— I've heard many stories about people who eat their own kind, — Erik said in a soothing tone, while Magg crunched on Goblin bones in the background. — They either pray to dark gods, or they are struck by a graveyard curse. Ghouls. Have you heard of them?
Yes. I even tried watching the first season. An anime for a niche audience.
— But no human has suffered from eating Greenskins. They can talk. That's what bothers people. I've seen a lot of them. You know what? They speak in repetitive phrases and always lie. If you've seen one Goblin, you've seen them all. Some are craftier, some are stupider, but they're the same garbage inside. I'm not pushing you, Jurgen. And I won't respect you any less. It's just… This is good stew and it tastes good.
A sly smile spread across the Halfling's gap-toothed face. I poked the Snotling meat stew with a wooden fork. These aren't even Goblins. They're just very stupid small creatures. The fact that they sometimes speak doesn't make them truly human. Crows and parrots talk too. Would I eat a parrot out of starvation? Probably, yes.
My stomach was empty. I was tired and had spent a lot of energy helping Erik. My body needed building materials so that the magic could properly strengthen it.
The stewed Snotling meat was dark and hardly gave off a green color. Meat is meat. The structure is slightly different but…
I picked up a piece of meat and a potato with the wooden fork and put it in my mouth. The Halfling's revenge on the Greenskins was, indeed, good to taste. Salt and pepper in the right amount. After a couple of bites, all my inner turmoil evaporated. I started eating.
— Enjoy your meal, — Erik smiled.
Magg mumbled something incoherent with his mouth full. His jaws worked like a damned industrial shredder. His huge teeth easily crushed the Greenskins' tiny bones. Cracking, crunching, and satisfied smacking accompanied the process.
I also enjoyed the meal. First, I devoured two plates of stew, and then I even tried a Goblin cutlet, taking some rice with it. The latter seemed especially tasty, as it evoked a sense of nostalgia for my past life even more than the potatoes.
Finishing the feast, I returned to the tavern. It was early morning, and most of the people were still awake. However, in the hall, I ran into Pieck, Hef, and two others from their company.
— Jurgen, is it? — Pieck addressed me. — Come over here, boy.
A sense of foreboding made me tense up. I could only hope that a fight would be avoided. My only weapon now was a knife, and Pieck was clearly a seasoned warrior. I figured he'd cut me down before I could gather enough magical fury.
— You're getting along too well with these non-humans, lad, — Pieck stated with clear disapproval and even aggression.
— Well… They helped a lot, — I justified myself.
— Yeah. And now it's time for them to clear out. We don't have extra food for that big guy, and the little rogue smells like theft. They're non-humans. Not Gobs, but miscreants too. Let's go.
These "lessons" weren't particularly pleasant, but they were encouraging. Pieck was certainly an oddball, but he wasn't planning an attack. He was even trying to win me over.
Together with Pieck and his cronies, we approached one of the storerooms. The mercenary unlocked the door. Inside, there was all sorts of weapons. Trophies from Goblins, property of the deceased village guards and the caravan. Spears, axes, cleavers, several swords, crossbows, even firearms.
— Take a sword, a shield, a spear, — Pieck commanded.
He was really getting into the role of a commander or even a petty feudal lord. It seemed he already considered this tavern his territory. And he was counting me as part of his gang too. Logical. I am the local guy, after all. However, I had no reason or desire to stay here. I had my own mission. Its goal was very far from here. Besides, I would like to get to more or less civilized areas of human habitation. However, Pieck would hardly be happy to hear about such an initiative from me. But it's better to say it now. Because if I accept his gifts, he won't leave me alone.
— Herr Pieck, — I began. — Respected comrades…
One of the mercenaries smirked. Probably, in his entire career, no one had called him a respected comrade. However, I was quite consciously playing the role of a confused youth. It would be better that way for now.
— I had a dream last night, — I continued. — A voice. It commanded me to travel to the Empire and become a novice of the Order of Sigmar.
— Are you out of your mind? — Pieck reacted aggressively, leaning toward me.
I suddenly realized that he slightly resembled the main antagonist from the movie Gangs of New York.
— We need every pair of hands here, boy. Every man is worth his weight in gold. And you're peddling me some magic dream?!
This was serious pressure, but suddenly I found unexpected advocates. The first was the superstitious hunter.
— But Pieck, what if it really is Sigmar? The boy wasn't killed by magic. It's not for nothing. I heard about this from my grandmother…
— Shut up, Willy, — Pieck snapped.
However, Hef also supported the idea of my leaving the location. I think this brute couldn't care less about divine motives. He was just happy to get rid of a rival for Lora's hand and heart. Although, I believe he was more interested in other parts of the girl's body.
— Don't anger the gods, Pieck, — Hef said sternly. — If the boy wants to go, let him go. Let him become a Witch Hunter or some kind of monk. Who cares. His business.
Such strong opposition came as a complete surprise to Pieck. Would he go against the group, trying to push his will, or…
— Then clear off. But don't expect any gear.
Or he would just start being difficult. The second option.
— Herr Pieck, — I said as politely as possible. — I'm not asking for any share of the loot, but allow me to take weapons. I helped you in the fight. I killed the Shaman. You have more weapons now than people.
— Let your favorite non-humans help you or let Sigmar lend you a hammer, — the mercenary replied maliciously, preparing to close the armory.
— I will pay.
This argument interested him.
— Where would you get money? Did you steal some of the loot?
— No. I killed an important Goblin when I escaped. Here…
I handed Pieck the purse I had looted from the first Greenskin victim. The mercenary critically examined the contents. I don't know how many coins and stones are there by local standards, but being stingy on weapons is fatally stupid. Especially considering the journey that awaited me.
Magg and Erik would soon be leaving to find new employers, and new enemies at the same time. I figured I would travel with them to the borders of the Empire. However, it would be better to walk there armed.
Pieck twirled the purse in his hands, then poured the contents into his own belt pouch and said:
— Take it. A shield, a sword, and a spear, as I said.
What generosity. Would I actually be able to leave without a conflict? In fact, I would like to. I have no illusions about Pieck and his friends. They are more bandits than mercenaries. However, they are still human. In this particularly foul part of this rather foul world, even types like them are better than Gobs. Perhaps they would have enough sense to restore the tavern and receive caravans, rather than just robbing travelers.
I surveyed the piles of trophy weapons. There weren't many swords, and Pieck, I'm sure, had hidden the best samples for himself. So, I chose one of the simpler, decent blades. Almost a meter of sharpened steel. A one-handed sword from one of the caravan guards. No decorations. The leather wrap on the hilt had hardened from many years of use. However, the blade remained in good condition. I could feel a little oil on the edge to prevent rust. I wanted to test the weapon. Just swing it around, but doing that in the presence of the mercenaries was extremely unwise.
Besides the sword, I also took a spear about my height and a black round shield with a punch grip. The Imperials now prefer other models with a strap for carrying on the forearm. However, here in the wilderness, such simple, Viking-style samples were still common. Simplicity is what I need right now. Alas, neither in the past life of my mind nor in the past life of the body were we great warriors.
Taking the weapons, I left the storeroom. Several rescued residents and guests had gathered in the main hall.
— If only I can get to Altdorf… Gods… — lamented a man who was once decently dressed, but was now wrapped in tattered, dirty cloak remnants. — I'll describe it all. Yes! Beautifully, dramatically. Gods… Sigmar and Shallya. I'll describe it properly, or I'm not Jeremiah von Bikenstadt.
No one paid attention to his words. All the survivors were only occupied with their grief. The gray-haired man leaned over an empty tankard of ale. His semi-mad eyes expressed boundless sorrow. Every movement seemed clumsy and sluggish. This man probably didn't know what he had to live for anymore.
Observing such a scene, I perfectly understood Erik's hatred for Goblins. The Halfling himself also entered the hall and addressed me in a half-whisper:
— As soon as we get some sleep today, Magg and I will leave this place. Have you changed your mind about coming with us, young man?
— No, — I replied. — This is no longer my home. I don't want to stay here.
— I understand. Then get some sleep and eat before the journey. There are still many cutlets left. They turned out especially tasty this time.
For the next hour, I slowly gathered my simple belongings for the road. I needed at least a minimum of survival items: a blanket, a cloak, a flask, oil to keep the metal gear from rusting, and a flint. Fortunately, there were plenty of unclaimed items in the tavern. Pieck had only seized the weapons and money.
— If you want, come with us, — I offered Lora, who was helping me pack.
The girl hesitated. She was clearly torn between the desire to be as far away as possible from the preoccupied mercenaries and the desire to stay in a fortified settlement.
— I want to leave, — she nodded. — But let's wait for the next caravan.
At this, I shook my head negatively. Staying here under Herr Pieck's command did not appeal to me at all.
— That's a shame, Jurgen, — she sighed. — Perhaps the gods will bring us together again in the lands of the Empire.
I doubt it.
Gratefully accepting the items packed in the canvas sack, I went to eat and rest before the journey.
Magg was sitting in front of the barn, lazily gnawing on a horse bone. Not far from him, Erik was fussing around a cart pulled by a donkey. The animal glanced fearfully at the Ogre. Poor thing. The donkey clearly lived in constant fear of ending up on Magg's table. However, the Ogre was now full, as much as possible, and content with life.
— Come 'ere, — he called, without stopping his bone gnawing. — Yer Jurg… Is that what they call ya?
— Jurgen.
— Yeah. Jurg.
Now it was clear how Erik became Eri.
— Here, — the Ogre extended his other paw and unclenched his palm.
There was a scattering of copper coins, among which several silver ones gleamed. The money was thickly stained with grease and some other biological substance. The Ogre tilted his huge palm, pouring the contents into my hand. Money doesn't stink? Not so much. However, even cash stained with rotten grease was very useful.
— Thank you.
— Yer earnt it, — the Ogre replied, crunching the bone. — Got us the Shaman, got us lots of other meat, and most importantly, distracted that creepy woman. Though she tasted kinda good smoked. But I like another woman. Grela. The daughter of my clan chief. I'm going back home. Everyone will see how fat and rich I've become. Then I'll marry her. So we gotta go, Jurg. Find more grub, and gold… and more grub! We'll leave soon, but first I'll sleep.
I went to nap in one of the empty houses nearby. I didn't want to go back to the tavern, and lying down near Magg… risked getting caught in a gas attack.
A sword, a shield, a spear, a little money, and a lot of things to do—these were the results of my second day in the new world. Falling asleep, I expected new instructions from the foggy knight, but I just got a repetition of the previous vision. It seems the Slann is right. An autonomous spell was cast on us. We didn't talk to anyone in the dream, but only observed pre-recorded instructions.
After a couple of hours of sleep, it was time to prepare for the journey. I don't know how wise it is to set out in the evening, but Magg and Erik are experienced travelers. Let them figure it out themselves. Perhaps they just want to leave Herr Pieck's company as soon as possible, so as not to tear his head off during another conflict.
— We'll get to Black Fire Pass in two or three weeks, — the Halfling reasoned, tossing a couple of sacks of smoked Goblin meat onto the cart. — It depends on how much time we spend hunting and cooking.
— Will we hunt Goblins? — I asked, folding my few belongings.
— No. Unfortunately, no. Do you know why we hire ourselves out to guard caravans? For money and to fight the Greenskins on equal terms. Those wretches rarely travel in small groups. Where there is one Goblin, there are a hundred.
I see. Caravans are both allies in battle and bait to attract the attention of the Greenskins for these two.
We left the village quietly. Only Lora and a few other local survivors saw us off.
— Here, Jurgen, hold this, — the gray-haired man who had recently been sitting in the tavern handed me a good dagger, one that an experienced hunter or even a poor knight could be proud of. — I wanted to give it to my son for his wedding… And now… Please, take care of yourself. And if you really become a Templar, kill as many of those creatures as possible!
I don't promise to become a Templar, but I will probably have to kill creatures.
In addition to the knife, I was also given a Sigmarite amulet for the road. A brass hammer pendant. A very useful item as a friend-or-foe marker. I specifically asked Lora to get me this amulet.
The three of us, plus the donkey Ponky, set off into the dangerous deep lands. However, the first few hours of the journey passed very calmly.
I walked alongside the cart, occasionally exchanging words with Erik. Magg also added something from time to time, pulling a piece of Goblin meat from the cart.
— The fact that these beings get along is expected, — Loom-Pia remarked. — Their species were created by the Old Ones as some of the last and according to similar patterns.
Were humans in my world also created by these same Old Ones? Honestly, I doubt it. Perhaps even here the Old Ones didn't create anyone from scratch. They only took races inhabiting different worlds and edited their genomes. However, I didn't share such thoughts with my built-in toad. He might think I was insulting his gods.
The cart creaked rhythmically. We walked calmly, watching the sun disappear behind the forest thicket. It smelled fresh and of some flowering herbs. I was surprised that pleasant aromas even existed in this world. After close contact with Goblins, that was hard to believe.
The first night also passed calmly.
We stopped at the edge of the forest, hid the cart in the thicket, and prepared for sleep. I somehow made myself a bed of spruce branches, covering it with a blanket. It was hard, prickly, and cool. I sadly recalled the new couch on which my past lifeless body was lying. If only I had it here… I mean the couch. Not the corpse.
Or…
A crazy thought popped into my head. I thought that I could easily warm up and cheer up just by shedding someone else's blood. By slaughtering a couple of Goblins, for example.
Dangerous thoughts. I really, really hope that I am, indeed, protected from the corrupting influence of Chaos. Otherwise, with such ideas, two of the Great Four Gods of Destruction would gladly claim my soul.
Killing for pleasure is an idea suitable for Slaanesh.
With Khorne, everything is even simpler. Kill, and that's it.
I closed my eyes, covering my head with the blanket. Sleep wouldn't come. All that was left was to listen to Magg's snoring, who was dozing near the cart. Erik was hiding among the foliage, guarding our sleep. In three hours, I would have to relieve him. So, I should get some sleep while I had the chance. However, lying under the open sky, covered only by a thin blanket, I felt unpleasantly vulnerable.
Stupid thoughts crept into my mind. I imagined how, somewhere high up or even in the entire space around, unseen dark entities were reaching for me. In my past life, such thoughts could be easily dismissed as nonsense. However, in this world, demons and dark gods who command them exist. Monsters who desire the destruction of all things. And, if my memory serves me right, they should succeed in destroying this world.