Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 274 - 10: He Asks and You Answer?

Roman probably knew the true combat capabilities of the witches.

Saying they were at least of the third-tier Knight rank was a bit conservative.

Once used appropriately, a witch paired with support troops could exhibit the effect of a fourth or fifth Rank.

Lucia and Mabel, witches with area-of-effect powers, could play a crucial tactical role at critical moments.

It was Margaret’s turn next.

Roman now knew that Witch Forest had continued the court witch system from the Conqueror Period.

At its zenith, Witch Forest had eight Seat Witches.

But among them, Thunder’s Leona, Phantom’s Frieda, and Rock’s Petra perished in the battle at Holy City.

Now there remained five Seat Witches, namely, Blood’s Margaret, Twins’ Philicia, Mist’s Mona, Prophet’s Isabella.

The last Seat Witch—Frost’s Valia was currently in the Northern regions, reportedly in poor condition, on her last breath.

So, Roman was very interested in Margaret, the only Seat Witch he had seen.

Using Conquest Knights as a reference standard, a Seat Witch was basically equivalent to a High Order Knight.

A High-level Witch was not necessarily a Seat Witch, but a Seat Witch was definitely a High-level Witch.

However, the criteria for a Seat in Witch Forest was more relaxed compared to the Conqueror Period.

"Margaret’s spells are very dangerous," Shasta told Roman, "I suggest you proceed with caution."

"Be more specific."

"Her Blood Magic can manipulate blood, whether it’s her own or her enemy’s..."

Roman said with interest, "Then isn’t she invincible?"

"Of course... that is not the case, High Order Knights have resistance to Margaret’s spells, the higher the Rank, the stronger the resistance."

There were many ways to resist Blood Magic, but its threat level was still very high.

"Margaret’s Universal Magic is not much stronger than ours, when she isn’t using Blood Magic, you can consider her a Middle Rank witch."

Shasta’s advice dissuaded Roman from testing Margaret.

Since he knew that Margaret’s Universal Magic was of Middle Rank standard, and her Talent Spells were very dangerous, there was no need to test them.

Roman headed back to his estate, where he learned some news.

Margaret’s spells were sinister, offending heaven and harmony.

She had once harvested the lives of fifty or sixty mercenaries at once.

That number wasn’t sixty candles or bundles of straw.

Since mercenaries were affected to such an extent, Roman reckoned that his Soldiers would certainly not withstand the Blood Magic.

They were indeed wearing simple plate armor, but there were spells capable of causing real damage.

To stand before Margaret, one had to fulfill any one of three conditions.

First, to be strong enough to resist the effects of spells.

Second, to wear gemstones like Amber or Jade.

Third, to equip special armor, the best being Mithril, followed by Fine Gold and Mountain Copper, and even Magic Steel offering a weak resistance effect.

If one couldn’t meet the above requirements, they couldn’t even manage to deplete her.

Because Margaret could extract power from blood, reducing her own energy exhaustion.

This kind of spell reminded Roman of that Scarlet Vampire Baroness.

The ruler of Cangyue, the legendary Vampire, the enemy of the sun, the moon’s favored child.

The cursed land was full of monsters, but none were as notorious as the Cangyue Queen.

"Are you a vampire?" Roman inquired Margaret.

She turned her head, looking at Roman,

"I am not."

Margaret had blood-red long hair and pupils, and her pretty face was almost unbelievably youthful, like that of a young girl, her skin tender. She held a high position within the Witch Forest, where they referred to each other as sisters.

"How do you use your spells?"

"Life has spirit, spirit should not flow out, blood contains spirit, yet it can flow out. I call them forth, let them circulate in my hands... The more the blood flows, the weaker their souls become, and in the end, those weakened souls will go to the Netherworld..."

Roman asked curiously, "What is the Netherworld?"

"They call it Heaven, but it’s anything but sacred. It’s dark, profound, bizarre, mysterious, and filled with deathly silence everywhere..."

"Believers say that the devout go to Heaven after death to cleanse their sins and be reborn," Roman said, "I think that’s a deception, nothing more than a vain spiritual comfort. Are you now telling me that place really exists?"

"It’s just a destination." Margaret said, "At life’s end, we will all see that path to the Netherworld. It’s a winding trail, lined with peaceful soul-guiding flowers, one end underfoot, the other disappearing into the Void..."

"Margaret, keep those weird spell theories to yourself, and stop sharing them with others!"

Gwen interrupted her with a smile.

Margaret returned to her previous silent demeanor.

Gwen continued to Roman, "Master, that’s just a rumor. Some people take the wrong medicine, see hallucinations, and then start spreading those illusions. These bizarre things are like horror stories, why should we bother searching for their true forms?"

She shrugged and said, "Consider it a word of advice from an old hand."

She looked like a brazen woman in her forties who wouldn’t surprise anyone by throwing a tantrum on the ground, not at all like an old woman in her sixties. Roman wondered if she had gone through menopause.

Roman hummed lightly, "I will judge the truth of those horror stories myself."

Gwen feigned concern, "I’m saying this for your own good. Who knows, the truth behind those horror stories might be scarier than the stories themselves."

Roman ignored her scaremongering, determined to find out the truth about them, and rode away on his horse.

After all, there was plenty of time.

The witches followed him at a leisurely pace.

"Margaret, stop talking to him about those invisible things. If you pique his interest, it’ll be trouble. We’ve finally found someone somewhat reasonable; don’t let him jump into the fire."

Margaret responded indifferently, "He asked me."

"Just because he asked, you answered? Why don’t you tell him you like killing people too!"

Margaret replied, "It’s pointless to say, we’re not allowed to kill here."

"You’re just incorrigible, aren’t you!" Gwen cursed under her breath.

They returned to the manor, just in time for lunch.

Although it was practice, Roman had them actually cast spells, letting the soldiers experience the power of their magic, hitting them hard but without reducing their capabilities.

In practice, all of them ’died,’ and reality wasn’t much better, every one of them listless and weary.

But upon seeing the lunch arranged in the manor’s great hall, they immediately forgot all their fatigue.

There weren’t as many dishes as the day before, but it was still quite a feast.

Pan-fried bacon, fried chicken legs, smoked sausages, pork jelly, caramelized pork knuckles, stewed sheep’s head.

Humans are born to eat!

I eat voraciously!

The witches were moved. During their previous days on the run, how could they have eaten such things? Craving meat, they would have had to steal someone’s sheep and chickens, or hunt wild animals.

But both options were difficult and the process troublesome. Without any condiments, life was simply unbearable.