Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 839 Victory Parade -
"We're having a great day today! Come on over! All drinks are free! And you can eat as much meat, cheese, eggs, and bread as you like with these two vouchers!"

"What's going on? What happened here today? This... this good food and wine are all free? Really?"

Unlike the wealthy businessmen and celebrities who are greeted and guided upon arrival, the foreigners who have just stepped out of the customs gate are nervous and cautious, clutching their wallets and looking around curiously and alertly. Their appearance is easily distinguishable from that of the locals, and many enthusiastic guides or local residents immediately surround them.

"The Calosini dynasty's army has successfully completed its counterattack against the orcs! The state of war is now lifted, and everyone is celebrating! You've all come at a good time!"

"The Carlosini dynasty? This isn't the Imperial Navy..."

"The Imperial Navy has to listen to the Regents here too!" The resident proudly puffed out his chest and pointed towards the central neon light. "Let me tell you, our Regents here even have the Astartes Legion fighting for them!"

"By the throne!" the newcomer repeatedly made prayer gestures. "Would the God-Emperor's angels of death also serve mortals?"

"That's because the blessings we receive here are so great that even the angels of the God Emperor cannot ignore them. You've come to the right place, fellow villager! As long as you are hardworking and willing to work, you are a blessed person! Come! Let's have a couple of drinks to welcome you!"

Visitors who have just stepped off the passenger ship arriving at Wandering Harbor will find themselves incredibly lucky today in this port that has recently become famous in the local area, where everyone is on vacation and all the shops are having big sales.

"I still remember that day when there was an ample supply of all kinds of alcohol wherever I went, from genuine fine wines to the most bizarre and exotic drinks with strong flavors..."

Long afterward, a retired worker who had arrived at Wandering Harbor that day and settled there told his grandchildren, "All the shops opened for business, especially food, drink, and entertainment. That day, the governors announced the start of eleven days of 'midnight sun' to celebrate the victory in the defensive counterattack against the orcs..."

"Polar day? I read about it in my textbook. It's a natural phenomenon on Terra. Planets that meet certain conditions will experience polar day and polar night, and also auroras... But Grandpa, we live in an artificial nest city, so we don't see the polar day." The grandchildren's faces were full of regret. "Is it really true that there's sunlight every day during the polar day?"

“Once your parents have saved enough money for the tour, we’ll go on a planetary trip, don’t worry. And yes, my child.” The old man’s eyes were full of nostalgia and happiness. “During those eleven days of celebration, the sun truly never set, there was no darkness, only light, those wonderful eleven days were like a dream.”

--------

"Ho ho ho, with Star God fragments as a secondary energy source to squander at will, implementing the five-year plan is just as exhilarating as holding down the accelerator and accelerating it again!"

Someone made such a joyful sound in the warband commander's office.

"Some of them are just a crude and inefficient way of piling up resources!" one of the pigeons said sourly. "Such a waste!"

"But the most important thing is that Cherubel can fully afford the waste required for our plan. It's really fantastic! I now completely understand the Space Necromancer! The Multidimensional Cage and the Star God Energy Converter are truly ingenious inventions! I think you, Pigeon, are probably just jealous of us!"

Diocletian's lips moved, his gaze was solemn, and it was clear that for a moment he had fallen into an endless cycle of "I should kill this guy, I should kill this guy, as long as I kill this guy I will be following my heart, but my orders, my responsibilities, my cultivation prevent me, therefore I..."

Leman Russ, who was sitting to the side slowly sipping the mead from his own bottle, glanced at the Imperial Guard with a half-smile.

Diocletian gripped his halberd tightly for a moment—oh, he gripped the tray in his hand, a primal feeling of being targeted by a giant predator welling up inside him for no apparent reason.

This was the closest the Imperial Guard could get to "instinctive fear." He looked back warily and tensely, but the wolf king with blood-stained golden hair had already turned around and laughed heartily to make a vulgar joke with the serious Magna, immediately earning three dangerous stares from above.

"Don't joke like that with my master control system, Leman Ruth!" Peturabo BC said. "His foundational personality was once your brother, so have some decency, you old dog!"

"Now you're putting on airs and trying to control everyone... I really can't agree with that, Peturabo. Who do you think is in charge here now..."

A chocolate grape pastry from Fugram Pallas successfully shut the wolf king up, and he laughed heartily and drunkenly.

"Ahem, sorry." The young cloned phoenix turned around and looked apologetically at everyone.

"I think Ruth was too happy and accidentally drank too much mead. Even with our high metabolism, it takes a while to break that stuff down into less toxic compounds."

“No problem,” Ramizan said cautiously. “But in that case, Pallas, promise us you’ll keep an eye on him until he sobers up, and make sure he doesn’t take the opportunity to pour that stuff into any of our glasses or bowls, okay?”

“Of course. I’ll keep an eye on him.” Pallas immediately assured him. Judging from their body language, these two Primarchs (?) who originally had a rather ordinary relationship, or even could be said to have kept to themselves, had at least forged a deep bond of camaraderie during the recent counterattack against the Orcs in Wandering Harbor.

Ah, that's good too. I was worried that Ruth would be too unruly... Isn't he easy to talk to and quite agreeable?

Ramizam glanced at the pigeon without making a sound, and the pigeon immediately turned its head and looked at him back at lightning speed.

"What's wrong?!"

"It's nothing, really. I mean, let's raise a glass in celebration! Everyone worked together to win this counterattack, we really hurt the orcs! We wounded them! We scared them! We fought with style, we showed our spirit, we demonstrated the level of our Wandering Port Dynasty! It was truly a remarkable and moving victory. We should edit together a highlight of the battle and play it for all the people with narration and music for more effective propaganda! Let's expand the propaganda! Let's take this opportunity to further unite the military and the people!"

A spark of wisdom suddenly flashed through Ramizam's mind, and he spoke quickly and cleverly.

"..."

"..."

The room fell silent for a moment before Peturabo BC broke the silence before someone started awkwardly picking at their toes.

“A brilliant decision. The right idea,” he said. “That’s exactly what we need right now.”

"So, the next question is, do we have the right people in our pockets who can seize this fleeting opportunity?"

A deathly silence fell over the room again. They looked at each other in bewilderment.

“Well, how about we go ask the ancient sage Rellano first? I remember he was originally the chief steward and master of etiquette at Terra’s court.” Ramizan finally spoke up.

--------

Upon receiving such an urgent request, the highly respected court steward, without even washing off the grease and grime on his body, immediately connected his mech to the Ironblood database and the Wandering Port database. He then began searching for local traditions, culture, and celebration customs in order to integrate and localize them with the orthodox court etiquette of Terra, so as to hold an absolutely magnificent and unforgettable ceremony that would leave no room for criticism from even the most old-fashioned nobles in the entire galaxy.

To this end, the court master of etiquette used all his knowledge, and at a speed faster than firing his rapid-fire cannon, wrote and submitted six different celebration plans in just sixty minutes for the esteemed Primarchs and His Majesty to choose the best for themselves.

"Once the plan is finalized, we must immediately begin preparing for the banquet, writing invitations, inviting guests, waiting for their arrival, the roll call, the ceremony, the dance venue, the band..."

Even after being bombed on orbit on Istvan III, besieged by traitors for days and nights, and once holding a virus bomb in one of the threads of fate, waiting for ten thousand years to blow it up in Forgrim's arms, the ancient sage who had not been shaken by his calm mind was now shouting like a truly anxious old steward.

"Your Majesty! Your Highnesses! We are running out of time! Procuring supplies! We lack large quantities of flowers! Musicians! Oh, Terra! Attendants who understand etiquette must be urgently trained! Chanting... I, in my old age, can still personally chant the names of our distinguished guests if I were gilded! But I'm afraid there are some places where Astartes will have to step in! Also, we have almost no qualified maids! Terra! Your Majesty! How are we going to entertain so many ladies and wives from noble families? We must also immediately finalize the invitation lists for the banquets and balls, and arrange the appropriate berth order, seating order, and assign suitable servants to guide us..."

"..." Ramizan calmly looked at the six plans, then at the pensive pigeon, the silent Imperial Guard, the noncommittal Peturabo BC, Magna Dorn, Fugrim Pallas, and Leman Russ.

“I think you don’t need to be in such a hurry, Master Rellano.”

He said softly, "I have some ideas..."

The ancient sage's bird-shaped divination mask turned toward the man behind the desk at the head of the table, its visor gleaming with an incredible light as he spoke; the dove's neck feathers ruffled again with some remarks that were completely contrary to the highest principles of the human empire; Leman Russ squinted at his stammering words, then grinned, tilted his head back, and drank the rest of the mead from his handmade bottle in one gulp.

--------

Elsa stood in the crowd, her face flushed with excitement, just like the people around her, waving the royal banner and the bouquet of gauze she had hastily made overnight toward the center of the street.

Just now, they heard the broadcast from the Dynasty's governors to the entire Wanderport, announcing the victory of this counterattack, commending the brave soldiers, and thanking all the people of Wanderport for their support.

"Without your support, we could not have achieved such a perfect victory. I would also like to thank all the skillful residents who worked through the night to make such beautiful bouquets from the fabric we distributed, turning Wandering Harbor into a sea of ​​flowers and joy to welcome our war heroes..."

Listen to this! Although she doesn't know why she found herself selling coconut water in a coffee shop, so what? She now has a job, a place to live, clothes to buy, and food to eat! She even received a personal thank you from a governor!
Listen to this! He sincerely thanked everyone! From all walks of life! He didn't miss any profession that existed in the port! He even thanked the students for their hard work!
"...Now, we will begin a grand military parade from the main port on the central circular road surrounding the port. People, please applaud our combat heroes! Cheer for them! Celebrate them!"

As he spoke, the anti-gravity projectors temporarily erected throughout the streets (sponsored by Silver Mask Royal Licensed Store and Warrior Electronics Company) began to project thrilling battle scenes simultaneously above people's heads. These scenes were realistic and breathtaking, immediately giving everyone present a real sense of the effort they had put in.

Some of the footage, clearly shot through the eyepieces of the Astartes helmet and played in slow motion, elicited incredible gasps and exclamations from the audience. Even more exciting were the scenes depicting battles between the Cardia auxiliary forces, the local navy, and ordinary humans versus alien mercenaries, which drew gasps of amazement from the crowd. People frequently pointed out that the people in the footage were their relatives or acquaintances, bringing the atmosphere to another climax.

"The Empire! The Glory of Carlosini! The Glory of Wandering Harbor!"

The crowd chanted, "Victory! Victory! Victory!"

The music paused, and then the majestic and magnificent marching music echoed through the streets as people looked expectantly toward the preparation area of ​​the main port dock.

"despair!"

The combat boots landed in perfect unison, a hundred men as one.

The gentle hum of the servo motor transformed into a strange mechanical growl, and the heat waves from the backpack reactor rose in deformable patches atop the helmet.

One hundred pairs of eyepieces shone with pure blue light, one hundred relic bomb guns were gripped tightly to their chests, and new campaign medals for the Battle of Wandering Harbor adorned their breastplates. The oath of war and the mark of purity fluttered before their silver and black power armor.

Like a grand and majestic bell, like a thunderclap from a clear sky, an overwhelming sense of oppression and solemnity rolls in from nowhere.

"despair!"

The palace steward began his introduction in a deep, melodious tenor voice, specially tuned to suit his voice from ten thousand years ago.

"Now approaching us are the representatives of the Astartes Allied Chapters in this counterattack. Some are from the Silver Skull Alliance Chapter of the Carlosini Dynasty, and some are from the ancient and pure Black Sanctuary. Look upon them, gentlemen! The guardians of this place! The steel warriors you can rely on with peace of mind!"

The crowd, which had been shrinking back in awe, was instantly invigorated, and cheers, bouquets, and all sorts of small items began to rain down on the approaching Astartes procession.

"Next up is our Cardia support military contingent..."

"Mercenary squad... Oh, let's all congratulate this newlywed couple on their successful proposal! Lucky lad!"

The crowd laughed and showered bouquets and petals upon the soldier who was holding his crying and laughing fiancée high in his arms; even the bandages couldn't hide the smile on his face.

……

The "Dream 11 Days" victory celebration in Wandering Harbor, which many will remember for a lifetime, kicked off after the triumphant military parade.

(End of this chapter)