Warhammer: Return of the Dragon.

Victor returned to his temporary residence, a small wooden house arranged by the local church for ascetics. This seemed to be a great disparity with his identity as an inner court guard, but the witch hunter was used to this kind of life.

Rather than enjoying luxury, he preferred the passionate days of killing a few heretics every day to pledge his loyalty to Sigmar, and drinking some beer to fall asleep peacefully at night.

But today's witch hunter did not immediately crawl at the desk to analyze the possible locations of the rats in Uberek.

He frowned and looked at the burning candle, feeling more and more strange.

Victor Salzpyre joined the Knights of the Silver Hammer at the young age of twenty. In the first three years of his career as a witch hunter, he devoted himself to eradicating heretics in Ost and Midden. It was foreseeable that after witnessing countless dark events in the empire, he would die in a battle and return to the kingdom of Sigmar.

But an unexpected thing happened, which was that he was rescued by a female elf while hunting a vampire in Duncanwald Forest. Then he came into contact with a group of high-ranking elves, and even had the opportunity to briefly fight with the Phoenix King outside the city of Altdorf.

Marcus was invited to Erlengrad to be an embassy guard. Sienna's mentor was the elf professor Ella. Bardin didn't know for the time being that Kerillian was an elf...

Lona had been in the local area for many years and easily solved the baron's stable problem. It was obvious that the power behind it was Altdorf.

If this is a coordinated operation, with the Phoenix King and the Emperor personally overseeing it, what is its real purpose?

Besides, given the nature of the elves, would they be willing to let someone they have trained for a long time return to the empire?

Caution and suspicion are the nature of a witch hunter. He pondered for a long time about the purpose of the Red Moon Tavern, but was unable to find any clues from the hidden dangers of these ridiculous Skaven rats.

If we really want to fight our southern neighbors, hunters will be the best scouts, not a group of scumbags who are temporarily assembled and don't even know their identities beforehand.

If one wanted to scout for rat infestation, the focus should be on the Grey Mountain Fortress, rather than Montforge, which was not under the influence of the Empire.

Reason: Doubtful.

Purpose: Doubtful.

Means: Doubtful.

Keeping these three points in mind, Victor took a deep breath of oxygen, which he needed to breathe in large quantities due to excessive alcohol intake, and silently recited Sigma's prayer in his heart. He blew out the candle and gradually fell asleep.

Early the next morning, Victor came to the Red Moon Tavern again and greeted the sleepy Marcus.

The witch hunter and the soldier's standing posture formed a sharp contrast. Victor stood as meticulously as an oak tree, and his strong back was as unbendable as an empire.

The soldier seemed much more casual, leaning against the gate as if he was about to fall asleep, but while shaking his head as if to dispel the drunkenness, his sharp eyes were always observing his surroundings.

With nowhere to go, Kerillian and Sienna naturally stayed at the Red Moon Tavern. They chatted from time to time, mostly with Sienna asking about some of the geography and customs of Athel Loren. After getting the elves' responses, she was quite amazed that there were such strange places in the world.

The dwarf Bardin changed his clothes. He no longer wore the heavy rune plate armor of the Ironbreaker Warrior. Instead, he wore a horned helmet and light chain mail. The throwing axe hanging at his waist and the crossbow behind him fully demonstrated that he was ready for a long journey.

Two carriages, pulled by Lona, arrived at the gate from the tavern yard. The first one was a standard wine and baggage cart, with jars of beer tied firmly with ropes and dry straw on the top to prevent rain.

And the other one...

Victor asked Lona in a deep voice: "I don't like escorting a Bretonnian lady home. This is a job for a knight." The dark and simple carriage was painted with thick paint. The delicate and erasable patterns meandered upward from the bottom of the carriage. The windows were clean and bright, completely different from the common glass in the empire.

"But you are a knight too, Salzepyre."

"Hmm...if you consider the Silver Hammer to be a knight in the ordinary sense."

Victor, with his one eye slightly narrowed, warned Lona that he would act according to the witch hunter's methods. As for whether the noble lady who was traveling with him could successfully reach her hometown, it depended on how much magic knowledge she had learned in the empire.

Victor obviously assumed that the owner of this carriage was a noble lady who had left her hometown to come to the empire in the name of studying but in fact seeking refuge.

Some prestigious nobles were unwilling to send their daughters who were gifted with the Wind of Magic to the church to become saints. As for why, Victor guessed that it must be because the goddess was working on the brains of the believers. This was completely different from Sigmar who only protected the empire and had his own selfish motives.

Regardless of the reason, there were occasional cases in the Empire where knights escorted noble ladies from Bretonnia back home, but at least as far as Victor could remember, this was the first time that a knight of the Silver Hammer had escorted them.

After all, they are better at hunting witches than escorting mages.

Lorna laughed heartily, raised his right hand over his shoulder, and pointed his thumb at the carriage behind him: "Don't worry about her safety. You can think of this as my extra help to you. After all, the most powerful spellcaster in your team can only set the house on fire."

"A magician..."

The witch hunter shook his head and stopped asking questions. Knowing that there were many doubts about the client, further questioning would only lead to more doubts. This morning, an urgent order from Aldolf had arrived at the post station, and Baron Adelaide would replace him as the person in charge of rat extermination in Uberrick.

This means that Aldolf must be behind Lona, and he is most likely a secret agent planted here by the emperor. Otherwise, it would be impossible to solve most of the problems before the trip in one night.

The witch hunters stood and waited, while Marcus and Bardin were a little skeptical about the quality of the wine on the transport vehicle. When Lona doubted whether the disguise could be successful, the two good friends who were very familiar with each other had already unloaded a jar of wine and tasted the Bretonnian special edition beer with a wooden spoon.

"It sounds like horse urine, freshly fished out of the slop bucket. Even sour Russian kvass tastes ten thousand times better than this." Marcus spat out a mouthful of wine. He almost suspected that the jar contained troll urine rather than an alcoholic beverage for humans.

The dwarf Bardin, who failed to seize the initiative due to his height advantage, became a little hesitant with his hand holding the wooden spoon. The dwarf's favorite must be dwarf beer, which is rich, fragrant and rich in nutrients. Occasionally, he will also review the inferior products brewed by people on the ground.

Of course, when there is really no wine to drink, the dwarves will not complain too much. At least they are much more tolerant than Pointy Ears who only drinks wine.

The temptation of wine finally overwhelmed his trust in the imperial people. Bardeen held the wine jar, scooped out a full wooden spoon, and poured it into his mouth with great generosity.

He wanted to laugh at Marcus for having no taste, because the quality of the drinks he had in the pub yesterday was obviously quite good.

But the dwarf obviously underestimated the power of the beer specially supplied to Bretonnia by the Empire. He threw the wooden spoon away and pinched his throat with his left hand, as if to strangle the liquid flowing into his esophagus.

With a violent cough and yellow wine stains on his beard, Bardin cursed what the hell this was.

"By Valaya, this is a disgrace to the name of wine. It's goblin piss spilled in a mud puddle, stuffed into a Squiggle's belly to ferment for half a year, and then topped off with some elf leaves.

If this counts as wine, Bergman will drown all the Bretonnians with his barrels!" (End of chapter)