Shipping goods from the game to the World of Warhammer

Vasily Kovacs couldn't sleep a wink the night he received the transfer order.

As an ordinary laborer in the seventh settlement of Esperan, the most dangerous job he had ever done was driving away native beetles that gnawed on crops in the parsnip fields. But now, the orders he received were clear: he would be transferred to the newly built farmhouse to take care of a batch of newly introduced livestock.

For most of the world's working class, receiving a new transfer order is usually not a good sign. There are only two kinds of jobs here: either backbreaking fieldwork that will deform your spine, or dealing with livestock with unpredictable factors.

livestock.

Vasily felt a cold sweat break out on his back whenever he thought of those two words, because he could never forget what had happened to his old friend Grigory six months ago.

Grigg is a rancher in the third settlement and is assigned to look after a batch of Groxens that Esperan had tried to introduce. These clumsy giant reptiles had their brains removed and should theoretically lie docilely in their enclosures like mountains of flesh, waiting to be slaughtered, but that was only in theory.

But one morning, when Griggs went into the enclosure to feed the trough as usual, a Groxmon suddenly went berserk without warning.

The three-ton monster stomped on Grigory's chest with its thick, cylindrical forelimbs. When Vasily arrived, he only saw a pile of flesh mixed with broken bones and entrails on the ground next to the feeding trough, with half of a crushed boot lying nearby.

After the guards killed the rampaging Grox with laser guns, Vasily looked at what had been cut out from beneath it, unable to distinguish which part was Grigory's work clothes and which part was his flesh and blood.

After that day, Vasily had nightmares for two whole months, and he would vomit uncontrollably whenever he smelled raw meat.

So when he dragged his heavy steps toward the newly built wooden farmhouse before dawn, his legs were almost trembling.

The morning mist still shrouded the plains of Esperan, and in the distance, dense parsnip swayed in the thin fog, like green waves of algae on those marine agricultural planets. The air was filled with the fresh scent of soil and hay. This was a unique agricultural landscape belonging to Esperan, but Vasily had no heart to appreciate it at the moment.

He stood in front of the chicken coop, took a deep breath, and gripped the latch tightly with his right hand.

A soft rustling sound came from behind the door.

Vasily swallowed hard, the image of Grigory being trampled into mincemeat lingering in his mind. He even started to calculate which direction he should run if the thing inside lunged at him.

The latch was pulled open.

The wooden door creaked open, and morning light flooded into the dimly lit farmhouse, illuminating the hay-covered floor. Vasily squinted, bracing himself for some monstrous creature.

"Chirp chirp chirp".

Three fluffy chicks hopped and skipped out of the haystack, their round bodies gleaming golden in the morning light. They tilted their heads and curiously examined the human standing in the doorway. One of them even took tiny steps toward him and tentatively pecked at the tip of his boot with its soft little beak.

Vasily was stunned.

He looked down at the chick pecking at his boot, then looked up at the empty farmhouse, and then looked down at the chick again.

That's it?

He picked up the work manual hanging by the door and flipped through it. It listed the daily tasks: 1. Add hay and crop residue to the feeding trough daily. 2. Stroke the back of each chicken at least once a day.

He understood the first point, but what did the second point mean? Touching chickens? Was he sent to touch chickens?

Of course, Vasily had no idea that the simplest way to improve the egg quality of these Stardew Valley hens was to stroke them every day.

Vasily crouched down, puzzled, and carefully reached out his rough hand to gently touch the back of the chick closest to him. Instead of being startled, the chick comfortably squinted its eyes, let out a satisfied "cluck," and even rubbed against his palm.

Vasily scattered the hay evenly into the feeding trough, and the three chicks immediately trotted over and began to eat. The whole process took no more than ten minutes.

"By the Emperor..."

Vasily stood in the middle of the farmhouse, watching three chicks happily eating, his mouth slightly agape, his face filled with disbelief.

"You call this a job?"

Three days later, when Vasily pushed open the door to the chicken coop, he almost thought he had gone to the wrong place.

The three chicks that he could hold in his palm just two days ago have now grown into three plump, round-bodied adult hens, longer than his forearm. Their warm yellow feathers gleam healthily in the sunlight, and they look very energetic.

Vasily instinctively took a step back, the tragic scene of Grigory flashing through his mind again. He couldn't be sure whether these creatures he had never seen before would undergo drastic personality changes after reaching adulthood.

But the three hens just clucked and walked toward him, one of them even nuzzling his leg with its head, as docile as the wild squirrels darting about in the windbreak grass on the plains of Esperan.

Of course, the squirrels mentioned here refer to normal Esperan native squirrels, not those terrifying creatures in the sewers of certain haunted worlds that have been soaked in mutated toxins and can gnaw through steel plates.

Vasily breathed a sigh of relief and, following the instructions in the manual, stroked each of the three hens. Their feathers were soft and smooth, and felt wonderful to the touch. Each hen that was stroked would close its eyes contentedly and cluck.

Then he noticed three round, smooth white eggs in the hay nest, one for each hen, neatly arranged in the nest.

Following the operating procedures posted on the wall of the henhouse, Vasily carefully transferred the three eggs to the wooden incubator lined with hay in the corner. The incubator was surprisingly simple in construction: an insulated wooden box lined with a thick layer of hay, with a metal plate at the bottom for slow heating. He placed the eggs inside, closed the lid, and the whole process took no more than two minutes.

A week later.

When Vasily opened the incubator, three fluffy chicks were chirping and looking up at him, with eggshell fragments scattered on the hay. Meanwhile, in the nest on the other side, three adult hens had each laid three new eggs.

He squatted in the middle of the chicken coop, with three newly hatched chicks on his left, eggs waiting to be placed in the incubator on his right, and three adult hens leisurely preening their feathers in front of him.

Vasily Kovacs fell into deep thought.

He had no idea where those noble lords had found this kind of animal in the empire—it wasn't picky about food, grew fast, had high productivity, and most importantly, it wouldn't suddenly go crazy and trample you into a meat patty one day.

The only thing he was certain of was that he would probably never find a job easier than this in his entire life.