Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 321 But I'm not really...

The crown of night shines like a black diamond.

The Night King's footsteps bring death, silently.

His long hair smells very good.

His face was sour.

His claws are sharp.

He was so reluctant when he was told to "try to develop new foods" with Ramizarn - his own body.

But stretching fingers to knead starch dough like blood and flesh, pouring acid to make curd cheese, whipping margarine and egg whites, beating dough and sifting synthetic starch or synthetic frosting are so fascinating...

Then, the eighth Primarch Konrad Curze, the Cat-Lord, who was a master of raw blood and flesh tasting, who used blood to stick his hair and flesh to stuff his nails, and was famous for eating his son alive and skinning him, stayed in the new kitchen ordered by Ramezane for eight hours, playing (of course, he stated that "I was just repaying the debt because he helped my Eighth Legion") and had a lot of fun.

Until a sheepdog owner and ninja who had just returned from a meeting with Macharion, Dietrian, Aeneas, Gallus, etc. discovered this and screamed again: "(Gutai swearing), even if you are a pig, you still have to drink water and eat on time! ! ! ! Do you know how difficult it is to deal with a cat's urinary system once it has problems?!"

(*But I’m not really…)
"How long ago was the last time you drank water?!"

(…nine or ten hours ago, I don’t remember, it doesn’t matter.)
"Here! Drink some water! And here are some goodies I brought you from Valier's new laboratory while I was inspecting after a meeting."

Placed in front of Coze along with the bowl of water was—

A handful of young seedlings and leaves of some genetically engineered crop, fresh, tender and emerald green, a delight to behold.

(*…What is this? Even if I don’t consider my own taste, the species in this real universe that I’m using now at least doesn’t eat this kind of plant food. I know, don’t try to fool me.)
"Really? Then doesn't your knowledge include the part about 'cats need to eat cat grass to stay healthy'?"

(*……(The thought begins to be gradually diverted))

"What's more, I specifically asked Valier to improve the taste for you. Well, there's a surprise when you take a bite!"

(*…Surprise…Is that how surprise is used?)

The tip of the black and white cat's nose twitched suspiciously, and so did the tip of its tail.

(*Well, then, I will be merciful and give you a bite.)
"No problem... Hey, I knew you would like it. No cat can refuse it. Valer did a great job. Let me think about what crops I should let him research next time..."

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(*I remember you said it’s not good to open champagne at halftime.) When he finally remembered the serious matters after the joy, and looked up from the leaves of the compound catnip wheat seedlings that he had almost chewed, Conrad Koz said this indignantly.

Across from the large kitchen island, Ramizane was wearing an oversized kitchen apron over his short toga, shoveling more hand-made brown pancakes out of the oven with a spatula under the reverent gaze of the mutant slaves around him. They were nearly round in shape, with a tough bottom and burnt edges, and a thick layer of Astartes-specific nutrient paste on top, which was now somewhat melted and bubbling, and then sprinkled with some precious nightshade fruits cut from the hydroponic farm and a little green mint for embellishment - even if it was the 41st millennium modified wheat seedling catnip, it was still mint!

"How's the amino acid oatmeal porridge going?! - It's not good to open champagne at halftime, but if we can't afford a celebration, at least we have to ensure that there is a hot meal and hot water during the celebration. The people on the ground can't get the food materials for the Astartes, but these are vital to everyone's morale."

(*This is nonsense. I have never heard of any veteran or senior officer - even Malcharion, who was an officer famous for his mastery of war skills in the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago, and who wrote so many theoretical works and poems on war, never mentioned this in any of them - it's just a meal that was not cooled down, without the blessing of the Sea of ​​Souls or the combat stimulants of the Mechanicus. How could ordinary food have such a magical effect?)
"Oh? You don't believe it? Then do you want to use your second sight to see the effects they will cause?"

(*There's no point in using my second sight for something so small that I can see it quickly... Didn't you teach me not to rely too much on it to make decisions, otherwise I'll end up like the Fifteenth Legion?)
"Oh, when I was teaching you, didn't someone say that he didn't want to listen or learn, and that nothing was better than a direct and quick solution because that could solve the problem based on human instinct? It turns out that he not only remembered it but also followed it! You are such a smart cat who can put what you have learned into practice!"

(*Hey! I didn't! I just... grunt grunt grunt...)
Ramizane smiled, removed his corpse starch-covered fingers from Konrad "Cat" Curze's furry chin, and tapped the tip of his nose, who sneezed and looked like he was about to explode.

"By the way, when you were having so much fun and working so hard here that you forgot the time I told you to go to the meeting and didn't respond to my subsequent call, do you want to listen to the content of our meeting just now?"

(*What? Didn’t you go to discuss with those slaves…mortals and captives how to turn over the sand and how to use that pointy-eared alien?)
"Oh, yes and no. You have to know that when we decided to develop agriculture, it was certainly not as simple as it seemed."

(*You sound as if you really want to teach our Eighth Legion how to work like a farmer. Are you trying to teach a group of criminal descendants, scum, thieves, robbers, murderers or worse criminals how to do agricultural work? To be large animals and farm machinery, the physique and personality of those captives are more suitable. *sneer* It is more in line with their nature.)
"Then it seems I should speak up."

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About a few hours ago, the Tessaguassa Arctic
The converted conference hall in the catacombs

“So water alone is not enough.”

Everyone attending the meeting sat in their seats a little stiffly. There were additional promethium lamps in front of the mortals and other Astartes. The first speakers were the old and new owners of the planet, who looked very excited.

The Lord of the Night, who was sitting at the head of the group, pointed out seriously, "First of all, did you know that this place is all desert?"

The people present blinked in confusion.

"My lord." Regent Gallus had to stare at several murderous gazes due to his urgent personal concern and spoke tremblingly.

"It is indeed a desert here, but we have rain, right? You have brought us the rain, and the sect led by the priestess Sandra is eager to pay homage to you..."

"Wrong. Rain does not bring a good harvest."

"Wrong? My Lord." The old man cringed, and he almost cried. "Even the rain can't save us, is this the punishment we must suffer..."

"But it's not your fault. After all, you have been working in hydroponic farms for more than four centuries. You really don't know that the desert cannot store water and nutrients, so even if it rains, plants cannot survive in the desert, let alone crops with higher requirements."

"So what we're going to talk about next is..."

(End of this chapter)