Warhammer: I, Bartor Farmer

Chapter 82 A New Year's Story for Book Friends

Since the Old Continent was invaded by the Eight Winds to establish an empire in Sigmar, every time it comes to witchcraft, that is, when the year changes, people will always have hope for living a year and despair for the future.

I don’t think this kind of thinking is wrong, nor is it bad. It is only in this way that people can progress.

But when it snowed lightly in front of the outpost in Ostland, and the time of witchcraft approached, Marcus was not in the mood to study his little thoughts for too long, and could only pay attention to the safety hazards caused by the snow on the ground, or is something else.

But when he was on patrol, he saw a strange group of footprints on the ground, so he stopped and sighed. "Beastmen, Beastmen, or something..."

"It's not like a hoof, it's like a dog's paw... what is this thing?"

But this is not a place for outpost defense. Marcus must rest his heart in his stomach. The day of witchcraft is approaching, and he wants to ensure the safety of Ostland.

After a while, the guards who came to take over their shifts wore the clothes of Osterland. It was hard to say how the imperials ensured such a high rate of armor approval for the soldiers, so that mortals could resist demons, but in Osterland, this poor place is considered a Marcus also only has a dyed trench coat to keep out the cold.

He said so. "Brother, did you see it? There are strange footprints near the outpost."

"That's not like the Beastmen..."

The changing guards were a little impatient. They had to endure Kislev's cold snap in such a cold weather, and Marcus was worrying about this and that again.

"Okay, my "mother", it's almost time, you go back to drink a bowl of hot soup, and I have to watch you in the middle of the night."

Marcus could only walk out of the guard hall of the outpost and continue thinking about the topic just now.

Well, he is not a very smart person, at least he is not a scholar, in the place where he was born, the people there are farmers.

At least that's what his mother said, it's a rich and beautiful place, but most people can only eat from the ground, even though he thinks the empire is the same.

His worldview is shattered when his family tells him that he is actually a Bretonnian.

He chose to join the army without hesitation and came here.

But what's worse than working in Ostland?
Unless the city falls that day, I have to go inside to stop the demon's plan, but such a thing should never be my turn.

When he came to the camp, he naturally picked up a bowl of mashed potatoes, poured thick chicken soup on it, and ate it, listening to the complaints of other sergeants, and the days getting worse and worse.

If it wasn't for the wind and snow outside, he would just want to practice swordsmanship in the mountains, or go logging and prepare warm wood.

Although the dense forest is still dangerous, the small number of Beastmen has gradually become unable to hinder this fierce man.

But in winter, this bad and boring day still goes on, in the life of the imperial people.

Marcus returned to his room. He is a very passive person. In theory, everyone can be his friend, but he will not take the initiative to attack, so as to cover up his character.

But at the moment, his only friend is also in the army, although he is a bit strange and doesn't like to go out very much.

His name is Ella, and he doesn't like to discuss his surname. He is lying on the bed at the moment, writing a book with a quill. Marcus is a little puzzled, why does a person like him come to the army.

When he asked, Ella would answer that this is his hobby, and it has been sent to the city during this period, and he will be able to retire soon, and then earn money by writing books.

But Marcus would immediately be sarcastic about him. "Man, how's your subscription going?"

"Is it still the story of Bretonnia? Let me be blunt, the romance of those knights does not make money in this territory."

The oil lamp in front of Ella flickered fiercely at this moment. "Subscribe? Didn't I say that! Do I have to write another [-] words to get paid?!"

"Those disgusting businessmen want to take almost half of my money, and life is almost impossible."

Marcus took a sip of hot water, which is rare in Osterland, and he also seemed comfortable. "Then what are you still insisting on? Can't you work hard?"

Ayla rubbed the tip of her nose, rubbing off a layer of dirt, maybe he hasn't taken care of himself for a long time. "Oh... I don't like it, why do you do this?"

Marcus answered sharply. "It can also be an escape, right? You just don't want to work on the docks, and you don't like to go to the store to help."

Ella waved her hand. "Sigma, that's enough, I'm eating from the Empire now."

"By the way, do you know that in my hometown, today is called Xiaonian."

Marcus chewed on the word. "Little... year?" He couldn't read clearly, but it was about the same.

Ella nodded repeatedly. "That's right, there are also dumplings. Anyway, in my memory, they are much better than now."

Marcus didn't quite understand it, and only felt it was empty. People cannot communicate with each other. He just rubbed his chin.

"I actually quite liked your Bretonnian story, but, if I ask you..."

"The muskets are really bad. How could you write something that explodes every day? My buddy next door lost his eyes because of it."

Next, Ella will start chattering about what black powder represents progress, stability, productivity, as well as steam, eight winds and other incomprehensible words.

When he was in charge, he began to introduce various delicacies to Marcus, such as tamales, spicy chicken, and sweet and sour pork ribs, all of which Marcus had never heard of.

Marcus didn't hate it, and even enjoyed it a little bit. The two of them often did this, chatting empty-handedly in the outpost, watching the evil moon outside at night.

When the episode was over, Marcus remained the listener until Ella actually asked.

"Will you order? From those merchants."

Marcus said. "But you are by my side, why can't I just buy a copy?"

Ella frowned. "This is a bit complicated. You know, there are not only one, but many contributors."

"No, how did they call it... The average subscription of five hundred chapters, yes, this word..."

"I don't want to complain, but the name is terrible. Anyway, if there is no five hundred, those merchants will not put books on the shelves."

Marcus was a little surprised. "Where is that?"

Ella replied. "The warehouse, unless those who want to read it go to the warehouse to pick up the new copy. In other words, if there are no new readers, I can only give up."

Marcus was a little disgusted, he waved his hands again and again. "My god, my god, this is a squeeze, are they beastmen or something?"

Ella shook her head. "This is the market, everyone is doing this, and that newspaper has treated me very well."

"Compared to this, happy new year, Marcus, your life is not easy."

Marcus sighed, he kind of wanted to go back to his hometown of Bretonnia, kind of…

On this day.

"Good day on the day of witchcraft, Mr. Ella, by the way, is your surname really Wang? You look like a Cathayman!"

Ella retorted. "Marcus, shut up now, or you'll marry a Wood Elf someday!"

　This chapter is pure entertainment
　　no mapping reality

　　no basis in reality

　　It's just a story that happened in the Osterland of the Empire
　　Marcus is the Plague Four...or five?
　　
　
(End of this chapter)