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

Chapter 410 Bedtime Story
Roman was worried about the upcoming autumn harvest.

The construction of the stone arch bridge is progressing very quickly. The piers and abutments are basically completed, and now the arch frame is being erected. The arch rings will be built piece by piece, and it is estimated that it will be completed before the end of autumn.

This is a good thing.

Unfortunately, the Black Iron Alliance changed its battle plan.

Macol no longer insisted on amassing a large army to destroy Plenty in one fell swoop. Instead, he secretly dispatched cavalry and infantry units to begin continuous harassment operations.

Roman wasn't afraid of a head-on confrontation—as long as the vanguard was broken, the rest of the pigs would scatter in panic.

But he feared that small-scale raids day and night, and the burning of the land, would keep him constantly on the run.

After the summer sun, the soil is dry and the air is parched, making crops extremely flammable. Even a tiny spark can spread into a large-scale fire, which is truly difficult to prevent.

By now, the two sides' forces have clashed more than ten times, but Roman believes that a successful defense does not constitute a victory.

This has led to instability in the outskirts of Plenty City.

Roman had no choice but to strengthen patrols, build more watchtowers and protective camps, and set up a large number of sentries, including not only professional soldiers but also militia units, mobilizing all available combat forces.

After working hard for more than half a year and irrigating the fields all summer, he was so worried about the allocation of labor that he felt there was not enough for everyone. Now that the harvest was finally in, he could not let all his efforts go to waste and had to protect the fruits of his labor!
Roman wasn't the only one who thought this way.

Everyone in Plenty thought so.

Farming is hard work. After enduring so much hardship, we've finally started to reap the rewards. Now, anyone who dares to burn the land is risking their lives.

Their lord distributed light crossbows to every household, so that if a crisis were to occur, they would fight to the death.

Therefore, the closer to the critical moment, the more militia members patrol, taking strict precautions and maintaining high vigilance.

……

The autumn harvest is always spent in this tense atmosphere.

As is customary, grain production increases every year, a fact well understood by the long-time farmers in Fengrao City.

With the help of a series of agricultural technology reforms, such as salt water seed selection, shallow tillage to deep tillage, and raw land to cultivated land, as well as the blessing of Gewier.

Every year, the yield per mu in Fengrao City increases by more than ten or even dozens of jin compared to previous years.

This is a visible improvement.

They cultivated the land with their own hands and harvested far more grain than before, enjoying hearty meals every day. The old farmers, accustomed to hardship, had never seen anything like this before, and their sense of belonging to their territory grew stronger day by day.

But not this year.

Despite taking measures to mitigate the drought, production still decreased.

Overall, production has decreased by about 20% to 30%. If Roman hadn't been clearing wasteland every year, the total grain yield this time would not even be as high as last year.

Although he had made a prediction, seeing the actual data still made him feel a little heartbroken.

However, most farmers felt that this result was already excellent.

They know they can't blame everyone.

In previous years, if there had been a drought, there would have been little hope; a 50% reduction in yield would have been considered good.

The reason why the disaster was reduced by only 20% to 30% is because the lord provided a solution, which allowed them to dig ditches and canals, build waterwheels, and irrigate farmland. These measures effectively mitigated the impact of the disaster.

Otherwise, production would be even lower.

The city of Plenty has been bustling with activity for several days. Everyone is making the most of their time.

During the day, under the scorching sun, with their heads wrapped in cloth, they harvested wheat stalks. Strong men could harvest two or three acres a day. The women were not idle at night either, threshing grain in the workshops under the moonlight.

The characteristic of collective division of labor is that it is highly efficient and reduces wasted time.

Every harvest season, Roman holds a celebration to boost social stability. This year was no exception. However, not everyone could enjoy the festivities without a care in the world; the celebration was much smaller than last year, with about half the population unable to participate as everyone had to stay at their posts.

This year, Roman has unusually devoted all his time and energy to this process.

Roman attended celebrations in various squares throughout the city of abundance, joining in the festivities—a practice he believed would effectively increase residents' happiness—and he intended for them to continue serving him without complaint.

He then went to visit and express his appreciation to those who were sticking to their posts.

When he returned from the last construction site, he felt completely exhausted.

"How about a good night's sleep? Relax a bit? Maybe we shouldn't keep studying magic?" Shasta suggested, seizing the opportunity, though she hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea."

At first, there was a pleasant surprise; now, only fear. Roman's rapid mastery of magic terrified Shasta.

Shasta pondered to himself. Are there truly destined spellcasters in this world?
"Isn't learning magic a good thing?" Roman asked curiously.

Shasta pursed his lips, his eyes darkening, a hint of something in them. "There are some strange rumors."

In the eyes of the world, the root of the stigma surrounding wizards lies in magic.

That is an invisible and intangible force.

You wouldn't even know who kicked you if a wizard kicked you.

The Vatican has always propagated that anyone who becomes tainted by magic will have their soul trapped in the purgatory of the gods, never to be reborn.

Folklore holds that wizards are demons living among humans, their souls originating from hell. Even a wizard who is usually gentle and kind may become malevolent and twisted at times, losing their mind and revealing their evil nature.

Some scholars also believe that mastering magic will bring misfortune, that wizards have demonic blood flowing in their veins, and that spellcasters will eventually bring disaster to everyone.

Shasta really didn't want to attribute Margaret's condition to magic.

But it is true that the blood magic made Margaret increasingly yearn for the legendary Netherworld, and she became extremely obsessed with it.

Even after arriving at the valley, although her condition improved somewhat, she never gave up her fantasies about the Netherworld.

Shasta felt a sense of fear whenever she thought about it.

I fear that one day Roman will become like that, just like Marguerite, blindly and madly pursuing something illusory.

Roman was not a natural spellcaster, but he was more adept at using magic than witches, and had an extremely strong affinity for magic.

Shasta was confused as to whether the problem lay with the spellcaster or with Roman.

"Then I'll listen, consider it a bedtime story." Roman took a shower, changed into linen pajamas, felt comfortable and relaxed all over, and lay in bed waiting to fall asleep.

Unless absolutely necessary, Shasta didn't want to tell him so many secrets between spellcasters.

He is a ruler, and his duties have nothing to do with magic. If you talk to him about so many strange and unusual things, it might pique his interest and cause him to gradually become obsessed and neglect his duties. That's what jesters do. They either tell stories or perform talents. They are commonly known as clowns, so jesters have always had a bad reputation.

She was a court witch, and witches don't do the work of clowns.

Besides, rural folk tales shouldn't have fallen into his ears in the first place. Only the naive Margaret would tell him about them. They always wanted to correct certain rumors so that he wouldn't have a negative opinion of them.

“It is said that if someone masters too many spells, their soul will wander into another world,” Shasta clarified. “But that’s just a rumor; we’ve never experienced anything like that. Lord Thunder also believes that spells originate from within oneself, not from some ethereal world.”

“Whatever Margaret says, just listen and don’t take it seriously!” Shasta hesitated for a moment, really not wanting to lie to him. “After all… the more you know, the more magic you master, the more likely you are to encounter strange things. If such a thing really happens… please don’t explore it… otherwise you might lose yourself…”

She managed to say these words, but heard no response. Looking up, she saw Roman sleeping peacefully.

Shasta sighed softly, gazing at his quiet face. A gentle affection suddenly welled up within her. The more she looked at him, the happier she became, and an inexplicable sense of happiness enveloped her.

She lay down as well, closing her eyes as well.

(End of this chapter)