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

Chapter 303 The Closest Person (Bonus Chapter for Alliance Leader)
Damon immediately became anxious, "My Lord, this is no child's play!"

He said, “You have become a king, and there are few who are worthy of your status. The jewels of the conqueror family are your best choice now. Do you know how much their dowry is? Only they are a good match for you. Otherwise, are you going to marry Queen Cangyue in the future? Please forgive my offense, Your Majesty.”

Roman stood up and said, "If this is all you came here for, Lord Damon, you should go back now. I can't be bothered to see you off."

The Black Iron Minister was dumbfounded.

The king of the valley refused to even bargain and simply wanted to drive him away.

He broke the heavenly law, didn't he?

Of course, he refused to leave.

Supplies need to be replenished, and the personnel and horses need to rest.

The Iron King did not provide them with travel expenses, but their caravan flew the banner of the Iron Throne. Wherever they went, they were entertained by local nobles who provided them with all kinds of supplies and the highest level of treatment—the nobles offered their best gifts to entertain them.

Don't underestimate these things.

The convoy consisted of nearly a hundred people, with food and supplies for both the riders and horses.

A round trip would cost at least a thousand gold coins.

Let alone stationing them in Plenty, even if they were just passing through Plenty, Roman would have to spend dozens of gold coins to entertain them at a single banquet.

Candied fruit, bread, meat, cake, and wine are still the most common.

Even if they were relatively poor nobles, they would still have to catch a few wild animals to roast and eat for the delegation, even if they went hunting.

But Roman didn't tolerate their bad habits at all.

Forget about the banquet.

The costs incurred by other nobles in purchasing supplies and hosting banquets were ultimately passed on to the lower-class farmers.

His place is full of poor bastards; you couldn't squeeze a drop of oil out of them even if you crushed them to death, so what's the point of squeezing anything out of them!

But these guys in front of me haven't done any farm work for him, so why should I support them?

Whatever he eats, these guys eat too; don't even think about being extravagant.

You can stay wherever you want, either squeeze into a castle or sleep in the wild.

Damon was embarrassed. In peacetime, this act of disrespect alone would have been enough to provoke the Iron King to send troops to punish him—how dare he disrespect the king's delegation—some medieval wars were started by such trivial matters.

But these are special times, so we have no choice but to accept it.

Feeling slighted, Damon simply stayed in the carriage, while his servants pitched their own tents.

Even so, Roman was still angry.

Damn it, this little thing has ruined his whole day's work.

He can at least plan out 3,000 mu of arable land today!

angry!
Court politics, marriage alliances, politics, the overall situation...

Do not understand!

I really don't understand at all!
Roman just wanted to farm and develop his skills for a few years, then kill them all with one punch. Is it really that hard to get anything done these days?
Feeling wronged, upset, and wanting to cry...

……

The night was dark.

The candlelight in the castle never went out, illuminating the dark room.

“Shasta, in this chaotic era, only you can bring me comfort,” Roman said.

He confirmed it himself, which was truly comforting.

She said softly, "Your Highness, the Black Iron Envoy still wants to talk to you tomorrow."

"Come with me to farm tomorrow. I don't want to say anything more to him."

"Forming a marriage alliance with the Conqueror family would be extremely beneficial for you. That ancient family has a very deep and special history."

After all, they were descendants of Ionus.

The family established by the conqueror himself; this land is filled with countless legends and miracles about that conqueror.

Even more than a hundred years later, many people still remember him and believe that he will return from the underworld sooner or later.

This is the power of faith; the lower the social class, the more suffering one has endured, the stronger their belief. He will come out to save all of this, to save his suffering people.

“I will not marry. No one is good enough for me, no one,” he said.

“Alas, you must have a wife… You need a crown prince.”

"I don't want that thing. I am your monarch now, and I will be your monarch for life. I don't need an heir. I'm afraid he's stupid. Stupid people are not qualified to inherit my position. Why? Just because he's my offspring? Well, let me tell you, he's not qualified. In this world, past, present, and future, no one can, only I can!"

"So you don't need a wife?" Shasta suddenly seemed a little disappointed.

She is actually very rational, but humans can't control those sudden emotions.

"Are you having some inappropriate fantasies?" Roman stared warily into her bright eyes.

"I'm just here to help you solve your problem," she said coolly.

"That problem hasn't been solved yet."

"Oh."

"..."

"..."

“Shasta…”

"What's wrong, Your Highness?"

“I won’t get married, but we can be together. I consider you all my closest people…” he said.

She paused, and a blush began to appear on her fair and cool face.

"I...I know..."

She seemed a little uneasy.

……

The night passed.

As expected, the Black Iron minister visited Roman again.

He had to convince Roman to accept the marriage no matter what; it was of utmost importance.

This situation is one where cooperation benefits both sides, while division harms both.

But when he arrived at the castle, he saw Roman riding out of the castle gate in hunting clothes that allowed him to move around easily, followed by two witches.

"Hey! Lord Roman!" He trotted over to greet him, only to see Roman wave at him, telling him to stay away and not block the way, before riding off without looking back.

Damon's face turned green.

Even the King of Black Iron cannot treat him so lightly.

With the help of his servants, he managed to mount a docile mare.

Heaven knows he's lived a life of luxury and hasn't ridden a horse in years.

Damon felt like cursing.

He caught up with them after a long while, and the fields were full of farmers who had come to cultivate the land.

The further Damon went, the more stunned he became by the scene before him. Finally, he saw Roman pick up a clod of earth from a patch of uncultivated, barren land, crush it into small pieces, and then take a flag from a white horse and plant it in the ground.

"What are you doing?"

Roman glanced at him. "Demarcate the boundaries."

"Why are you marking out the land boundaries?"

Roman stared at him like he was an idiot: "Farming, huh?"

But Damon didn't care who Roman rented the land to farm; as long as the land tax was paid, that was enough.

Having finally received a patient response from Roman, he pressed on, "I don't know much about farming, but I've never seen farming like this before, nor have I ever seen a plow like this. I saw those people burying a special kind of soil in the ground; what were they doing?"

Roman said, "Deep plowing followed by fertilization can greatly increase grain yield."

(End of this chapter)