Fu Haoran stood inside an idle factory in the Hive City, watching Servitors install five fully automated food production lines.
Compared with the machines of the Warhammer Universe, the production lines before him were bulky and "primitive," and the Machine Cult classified them as outdated technological artifacts.
Fu Haoran, however, was quite satisfied. These five production lines from the 2K World could ease the current food shortage.
Fu Haoran had considered buying finished products directly, but soon discovered there were plenty of problems.
For example, how would he explain the packaging?
How would he explain where the food came from?
And, of course, there was the issue of cost.
Though the unit price was low, the total would still be astronomical once he bought enough.
Even someone already worth tens of billions felt that the money in his pocket wouldn't cover it.
After weighing his options, Fu Haoran decided to bring in production lines instead. They could make instant noodles, sausages, bread, and more.
It wouldn't solve the food shortage at its root, but it could tide them over for a while. At least the people of Mid-Hive would have something to eat, and they could get through the immediate crisis first.
The production lines still needed workers to help out, though.
"Wade, hire a batch of workers. We're starting today."
Wade nodded but didn't move. After hesitating, he said, "Sir, about the wages... What rate should we use? Our accounts..."
"I know we're broke." Fu Haoran cut him off and pulled a can from the crate by his feet. It had no label or brand name.
Fu Haoran pried it open. The aroma of meat, mixed with the scent of fat, wafted out at once.
"Canned luncheon meat. Two cans a day. Is that enough for wages?"
Wade looked surprised. He'd tried luncheon meat before, and it tasted quite good.
"That's plenty, sir. It's much better than Corpse Starch."
"But, sir, isn't that too generous?"
Now it was Fu Haoran's turn to look surprised. "Too generous?"
"Yes," Wade quickly explained. "Under-hivers risk their lives working all day just to get a mouthful of moldy Corpse Starch."
"If they ration it, it can last them two or even three days."
"Luncheon meat is at least made from real meat mixed with starch."
"It could easily become hard currency in the Hive City."
"If word gets out that you're offering two cans a day, people will be fighting to get in!"
Fu Haoran was stunned for a moment.
He'd almost forgotten. This was Warhammer.
"I understand. Don't change the rate, but only hire our own people. Workers need to eat their fill."
Wade opened his mouth, but in the end, he simply saluted with great force. "Yes! I'll get on it right away!"
As he turned, even his steps seemed lighter.
The news spread through the Lower Hive like wildfire.
The offer of meals and two cans of real meat a day spread like a virus.
Even the most shameless smugglers wouldn't dare make up a lie like that.
By nightfall, five thousand people had crowded into the open lot.
Fu Haoran looked down from the second-floor observation window. He only had to glance once for his heart to sink.
There were far too many small figures mixed into the crowd.
The children were terribly thin, wrapped in scraps of cloth and huddled together in the bitter wind of the Hive City's eternal night.
Some of them stood no higher than the waists of the adults beside them. Their numb eyes were wide open as they clutched the clothes of someone who might have been a parent or older sibling.
Some children had lost even that trace of numbness in their eyes. All that remained was emptiness.
Fu Haoran spun around and stared at Wade. "What's going on with those children? They can't be more than five or six!"
Wade lowered his head, his voice dry. "Sir... They're surplus population."
"Speak plainly."
"Their parents were killed in battle, starved to death, or simply disappeared."
Wade didn't dare meet Fu Haoran's eyes.
"The Hive City's public orphanages closed ten years ago. No quotas, no budget."
"Children without parents either fight mutant rats for food in the garbage dumps, or..."
He paused, his voice dropping lower. "They get taken away and sent to workshops down in the Lower Hive... The kind the noble lords forbid us from asking about."
"Did the previous Governor do nothing?"
"The previous Governor?" Wade suddenly grew angry. "Sir, to the nobles, people are just numbers on a tax ledger."
"They think that if one batch dies, the lower classes will simply have more children."
"The noble lords only care whether the mines and factories have enough workers to meet their quotas."
Fu Haoran fell silent.
He knew Warhammer was grim. He'd read about it in books and fought through it in games.
But words and screens were nothing like the hundreds of children's eyes staring at him in person.
Fu Haoran felt his stomach turn.
It wasn't disgust. It was something heavier.
He remained silent for a long time.
So long that Wade began to grow uneasy.
"List the minors separately." Fu Haoran finally spoke. His voice was calm, but Wade could hear what lay beneath it.
"Register every child. Write down their name, age, and whether they have any family."
"Sir, do you intend to..."
"Clear out every vacant room in the Governor's Office."
"Turn them into dormitories and take these children in. Three meals a day. Have veterans from the Guard Regiment take turns looking after them."
Wade grew frantic. "Sir! We can't afford to raise them! Food, manpower, space..."
"I'll find a way to get the food! You coordinate the manpower! If we don't have enough space, we'll expand!"
Fu Haoran glared at him. "The children can't be left to starve. They're not a burden. They're our hope."
Fu Haoran paused, then added, "Also, if the widows of our fallen brothers can't afford to raise their children, let them bring them here too. We'll provide food and lodging. They can visit their children whenever they want."
Wade was completely stunned.
He looked at Fu Haoran as if he were seeing his superior for the first time.
"Sir... To do all this, we'll need a lot more things..."
"I know." Fu Haoran cut him off. His gaze passed over the small, thin figures and settled on the towering Hive City buildings. His tone was grave.
"We can wait. They can't."
"We overthrew the old Governor so we wouldn't become the new nobles."
[Guard Regiment Loyalty +8 — "The boss seems... different?"] [Chance of rioters appearing in the territory -7%] [Hidden event triggered: Glimmer of the Young] [You have planted a promise. In the Hive City, promises are rarer than bullets. Fulfill it, and you may earn immeasurable loyalty.] [Warning: If you fail to keep this promise, the backlash will be doubled.] [Universal Points +666, Charisma +3]
The matter of the children was put on hold, but the real trouble came knocking at once.
Wade reported with a bitter expression, "Sir, to get the production lines running, we need to connect them to the secondary power grid or provide our own Promethium generator."
"The Energy Bureau is asking for five thousand Throne Coins. A used generator on the black market costs three thousand. And our accounts..."
He gave a figure.
Fu Haoran furrowed his brows. "What about trading the canned food for money?"
"All the channels capable of handling large shipments are controlled by the nobles and their guilds," Wade explained.
"If we take the canned food to them, they'll force the price way down. We don't know any black market traders, so it'll be hard to get a good price."
Fu Haoran's head began to ache. How could a Reincarnator like him possibly know local bosses or smugglers?
Wade continued, "Sir, we need someone who knows the business."
"Otherwise... No matter how much we produce, we'll just be working for someone else."
Almost at the same time, a system warning appeared:
[Financial deficit worsening] [Hive City economic status updated: Currency credibility has collapsed. The prevalence of barter in the lower levels has reached 75%. Throne Coins circulate only in noble transactions and tax payments.] [Riot risk +12% (continuously rising)]
Fu Haoran closed the interface and rubbed his brow.
They lacked money, people, and connections.
"Where can we find someone like that in the Hive City?" Fu Haoran asked.
Wade smiled bitterly. "Anyone with those skills either became an adviser to the nobles long ago, or ended up in an Adeptus Arbites prison for knowing too much—or being made the scapegoat."
Fu Haoran's eyes lit up.
Prison? A jail?
That was right! How had he forgotten?
You couldn't find good people through the talent market, but the prisons were full of talented people.
You needed real skill and nerve to get sent there by the noble lords themselves.
Those people knew how to talk and had the skills to back it up. Best of all, they were cheap.
"Come on, let's go see the Adeptus Arbites." Fu Haoran was eager to get moving.
"Um... Sir, as far as I know, the High Judge in charge of the Adeptus Arbites is the son-in-law of an Imperial official."
Wade's expression darkened. "He has a terrible reputation, and... he's close to the nobles who supported the old Governor. He probably won't be friendly to you."
"Friendly?" Fu Haoran laughed. "I'm not going there to make friends."
"Of course, if he insists on showing us how to negotiate politely, then we don't need to hold back."
The system's voice followed.
[Quest triggered: Prison Talent Market Day Trip] [Requirement: Recruit a black market old hand who can help you steal money from the nobles.] [Hint: The Warden is a vicious dog raised by the nobles. He is deeply hostile toward you, and the Black Prison is a complicated place. Consider bringing enough persuasive power.] [In the Warhammer World, talented people are often synonymous with prisoners. After all, good people don't live long, while clever villains can rise to the top.] [Quest reward: Universal Points +500]
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