Shipping goods from the game to the World of Warhammer

Chapter 95 The Wandering Merchant Just Wants to Rest

On the now-repaired flagship, the Christina, Rhode sat in his seat, calculating the next steps in resource allocation. The Terran siege tanks and Viking fighters had successfully passed the Empire's testing, and the Protoss base's production lines were running steadily.

Achoo—

""

Without warning, Rhodes sneezed loudly, nearly knocking the data pad out of his hand.

He rubbed his nose and touched his forehead suspiciously; he didn't have a cold.

"Did someone insult me?"

Rhodes muttered something to himself, then dismissed the thought and looked down at the star map again, pondering where to go next. The system hadn't issued any new missions.

The elevator door on the side of the bridge slid open, and a red head poked in.

Liriel leaned against the doorframe, holding a bag of candied fruit she'd somehow managed to smuggle from some storage room on the ship, with a piece dangling from her mouth, and mumbled something under her breath.

"Boss, I have a suggestion."

"explain."

"How about we take a vacation in Craigie?"

Liriel finished chewing the dried fruit in her mouth and swallowed it. She then casually took another dried fruit from the bag and put it in her mouth.

"The hive city of Craigen is renowned for its services in the hive district, offering everything from food and drinks to entertainment. I heard a new one just opened there—"

'

Rod finally looked up and rolled his eyes at her.

Of course he remembered the place name, Craigern. This was the nest world that Lillier had first planned to escape from in Blackwing Harbor.

He caught her red-haired con artist on the spot; the red-haired con artist's escape skills were useless against the reaper.

"Why don't you just say you want to go?"

Lillie wasn't embarrassed at all. Instead, she grinned, revealing a set of white teeth: "But boss, you should take a break too. When was the last time you enjoyed life? I heard from that bench-face guy that it was in Esperan? And then you were cornered in a room by a bunch of Chaos cultists and drank yourself into a stupor for three days."

She held up a finger and shook it with an air of seriousness: "If this continues, the traveling merchant might run into trouble due to overwork."

Rhodes opened his mouth, only to find that he couldn't refute it.

He was indeed exhausted. From the chaos rebellion in Esperan to Blackwing Harbor, to Mordax, and now to the several rounds of confrontations with Inquisitor Sion, interspersed with the construction of the Zerg base and the layout of the STC—his nerves had not truly relaxed for the past few months.

The last time he truly "enjoyed life" was when he was sipping sake in Esperan's luxury suite. Then, before he finished the sake, an explosion was heard outside the window.

"Are you sure Craig is a good place for a vacation?"

Liriel's eyes lit up instantly, but she cleverly didn't show it too obviously. Instead, she casually took out her personal terminal and flipped through it: "Of course, and the security in that nest world is particularly good. There are never any rioters. Even the lower nest is safer than some worlds. It is productive and never owes tithes."

"You seem to know all the places to go."

"I've always wanted to go," Lillie said without blushing.

Rhodes glanced at Aria beside him, who nodded in agreement, realizing he had been too busy lately.

He paused for a few seconds, then tossed the data panel aside and spoke into the bridge's communication channel.

"Set flight path, target Craigie."

Lillie silently clenched her fist and cheered at the door, then quickly resumed her nonchalant expression, dangling a dried fruit from her mouth and swaying away.

Rhodes stared at her departing figure, and suddenly remembered something: this woman had tricked him out of his travel expenses in Blackwing Harbor, saying the amount was enough to buy countless first-class tickets, and how long she had been having fun there.

The prices quoted by charlatans are indeed inflated.

Craigen.

Viewed from space, this hive world resembles a lead ball covered in gray-brown scars. Apart from the layers upon layers of hive structures, the entire surface of the planet is uninhabitable, with hundreds of billions of people crammed into these giant beehives of steel and concrete like ant colonies.

From orbit, Craig's nighttime side is even more spectacular than its daytime side, with countless lights converging into an impenetrable net of light that covers the surface of the hive region, leaving not an inch of darkness.

The light came from the neon-lit GG signs in the upper nest area, the perpetually burning industrial lights in the middle nest area, and the flickering, low-quality chemical lamps deep within the lower nest area. The traces of the lives of hundreds of billions of people were thus compressed into a thin film of light, affixed to the surface of this steel planet.

Instead of docking at the main berth of the orbital dock, the Christina chose a secluded private berth. Rhodes had no intention of publicizing his identity as a traveling merchant; he was there for vacation, not business.

He disembarked with only Liriel and a few guards. Aria volunteered to stay on the ship to handle daily affairs, and Rhodes let her have her way.

He was received by a small delegation sent by the governor of Planet Craigen, consisting of fewer than ten people. The leader was a middle-aged civil servant wearing a well-tailored dark gray uniform with a low-key administrative badge on his chest. He was respectful but not obsequious.

"Distinguished guest, the Florence Suite in the Upper Nest area is ready for you."

The civil official bowed slightly and guided Rhodes and his party to a closed hovercar with a low-key exterior but a luxurious interior. The body was painted an inconspicuous dark gray, not much different from the executive vehicles commonly seen in the Upper Nest District of Craigen, but the interior revealed its true status as soon as the door was opened.

The hovercar traversed the vertical passages of dozens of nest-like structures, arriving at its destination in the Upper Nest Zone.

Compared to the hellish Lower Nest, where even breathing smells of death, the Upper Nest is a completely different world. The wide corridors are lined with real stone facades, not the kind of synthetic panels sprayed with stone-textured paint, but natural marble imported from other planets, with each piece having a unique pattern.

On the dome inside the building, holographic projections simulate blue sky and white clouds, and there are even images of several birds circling in the "sky". The projection is so accurate that it is almost impossible to distinguish between the real and the fake without careful observation.

The air carried the fragrance of some kind of flower. Although the quantity couldn't compare to that of an agricultural world, on a planet where even natural soil didn't exist, it was an extreme luxury. Liriel took a deep breath, a look of near ecstasy on her face, before Rhode stopped her with a look.

"Don't embarrass yourself."

"I don't."

The Florence Suite occupies the entire top floor of a spire in the Upper Nest District, and its size is outrageous; the main hall alone could park a shuttle. The floor is covered with some kind of dark hardwood flooring. In the Nest World, using real wood for flooring is roughly equivalent to washing a car with fresh water in the desert.

The room was filled with gilded eagle emblem reliefs and intricate Gothic arches. Several original oil paintings, supposedly from the collection of a nobleman of Upper Nest, hung on the walls. The paintings covered a wide range of subjects, from portraits to landscapes.

In the corner stands a miniature statue of the emperor, about half a person's height, made of pure silver, with an inscription in High Gothic language on the base that means "May the emperor protect this place and bring peace."

Rod had to admit that the service here was indeed top-notch.

The manager here was an elderly man in his fifties, with his hair neatly combed and dressed in a black suit. His voice was deep and steady, as if he had received professional training. Within ten minutes, he explained how to use all the facilities in the suite, from the origins and vintages of the more than three hundred bottles of wine in the wine cabinet to the shower system in the bathroom that was said to be able to simulate the scenery of different planets. He was thorough but never verbose.

The dinner was held in the suite's private dining room.

A snow-white linen tablecloth covered the long table, and the silver cutlery gleamed warmly in the candlelight, each set of knives and forks placed as if measured with a ruler. In the center of the table sat a low crystal vase, containing a few unknown dried flowers that emitted a faint woody fragrance.

The dishes are fresh vegetables and meats grown in Craig's exclusive regions of other agricultural worlds. Each dish is served with a small card attached, which is written in cursive script with the dish name, the origin of the ingredients, the cooking method, and the chef's signature.

The first course was a thinly sliced, marinated pork loin. The slices were so thin they were almost transparent, arranged in a fan shape on the plate, sprinkled with a few grains of coarse salt and a strand of finely chopped herbs. The moment it entered the mouth, the slices melted on the tongue, carrying a faint smoky aroma and a slightly sweet and sour taste. The marinating time was just right, removing the gamey smell of the meat while preserving its tenderness.

The second dish was a bowl of thick bone broth, made by simmering the leg bones of some large livestock for a full twelve hours. The broth was milky white with a few drops of golden oil floating on the surface. One sip and the rich aroma of bone marrow warmed you from your throat all the way to your stomach.

The main course was a whole slow-roasted rib, as long as an adult's forearm, with a crispy, charred skin brushed with a honey and spice sauce that gleamed an enticing amber sheen under the light. As the knife cut into it, a subtle crackling sound could be heard from the skin, and the juices seeped out along the grain, pooling in a small puddle at the bottom of the plate. The accompanying sauce was said to be made with spices from three different planets, offering distinct layers of flavor—spicy with a hint of sweetness.

The dessert was a creamy caramel pudding with a thin, amber-colored caramel crust on top that shattered easily with a gentle tap of a spoon, revealing a smooth and delicate custard underneath.

Of course, Rhodes and the others paused for a moment when they saw a poultry dish and the place of origin, Esperança, on the card.

Lillie, who came over for a free meal, ate with shining eyes, completely unlike her usual carefree self. She buried herself in her food as if she wanted to make up for all the standard ship rations she had eaten over the past few months. She even ate without saying a word, which was unusual for her, because her mouth was constantly moving.

Rhodes himself ate very comfortably. He wasn't usually a picky eater, and the food he ate on the flagship and in his territory was of the highest quality, but resources couldn't always be plentiful during a voyage.

With a bottle of Shangchao Special Supply Beer of a pretty good vintage, I finally relaxed a bit, and the tension that had been building up on me for months finally eased.

After dinner, he stood on the observation deck of his suite for a while, looking down at the brightly lit spires and covered bridges of the Upper Nest District. In the distance, the holographic dome was simulating a sunset, its orange-red light casting a warm glow on the surface of the steel forest, almost giving the cold metal structures the illusion of being on the surface of a real planet.

A gentle breeze carrying the scent of flowers blew in from the ventilation system, ruffling the stray hairs on Rhodes' forehead.

"good."

Rod gave a rather stingy evaluation, but the curve of his lips betrayed his true thoughts.

"Was it worth it?"

She spoke after a long pause, her tone tinged with smugness.

Don't push your luck.

"Shall we go to that newly opened one tomorrow?

"We'll see."

Lillie, carrying her wine glass, swayed back to her room. She always had a good sense of propriety in this regard, knowing when to give a push and when to stop—a skill she honed while working as a con artist.

Late at night.

The suite was so quiet that only the low hum of the ventilation system and the occasional, almost inaudible mechanical sounds from the upper nest area were broken down by the soundproofing.

After taking a shower, Rhodes changed into loose casual clothes and lay half-reclined on the ridiculously large bed in the master bedroom, flipping through the daily briefings sent by Aliya on the data panel. The mattress was just the right firmness, and the pillows were filled with some unknown material, so fluffy it felt like lying on a cloud.

The briefing didn't reveal anything major. The Terran base production lines in Mordax were operating normally, and it seemed that Inquisitor Sion wasn't planning to cause them any more trouble, probably still processing the psychological impact of the siege tanks and Viking fighters.

As Rod flipped through his eyes, his eyelids began to droop. The aftereffects of the ale were kicking in, and combined with the fatigue of a long day's journey and the feeling of fullness from a hearty dinner, drowsiness washed over him like a tide.

But he was also starting to crave it.

He reached out and pressed the service call button by the bedside, ordering a late-night snack. The kitchen in Florence is open 24/7, which is one of the privileges of luxury suites. He casually ordered a soup and some desserts, nothing too complicated, just enough to fill his stomach.

A few minutes later, the indicator light on the door came on.

"Come in," Rod's voice had a slightly languid nasal tone.

The door slid open, and a young man in a standard service uniform walked in carrying a tray, his gait steady and his smile professional. The uniform was the standard dark blue style for the Upper Nest district, with the Florence Suite logo embroidered on the left chest.

Rod's gaze swept lazily over the surface, his half-drunk state making his attention somewhat scattered. On the tray was a bowl of steaming soup and a few pieces of pastry. The soup was sprinkled with a few black peppercorns and a pinch of chopped herbs, and the pastries were cut into neat triangles, looking quite appealing.

He was about to casually say that it would be fine to just put it on the table, but his gaze inadvertently swept across the waiter's forehead as the waiter bent down to place the tray.

The waiter's bowed head caused his bangs to fall naturally to both sides, revealing a small patch of skin below his hairline.

On that patch of skin, several tiny bony protrusions rose slightly from the surface. Each one was about a third the size of a fingernail, and its color was almost exactly the same as the skin tone. The edges were rounded, and if you didn't look closely, it would be easy to mistake it for a normal skin blemish.

If it weren't for the warm sidelight from the bedside lamp casting extremely subtle shadows on these protrusions, Rod would never have noticed their existence.

His finger hovered over the screen of the data panel.

My brain struggled to function for two seconds in the haze of alcohol.

The tiny, almost invisible bony protrusion on his forehead reminded him of something.

It wasn't some distant memory, but rather the symbol I had repeatedly seen just a few days ago when dealing with Judge Sain—the emblem of the court, a single letter with a skull embedded in the center.

That skull represents the purity of humanity.

Why did the court use a skull symbol to emphasize the purity of humanity?

Because of something that, through generations of genetic infiltration, mixes its bloodline into the human population. The first generation were pure alien monsters, the second generation still showed obvious non-human characteristics, and the third generation was already very close to humans.

By the fourth generation, they were almost identical to purebred humans. Their facial features, body shape, skin color, and voice were all human.

The only difference might be the few tiny, almost negligible bony protrusions on the forehead.

The effects of the alcohol in Rhodes' body evaporated completely in that instant, and his pupils contracted sharply.

The waiter placed the tray steadily on the small table beside the bed, his movements precise and fluid, every detail conforming to the training standards for senior service personnel in the Upper Nest District. He straightened up, nodded politely to Rod, his smile just right—neither overly enthusiastic nor overly cold, the kind of professional smile that makes guests feel comfortable but doesn't leave a lasting impression.

"Please enjoy your meal, sir. Please feel free to call if you need anything else."

Rod gave a lazy smile and waved his hand: "Hmm."

His voice still carried that languid, half-drunk quality, as if he had been thoroughly satisfied with delicious food and fine wine and was about to fall into a deep sleep after finishing his midnight snack.

The waiter bowed slightly again, then turned and walked towards the door. He was no different from any other waiter.

The door slid shut behind him, while Rod remained motionless, staring at the closed door.

Vacation.

Cunning.

Haha.

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