Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

That day’s mobilization was rather successful.

The day after the mobilization meeting ended, Hughes was still going through the reports when Alexei came knocking. He was the Supervisor in charge of Holy Guard enlistment, and by now his office had already been packed to the brim.

As soon as he stepped inside, he began to complain to his lord.

“Don’t even mention those wanting to newly join the Holy Guard. Basically, all the workers have submitted applications. Even those old veterans from before—now they’re submitting petitions in whole squads, hoping to join the Expeditionary Army.”

Alexei sat across from Hughes’ desk, loosened his collar, and gulped down tea in big mouthfuls.

“Don’t worry, take a sip of water and slow down.” Hughes turned, picked up a sheet of paper, and handed it over. “I just received word—Zoe and Qiao Xi have already boarded a ship. They’ll arrive later today. The two of them hope the Expeditionary Army can reserve more slots for the Cult of the Hidden.”

“The Cult of the Hidden? Hmm.” Alexei frowned, hesitated, and then spoke softly:

“My lord, I don’t quite understand. Why are they so fanatical about enlisting? We haven’t even set much in the way of military merit rewards.”

The Empire fought wars on all fronts, yet its manpower never ceased flowing in. This was because military merit could directly be exchanged for wealth and power, and even for noble titles—legitimate ones with actual fiefdoms attached.

For a young man, if his parents had not left behind a fortune, the best path was enlistment, to carve out capital for survival upon the battlefield.

The mortality rate for soldiers was not low, but the Empress truly paid generously!

With such incentives, endless streams of soldiers marched onto the battlefield, bringing about the Empire’s revival, paving the road of imperial power with their blood.

But Castel had none of this.

Through hard work, soldiers could become squad leaders. With military merit, they could be promoted to non-commissioned officers. If they passed the examinations of the Holy Text, they could become the Church’s Combat Priests, equivalent to the Empire’s officers.

If they only studied the Holy Text and made achievements in the factories without military merit, they walked the path of Technical Priests, equivalent to engineers.

Whether Combat Priests or Technical Priests, the monetary rewards were not especially high, and their power was nowhere near comparable to their counterparts in the Empire.

Although Imperial Truth was nominally the Church, it did not actually propagate any unified faith. Clergymen merely bore titles; no one truly cared about gods. The Holy Text only taught a belief in physics.

Thus, Alexei’s doubts were not without reason.

He had graduated from the Empire’s Royal Army Academy, and so he thought of soldiers as a profession. Naturally, he could not understand why the people were so fervent.

Hughes simply smiled and shook his head.

Nations and national identity had not truly formed in this world.

Take Alexei for instance—if asked where he came from, he would most likely answer without hesitation: “Northlands.”

This Northlands did not mean the Empire’s northern region, but rather the northern part of the continent: the four northern fiefs of the Empire, the White Raven Principality, and even the farther icefields and the Endless Sea.

Of course, he knew he was an Imperial subject, but he would not instinctively describe himself that way.

Similarly, before Hughes came to Castel, others identified his homeland as “Duke Cohen’s Territory.” No one regarded the Empire as their homeland. A “country” was more akin to a loose confederation.

If not for the Empress, the name “Empire” might not even be spoken. The royal family was the royal family, and the vassals were vassals.

Your loyalty was to your lord, not to a country.

Yet Castel broke this notion.

At first, Hughes’ power extended only over this small island. Naturally, he had no vassals. Alexei was closer to being his personal steward, and his clerks were nothing more than bureaucrats.

Later, when he gained control of the entire Martha Archipelago, he still did not divide it into fiefs. Instead, he directly centralized all authority into his own hands.

In this era, such a thing was nearly unimaginable—for the simple reason that the administrative efficiency of the time could not support such a system.

Perhaps the Empire’s Civil Official System could sustain it, but the Empire had already been partitioned. Delegating power was easy; reclaiming it was difficult.

Those nobles were the very enforcers of policy. And now to ask them to overthrow themselves?

This was why Isabella would rather start anew than attempt reforms—it was easier to march into Rhine than to initiate change.

Castel had no such concerns. Hughes directly reclaimed authority. All bureaucrats answered only to him. The Church’s highest head was him as well. The army was wholly under his control.

Strictly speaking, Castel belonged to a dictatorship.

Besides inevitably leading to a certain degree of personality cult, it also allowed the subjects to feel, for the first time, a sense of belonging to a “nation.”

For modern people, this might mean little. But for those of this era, it was almost inconceivable—land was tangible, but a nation was an abstract concept.

“So… what you mean is, they’ve developed a sense of belonging to a nation?” Alexei rubbed his brow as he asked.

Hughes’ explanation left him muddled, almost incredulous. Could such vague and illusory words really compel people to give their lives?

But the passion of the people was no illusion—the door to his office had nearly been broken down.

“Look at this.”

Hughes picked up a booklet and slid it across the desk.

Alexei lowered his head for a glance, and his face darkened.

“They even sent their petitions for battle directly to you?”

“Look closer at who wrote them.”

Alexei flipped through a few pages, slightly surprised. “These are… those workers from Rhine before? They’ve all applied to join the Expeditionary Army?”

“Yes. They are Rhine folk. Many of them had never before set foot in Castel or the Northlands. Yet now, they have taken the initiative to seek vengeance for Nora.”

Surpassing the bounds of land and race, the people had united under the name of Castel.

Alexei froze.

He scratched his head, a dawning realization in his eyes. “So this is national identity?”

“More precisely, it’s identification with a concept. They love Castel, and thus they will not allow anyone to infringe upon it. Castel was once a small island. Now it is a banner. Its name is cohesion; its existence is organization.”

“As for that so-called sense of belonging—no need for lofty talk. As long as people love this place, it surpasses all mobilization.”

Hughes rose to his feet and looked out the window. “The people are truly simple. Show them the slightest kindness, and they will give you everything. Yet those lords are unwilling to grant even the smallest benefits.”

“Now go back to your office and carry out the conscription for the Expeditionary Army. Remember to find a Banshee at the Banshee Inspection Squad’s duty room to accompany you. When you’re about to be crushed, she can pull you out.”