Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 820 Wandering in the Harbor -
"...I find it somewhat saddening that even now, when I truly see the form that once moved me reappear before me after eternity, I still cannot simply and decisively refuse His request. Even though there would be no consequences for my refusal now, and I have already read many more extraordinary accounts in my place of confinement... I owe Him nothing, nor do I work for Him anymore. I know I am now serving a true 'God,' and wholehearted service is the right choice... But I have thought about it for a long time and believe that perhaps concealing my current thoughts is not the best option here, and it is time for me to make a greater change. Presumably, my indecisiveness stems only from a final remembrance of past affections. If I fulfill His request this time, then perhaps I can truly break free from the influence of my past. Therefore, I wish to apply..."

—Sir Macardo Carthus, the Grand Master of Foreign Affairs and Special Envoy of the Dynasty, hesitated as he wrote to his current master to ask for leave and explain why he was going back to work for his former master.

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When she and the other survivors of the Baryonyx were told that they could leave in batches today, Elsa was only happy for a moment about the impending "freedom".

Clearly, this applies to everyone except a few Imperial Navy officers who believe they can contact their families here.

These people, who had only recently survived the furious carnivore, had become very attached to their tents in a short time because they had hot food, clean water, tents, and sleeping bags. Although they had only lived here for a total of 77 hours, some of them had already begun to regard this place as a permanent home.

Elsa saw several old servants kneeling there, hands clasped together, tears streaming down their aged, wrinkled faces. They stretched out their hands in a pleading gesture—the combat robots that had brought tents and other supplies had swiftly and decisively taken everything away with unquestionable force.

However, she thought about it with a strange detachment that it didn't really matter, because everything here was provided temporarily by the port authorities and, strictly speaking, didn't belong to their group.

The port even gave them something: the magical blanket was left for the refugees and not taken back. At least in the temperature-controlled air of this spaceport, they wouldn't feel cold.

While she was lost in thought, people had already started to leave in twos and threes—they had no choice but to leave, as the combat robots would lift them out like chickens. Human weight and resistance on the ground were meaningless in the face of such a violent machine that was much smaller and weaker than them.

If law enforcement in this place were all robots like these, then perhaps we could count on public order here.

The number of people gradually dwindled, and everything on the ground had been cleared away. The elderly, the infirm, and the disabled were asked to stand up and followed the two robots with extreme anxiety, many of them pleadingly looking at their companions as they walked.

Elsa was among those who turned away, while others simply watched indifferently as they were led away by the port authorities, seemingly relieved. She guessed they believed these people would be taken away as some kind of "landing tax," greatly increasing the safety of those left behind.

Elsa hated herself for thinking that way, but she also hated it even more for realizing that she did feel much better.

She stood at the edge of the exit area, and the robot was already walking towards her—she was the last person left here.

She coldly observed the guard robots on the city wall. Instead of using mortals or buckets, they luxuriously activated water guns and cleaning agents to quickly clean the area where the survivors had been.

So, this port, unlike other places, doesn't lack fresh water? That's really, really good news. Just the fact that it doesn't lack fresh water can reduce the problem of fighting in space by at least 40%.

Elsa calmly considered what to do next.

She wasn't very good at physical labor, but she was a medical assistant with some basic training. The pre-embedded knowledge chip in her brain gave her medical knowledge, and her modified eye had been replaced with a medical prosthetic eye.

If the port retains some relatively orderly areas, then someone with medical knowledge and skills should be able to find a suitable part-time job in those areas, or at least find a way to avoid starving, such as working as a ship's doctor's assistant on a small boat.

—Anyway, she absolutely refused to go back to the Baryonyx. She shivered and tried to erase the previous images from her memory.

Just as she was about to take the first step in her new life, she suddenly remembered something: what happened to the masters she and the other crew members of the Baryonyx?

Elsa hesitated, not because she loved or believed in them—she once did, but no longer does.

Rather, it's because if her original masters hadn't all died, the personal freedom of these servants would still largely be in the hands of the Flesh-Tearers. As long as even one of them survived and thought to make demands of the port... they were, after all, the Astartes Chapter... the Emperor's... Angels of Death...

Her stomach churned with horrible thoughts and anxieties. She stepped forward and grabbed the massive, cold metal wrist of the combat robot beside her—the one who had reminded her to grab the hot cod burger—yes, now they all knew it was the "Pearl Moon Specialty Pollock Double Burger" from the "Delicious and Nutritious" restaurant—and she subconsciously thought this robot was particularly "gentle."

Elsa knew it was inappropriate to describe a machine as "gentle." Their mechanical priest had said that machine spirits were sacred, raging, and furious, but you could never use such human-like words to describe a machine. "That's a demon," the priest said.

But she couldn't think of any other suitable words. Besides, all the mechanical priests had died in the final battle to protect the engine and activate it. No one heard, no one cared what she did.

and so……

She licked her chapped lips, hoping she wouldn't look so bad.

"gentlemen?"

At first she was worried that the combat robot would ignore her, but the robot obviously had its own independent receiving and processing system. As soon as she reached out and grabbed it, it "subconsciously" looked at her.

The moment their eyes met, Elsa mustered her courage. "I...I'm very worried about the masters I serve," she lied, trying to sound sincere. "Do you have any news about them? Any?"

The robot seemed to think for a few seconds.

How absurd! She thought. This is too human-like.

"Data exchange complete... Oh, I found it." The refined and amiable middle-aged man's voice changed from a stereotypical electronic confirmation tone back to a human speaking mode—so it really is a sophisticated imitation! It seems the owner of this port quite likes this kind of thing.

“It’s good to see your loyalty and concern for your superiors, Elsa, First Assistant in the apothecary infirmary of the Baryonyx,” the robot told her. “All the surviving Flesh-Tearers on the Baryonyx have been sent for treatment and have been moved to a safe place. There’s no need to worry too much.”

"Is...is that so?" Her heart pounded, her blood ran cold, and she forced a worried, sorrowful smile onto her face. "That...that's wonderful. I look forward to their speedy recovery."

"Yes, you will soon have the opportunity to work for your chapter again." The robot's voice even carried a hint of approval.

"Damn 'My Warband'!" A little girl inside Elsa spat in frustration. This isn't my warband! This is just the warband of the Flesh-Tearers! The warband of the Blood Angels! I'm just a medical assistant! My duty is to save lives and heal the wounded angels, not to accompany the Angels of Death and bleed them dry!

But the approval might be genuine, because the robot seemed to hesitate for a moment, then unexpectedly called out to her before she could wrap herself up in the blanket and hurry away, asking her, "By the way... do you have anywhere to go?"

-------- "here it is……"

Elsa was dizzy from walking. Her feet were blistered from walking such a long distance for the first time, and her calves were sore and swollen, with a lot of lactic acid accumulating in her muscles.

How can there be such a huge spaceport with such a realistic environment... a spaceport for a planet! It's so extravagant! And the governor here!
The robot gave her a data board with an address written on it and its own code attached, telling her, "You are a very smart and loyal person, girl, so take my letter of recommendation to this address and they will arrange a job for you."

A job!
That phrase alone was enough to give Elsa the courage to set off immediately, not wanting to waste a single moment—what if she arrived too late and they told her there were no jobs available? How much weight could a robot's recommendation carry? After all, it's not human!

How big can a trading port be? At most, it's about the size of Elsa's birthplace! Hurry up and go now, maybe you can even find a place to stay overnight.

With that in mind, she immediately set off.

As she walked along the ninth street on the sixth floor, she began to wonder if this place had no end.

Here, the lumens have gradually changed from bright white gold to orange-red, casting long shadows on the ground, just like the sunset of the world she was born in.

Elsa suddenly realized that this place even had lighting to mimic day and night—wasn't it supposed to be some kind of simple, rural outpost port?! Wasn't it supposed to have extremely ferocious pirates and lawless heretical aliens...?

Oh yes, there really are aliens. She saw more aliens than she had ever seen in her entire life while walking down the street today. Some of them even looked like the races she had heard of that preyed on humans!

This immediately terrified her. At first, she wanted to scream and run around for help, but the strange looks from the human merchants or pedestrians around her made her stop in her tracks.

Yes, although it was probably during working hours and there weren't many people, everyone seemed very orderly and organized. Most of the humans appeared quite busy, and they showed absolutely no fear of the aliens. The aliens, on the other hand, were mostly strolling around, haggling over prices, or going into restaurants; hardly anyone seemed interested in her flesh or skin.

"First time here, miss?"

Someone walked up to Elsa, and she reflexively shrank back, like a hermit crab curling itself into a ball, watching the person who had suddenly come to chat her up warily.

A little boy. She breathed a slight sigh of relief, but still dared not let her guard down.

"Sister." The boy was not young, but not very old either, probably between twelve and fourteen years old. He was thin but sturdy, with short brown or dark gray hair, and he moved very nimbly, giving the impression of effortless movement.

As a medical assistant, she immediately noticed that the boy's face showed no signs of malnutrition, and was even a little chubby. His cunning and clever eyes were like pearls in mercury, and he didn't have many wounds from street fights or the scars of hunters like those in her birthplace.

—Okay, either this is bait, or this is some kind of kid with ulterior motives. She decided to leave immediately.

"Are you lost? I can guide you there. It's normal to get lost on your first visit after the expansion."

However, the other person spoke Gothic very well, with almost no accent, and sounded very reliable, so she hesitated again.

“I can take you wherever you want to go, taking a shortcut!” he said sincerely. “It’s getting dark soon, and the security team has been patrolling at longer intervals lately. The streets are very safe, but if something happens, some things only happen once in a lifetime, right?”

By the Emperor, this little rascal is really good at talking.

Seemingly sensing Elsa's hesitation and wavering, the little boy pressed on and added fuel to the fire.

"I've been doing this here all along, don't worry! And the prices are fair! If it's your first time here, you can pay me back later! It only costs two vouchers each time!"

"Aren't you afraid I'll deny it?" Elsa asked curiously. But if this kid really had such a job, it would explain why he ate well, dressed neatly, and didn't have an accent.

"Of course I'm not afraid." The boy laughed and began to explain to her, "You're not just wandering around, you're looking for a place to go, so you must have already contacted someone or have a pre-arranged place to work or someone to stay with!"

Oh, clever little rascal, you have a great eye for observation.

The boy nodded in agreement. "So, once you find a place to stay or a job, they will definitely tell you to register first and then apply for your first month's settlement loan subsidy."

"what is that?"

"Simply put, people like you who mostly meet the criteria can apply for a first month's salary to cover their initial expenses, which they can then repay once they receive their salary. So you will definitely have the money to give me. If you don't, I will apply to receive it from your subsidy!"

The boy flashed a set of white teeth, one of which was missing and being replaced. "Anyway, I won't go without my wages, as long as you agree."

"Then how do I know if you overcharged me for the two vouchers?" Elsa tried to sound more experienced.

“If I charge too much, the department that issues the subsidy won’t agree to pay me.” He looked at her with a look that said, “You’re such a country bumpkin from outer space.”

The people here seem to have a lot of trust in the management of the Wandering Harbor?
In short, it sounded flawless, and it was indeed getting later and later. The boy was right about one thing: staying on the streets after dark was undoubtedly a gamble for any citizen of the Empire.

So she finally agreed.

Of course, she'll soon regret it.

In this universe, Tzeentch always has the last laugh.

(End of this chapter)