Perhaps it was due to magic, but crop growth cycles in Westeros were generally quite short.
Roman had originally planned to build more irrigation canals, but the urgent task now was the harvest.
Farmers swung their large scythes through the golden ocean of grain, the joy of a bountiful harvest on every face.
Roman had improved upon the existing agricultural foundation, including constructing new irrigation canals, connecting road networks between villages, and promoting retting and aerobic composting.
The use of fertilizer, in particular, now had two main sources.
The first was the three-chamber septic tank built next to every rural household; this simple setup ensured basic rural hygiene while providing a small amount of fertilizer.
The second was manure from intensive livestock farming; Roman had spent a significant sum to invite local experts in animal husbandry to design intensive farms and disease management systems.
Under Roman's guidance, local farmers and livestock breeders began a cooperative model.
During crop rotation, farmers grew alfalfa and forage grass while providing various straw, allowing livestock to consume both hay and fresh forage.
The large amount of manure produced by the farms was composted and then returned to fertilize the fields.
After this series of agricultural technological upgrades, it could be said that the farmers were seeing wheat grow this well for the first time.
Watching the farmers working hard in the fields, Roman still felt that harvesting was too exhausting and inefficient.
It wasn't that Roman hadn't thought about creating a mechanical animal-drawn harvester, but the craftsmen of Harrenhal had simply thrown up their hands upon hearing these requirements.
They claimed that even if they were worked to death, they could never produce such a precision instrument.
Roman pondered for a moment and realized he had been too hasty; metallurgy, forging, and machine tools were all still quite primitive.
No matter how basic, a harvester was still a harvester, and it wasn't something Westeros could handle at the moment.
However, Roman didn't mind; he still had many other methods to improve the lives of the people of Harrenhal.
"Scholar Tom, how is the production of the insecticide coming along?"
"My lord, the research is complete. Now we are just waiting for the herbs grown in the fields to mature so we can begin large-scale production!"
Scholar Tom proudly pulled a bottle of purple potion from his robes.
Roman took the bottle and shook it casually, the sunlight transforming into a purple stream of light through the pure glass.
The plants of Westeros were diverse, including various highly toxic herbs, which Roman had specifically commissioned Scholar Tom to find for creating the insecticide.
"How long does this stuff remain active? I don't want it to poison the people along with the bugs."
Scholar Tom replied, "Rest assured, Lord Roman, this potion loses its potency in less than a week. It has low toxicity to humans, and the raw materials are abundant, so there is no need to worry about supply."
Hearing this, Roman finally felt at ease.
Now, it was just a matter of the final evaluation; whether all the improvements were useful would depend on the final wheat yield.
After a long wait, this round of wheat was finally harvested. After the farmers and the scholar weighed it, a massive cheer erupted across the fields.
"By the Seven! Heavens, can wheat really produce this much?"
"Lord Roman is a god!"
After verifying the results, Scholar Tom ran over excitedly, "My lord! It is confirmed, the wheat yield per mu has generally reached 400 jin!"
(Since the imperial unit system is too anti-human, I have used the metric system throughout. If not mentioned later, it is metric.)
400 jin—the crops of Westeros certainly had potential. Roman had initially thought that if the yield per mu could reach 200 jin, it would be a blessing from the Seven.
Watching the cheering crowd, Roman was also incredibly excited. With food, many problems would be easily solved, and he could confidently proceed with his next plan.
The farmers could no longer contain themselves, and news of the high wheat yield spread rapidly.
Combined with Harrenhal's low-tax policy and Roman's infrastructure construction capabilities, farmers soon began fleeing into the territory of Harrenhal.
One morning, Roman was shaken awake from a deep sleep by Fili, who said a group of farmer representatives wanted to see him downstairs.
When he arrived at the hall, he saw a group of raggedly dressed people standing there, whispering to each other.
As soon as they saw Roman, they immediately knelt down.
"Lord Roman! Please, take us in!"
Roman was stunned by this turn of events. After much explanation, he finally understood that they were farmers under the rule of other nobles in the Riverlands.
Because of excessive taxes, they were forced to flee, and recently, the number of fleeing farmers had been exceptionally high.
This was all the doing of Roman, that catfish stirring the waters. Previously, all the nobles were the same, with terrifyingly high tax rates. They all wanted to suck the marrow from one's bones. It made no difference where one went, and there was always the risk of being caught and sentenced by the lord.
But now, Harrenhal, under Roman's leadership, was completely different. The base tax rate was low, there were far fewer exorbitant taxes and levies compared to other nobles, and there was free, efficient infrastructure.
Coupled with the fact that the recent grain harvest in Harrenhal was being spread wildly by the farmers, other farmers in the Riverlands had heard the news.
What were they waiting for? If not now, when?
Thus, the current scene unfolded, and according to the farmer representatives before him, even more farmers were on their way.
"Lord Roman! Please, you must take us in. You can even take 60% of our harvest in taxes; just please let us stay!"
Fili, standing to the side, was shocked: "60%? Then what will you eat? What kind of lives were you living before?"
These words stirred up painful memories for the farmers. They recounted the oppression of their former lords, weeping until their faces were covered in tears and snot.
Roman naturally would not refuse. As long as they were managed properly, the more people, the better. He immediately called for officials to handle the matter and arrange appropriate land and work.
The farmers left, expressing their endless gratitude. Roman sat there drinking tea to shake off his sleepiness, while Fili looked at Roman with a gaze of reverence.
The girl finally understood why Roman was so beloved by so many. Seeing how the people of Harrenhal respected Roman from the bottom of their hearts, she had assumed all lords were like this.
Fili recalled her life and that of the other Servants. The time she had spent in Harrenhal was the most comfortable and happy period of her life.
She was well-fed and warmly clothed, had a soft bed, a room that shielded her from the wind and rain, and a gentle lord.
She didn't have to fight 40 beggars for a piece of bread, nor did she have to worry about gangs causing trouble just because she had a few copper coins in her hand.
Helaena of House Hoare had once said: "Child, that you could meet Roman is a blessing from the Seven. Many people long for such a chance, you must cherish it!"
"Fili? What are you thinking about?"
Roman spoke suddenly, pulling the girl back to reality.
"Ah, n-nothing, I was just remembering that Helaena of House Hoare told me to serve you well, Lord Roman!"
Fili looked at Roman's handsome face and remembered how he usually took care of her, a flush of red appearing on her cheeks.
Roman, however, didn't notice any of this; he was busy thinking about his next move.
"Alright, Fili, don't just stand there. Go contact the blacksmith first; I need to go there later for something."
Now that he had grain and people, it was time to work on military equipment.
It was time to clean up those rats in the Riverlands.