Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 331 Angel’s Dream·No Money

"...Yes, that's the identity..."

"...Whatever you want, Conrad..."

The maids came to him again, this time two. Whether this was a dream or another world, Sanguinius knew both of them - after a battle with mutants, the tribal elders took in two orphan girls for him.

Sanguinius hoped that in this dream, he would still win every mutant battle.

They exchanged worried glances, then opened the box. "We know you don't like wearing such thick clothing, but the other suits were chewed through by bats in the storage room, Lord Sanguinius."

Inside the box lay something very unfamiliar to Sanguinius. It was not that he had never seen protective clothing before, but this one was thick and tight, with multiple interlayers, with a special emphasis on the respiratory mask set, which even hung around the waist. The gray-yellow costume with a small incense burner made Sanguinius somewhat unable to help laughing.

He barely squeezed into the slightly bulky costume and felt the heavy shoulder straps holding the oxygen tube pressing on his shoulders. The last time he felt the same pressure was when his wings grew slightly faster than his body.

"Lord Sanguinius, where are you going today?" the maid asked curiously, "To the pure-blood meeting?"

"No, I just went to a meeting yesterday," Sanguinius shook his head in his helmet, smiling as usual. Then he realized that the maid couldn't see his face, so he moved his facial muscles and made some gestures that he didn't usually do. The expression that should be shown.

"Then are you going to the temple?"

"No," Sanguinius shook his head even more violently, and he had to straighten his helmet to ensure it was sealed again.

"Then..." the maid was a little confused, "Market? Recently, a new group of merchants came here to do business. It is said that there are many strange craftsmen inside, such as a leatherworker with very strange hobbies. He must sew clothes on his clothes." He added a lot of stitches... He is so scary that we don’t even dare to tax him.”

"I see," Sanguinius laughed, "that guy!"

Sanguinius stepped out of the room, and the pain caused by radiation disappeared. He exhaled a comfortable breath and bravely walked out of the room wearing a heavy protective suit.

Ten minutes later, Sanguinius hid under other people's shacks, sat on the ground against the wall, opened his helmet slightly, and fanned some air under his helmet.

He bet that the temperature inside his protective suit must be far above forty degrees Celsius, and that water, which was extremely precious in Baal, was leaking out of Sanguinius's body in the form of sweat.

In some areas where water is extremely scarce, the tribes living there will not let go of any recyclable water. They even rely on remnants of ancient technology and have developed the unfortunate custom of squeezing water from the bodies of their dead.

If those pure-blood tribes saw Sanguinius looking around and then secretly pouring out the sweat accumulated in his gloves and boots on the ground, they would probably rush up and argue with him with all their teeth and claws - even if he was an archangel.

Well, Sanguinius said silently to himself, it seems this is the price of being mortal.

The angel moved forward slowly, following the shadows of various buildings. He knew where the market was, but he had never imagined that it was that far away - under normal circumstances, all he needed was a few dozen seconds of flying with one wingbeat. But if you rely on walking, through the winding streets and over the undulations of the terrain, it is another matter entirely.

How did those water sellers rush to the market within half an hour when the mist dispersed in the early morning, grab the best seats - often at the entrance or center of the market, and call on the children to help set up the carts and carts? On the table, a series of water glasses are lined up, and the water in the water bag is poured one by one, waiting for the thirsty Baers to count the coins to complete the transaction?

This was a life that was both familiar and unfamiliar to Sanguinius. It was not part of the mortal journey he had imagined, but it did add to the richness of the journey. After sighing, Sanguinius was willing to accept.

He approached a booth, hoping that he could show friendliness through body language and through the protective clothing.

"I wonder how you sell water here," Sanguinius asked. "It's quite hot. Is it cold water?"

"The filter here really has the function of keeping warm," said the middle-aged man selling water. Sanguinius also knew him. He knew many people among the civilians of Baal. "It's guaranteed to keep you cool. Lord Sanguinius, Would you like to try it? The water source is groundwater in the desert. The process is a bit troublesome, but there is less radiation there. "

"Sounds like an adventure. Have a drink," Sanguinius said, giving up wondering how he was recognized. "How's your income?"

"It depends on the weather and passenger flow. It's been pretty good lately. There's a new group of walking merchants in the market, and the number of customers has also increased."

Sanguinius lifted his helmet, brushed aside his sweaty blond hair, carefully picked up the cup and took a sip.

"I think you saved my life, this outfit is so hot."

"Hey, it's better than being exposed to radiation. All we can do is wrap it up with a cloth!" The water seller opened a sleeve, briefly showing his damaged skin, and then quickly covered it. "How's the water?"

Sanguinius put down his cup and his helmet clicked shut. The water seller screws on the lid of the clay kettle.

"Thank you," he said. "Where will the new traveling merchant here set up his stall? In the middle of the market?"

"It's a little north of the middle. Although the leather they sell looks weird, the quality is very good. You can try it."

"Okay, I'll go take a look. Goodbye, friend." Sanguinius waved goodbye gracefully, and before he turned around, the water seller grabbed the small incense burner on his waist.

He looked back in confusion. "What's wrong?"

The Water Seller raised a hand and spread it out in front of Sanguinius.

"Sir," he said, "I'm sorry, this is not a business without capital, and there are relatives waiting for dinner at home, so please see... can you pay? I will give you a discount, minus 50%, and it will be just one An iron coin, okay?”

Sanguinius froze on the spot. "When my wings grow back, can I give you a feather?" he said awkwardly.

"Take it." Another man came out from behind Sanguinius and tossed two iron coins to the water seller.

Just by getting closer to this person, a chill suddenly came over me.

If it were placed in some dark abyss, it would be a harbinger of death, but this is Baal in the scorching heat.

Sanguinius took a step back, getting closer to the source of the cold air, and exhaled comfortably in his helmet.

Curze was so frightened that he took another step back.

Sanguinius turned back and stared at Conrad Coze, who was the same height as him and wearing a black, red and blue tattered cloak through his helmet. His pale face was slightly reddened by the sun. He tilted his head and said, "Are you there?" Do you sell furs here, Conrad?"

Coates sneered: "How else am I going to pay your water bill, dear brother?"

"No, that's not what I want to say," Angel blinked, "I just want to ask, have you not paid your taxes yet?"