Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 831 We Accept Payment with Our Bodies -
When Uriel Ventress and Pastanius returned to the layered, nest-like deck streets of the lower district, they found only small groups of people gathered together, still engaged in lively discussions, and a street surrounded by ordinary people who had been brought in by an auxiliary security squad.

The burly thugs or suspicious-looking aliens who usually stood arrogantly at the door were all gone, and a tense atmosphere filled the air.

"What's going on?" Pastanius nudged Uriel.

“I don’t know, but perhaps we can ask someone,” Ventress replied, gesturing for the soldiers to follow behind him and keep watch on their surroundings.

They wore armor before they came over, and it would take too long to remove it again, and the current situation doesn't allow it.

and so……

Ventress pondered for a moment, then his gaze fell upon the children of their next-door neighbor.

Well, strictly speaking, a warrior like him shouldn't call a creature with a bird-like face and a ring of underdeveloped feathers a "child," but who can blame him when he's Uriel Ventress? Perhaps only Ionid Hill truly understands his flexibility and adaptability.

These are the children of the landlord of their hideout, who is also their neighbor.

When the three of them brought Samokhan here, no human was willing to rent a house to three big guys who looked broke (and they were indeed broke) and might die soon—or cause their landlord to die because of their lack of money.

However, these problems were not a big deal for this Krut mercenary group.

The Krut people lived in clans, were strong fighters, and were not very worried about their own safety.

Moreover, the security in Wandering Harbor is commendable, and you can buy plenty of cheap meat—well, due to habit and survival needs, orc corpses are actually one of the staple foods that the Krut people love to eat in large quantities and to fill their stomachs. Eldar and short-lived people can also eat them, and of course, humans can too, but this is Wandering Harbor.

Recently, the conflict between the Kruts and the Orcs has been raging here. As mercenaries and hunters from space, the Kruts have naturally appeared here, and their numbers are increasing due to the suitable living environment.

Generally, every now and then, while they're out collecting money from fighting, they'll also bring back some orc corpses—of course, they must buy takeout containers according to regulations and finish them in time to avoid causing panic among other residents.

The girl, Krut, was visibly plump from being fed the spoils her parents brought back, resembling a pale blue monk parrot.

By the way, the reason her parents lent the lower half of the house to these three "genetically modified slave workers" was because they didn't care about the rent.

“You can pay with your bodies,” her father, a Krut warrior with beautiful, long, brightly colored feathers on his cheeks and headdress, said casually as he handed them the keys.

"Although you can buy almost any meat my daughter loves here, and the orc supply is plentiful, human meat is illegal unless it's due to 'accidental loss'... Well, you see, if you can't afford the rent, we can accept payment in kind. We can let you offset a significant portion of the amount, and if you'd like, we can even provide a meal."

Pastanius almost took action, and Uriel was also full of doubts. It was Samoquan, a good student who had seriously studied at the Medrengard Olympia Military Academy, who broke the tense atmosphere.

"Oh! I know! I learned that in class! It's because you need to regularly consume the genetic material of intelligent races to maintain your rationality and cognition. If you keep eating animals that aren't intelligent enough, it will lead to serious degeneration and animalization problems, right?"

The Krut tilted his head in surprise, his nostrils twitching as he sniffed the reckless fellow. "...You could say that. We don't eat other people for fun, for meaningless rituals, or for some ethereal thing. We just eat them to survive. Kid, have you ever taken a class like that?"

"Yes, uh, so you're here because of the orc invasion?"

"Yes. We will accept escort or other hired jobs, and we can also bring back a lot of orc loot and buy it back at extremely low prices."

"But I remember the teacher saying that if you eat too much of a single food, the genetic material you ingest will cause your population to change toward the characteristics of that food, sir."

Samo looked the Krut up and down: although the man had a bird's head, his figure was more upright and human-like than the other newly arrived Kruts on the street. He had bright feathers, a sharp beak, wore more clothes, and his equipment was more similar to that of the Wandering Port Defenders. Overall, this Krut was more human than orc.

“You don’t seem to follow the Greenskin way of life, sir, even more… polite and clean than any of the Kruts I’ve learned about from textbooks and data boards. Your Low Gothic is also fluent.”

The implied meaning behind this statement made the other two Astartes tense up.

“Ah, you little rascal, where do you go to school? Does the Empire have schools like this? Wandering Port? The schools here are really interesting... If they were willing to send a few teachers here... Never mind that, this is also the reason we're here.”

"I don't know."

The shaper waved his hand in a certain direction above. “The food here. It’s special. At first, it was just one of our people passing by taking a cup of hot water. But now, if our wages can buy any food from ‘delicious and nutritious’ sources, it means pure wisdom.” He pointed to his head. “Eating it clears our minds, so our people decided to try this path, settling down to get more of that ‘communion’ to figure out why it can keep our people rational with any ingredients.”

To the astonishment of the three, the Krut man tilted his head like a giant parrot, seemingly giving a slight smile.

"Don't worry, we will strictly abide by the rules here. The Carlosini dynasty is a powerful and wealthy dynasty. As long as we can sustain our food supply, we are law-abiding citizens. We also do not want to have any conflicts with anyone."

He tilted his head and smiled at the glaring blond soldier, "Fighting here will quickly attract the security team."

"Then why did you just say we could pay with our bodies?" Samok asked.

“Uh…uh.” Krut the Shapeshifter’s feathered headdress opened and then closed again. “The child has never eaten this before, so I wanted to let her try something new.”

“Then I think it’s better to have never tried it before, sir.”

Samokuan looked at the little girl with the round bird head peeking out from beside the legs of the Krut warrior and said righteously.

So, at the time, the landlord said his daughter's name was...

Vincent recalled for a moment, then raised his voice and called to her from the narrow alleyway beside the street in a voice that sounded like birdsong or human speech.

"Hi! Greylia! Greylia!"

The alien little girl, who was skipping and hopping past, clearly heard it. She stopped and tilted her head in surprise, like a bird that had heard someone calling her. Her little crest trembled, as if probing the vibrations in the air.

"Grelia! Here! Here!"

The little girl finally noticed the two burly lodgers waving at her from the shadows. She walked towards them, but wisely stood to the side of a nearby lamppost.

“Oh, the natural hunter girl, look at her,” Pastanius muttered. “She’s positioned right at the edge of our attack range, and she can use the lamppost to avoid the first attack. Now we can’t pull her in without attracting attention.”

"After all, they are Krut people, sergeants, and Krut mercenaries are scattered throughout the universe."

“Oh, Mr. Ventress and his big brother!” She turned her head and recognized them. “Why don’t you come inside? My mother is home today. She got something really nice from the back door of the restaurant. We’re having chopped vegetables today! She says I can become a little smarter!”

"Uh, we might have to ask you a few questions before we can go back."

"Oh, then ask."

"Has anyone suspicious come into the house after we left?"

“No,” she recalled. “I’ve been playing around nearby and haven’t seen anyone run in—besides, one of my parents has been home lately, so they would know if anything was wrong.”

Ventress and Passanius exchanged a glance: the Cretans are indeed very vigilant in this regard, so this hideout is at least safe for the time being.

"Did you see Samokuan come back? He should be back by now."

"No," she said. "I haven't seen him for two days. I thought you'd sent him to school?"

This is not good.

"Thank you for your help, Greylia. We need to go find Samoquan first. Please don't tell anyone we've been here, okay?"

"Of course. Give my regards to Samo Kwan! We were planning to go fishing by the lake in Central Park tonight while waiting for him to get back!"

"Yes, I will."

The girl from Krut walked away toward her house, and Ventress and Pastanius turned to leave when the sergeant in front cursed in the Kaus dialect.

"what happened?"

"Hmm...it's alright. I think it's good that you let Greylia go."

Their landlord appeared with a modified Kruger rifle.

It seemed that the other side had just withdrawn from the front line to rest. He took off his cloak, and they immediately smelled a strong disinfectant and the smell of water that had not yet dried. The hygiene requirements of Wandering Port were strict, and even mercenaries who had just withdrawn for their rotation would receive showers and quick disinfection services.

“I’ve been watching from up there the whole time,” he admitted. “I’m surprised you…you’re not ordinary people.” He said, “Obviously, your identities require you to hide, but you didn’t kill a lone alien girl.”

The sculptor of Krut made a bizarre smile with a huge bird's beak.

“That’s good. I’ll remember that. As a thank you for your unusual visit, I happen to have a lead I heard about on my way here, which I’ll give you for free, of course.”

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In high spirits, Honso packed his heavy spoils into a body bag, placed it on the summoned anti-gravity cargo sled, and prepared to transport it back to the Destiny Steel.

A precious sample of a Word Bearer enchanted warrior! Even when fighting a Word Bearer, it's difficult to capture one so intact, because the host's body often collapses rapidly when the demon is destroyed. And now, although he has a portable stasis field, he has no chance to hunt... no chance to go to a Word Bearer to save his life.

The alchemist's inner monologue.jpg
Hurry back and study it...

Oh no.

He thought for a moment; he still needed to go to the free clinic first to act as bait, and this task was still on his list.

Damn it, Uriel Ventress! Did he really have to use this method?! He clearly had the complete genetic sequences of this guy and his companions; he could have used that to track them down…

Never mind, I can't let either of my fathers find out about this.

Hongsuo pondered for a moment, looked at the map, grabbed a random Krut man by the roadside to ask him some questions, and then headed in a certain direction in the center of the lower deck area.

The central fortress of the harbor is divided into strict inner and outer sections on the lower deck.

The inner layer is the Mechanic Church's temple, surrounded by armored steel plates tens or even hundreds of meters thick, insulation layers, and various reinforced defense layers.

This includes the base of the central fortress, which forms the axis of Wanderport. Here lies the reactor core, main engine, and other major power and energy facilities. This was also the residence of the original designer of Wanderport, Master Axler. Now, this area has been greatly reinforced, so it is no longer connected to the surrounding lower deck area.

Therefore, most residents in the lower deck area were completely unaware of each other's presence.

The ring surrounding the central fortress is the central walkway of the lower deck area. Generally speaking, this is the main area for buying, selling, advertising, and other activities. All sorts of people, aliens, and heretics frequently appear here, mingling among drunken sailors arriving at the port, gamblers, pilgrims, or others.

Honsau's idea was that setting up a free clinic in the area would quickly spread the word, and the unique shape of the Astartes pharmacist and his stall would also make it easier to announce his arrival to everyone.

—As for why the doctor was dragging a body bag next to him? Hey, how novel! Everyone who lived here saw a pile of corpses just two years ago, right? Look, this doctor even helps with the funeral arrangements! This all-inclusive service is truly benevolent and virtuous; you won't find it anywhere else!

Thus, when Ventress and Pastanius arrived near the ring road, the flow of people heading in a certain direction pointed them in a clear direction.

When they climbed to the top of a dilapidated attic and looked over there, behind the bright lights, tents, and long table, they saw a familiar face that both surprised and delighted them:
The face of "Silver Skull" Warband's apothecary master, Hunsso.

(End of this chapter)