiveness,” Edith said, shrugging.

These guys all have the same habit when they do something wrong; they're never serious.

Roman secretly pondered a reason to beat them up.

Lysa said, "Your Highness, they all call me Lysa the Amplified."

The innate spells are vague.

Take Monica as an example. She is a Void Witch, and Roman also thought she was a space-type witch, but the tests showed that it wasn't true.

Roman believed that Monica possessed telekinetic magic, which allowed her to exert force from a distance.

The witches don't care what their innate spells are; they only care what those spells can do for them.

However, just as not all apostles are high-ranking apostles.

Most witches also lack magical talents.

The prophet awakened the hidden potential of all the witches in order to enhance their power.

Lysa is a rare witch who possesses innate magical talent but lacks potential.

She might be able to become a mid-level witch after forty or fifty years, but that's about it.

Therefore, the seated witches judged her to be only an assistant witch—that is, one of the people in the witch camp who served tea and water, did laundry and cooked for the battle witches.

Lysa has the ability to enhance the spells of a mid-level witch, but she did not go to the Holy City War.

Because the battlefield is ever-changing, and in a battlefield where even high-ranking witches fall one after another, she has no time to prepare, and her options are extremely limited.

But Roman didn't care about that.

Farming is not war, where life and death are decided instantly, but farming requires sufficient patience.

“Increase? Increase is good! From now on, you can stay by Gweil’s side,” Roman said.

Gweil looked at Lysa curiously. When Lysa noticed, she smiled slightly at Gweil, her attitude friendly on the surface, but her mind was racing.

She didn't think her ability was of any use, and none of her sisters had ever asked her for help. She didn't understand what this descendant of the Cracked Armor wanted her to do.

Anyway, there's no way she'd do the digging.

It's manageable to do it for a day, but no one can endure it for long.

Besides, those kinds of jobs are not something someone of her status should be doing.

Her seniors should have established themselves here by now; they can come to her if she needs anything.

After all, they're all witches; they should help each other out.

Lysa approached Gweil with a smile—her nominal superior, who was so young yet had already reached the threshold of becoming a mid-level witch, supposedly because she had drunk Lyanna's potion and would definitely become a high-level witch in the future. Lysa, on the other hand, was destined to be nothing more than a menial worker with no future. So Lysa thought to herself, it was better to build a good relationship with her and get on her good side in advance. At the same time, Lysa looked around the spacious manor with curiosity. It wasn't even a castle.

She was genuinely curious as to why this descendant of the Cracked Armor dared to defy the world and protect the witch.

What gives him his confidence, what does he rely on?
Is it because of the terrain that is easy to defend and difficult to attack? Once the crossing is held, it will be invincible?

Or is it the unique layout of this place?

She thought about the fleeting glimpse of the sky as she flew across it.

The land was flat and open, the houses were neatly arranged, the paths crisscrossed, and people came and went to cultivate the land...

I have to admit, it's a good place.

At least it's much better than that demonic place, Cangyue.

(End of this chapter)