Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

The Resistance Army set out very early. By the time the first ray of sunlight fell upon the earth, they had already passed through the town gates.

Even so, they would only reach Sleddinburg by nearly noon. If they had departed any later, they might have been intercepted by the Winter Wolves.

Isaac was not worried about intelligence leaks. The Resistance Army had full control over Grizzly Town, and with their support, the Ashen Alliance had already rooted out many spies.

When it came to intelligence work, they were professionals.

After the Resistance Army departed, they would also ensure that no information leaked out. It was not too difficult — the townsfolk of Grizzly Town were deeply loyal to the Resistance Army. Whenever they noticed any suspicious person, they would report it on their own, sometimes even before the Alliance needed to intervene.

Gwen rode on horseback and looked back at the formation behind her.

The Resistance soldiers marched forward in formation, clad in cuirasses and carrying muskets. Though their weapons were still not uniform and their clothes somewhat ragged and rustic, the spirit in their eyes was unmistakably bright.

They had seized the equipment of the Winter Wolves in Grizzly Town. Now, most people had a weapon of their own. Although some still carried bows and wooden spears, it was already an enormous improvement compared to before.

At some point, these numb, frail, and timid refugees had completely changed — they were starting to look more and more like a real army.

They were no longer sheep waiting to be slaughtered. Every now and then, they could bare their fangs.

Warmth welled up in Gwen’s chest, and an unconscious smile appeared on her face. The fear, unease, and trepidation that once lingered within her had gradually faded.

Once a Northlander stepped onto the battlefield, fear was left behind. Once blood was shed, there would be no more hesitation.

Suddenly, a little boy came trotting up. Gwen recognized him — it was Grisha, the one who had sneaked out of the camp and joined the Resistance’s support squad. He had somehow gone unnoticed all the way until they reached Grizzly Town, only to be discovered when the headcount didn’t match.

He would make a good hunter — if fortune allowed him to grow up.

“What’s wrong, Grisha?”

“Big Sister Gwen, are we going to save the Northlands?”

Gwen couldn’t help but laugh softly. They were nothing more than a band of refugees — displaced, driven, and hunted wherever they went.

Had they not been cornered with no other choice, they would never have taken up arms. It was by sheer coincidence and circumstance that they had come this far.

Save the Northlands? Impossible.

They might not even be able to save themselves.

“Why do you say that? Do you like this land so much?” Gwen’s eyes swept over the boy’s white hair.

He wore his short hair like a small crown of snow.

The boy shook his head. “I haven’t yet come to like this land, but I like the people here. Uncle Wood at the tavern always gives me juice. He said I’ll be a warrior one day — that the Resistance will save everyone and become the hope of the Northlands.”

Gwen was momentarily speechless. She hadn’t really done much — only driven away those hateful wolf pups and helped the townsfolk with little things.

They were such small things — cleaning the streets, keeping order, punishing criminals, distributing a bit of extra food — and even that went first to the Resistance soldiers.

But the townsfolk repaid them with so much warmth. People would bring food to them; even when Gwen went to explain that the Resistance didn’t lack supplies, she would still end up with arms full of bread and pastries.

They were White Ravens, with white hair and pale eyes. The townsfolk were Northlanders, with golden hair and dark eyes. Yet between them, there was no trace of distance or hostility. That kind of warmth couldn’t be faked.

But the Resistance would eventually leave.

Once they found Castel, they would move on. Earl Hughes had promised them a homeland. They were only passersby here.

Grisha jogged alongside her, raising his head to meet the girl’s gaze. His eyes were as clear and pure as melting snow in spring.

“Big Sister Gwen, will we save the Northlands?”

A sudden unease welled up inside Gwen. She halted her horse, looking down into Grisha’s eyes for a while before sighing softly, her tone gentler now.

“Little Grisha, we will eventually leave this place. The Northlands must be saved by its own people. This is not the home of the White Ravens.”

“Oh.” Grisha’s head drooped slightly, his voice quiet after a long pause. “But everyone in town… they’re my friends. I’m afraid they’ll get bullied when I’m gone. I want to help them.”

“Auntie Nina, Aunt Pamie, Uncle Wood, Fura, Rick, Hela — they’re all so kind to me. The White Ravens teach us never to forget. I don’t want my friends to disappear.”

He clenched the bow on his back with a solemn expression. “I’ll protect my friends. I’m not leaving.”

“You…”

Gwen trembled slightly. Something lodged in her throat — she couldn’t swallow it down, nor could she speak.

“Gwen, it’s time. Sleddinburg is just ahead.” Isaac’s voice called out from the front.

Gwen took a deep breath. Without another word, she looked deeply at Grisha one last time and spurred her horse forward.

The battle was about to begin.

Most of the Resistance soldiers were infantry. Gwen kept order as they advanced. When they neared Sleddinburg, she ordered the troops to don their armor, load their firearms, and prepare for combat.

The battle plan had long been decided. Everything would need to be swift and decisive. Though the Resistance had the upper hand in both numbers and combat strength, once the enemy realized what was happening and began to fight back, the situation would become infinitely troublesome.

True to its name, Sleddinburg was a fortress — a castle city. The outer districts were enclosed within city walls, and inside those walls stood an inner keep.

It was a true fortification of war. The passages inside were narrow, with numerous defensive designs for close combat. Moreover, the Resistance knew nothing about the castle’s layout and had no siege experience. If those fifty soldiers managed to retreat into the inner castle, even a few hundred Resistance fighters might not be able to take it.

If they failed to take it quickly, their situation would become perilous. The castle was built on higher ground, capable of raining fire on the city below. Who knew how many hidden tunnels there were? It could defend or attack with equal ease.

And once battle broke out, the news would spread — reinforcements from elsewhere would arrive, and the Resistance would be trapped like fish in a barrel.

Thus, the key to this battle was speed. The Resistance needed to charge in and seize control of the situation before the enemy could react.

Fortunately, the defenses in Sleddinburg were weak, with no elite troops stationed there — much less anyone manning the inner keep. If everything went well, the battle would be over before the enemy even knew what had happened.

Conversely, if the enemy reacted in time, it would be disastrous.

Gwen steadied her breath, drawing her longsword.

“Warriors, follow me! Full assault!”

The Resistance soldiers began their charge.