Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Talking two ends.

While Raine and her group were both amused and exasperated by the giant fish in the warehouse area, Galian had already entered the barracks with the team. He ascended the wide and exceptionally sturdy stone stairs to the second floor. After unloading his spears, shields, bows, and armor in the designated armory, he carried his not-so-light luggage and supplies into his assigned quarters.

The dormitory was much larger than I had expected, but also much emptier.

The first thing that catches the eye is a row of low cabinet-style storage boxes neatly arranged along the wall. The boxes are made of dark hardwood, and the worn paint on the surface reveals the luster of years of use. Each box door is equipped with a simple brass latch.

In the center of the room, a long table that looked like it had been mass-produced occupied the main space, surrounded by several wooden chairs of the same style with straight backs. In the corner, two red cylindrical fire extinguishers stood quietly on their special stands, their bright paint standing out starkly in the slightly dim room.

Galian recognized it; it was Duruchi's equipment. This novel contraption had been included in the fleet's supply list before departure, and all personnel had received brief but rigorous operational training.

He knows how to use it.

My gaze swept to both sides, and there were three sturdy bunk beds with iron frames on each side of the room.

The layout is clear and straightforward: it is a standard squad-level dormitory designed to accommodate twelve people.

Gallian understood the logic behind this situation: Truc's army implemented the so-called "Five Together" policy—eating together, living together, working together, training together, and entertaining together.

To his slight surprise, the room was spotless. Despite the cool air and the fact that no one had lived there for a long time, the tabletops, bed frames, storage boxes, and even the metal surfaces of the two fire extinguishers were all immaculate.

The floor is paved with a single stone slab, and it's hard to find even a speck of dust in the gaps.

Clearly, after Duruchi's departure, the lizardmen who took over the area did not leave it to decay. Instead, they meticulously maintained it regularly, as if waiting for their master to return at any time, or perhaps simply because keeping the facilities in good condition was an instruction that had been given and had to be carried out.

The only drawback is the bedding.

The bed consisted of only bare planks, without a mattress or pillow. However, this was no problem for the Haiwei people, who lived on their ships year-round and were used to sleeping in swaying hammocks.

Use your luggage as a pillow and a blanket to cover yourself and you'll fall asleep.

Galian was assigned the upper bunk on the left, near the door. He glanced at the bed below—that was the captain's spot. The intention behind this arrangement was clear: the captain was positioned at the crucial entrance, making it easier to be alert to any comings and goings at night, and also facilitating the immediate organization and command of the entire team in emergencies. This was a deeply ingrained, combat-oriented logic regarding accommodation.

He placed his luggage on his empty bed, the soft clattering sound particularly clear in the empty room. This was home for now.

A clean, cold camp, marked by the Duruchi, yet impeccably maintained by the lizardmen, ended up being occupied by Asur.

What kind of nonsense is this?

After neatly placing the items he wouldn't need for the time being into the storage box, Galian strolled to the window. By then, several of his dormitory guards had already crowded around the windowsill, sitting on benches and watching intently as the twilight deepened and the city lights began to twinkle outside, as if they were watching some new spectacle.

Garian didn't look into the distance; instead, his gaze fell on the window itself, which was right in front of him. He noticed that inside the window frame was a single, thick, seemingly movable iron plate.

There's an old saying, isn't there?

When three people get together, they can automatically become an idea king.

Almost instinctively, as Galian placed his palm into one of the sliding slots, the other sea guard's hand also pressed into the other slot almost simultaneously, in perfect harmony or purely by coincidence.

The two exchanged a glance, needing no words, their eyes conveying the same curiosity and urge to try.

Pull!
Both of them exerted force at the same time, their arm muscles tensing up.

However, the expected soft sound of the iron plate sliding open did not occur; the thick plate remained motionless, and only the window frame emitted a muffled, protesting creak.

A guard who had been admiring the scenery nearby heard the noise, lowered his head, glanced at their actions and the stubborn iron plate, and couldn't help but grin, saying in a tone that seemed to say, "What are you guys doing?"

"It's a push! Push it upwards! Not a pull!"

By this time, the setting sun had almost completely sunk behind the distant mountains, and the light in the room was being rapidly swallowed by the dark blue of dusk. Galian and his companion exchanged a knowing look, then placed their hands back into the groove, this time applying upward force.

With a push from the two of them, the heavy iron plate slid smoothly and silently upwards along the groove hidden in the window frame until it was completely submerged in the hidden compartment above.

The last sliver of sunlight was completely blocked out, and the room instantly went dark.

But it wasn't pitch black; a few extremely faint but clearly directional rays of residual light slanted in from where the iron plate originally stood—more precisely, from the three neatly arranged cross-shaped holes that were specially carved into the iron plate—creating several clear, sharp-edged spots of light on the dimly lit floor.

"Firing port!"

Another sea guard, who had been observing, blurted out the name the moment he saw the cross-shaped hole. The sea guards were all too familiar with this design; it was a standard defensive opening used for crossbows to aim and fire outwards!
This is not an ordinary window shutter at all, but a retractable protective panel!
Everything suddenly became clear.

These barracks, these windows, this design... are clearly a reflection of Duruci's military thinking: when necessary, each barracks can be quickly transformed into a fortified stronghold, with these protective panels raised, and behind the cross-shaped holes are deadly firing positions.

"What are you doing?"

Just as the group huddled around the firing port, gesturing with their fingers to simulate aiming and whispering about the ingenuity and harshness of the design, the captain's voice, a mixture of helplessness and sternness, came from the doorway. He had somehow appeared by the door, arms crossed, watching his overly curious subordinates.

In a flash, the guards gathered around the window scattered, their faces all bearing embarrassed smiles, looking like a group of teenagers caught red-handed by their parents while playing a prank.

Gallian and his sliding panel partner reacted the fastest, quickly pressing down on the slide again, this time pulling it down. The heavy panel obediently slid down, fitting perfectly back into the window frame, and the room returned to its normal twilight dimness.

The captain shook his head in annoyance at their flustered state, too lazy to delve into what kind of defensive fortifications these guys had been working on.

"Line up!" he commanded succinctly, pointing towards the direction from which a commotion could be faintly heard at the end of the corridor outside the door. "Go help out in the cafeteria!"

The sea guards felt as if they had been granted a pardon. They quickly suppressed their smiles, straightened their backs, and the excitement of their earlier exploration was swiftly replaced by a pragmatic sense of having a mission.

"The next three days are for rest and recuperation!"

The captain added with a smile that he was away just now for this reason. For the next three days, there was no need to stand guard, no need to patrol, nothing at all. It was a complete vacation and rest.

No staff are left on board. The ship is maintained before disembarking and then maintained and inspected again before departure.

Unless there are special circumstances.

Upon hearing the call, the guards dispersed, each rummaging through their lockers and beds for something to pass the time.

On his way to the cafeteria, Galian's gaze was fixed on a scene in the distance, and his steps involuntarily slowed down.

Three ankylosaurus stood in the deepening twilight, like three miniature mountains that had suddenly descended on the edge of the camp. They stood there docilely, exhaling two long plumes of white vapor from their nostrils with each breath, carrying the sweet scent of hay and some kind of root, which condensed into fleeting small columns of mist in the cool evening air.

These living fortresses are covered with thick, obsidian-glazed bone plates, their limbs, as thick as temple beams, firmly rooted to the ground. Their broad, platform-like backs display a variety of scenes: one piled high with enormous baskets and fish bound with vines and broad leaves; another neatly stacked with supplies packaged in a typical Duruci style; and on the platform of the last one, neatly cut, matte black bricks are piled up.

The spirit lizards busied themselves like a swarm of excited worker ants at the edge of the platform, their hissing and clicking sounds rising and falling; while the larger and stronger giant lizards took on heavy-duty carrying tasks on the ground around the ankylosaur.

The Asur Sea Guards who were helping formed a line and took turns receiving various supplies from the giant lizard's scaled, terrifyingly powerful claws before turning around and carrying them to the back door of the canteen.

The ankylosaurus occasionally emitted a low, rumbling sound, as if coming from the depths of the earth, the vibrations causing every sea guard who encountered it at such close range for the first time to tense their muscles. But these behemoths seemed unusually patient, their massive heads swaying slowly, their topaz eyes half-closed in the dimming light, as if tacitly allowing these slender, two-legged creatures to bustle around their mountain-like bodies.

Twilight painted this scene, brimming with primal power and extraordinary collaboration, with a warm, dark gold glaze. The monitor lizard's heavy breathing, the spirit lizard's sharp hiss, the sea scorpion's silent yet swift footsteps, the rustling of cargo, and the muffled thuds from the ground as the ankylosaur occasionally moved its massive foot... all intertwined to create a unique twilight work song.

Galian didn't linger to admire the scene or utter any sentiments. He simply followed the queue to the end and joined the line of people waiting to be carried.

When it was his turn, the monitor lizard responsible for delivering the supplies lowered its head and sized him up for a second with its wide-set, somewhat simple-minded eyes. Then, its large, scaly face suddenly stretched to the sides, opening into an astonishingly wide arc, revealing a mouthful of cone-shaped teeth that made anyone absolutely unwilling to get close to it.

This is clearly his way of expressing friendliness or encouragement.

However, for Galian, it felt no different from standing in front of a giant river crocodile that had just opened its blood-red jaws; the hairs on the back of his head stood on end for a moment.

After displaying that deadly smile, the monitor lizard turned around with satisfaction and lifted something from the ankylosaurus's back—a giant rockfish as long as a Galian plus half a Galian!

The fish was plump, its scales shimmering with a mixture of gray-blue and pale gold in the twilight, and its wide-open eyes seemed to still hold a lingering resentment towards its fate.

"By Matheran!"

The moment Galian saw the fish, his eyes widened as wide as those of the dead grouper, and his outburst was filled with awe for the sea god. He instantly understood why the monitor lizard had smiled at him earlier—it was clearly a sign that he'd caught it, kid, and was giving him a big one as encouragement!
In a flash, he didn't have time to think. His body had already instinctively adjusted its posture: his feet were apart, his knees were slightly bent, his back was taut, and his arms were raised loosely. This was the standard anti-impact posture for a sailor dealing with impacts on a rocking deck.

Sure enough, the moment he got into position, the heavy, wet, and slippery giant rockfish was gently set down by the monitor lizard, accompanied by a salty sea breeze.

"Uh!"

Garian grunted and stumbled half a step, but managed to withstand the initial torpedo-like impact. He quickly reached out to hug it, trying to hold the slippery behemoth in place before it completely let go.

However, the fish was far too heavy and too large, resembling a slippery sandbag covered in scales, and was simply beyond his ability to handle alone. Just as his arms began to ache and his feet began to slip, and he was about to stage a comical scene of dancing with the fish and then collapsing together, which would mean being out of the combat ranks for a long time and being remembered for years within Haiwei, several quick-thinking comrades stepped forward to help him.

Amidst several urgent shouts, three or four strong arms reached out simultaneously, some supporting the fish's belly, others its body, and still others its tail. With a flurry of activity, they finally managed to control the enormous catch. Then, someone had a sudden inspiration and shouted, "Get on the trailer!" Together, they carried the heavy load of their prize onto an empty flatbed trailer nearby.

Finally, with Garian and another Sea Guard pulling the trailer handles in front and two others supporting it on either side, the group, like escorting some fragile treasure, comically and yet working together, dragged this gift of Matheran towards the brightly lit back door of the dining hall, where the aroma of food was already wafting out.

The giant lizard glanced over during its busy work, letting out a few satisfied gurgling sounds from its throat, as if it were scoring the cooperative abilities of this group of hot-blooded creatures.

After entering the cafeteria, Galian never came out again.

He's an expert at handling fish, even though this catch is a bit big.

Who told him to be a retired naval officer? Who told him to open a small bar on the west bank of the lagoon?

Because he simply couldn't afford to hire extra staff, he had to do everything himself, from purchasing and processing to cooking.

The canteen's kitchen was surprisingly spacious, clearly designed for large-scale catering.

When the giant rockfish was dragged in, the few lizard cooks who were busy at work only glanced at it briefly, made a few hissing sounds to indicate that it was a good size, and then continued to work on the stew in the big pot and the baking of flatbread.

Clearly, they are already used to this size of food.

Garian didn't stand on ceremony. He found a vacant and sturdy long processing table and called on several sea guards to help lift the fish up there. The fish almost filled the entire table.

He first walked around the seafood hill, pressing different parts of the fish's body with his fingers to check its elasticity and the cloudiness of its eyes, and then sniffed the gills.

"Very fresh, just pulled from the water no more than half a day ago!"

He announced, with a professional air of certainty, that this was likely thanks to the lizardmen's efficient fishing facilities and cold chain transportation. Then it was time for his performance.

From the dazzling array of oddly shaped tools in the kitchen, he precisely selected a heavy, broad-backed cleaver with an amazing blade—this thing would be perfect for chopping bones—and also chose a long, flexible, thin-bladed pick.

First, rinse the fish with clean water to wash away the mucus on its surface.

The first cut was made near the anus, following the snow-white abdominal line upwards, steadily sliding down to the jaw. The movement was fluid, without any unnecessary tremors, as if unrolling a thick leather scroll. The internal organs were exposed, which he skillfully emptied, placing the useful liver and swim bladder separately into a basin, and throwing the rest of the debris into an abandoned wooden bucket at his feet.

The gills were cleanly and neatly removed.

Then came the most strenuous and skillful part: scaling and segmenting. The giant rockfish's scales were hard and dense, so he used the back of the knife to scrape against the direction of the scales, producing a rhythmic, dense swishing sound. The silver-gray, iridescent scales fell like rain, and several onlookers and the occasional passing spirit lizard couldn't help but take a few more glances at his skillful technique.

When dividing the fish into sections, he first used a cleaver to make a sharp cut behind the head to define the dividing line. Then he switched to a pick knife and steadily pushed along one side of the spine, the blade making a slight rustling sound as it rubbed against the bone.

He was completely focused, his arm muscles clearly defined, using his experience to sense the subtle movement of the blade between the fish meat and bone. Soon, one side of the fish fillet was separated, revealing the thick, crystalline spine in the center.

Following the same method, the other fish fillet was also successfully removed.

The fish's head was severed off separately, and its massive jaw looked large enough to fit the head of the giant lizard from before.

He laid out two large, thick, brick-like fish fillets with clear textures and began the final, meticulous processing: removing any remaining small bones and thorns. The remaining fish bones were not wasted; they were chopped into several large pieces and thrown into a large soup pot that was already boiling water. He also casually tossed in a few pieces of spicy root and a handful of dried seaweed that the lizard had handed him.

That's how you make the fish bone soup base.

The processed fish meat was a pure, pearly white with a slight pinkish tinge, and a firm texture. He cut it into evenly sized thick pieces to use as grilled fish fillets for tonight.

Throughout the process, he didn't say much, only occasionally giving brief instructions to Haiwei who was helping him, such as handing him a tool or moving the fish. Sweat seeped from his forehead, but his movements were not slow at all, as if he were not dealing with a monster-like fish in the canteen, but rather preparing for another night's livelihood in the kitchen of his own bar.

That sense of ease and pragmatism in making the most of everything even made the observing lizard cook pause for a moment, tapping the edge of the stone table with four fingers, making a clicking sound, as if assessing the processing efficiency and material utilization of his passionate fellow creature.

When the last piece of fish was neatly arranged, Galian finally breathed a sigh of relief, washed and dried the two knives, and put them back in their place. He looked at the mountain of usable fish meat, bones, and offal, then glanced at the fish soup in the large pot not far away, which was beginning to turn white, and patted the water off his hands.

Get it!

At least tonight, the cafeteria will have an ample supply of seafood.

That evening's dinner was exceptionally lavish.

Raine had given prior notice that the flour used in the kitchen was regular wheat flour, not the insect powder that the spirit lizards ate daily and had a unique nutty flavor.

However, the lizard chefs who came to help in the kitchen clearly had their own principles and habits. Instead of baking the fluffy bread commonly seen among elves, they made flat, dense flatbreads with slightly charred edges. The flatbreads had simple grid patterns on their surface, exuded a pure wheat aroma, were chewy, and very filling.

These subtle differences are harmless; on the contrary, they add a touch of exotic simplicity.

On the long dining table, food is presented with astonishing efficiency and scale.

The main course, unsurprisingly, featured seafood, with the giant grouper prepared by Galian taking center stage. The fish, marinated in fine salt and lemongrass-like spices, was grilled on a stone slab until the skin was golden and slightly crispy, while the inside remained snow-white and juicy. It was then neatly arranged on a large earthenware plate.

The other part became the main ingredient of the thick soup, with large chunks of fish, tender shellfish, and brightly colored sea vegetables bubbling in the milky white fish soup, emitting a fresh and fragrant aroma. Next to it was a whole plate of steamed giant prawns with colorful shells, and chewy octopus tentacles tossed in chili sauce.

The vegetables were also of high quality.

There are dark green leaves similar to kale but with thicker leaves, as well as pink and crisp root slices soaked in sweet and sour sauce, and a whole plate of roasted tubers with a charred outer shell and a golden, soft, chestnut-like interior.

There were also fruits, sliced, juicy orange citrus fruits, and bunches of dark purple, cloyingly sweet berries.

The drinks consisted of alcohol brought by the sea guards and chicha wine certified by the lizardmen.

The sailors were initially a little reserved, tentatively trying the unfamiliar food, but soon the deliciousness of the grilled fish, the warmth of the soup, the heartiness of the flatbread, and the unexpected cooking methods that suited the sailors' tastes made them quickly relax and enjoy themselves. The mess hall was filled with the clinking of knives, forks, and plates, hushed conversations, the clinking of bottles, and satisfied sighs.

Raine, Delamaril, Imralion, and Eldrasil, along with the lizard priests and mid-ranking officers, sat together, but they ate the same food as the Sea Guards.

Raine skillfully wrapped grilled fish and vegetables in flatbread and ate them. The lizard priests spread chili sauce evenly on the flatbread before eating. Delamaril carefully tasted each food, occasionally exchanging views with Imralion in low voices. Eldrasil, on the other hand, was quite interested in the fermented beverage and sipped it slowly.

Galian took a big bite of the fish fillet he had prepared and grilled himself to perfection, feeling the firm and delicious texture melt in his mouth. He then broke off a piece of grilled flatbread and dipped it in the fish soup.

The fatigue of a busy day seems to be soothed by the food at this moment.

He looked around and saw his comrades enjoying their food, the spirit lizards savoring the golden-fried dried insects, and the giant lizards sitting on the ground opening their mouths wide to shove a fresh fish into their mouths. He even saw a giant lizard holding up the bowl he had previously used to hold the fish liver and swim bladder and pouring it into its mouth.

Night had completely fallen over Zetland outside the window, and the scattered lights of the mountain town blended into the starry sky.

This was not a refined and elegant banquet in Ulthuan, but it had the boisterous and unrestrained atmosphere of a tavern. It was a rough, efficient, exotic, yet incredibly genuine hospitality.

Food itself has become the most direct and warmest medium of communication that transcends race and suspicion.

As the meal progressed and the noise at the table subsided, a relaxed feeling of satisfaction spread. Ryan stood up, holding his wine glass and bottle.

Instead of standing there raising his glass high, he took it, left the main table, and began to walk slowly along the aisle between the long tables. His voice was not loud, but it carried clearly to every corner.

“In the name of the guardians of this land, and in the bond of our common allies,” he looked at the sea guards who were casting their gazes around him, and then glanced at the spirit lizards and monitor lizards who had stopped eating and were looking at him, “Welcome to Zetland. Thank you for your hard work. May this meal dispel the fatigue of your long voyage. This cup is to the courage that has come from afar, and also to the ancient guardians of this place.”

This behavior—where those in higher positions leave their seats and proactively move among the diners to offer toasts, rather than waiting for subordinates to line up and greet them—was originally started by Dakota.

The important man seemed to particularly dislike the practice of rigidly displaying differences in status during meals and pleasures, believing that making those of lower status line up and cautiously come to the head table to say platitudes was like being called up to perform for amusement as clowns.

Over time, this became an informal tradition in Trudeau's society: during celebratory meals, those in charge should rise and join the group.

Delamal, Imralion, and Eldrasil exchanged a brief glance, hesitated for a moment, but soon a sense of responsibility or unwillingness to be impolite took over.

After all, they were the highest-ranking commanders of this Asur detachment and the focus of the soldiers' attention.

Delamal was the second to stand up, his movements slightly more solemn. Imralion followed, appearing more casual, and casually picked up the jug of fermented beverage from the table. Eldrasil hesitated for a moment, then also picked up his cup and stood up.

They may not have had the natural ease of Ryan, and their initial well wishes were shorter and more in line with military custom: "You've worked hard," "Eat well and rest well."

But this action itself is like a drop of water thrown into hot oil.

A bold old seaman was the first to raise his glass in response to De la Maril, his voice booming.

"A toast to you, sir! And a toast to this delicious fish!"

Immediately afterwards, more cups were raised.

The reasons for toasting became increasingly varied: toasting for a safe voyage, toasting for the perfect cooking of the grilled fish, toasting for the chef who cooked for the lizard, toasting for the comrades who helped move the goods today, and even toasting for the obedient ankylosaurus outside the window... The sounds of toasting, laughter, and clinking glasses suddenly rose.

The atmosphere in the cafeteria exploded.

The formality of the meal quickly shed its veneer, revealing the core of sailors and soldiers—a pursuit of fleeting pleasure. Someone began humming a ship's song, and soon others joined in, the rough singing drowning out the conversation.

Some people started tapping the ceramic plates with spoons to keep time. The lizards were initially confused, tilting their heads to look at the sudden sound. But soon, some of the younger lizards seemed to be infected by the high spirits and began to imitate them, tapping the plates with their four fingers to make a crisp and rapid tapping sound. They even excitedly jumped up and down in place.

Ryan returned to the vicinity of the main table, watching the rapidly escalating scene with a slight smile. He made no further attempt to control or guide it, simply letting the jubilant wave surge on its own.

Food continued to be consumed, and drinks were constantly being refilled.

The songs spread from one to another, and someone even tried to teach the lizard a simple chorus—which turned into a hilarious duet of lizards' sharp hisses and elf songs that was extremely discordant and caused even more laughter.

Meanwhile, the spirit lizard tricked the Asur into eating the fried insects, enjoying the distorted expressions of the elf tasters.

Eating has long since become a form of revelry.

This revelry was like a ship breaking free of its moorings, drifting freely with the currents of emotion, casting aside concerns about class, racial barriers, and the weight of tasks.

It wasn't until late into the night that the singing gradually became hoarse, and the laughter became intermittent.

Starlight from Zetland streamed through the high windows, quietly bathing this cozy mess. This unfamiliar land, with an unexpected feast and unrestrained revelry, completed its first truly meaningful acceptance of these visitors from Asur.

Galian, who was deep in sleep, seemed to hear a... bugle call?
The sound was indistinct and distant, yet it possessed an undeniable, familiar penetrating power.

The body reacted before the mind. Although every muscle screamed and protested in a deep, hangover-like exhaustion, and although the eyelids were as heavy as lead weights, the instincts ingrained in the bones from years of life at Haiwei were suddenly wound up by an invisible hand.

He forced himself to open his eyes.

My vision blurred at first, and my ears were filled with the muffled groans of my roommates, the creaking of the bed boards, and the sleepy curses coming from a corner.

But then the bugle call sounded again.

Second time.

Clearer and more urgent, it pierced through the thick stone walls of the barracks. This time he heard it clearly; it wasn't the relatively clear silver horn used by Haiwei, but a lower, hoarser, and rougher horn with a unique, reptilian hissing trailing tone.

Is this the rallying cry of the Reptilians?

The horn sounded again, this time the silver horn used by Haiwei.

"Everyone! Wake up! Emergency assembly!"

The captain's roar exploded in the dormitory, instantly shattering any remaining sleepiness.

Galian sat bolt upright in bed. The movement was so sudden that a wave of dizziness and a lingering headache washed over him. The slightly fermented, sweet and sour drink from last night seemed to still have a faint weight in his veins. He shook his head violently, his palms bracing against the bare bed frame. The cool touch invigorated him.

Looking around, the dormitory was a scene of chaotic scrambling and rolling around.

There was no time to savor the afterglow of last night's revelry, no time to complain about the morning chill and drowsiness. Garian took a deep breath of the cold air, rolled out of bed, his feet wobbling slightly as he landed, but he quickly regained his balance. He began to dress with almost mechanical efficiency; his fingers might still be a little sluggish, but he knew the position of every buckle and every strap by heart.

Outside the window, the sky was only the deepest, most somber blue; true dawn was still some time away.

At first, only a few faint lights appeared in the direction of Zetland, but as the horn sounded... (End of Chapter)