Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 257 - 26: Promises and the Nun

Dick and Flant had drunk alcohol and then returned.

The military camp had a prohibition against alcohol.

Unless at rest, no one was allowed to drink alcohol, and officers had to comply as well.

Green had once sneaked some alcohol and was hanged that very day, stripped naked except for a pair of shorts.

Since then, everyone had recognized the full force of military law.

However, the military camp was in a more lenient phase recently, so no one pursued this issue with him, the Deputy Commander.

The leniency was because of the aftereffects of the war.

More accurately, it wasn’t that Roman had been left with psychological trauma, but that his army had been left psychologically traumatized by the Judgement Knight.

Nearly seventy percent casualties had been brought about by the Conquest Knight unit.

The entire process was unbearable to witness; those who experienced it must have nightmares.

Once there was large-scale trauma, the military’s combat strength would be utterly ruined; if faced with a battle again, they’d all turn into weaklings.

Roman took this issue very seriously, requiring the officers to firmly focus on the mental fortification of their soldiers.

But Jet and Dick were confused.

Mental fortification?

What was that?

It was too advanced! Couldn’t something more outdated be done?

Burdened with the affairs of prisoners of war and pensions, Roman had to also pick out times to meet with the officers, working on their mental conditioning.

...

"Are you scared, Ed?"

"I am scared, sir, but when I see you, I’m not scared at all," he said softly, looking up at the figure on the seat with yearning and trust.

"Once dead, there is nothing left." He felt that these words were filled with an unusual emotion, sounding somewhat sad, pitying, and merciful.

"Yes, there is, sir, we have it; we have received honor, received glory. You’ve said it before, we can also obtain those, you’ve also said it, what we are doing is meaningful."

"Even if in the future, a war as fierce as this one happens again, would you be able to hold your post without hesitation?"

"I would!"

"At the time, the Judgement Knight’s Blade almost sliced open your neck..."

He wasn’t present at that battle.

Because he couldn’t take the risk.

But Ed believed inexplicably that he was always by their side.

He knew all the details of the Spring Rain Battle.

Their every action was seen by him.

For some reason, Ed felt that he had always fought side by side with them, feeling a familiar déjà vu, as if he had seen this figure in his dreams countless times, teaching them how to fight, leading them back and forth in the fray.

Perhaps it was the work of dreams; he never remembered those events, only the innate instincts and experiences of battle continually accumulated, settling deep in his bones.

"I would! Sir, for you, I would," he reiterated, full of conviction.

He saw the figure on the seat fall silent.

"Then I permit you to do it for me."

The figure extended a hand, which he approached and devoutly kissed on the somewhat rough back.

He heard the figure on the throne say, "Go, I will be responsible for you, your comrades’ sacrifices were not meaningless. I swear, from now on, you will no longer confront the Conquest Knights’ charge with your flesh and blood. I will turn you into the Steel Army, I will bless you, and make you warriors mightier than anyone else."

...

The last Captain to be debriefed left.

Roman watched as Ed exited the hall, which had drained him extensively.

For the army, they had lost many warriors.

But for him, it was as if he had watched each familiar face disappear before his eyes.

Roman rubbed his temples after resolving the army’s issues.

The next step was to focus on production.

But first, he had to address the issue of the prisoners’ allocation.

It was impossible to keep them confined, they also needed to work, and their tasks were even heavier than those of the residents of Origin City.

All the dirty, strenuous jobs were theirs!

Hand a whip to the guards responsible for surveillance, lash anyone who slacks off forcefully, to death if they resist, beat them to death on the spot!

It means that slaves and prisoners of war have no human rights.

After a few months of reform through labor, select suitable labor forces to be absorbed into the army.

That’s the process for the Believer Army and the Mercenary Army.

But it was different for others.

Roman called for Nun Mapple.

She was formerly the Class Leader of the Choir of nuns and now Roman’s slave.

Mapple was over forty, her face lined with fine wrinkles, habitually expressing a gentle and loving demeanor.

She bowed and said, "Lord Roman, may the All Gods bless you."

Roman frowned immediately, "There are no gods to worship on this land, they have only one entity to pray to. Nun, I advise you not to seek your own death!"

"The All Gods warn us to face terror with prayers, Lord Roman, without faith, you cannot be redeemed."

"I only believe in myself," he snorted, "and, Nun, your gods can’t save this land, but I can, so I am the god of the land, pay me the ultimate respect."

Mapple was extremely shocked, having never seen such an arrogant tyrant before.

In panic, she said, "All Gods above! How can you... claim to be a god... This is a grave sin!"

Roman cursed, "Shut up! You know nothing and are shallow, I can’t bother to reason with an idiot like you! If you dare mention your gods again, I’ll send you all to meet them!"

She fell silent.

"Your faith doesn’t seem very devout..." he mocked, "No wonder, after all, the circumstances have changed, the environment has changed, what can mere humans do in the face of such trends?"

Mapple, with her excellent composure, was not angered and softly said, "Lord Roman, if your land truly couldn’t tolerate heretics, we would have followed the brave Bishop Merlad long ago, instead of being segregated and imprisoned. Are you afraid that the Choir’s nuns will destabilize your rule?"

Roman crossed his arms over his abdomen and said, "That’s because I need you to do something for me."

"There’s no such thing..." Mapple shook her head.

"The defeated have nothing, Nun, you have no right to refuse!"

He drew a Short Sword and clanked it down at the Nun’s feet, "If you refuse to comply, then prove your faith."

Mapple picked it up and said, "What do you need me to do, Lord Roman? If you teach me to become your minion, to kill and set fires, to harm others, then I’d rather die right here, hoping my blood awakens your conscience."

"That’s not necessary, I have enough people to do the killing and arson – you’re not qualified. Tell me what the nuns are skilled in."

Mapple had no choice but to say, "We come from the Monastery of Eve, I was the head there, we do everything – copying books, planting seeds, raising chickens, growing herbs, studying medicine, sometimes caring for the sick, assisting pregnant women, looking after the poor..."