Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

News of Nora’s death in the Northlands and her beheading quickly spread across the entire island.

The official newspaper issued by Castel dedicated three full pages to reporting the causes and consequences of Nora’s fate.

From the workers to the Holy Guard, from the Moths Chasing Fire to the Banshees, everyone began discussing the matter all at once.

Some people knew Nora. That short little girl, although rarely smiling and with rather rough medical skills, had never hesitated to offer help to the islanders.

She had once helped villagers drive away wild beasts, and with the Mind Link, had given a hard beating to the backside of a thieving Coyote. Though these were all trivial matters, many still remembered this white-haired young girl.

She wore clothes somewhat out of place with the times, her customs were different from those of the islanders, but the kindness in her heart was the same.

Nora had always been like this. In the Northlands she had risked her life to save refugees, and on the island she helped the poor, even though she herself lived in poverty.

Word of mouth spread fast. Before long, the small deeds she had done were passed around among the islanders, and this somewhat distant name gradually became more tangible.

The workers recounted her past, and even within the Holy Guard there was talk of Nora.

Previously, the churches of the Imperial Truth often hosted spontaneous study groups, but now, more and more discussions centered on Nora and the Northlands.

Hughes had always warned the Holy Guard not to indulge in worship of Explosive Yield, but the Holy Guard unanimously believed this was indeed a problem that should be solved with Explosive Yield.

They might never have seen Nora, but who hadn’t seen a few corrupt and depraved noble lords?

To wantonly slaughter refugees, and even when Castel had clearly stated its intention to shelter them, still send severed heads in provocation—how could the Holy Guard tolerate such things?

These northern lords might not respect the Holy Guard, but they must respect Explosive Yield. If they did not, then the Holy Guard would use Explosive Yield to reason with them.

Thus, soon the entire church resounded with voices of discussion.

Hughes gave no reply, but the next day, the newspaper once again devoted an entire page to a new proclamation. It enumerated the crimes of those lords, described Nora’s valor in battle and her selflessness in helping refugees, portraying her as a saint suffering in the mortal world.

Everyone who read the newspaper burned with anger. Soldiers’ petitions for battle piled into Alexei’s office like snowflakes, eventually ending up on Hughes’ desk.

And still, Hughes gave no reply.

On the third day, the newspaper printed nothing else, only a short message—Castel would convene a mobilization assembly. Everyone would have the day off and could come to the cathedral to attend.

It did not say what kind of mobilization, but everyone already knew.

It did not say who the enemy would be, but all were eager, fists itching for action.

In such an atmosphere, the mobilization assembly began.

Castel’s workers and the Holy Guard gathered in the cathedral’s atrium.

The atrium was the very center of Castel Cathedral. Below it lay the Stellar Furnace, its surroundings the thickest walls of the church, and in the middle an immense skylight.

People stood along the railings on every level, gazing at Hughes in the center.

Hughes said nothing. He merely took the box from Galahad, lifted Nora’s head in both hands, and walked along the spiraling staircase that climbed upwards through the atrium.

People whispered, but when Hughes passed before them, they fell silent, paying solemn tribute to the girl’s head.

Hughes offered no rousing call, no speech, no fiery words of mobilization. He simply carried Nora’s head past each person.

The suppressed fury swelled like crashing waves, resonating in every chest before gathering together, becoming a tsunami that could sweep away everything.

Everyone seemed to merge into a single whole, with anger flowing freely within their hearts.

Step by step, Hughes ascended the staircase. The noise gradually faded into silence. When he reached the top, the church of several thousand stood utterly hushed.

He placed Nora’s head gently beside the Memorial Stele of the fallen, not far from Chloe.

Then, he turned and looked down at the people in the church.

Countless gazes fixed upon him, every face burning with the same rage.

Hughes paused for a moment, then spoke softly:

  “Let’s go to war.”

As if gunpowder were instantly ignited, the entire atrium erupted in a frenzy.

From all directions, people roared in response to their lord. They raised fists, wrenches, rifles, and bayonets.

The deafening shouts thundered through the cathedral, winding upward from the atrium, soaring into the heavens.

Galahad stood below in the atrium, watching the crowd’s roar and cheers, his face filled with awe.

He had seen mobilizations before. The Prince excelled at them, always able to deliver stirring speeches that roused soldiers’ morale, inspiring them to die for him.

But all Hughes had done was ascend the platform and declare war, and yet the people responded with the fiercest emotions to their lord.

Such fervor and rage could not be faked. Galahad could see at a glance the fire surging in their hearts.

But how was this possible? Hughes had merely declared war!

Galahad stood bewildered among the crowd, until a newspaper, dropped by someone unknown, landed at his feet.

A newspaper was nothing new; he had seen them long ago in the Rhine. During his days in Castel, he had read them regularly.

He had to admit, those reports and proclamations were well-written.

Though not a man of Castel, reading them had still stirred Galahad with anger and oppression, making him long to draw his sword and rush to the Northlands immediately.

Then how much more so for those raised here in Castel, who had grown up with this land in their hearts?

These past few days, Galahad had heard people discussing it constantly. Emotions, like steel in a forge, had been hammered again and again until white-hot.

Today’s mobilization assembly was nothing more than the moment of volcanic eruption. The true mobilization had begun days earlier—in the articles of those newspapers, in the factories, and in the churches. Those were the true assemblies being held all across Castel.

Hughes did not need to say anything. All he needed was to strike a match to the powder keg.

A shiver ran down Galahad’s spine. A sudden clarity struck him like divine revelation, and he finally understood Hughes’ method.

This was the true power of the newspaper. The press in Rhine that only reported trivial gossip seemed childish and laughable compared to Castel’s.

Looking up at Hughes on high, Galahad suddenly felt a trace of fear. This man could command steel and command human hearts alike. Was this not what the legends claimed of the gods?

On the cathedral’s Memorial Stele, Nora slowly opened her eyes. She glanced at Chloe’s diary not far away, her expression turning strange.

After a moment’s thought, she took the initiative to greet: “Chloe of the Candlelight Emblem?”

〖No, not anymore.〗

After a pause, words appeared upon Chloe’s diary:

〖Nora of the Silent Sanctum?〗

Nora’s face twitched slightly.

“No, not anymore.”

An awkward silence fell between the two.