Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest

Chapter 57 - 57 26 Shock

?57: Chapter 26: Shock 57: Chapter 26: Shock “Eat, eat, eat…” Agata’s voice was filled with a plea.

Agata kept scooping up the thin porridge from the bowl, bringing it to the mouth of the infant who was only seven or eight months old.

But the child, who had been starving for several days, still did not open his mouth.

Since leaving the Northern Land, she had first developed a fever and experienced a strong sense of maladaptation, vomiting profusely.

It was with difficulty that her fever subsided, but then her body couldn’t keep up with the nutritional needs.

The baby’s eyes were dim and exuded an extreme weakness.

The intense crying that had come before seemed to be his last rally before the small life burned out all of its vitality.

Agata, with tears in her eyes, forcefully pushed the porridge into the baby’s mouth, but it kept spilling out from the corners, with no sign of swallowing.

No matter how she tried, she could not get the porridge in, there wasn’t even a cough.

“Please, please eat…” Agata begged with tears streaming down.

The prolonged hunger had nearly cost her the ability to produce milk.

Her withered breasts could not yield a drop of milk, no matter how she tried.

Her child had cried day and night, and though she was desperate to help, she had felt powerless.

At one point, she even thought of cutting her finger to let her child lick the blood.

Now that she finally had food, could he really not eat it?

She felt a deep sorrow and despair, holding the child and sobbing silently.

Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, she stood up, moved her sore and feeble legs, and rushed with all the speed she could muster to the lord before her.

A knight with a calm face stopped her.

The strict social hierarchy made it clear this was not her place to tread.

If she disturbed the noble master, she was very likely to be sentenced to death.

But Agata could no longer care about that.

The young lord looked over at her as she held out her child, her expression a mix of entreaty and pain.

…

Roman glanced at the woman from Wandong.

He hadn’t leveled up his “Medicine” Skill and couldn’t tell what was wrong with the child.

“Dota!” Roman called out.

The young man, who had transferred from Hunter to Guard, immediately appeared before him.

Standing at attention as Aaron had taught, he was as straight as a pine tree.

“Take him to the mountains,” Roman said, pointing to the young infant.

“Let Galin check what’s wrong with him.”

“Yes!”

Dota, through his recent training, had become a man of few words, striving for excellence in everything he did.

Roman knew Dota was showing his mettle.

He had appointed Dota as the Captain of the Guards, which was a special form of encouragement for the former young Hunter.

Roman didn’t dislike these ambitious people.

If everyone was a stupid donkey with no desire for progress, that would have been the true anguish.

So he said, “You can ride a horse there.”

Ordinary guards didn’t have this privilege.

But Dota was an exception.

As one of the few Angel Envoys, Roman was intentionally cultivating Dota’s military potential, and mastering horsemanship was essential.

So, the Hunter who grew up in the mountains, after practicing these past days, was no stranger to warhorses, although his training time each day was limited.

Dota simply acknowledged the command.

He took the child from Agata’s hands and ran toward Origin Manor.

Roman’s gaze then shifted to Agatha as the woman from Wandong watched Dota’s retreating figure without looking back.

Roman asked calmly, “You’re from Wandong.

What’s your name?”

Only the Northern Land could breed white hair.

That pure white hair was now covered in dust, appearing rough and dull.

He had seen foreigners before.

On the contrary, Shasta, the Grand Duke Riptide, often had exotic visitors.

Then Roman discovered that all the nations on this land shared a common language.

He had initially thought that this universal language and script had been unified by the Conqueror, but later realized the Conqueror lacked the capability; it was impossible for him to have achieved such a monumental feat in his short reign of just twenty or thirty years.

When Agatha heard Roman’s voice, she first trembled.

Realizing what she had done, she accidentally found herself in front of a nobleman in her panic and lowered her head, saying, “My lord, I am Agatha.”

“Where is your child?”

“Vera.”

Hearing the name, Roman knew it was a female infant and said, “Dota has gone to find someone to treat her, she should be fine.”

Agatha also knew this; if her actions had angered this noble lord, or if the lord had no intention of helping her, he would not have pretended to care in front of her.

A slave wasn’t worth such a display from a noble.

The only option was to assume the best.

Agatha was very grateful to this kind and generous noble master, but she didn’t dare to say it out loud and could only give thanks silently in her heart.

A little more than an hour later, Dota returned on horseback.

Agatha hurried over immediately, taking Vera into her arms from Dota’s embrace.

Seeing her daughter’s breathing had stabilized greatly, she cried tears of joy and repeatedly kissed Vera’s forehead and cheeks.

Dota conveyed Galin’s diagnosis to Roman.

To Roman, it sounded like the child had suffered from shock, perhaps due to a high fever, hunger, failure to adapt, or the poor environment.

In any case, she had narrowly escaped death.

Using both medicine and divine arts, Galin had stabilized her physical condition, but she needed to be well cared for in the future.

After listening, Roman said to Agatha, “You can come to my manor every day to get two pounds of milk.”

Green smacked his lips, “Gwivelle needs to drink milk, and Aaron and I want to drink it too.

Will that be enough?”

Roman glanced at Green.

“Or shall I stop giving you maltose and make you drink milk every day instead?”

Green quickly shut up.

He was just grumbling a bit.

Compared to Aaron, he had more of a sweet tooth and was now entirely enticed by the taste of maltose.

The dining table could go without milk, but it had to have maltose.

Seeing Green quiet down, Roman did not say any more.

He felt that Green was in a phase of revengeful binge eating.

Previously, he had little access to sugar, and now that he had the opportunity to indulge, he naturally wouldn’t restrain himself.

He didn’t control Green’s intake; he could eat as much as he wanted.

Although consuming too much sugar could harm the body, considering the intensity of the Conquest Knights’ training and their physical strength, it was marginally acceptable.

Eventually, they would grow tired of it.

Roman had seen that, among this group of slaves, only Vera was the youngest, eight or nine months old and still nursing.

Naturally, he wouldn’t be stingy with a little milk; deducting a bit from Green’s share would suffice for her.

“Thank you, my lord.” Agatha, not articulate, found milk too important for Vera to remain silent.

Roman remained noncommittal and calmly said, “Tell me about the Northern Land and the events that occurred to you…

how did you end up here.”

The flaws of the age, transportation, and the speed of information spread were extremely slow.

Even the news from most merchants was hearsay, with authenticity that was questionable.

But regardless, as a person from Wandong, the stories that happened to Agatha could give Roman a concrete understanding of the current state of the Northern Land.

Then, in the midst of Agatha’s recounting, Roman heard a familiar name.

Shasta!