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

Chapter 324 Silly
Roman arrived at the bridgehead.

Winter is the dry season, and the boatmen, barefoot, waded across the exposed riverbanks to carry the cargo of their longboats to the city of Fengrao.

Standing at the bow of the ship is Edith, who can read minds.

"Oh, Your Highness, I didn't expect it would be you who came to pick me up." Edith said with a smile as she approached Roman.

The workers behind them unloaded supplies from the ship, including honeycomb briquettes, iron stoves, sheepskin coats, and wool clothing.

"How is Origin City now?"

Edith shrugged and said, "It's fine. I followed your orders and went to all the settlements and met with all the agents and managers. I wrote down the cadres who did bad things in my little notebook and sent them all to the mines to blast mines."

“Very good,” Roman nodded and said, “The same goes for here.”

Edith wailed, "Please spare me! Do you know how difficult it is to read the minds of hundreds of people? Superficial thoughts are manageable, but deep thoughts can't be dug out so easily—unless you get Shasta to assist me."

The Nightmare Witch's spells, combined with her other spells, are so powerful that even a high-ranking knight with a strong will cannot withstand them.

“What are you thinking? Shastad is with me,” Roman frowned at her. “I’ll give you two pearls.”

“Five!” she said immediately.

Roman thought for two seconds and nodded slightly: "Okay."

“Oh my! It’s such an honor to work for Mr. Roman,” Edith said with a smile.

Roman wanted to punch her.

But Edith turned around and hugged Margaret, showering her with concern and not giving him a chance at all.

Roman thought Edith was too slippery, but he couldn't do without her at the moment.

Functional witches are far more useful than combat witches.

Edith helped him monitor all the officials, so basically no one could escape.

His administrative system does not allow for the existence of insects!

Roman was also helpless.

He has been away from Origin City for a long time, and some people may slip up if they are not careful.

Not to mention Origin City, even the current Plenty City is the same.

Due to the fragmentation of his territory, Roman could only distribute supplies to agents in each settlement based on population.

This kind of agent is similar to a village chief.

With everyone in the settlement being an idiot, it would be incredibly easy for the village chief, who controlled the distribution of resources, to embezzle some things.

What the hell!
kill!

Kill one and replace him with a new agent; if he dares to do something inhumane again, kill him again!

Is the degeneration of human nature faster than the executioner's blade?

Roman picked up Edith and then went to receive the slaves brought in by the caravan.

This group of slaves numbered about three to five hundred, and they were mostly old, weak, sick, or disabled; no more than half of them were capable.

Roman frowned and scrambled the group, assigning them to different residences.

At this moment, Edith whispered something to Roman, who frowned even more and looked at Edith questioningly. Edith nodded innocently.

Roman sighed, pointed to an unremarkable-looking slave in the crowd, and said, "Shasta..."

Before Shasta could act, the words had barely left her mouth when Margaret raised her head, her crimson eyes fixed on the direction Roman was pointing through her blood-red hair.

Her movements were very simple.

With a gentle lift of his right hand, the assassin hiding among the slaves lost control of his body and floated up.

Margaret clenched her five fingers into her palm.

“Margaret!” Shasta screamed.

Bang!
The faceless assassin exploded, turning into a bloody mist in mid-air. The pieces of flesh fell onto the snow, staining it crimson. Seeing this, the slaves were utterly terrified, completely dumbfounded. Even Roman was quite astonished.

To use magic to pull someone out of thin air and then crush them—that's definitely using all your strength!
Margaret lowered her trembling right hand, her chest heaving violently, whether from exhaustion or excitement, she stood alone on the snow, but made no further move.

Seeing this, Roman gradually felt relieved.

He reassured the slaves and quickly assigned them to other jobs. Fortunately, nothing went wrong afterward.

Roman, somewhat troubled, led his men back to the castle.

"Are you thinking of killing someone again?"

“I didn’t!” Margaret said. “Then how could you…” Roman was somewhat incredulous; the former’s cruel and violent methods were truly shocking.

“Your Highness, it was you who wanted to kill him,” she said softly.

Through her hair, Margaret stared intently at Roman with her scarlet eyes.

Roman felt a chill run down his spine from her gaze; his intuition was sharp, and he sensed a kind of underlying pressure.

Despite wearing amber and gemstones, he still lacked confidence in resisting Margaret's magic, a weapon of the human world, mentally unstable, depressed, and with a severely afflicted, heavy, and twisted personality.

He nodded and said, "Yes, it was me who wanted to kill him."

This was his order. There's no need to blame anyone for the outcome. If someone blames the knife in their hand for the sin of killing and tries to absolve themselves of all responsibility, then that person is not worthy of wielding a knife, much less qualified to give orders.

“But you acted on your own.” Roman was unhappy because the process had gone wrong; he had assigned Shasta, not Margaret.

She was somewhat taken aback and felt a little disappointed. She then bent down again and said, "I... am willing to accept the punishment."

Looking at her, Roman suspected that even if he hung her up for three to five days, Margaret would accept it calmly, but he was afraid of upsetting her.

A hot potato. Roman thought to himself.

He had always handled his relationship with Margaret very carefully.

"Then I'll punish you by not letting you eat dinner."

“Yes,” Margaret replied, kneeling, but remained seated for a long time.

Roman couldn't figure out what she was thinking. He didn't have mind-reading abilities, but Edith did. However, Roman asked her about it when he returned, and Edith said that she couldn't read the mind of someone who didn't even know what they were thinking, especially the mind of a high-ranking witch. Some high-ranking spellcasters knew how to use magic to conceal their true thoughts, but Margaret didn't do that.

She didn't know what she was doing, but she did it anyway, and it seemed to be getting more and more out of control.

After Roman left, Margaret slowly got up, looking somewhat lost.

“Margaret, are you confused?” Edith said with a smile. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can tell what you want at a glance.”

“What do I want?” She turned to look at Edith.

But the latter wasn't afraid of her at all, and put his arm around her shoulder to sit down next to her.

“You really don’t understand anything. It’s one thing for His Highness to be afraid of you, but Shasta is different. He looks smart, but he’s just a clueless idiot.”

"I do not know what you're talking about."

"Do you want to sleep with His Highness?" Edith asked bluntly.

"But His Highness only allowed Shasta to warm his bed."

Edith immediately understood how that prince usually felt, and she wanted to punch him too.

She asked, heartbroken, "What did Shasta say?"

“She said she had no reason to refuse,” Margaret said, her delicate brow furrowing slightly. “She said that as his attendants, it would be better for us to be close to His Highness and, ideally, to protect him personally.”

Edith could tell from Margaret's expression that she also thought there was nothing wrong with that statement.

"So why can't you be the one to protect His Highness's safety?" Edith asked, trying to persuade him.

This simpleton was stumped on the spot.

I promised to add more chapters, but my writer, Karen Carter, is gone. Don't worry, I'll definitely make it up to you. I still owe you eight chapters.

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(End of this chapter)