Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 399 - 3: The Affection of the Robe and Morass

March.

The spring cultivation was drawing to a close.

Fertile City gradually shifted from a state of cultivation to one of war, and everyone could clearly sense the tense atmosphere of an impending storm.

This city had always been managed with a military focus, conducting military operations annually, and was well-adapted to sudden wars.

In Roman’s design, Fertile City was the most crucial landing point for Origin City, bearing the mission of expansion.

If Origin City were the body of a tank, then Fertile City would be the cannon firing the ammunition!

But its shortcomings were also obvious.

For instance, Fertile City had no strategic depth!

In a 5V5 tower-pushing game, a defense tower provides space for our side’s maneuvers; if one says that the defense tower’s coverage is the strategic depth, then Fertile City was without a defense tower. The enemy’s troops could advance to the high ground as soon as they spawned, and then attack the crystal.

If that were to happen, it would mean that Fertile City, which Roman had painstakingly managed for two years, would be destroyed in an instant, and all his efforts would have been in vain.

Roman had large quantities of food transported from Origin City; boatloads of rice and wheat were brought to Fertile City, accompanied by ten thousand professional soldiers and seven thousand civilian crossbowmen who crossed the river in succession.

...

The last infantry battalion was led by Angel Envoy Ed and landed at King’s Crossing.

The construction of Ice and Fire Pass was not yet complete, and sending troops from Origin City to Fertile City was always troublesome.

Because it required a long detour.

Even though the straight-line distance between the two was only about forty to fifty li, natural barriers made the actual journey require marching over a hundred kilometers, taking three to five days on a military campaign just to travel.

There was no helping it.

Because the infrastructure of Fertile City was extremely underdeveloped, capable of accommodating only a few thousand soldiers at most; any military activity required the temporary construction of army camps.

Fortunately, the foundation was solidified last year, and now it was finally taking shape.

To prepare for this war, Roman specifically sought the opinions of the soldiers; anyone who agreed could have their family also relocated to Fertile City, with a reward of one silver coin as a relocation fee.

There was only one purpose.

To hold every inch of land in Fertile City in the absence of any strategic depth!

To maintain the integrity of the forces, Roman organized the relocations by squad—if even one soldier disagreed, then the entire squad could not move.

Of course, a single soldier’s disagreement was an extreme case, and could be persuaded through the efforts of the think tank.

When a minority or more than half of the soldiers in the battalion refused, that truly meant they couldn’t relocate.

However, most people were cooperative and in the end, over thirty battalions agreed to move to live in Fertile City.

Roman chose ten battalions, accompanied by their families, to relocate, with three thousand soldiers to be stationed in Fertile City permanently.

Ed was appointed Squad Leader of the 13th Ordinary Battalion, which was among the selected. He was a senior noncommissioned officer, but he was single because he had to help soldiers with families pack up their belongings, which is why he was among the slowest to leave.

The soldiers’ wives were either pregnant, holding children, or newlywed brides. They sat in the wagons, whispering to each other, expressing both hope and trepidation about the future life.

On the wagon, there were various household items—their family possessions—and they didn’t bring much, mostly bedding and clothes. This was because Your Highness had promised that they would be able to claim all of their previous possessions in Fertile City. This convinced the women to reluctantly abandon valuable tables and chairs, making the move not too cumbersome.

Due to a lack of livestock, the wagons were pulled by ten soldiers, rumbling forward, and the smooth road greatly saved their energy.

Ed was also one of the main forces pulling the wagons. He used to be very thin, but then a miracle occurred to him: he started eating a lot more, muscles bulged, his six-foot stature stood out, and his solid build became the admiration of his fellow soldiers.

His strength was great, equivalent to three men, and with only seven helpers, he could pull a cart laden with two or three thousand catties.

"Ed, when can we get the relocation payment?" a soldier asked, encouraged by others.

Ed knew the soldier’s child had just been born, and a silver coin amounted to two months’ wages for a soldier. The soldier wanted to use the money to buy some nutritional products for his wife and some warm clothes for their child.

He said, "Once we’re settled, You Lun will take you to get the money."

"Squad Leader, does this mean we’ll have to live here forever?"

"Maybe not." Ed was aware that the relocation fee wasn’t for nothing. The 13th Battalion had taken a risk; if the frontline battle turned sour, their families would be exposed to danger, but they still came.

Because Your Highness was also here!

No matter how bad the situation could get, as long as he was here, there wasn’t much to worry about.

"We might also go to other places," Ed said. "Our settling here is just to protect Your Highness’ land... and to fight for the protection of our families."

One of the soldiers blurted out, "But, Ed, you don’t have a family."

Ed responded, "I don’t need you to remind me, you bastard." His parents had starved to death, his brother accused of stealing apples had been thrown into the river to drown, and he, who had eaten the apples, had been sold here to be a Squad Leader.

"Ever thought of finding a family? Squad Leader, there are plenty of girls lined up waiting for you," another soldier said.

"Talk nonsense again, and I’ll take you lot first," Ed replied. He was from the Guard Battalion and had participated in four major campaigns. After returning from the War of the Kings, he had been promoted to Squad Leader. He had seen the bloodiest of scenes and perhaps one day, he would die on the battlefield. That sense of crisis was a constant reminder—if his life ended, then marriage would be meaningless. The world would just have one more person hurt by his death unless she wasn’t hurt, in which case the marriage would be even more meaningless.

"I’m serious, you should find someone soon. That way, you won’t be so lonely. Your Highness even said that marriage is a ceremony that turns two people into one, something about shared glory and loss..." mumbled the soldier. Ed was their superior, yet he was pulling their wives and belongings, bustling about along the way. If Ed had a wife on the wagon, they would have had a much easier time, at the very least, a target for their flattery.

"It’s ’share in glory and share in loss,’" Ed corrected. "But we also share life and death; we’ve spent more time together than you have inside your wife."

He had joined the soldiers early and had learned a lot. He added, "His Highness has also said that soldiers are like brothers from different mothers. Your families are also my families. How could I ever be lonely? No matter where we go, alive or dead, this relationship won’t change."

He truly believed that. Perhaps some would die or get injured, but as long as new recruits joined their team, or they joined other teams, the underlying emotions remained unchanged. They would become each other’s support, willing to give and even sacrifice for each other—such is the bond of brotherhood.