Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 822 Who is this hero again?
The girl—or rather, the young woman—stood nervously at the entrance of the job interview location, her pale, thin fingers twisted until they turned blue.

She must be under a lot of pressure.

After all, the number of people queuing outside restaurants offering hot water and showers, which are advertised as "delicious and nutritious," is not exactly overwhelming, but rather increasing, with many families bringing their children to the restaurants.

Even on the rooftops of residential buildings across the square, where the view extends to this point, someone had a brilliant idea: they managed to build a row of houses with only a single layer of corrugated iron roofs within the height restriction zone. Well, strictly speaking, the rainwater here isn't corrosive, and since it's inside the spaceport, it doesn't seem to be a big problem.
—While it defies common sense that many people didn't flee to other parts of the Calicus Sector during the Greenskin attack but instead flocked to the besieged area, it's still quite ironic that this wartime zone is still far better off in terms of welfare and order than most of the human world in the Misty Sector.

However, no matter what, it must be very unpleasant for an ordinary person to stand behind the entrance of such a place and be the center of attention.

In the short time that Taric Togarden was checking her referral chip, his Lyman Ear had already caught the various rumors circulating among the people queuing nearby about the girl draped in the quarantine port blanket.

The speculations ranged from a poor girl who had sought refuge with a relative of a Sky Knight centuries ago to an ambitious illegitimate daughter of a governor of a sub-sector who was poor but offered a way to survive, or a seemingly weak but actually powerful woman who had suddenly become famous. Togarden even heard some more vulgar things.

“You! Yes! It’s you!” He frowned and stepped out of the store. The mortals in line seemed to realize just how tall and strong he was—this Shadowmoon Wolf had been the tallest member of the Council of Four Kings before Abaddon became the tallest.

"My lord? I...I didn't say anything! I meant no offense! Please don't kill me!"

"Who's trying to kill you? Go back to the back of the line and get back in line."

The person whose name was chosen complained bitterly, but since queuing again would only take a little time, he eventually went anyway. Torgarden told him that if he didn't go, he wouldn't be allowed to enter the square anymore, which left an empty space around him. The man left dejectedly.

The cacophony of rumors immediately subsided, and people fell silent. But Togarden knew they wouldn't truly disappear; he simply didn't want to hear them at the moment, and that was enough.

"Alright." The verification of the recommendation chip emitted a glow from the mech guard station on the side. "Come with me, applicant, Elsa Katholin, you have three years of experience serving the Astartes Chapter, right?"

The girl, whose eye was a medical prosthetic, immediately nodded.

“There are very few people recommended by Barabbas from the port, but they have all proven to be diligent and reliable. You have served the Astartes Chapter before, which is good, so you will probably be able to get into work mode more quickly.”

He smiled at her, his bright pine-green eyes, his healthy tanned skin, and his short black hair causing her to breathe and her heart to race, as if she were struggling to keep from fainting.

Togarden nodded understandingly, kindly waiting for her to recover from the dizziness.

The water and soil of Wandering Harbor, especially the restaurants, strangely enhance the original charm of Astartes, which is probably why the Sons of the Emperor squad actively returns to take turns every now and then.

It's okay, though. After she works here for a few days and gets tired of seeing all the faces, she won't do that anymore. The other temporary employees have all experienced something similar.

"We are indeed short-staffed because we have to redeploy our regular staff to the front lines as much as possible."

Seeing her surprised expression, Togarden smiled. "Yes, we will be taking turns going to the front lines, which is why we need to hire some additional reliable mortal staff."

He used the term "ordinary staff," right? I think we need to write it down immediately.
Wait a minute, don't use psionic powers in front of the target right now.
Torgarden's green eyes stared at the girl.

"W-What's wrong, sir?"

“It’s nothing,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s probably just noise from outside. I think I heard someone say something, but I couldn’t hear it.”

"I...I didn't hear that, sir."

Seeing the girl's strange expression, Togarden explained.

“We have a psionic shield here, you can think of it as a kind of Geller force field on the mind. However, our location happens to be on the edge of the shielding range. In these extraordinary times, it is normal for the thoughts of an extremely powerful psionicist to occasionally drift in. If you encounter anything that feels wrong, take a few steps to the kitchen and call your colleagues.”

“Yes, sir.” She asked timidly, “So, am I officially accepted, sir? What kind of job will I be doing?”

“Good question. However, we usually hire people recommended by Barabbas directly. As for the follow-up questions…”

The man, whose appearance was reminiscent of Horus Lupecal before his fall from grace, called out in a lively manner towards the kitchen, "Hey! Head Steward!!"

"What are you doing, you brat! If you dare interrupt my workflow... Oh, young lady, good morning."

This machine, which suddenly emerged from behind the curtain in the kitchen in a very counterintuitive and common-sense manner, was the Defiant Dauntless, a machine that would be considered a sacred object in many warbands.

This ancient, sacred, and fearless mech, wielding a massive shovel, had an apron embroidered with badges meticulously and neatly tied around its exquisite surface. The observation goggles on its helmet were adorned with a golden laurel wreath and bright blue lenses. The mech was silver-grey in color, decorated with golden patterns and eagles. One of its shoulder armors was painted Phoenician purple. It greeted the new girl in Terra Gothic, which had suddenly become elegant and gentle.

Elsa, flattered, gave Dauntless a somewhat awkward curtsy, and the old court steward laughed heartily (?) through his megaphone.

"A very polite young lady! Great! Well then, come with me! Today, the kitchen has so many military ration orders that it's driving me crazy!"

“This is the ancient sage Rellano,” Togaton introduced. “Normally, the kitchen is not within the scope of the ancient sages’ work, but we are really short-handed, as you can see.”

Elsa nodded, still shaken. Just moments before, when the ancient sage suddenly appeared, she had taken two steps back, almost running to the door—if this place was so busy that even the fearless had to go into the kitchen, then they were indeed short-handed… Wait! What am I even thinking?!

“Ah, don’t worry, Elder Relano is very easy to talk to, except for keeping everything in the kitchen spotless and bright! Just be polite!” Togarton said. “The changing room is over there. There are many uniforms inside. Just pick one that fits your size, and that’s yours. After you change, go straight to Elder Relano in the kitchen.”

Fearless let out a sound that sounded like agreement, "I have to hurry back, I still have Formula 3 and Formula 7 rations cooking on my stove! If I spill them, the whole batch of rations will have a slightly burnt taste! That's unacceptable!"

Then they watched as the elder rode out in an elegant turn, his back to the viewer, on such a massive war machine.

"Alright." Togarden patted Elsa on the shoulder encouragingly. "Can you go to the dressing room and then to the kitchen to find Elder Rellano by yourself?"

He said, "I have to be in charge of my reception and distribution work at the door. Although we hardly do dine-in business anymore, the basic work still needs to be done."

“Almost?” she asked.

"Ah, there are very few instances of internal guests."

The former second company commander of Shadowmoon Wolf laughed, "But you should change into your uniform right away and head to the kitchen. We can talk about the other materials when you get off work. Elder Rellano gets angry when he can't wait for people and can make you cry without using any swear words."

"Do I even have off-get off work hours, sir?"

“Of course,” Togarden said. “You’re not one of us. Mortals need more sleep.”

---------

+The chorus calls out to the thorns. Can you hear it?+
The sensations in her mind were vague and intermittent. Elsa Casoline deftly took off her medical gown and slowly walked to a row of wardrobes against the wall, opening them one by one to check them, seemingly choosing the right size for herself.

+Chorus calling for thorns? Thorns?+
+I can...hear...a faint...reply...from...thorns...+
That's great, as long as I can hear you. I'm in. On the job smoothly. My work location is the kitchen.
How... is it...?
She paused for a moment, seemingly considering whether the maid uniform she was holding was appropriate, but in reality, she was organizing her thoughts for a response.

+ That's amazing. +
How...amazing is it?
It's even more astonishing than we anticipated.
For example?
The chef in this restaurant's kitchen is now a fearless, holy contemptist.
+...The communication may have just been affected by...interference...malfunction...You can say it again now, choir. +
I said, "There's a Divine Defiant Dreadnought standing in the back kitchen of this restaurant right now, I can't be mistaken. And it's the oldest model, with a lightning eagle on it. He said it's Rellano."
+...Your...feelings...Do you know this name...?
I'm not sure if it's the Rellano I know, because the Dauntless's decorations and structural details have changed, and I can't be sure if the person inside is him. But if it is the one I know, he was once noble and loyal, but ultimately, he belonged to the traitor's legion. He disappeared with them, and there's no record of him ever reappearing.
To ensure everything went smoothly, Elsa sent the message in two parts.

+...A powerful, ancient warrior...I'm starting to hope you're mistaken. An active Holy Defiant will significantly increase the difficulty of what we're about to do.
Both were silent for a moment. Elsa took the opportunity to put on her maid uniform and began to hook the garter belt onto the stockings that were pulled up to her legs.

+...There's no need to send that kind of image, thank you.
Then please ask your assistant not to presume to read what's going on in other people's heads.
The good news is that this Dauntless doesn't currently have many weapons.
Are you sure?
"Does the spatula count? And there's also the wrist-mounted twin storm bomb." She mentally recalled what she had just witnessed.

+...The throne is above! It really is a spatula! This isn't a small amount, but it's better than expected. +
There are even better ones.
She pulled out a pair of shoes with a fiber upper and plastic sole from under the wardrobe and tried to put her feet in.

The shoes fit exceptionally well, are comfortable and thick, and the designers clearly considered the needs of working long hours of standing and walking.

The employee benefits here are really good! I wish I had come... Oops!
Don't interrupt.
She was waiting for the person on the other end of the conversation to finish the unexpected interruption.

+There's something even better...? +
Based on the information just provided, I have specific commuting times each day.
That's great. Then you can just leave normally after get off work and go back the next day.
She nodded slightly, then reached out and straightened her skirt.

Are there any other...ordinary employees?
According to the traitor at the door, there are indeed some, but I haven't seen anyone else yet.
+You reacted so strongly when you saw him up close...I almost thought we'd have to...make our move right there and then. —This is what I relayed.
Rose asked you to relay this, right?
Yes.
+It's okay. Tell him not to doubt me; I can control myself. I'll know by the end of the day whether "getting off work" means I can come out and meet you all. +
+What if they're actually letting you stay at the restaurant?
Wouldn't that be even better?
She answered coldly, but a shy smile appeared on her face as she started walking towards the kitchen and pushed open the door.

+Then I'll have plenty of time to thoroughly investigate all the conspiracies, betrayals, and evils here. +
--------

"Hey--"

In the office of the Destiny Steel, a lazy battle group leader stretched, his knuckles cracking. "It's so quiet! Pepe, did Rellano go to the front lines too? Didn't he refuse to change his paint scheme? Won't he be recognized if he's so conspicuous?"

"He didn't go." The Demon Border Collie didn't even lift his eyelids, his eyes lowered as he directed the thousands of swarm firepower platforms deployed at the front line. The Wandering Harbor Alliance was attacking the Orc fleet. "I told him there was a more important place that needed him."

"where?"

"Restaurant kitchen".

"what?"

"Military rations cannot rely solely on canteens; restaurants can also supply ordinary people to assist the army."

“Oh! Oh right, that…” Ramizam hesitated for a moment, which was unusual for him, “'Ours'… Loken and Taric…”

“They are ghosts snatched from the line of fate by their time, living in our present, or,” Perturabo BC took a sip of iced milk, “you could also say that they are now, in the warp conception, the material echoes of long-vanished warriors, ghosts, necromancers, mirror images, and the like.”

Lamizain frowned.

The dog looked at him and added, "Of course I don't mean they're really dead..."

"That means... the Cursed Legion that belongs to us! I understand!"

"..."

(End of this chapter)