Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

The letter was written by Hughes. He hoped that Gwen could come over to help check on the Fathers of the Silent Sanctum.

That request puzzled Gwen a little. The people from the Silent Sanctum had been dazed by the White Mist—why would they need her help?

As for the reason, Hughes naturally couldn’t explain it—since Little Gwen couldn’t come, he could only call in Big Gwen as a substitute. Maybe it would work?

No one knew why the Fathers of the Silent Sanctum hadn’t woken up yet. Hughes did know the reason, but Little Gwen never told him how to cure them!

So, the debt Little Gwen owed, Big Gwen had to repay—it sounded reasonable enough.

Moreover, Gwen had been staying in the Northlands and had never taken the train back. Hughes was rather curious how she would react upon seeing Blood Harbor and Castel. Would she also be frightened out of her wits and make a fool of herself?

It was said that even the Banshees had opened a betting pool for the occasion.

“Looking forward to your visit. Please check the attachment enclosed.”

Gwen struggled to sound out the sentence on the letter. She had learned to spell from Nora, but she didn’t use it much, and her skill was mediocre at best. Hughes, being of noble birth, naturally wrote in a refined, florid manner.

“That word isn’t ‘appendage,’ it’s ‘attachment’—it means ‘attachment,’ Sister Gwen,” Grisha said, peeking over curiously.

Gwen glared at him, then suddenly froze. “Wait—you’ve learned to read?”

“I can not only read, I can write too. Just a little though—I haven’t been learning long,” Grisha said with a silly grin.

“How much can you read? You can read this whole letter?”

“Mm, pretty much.”

Gwen’s face twitched slightly.

She had been learning with Nora for nearly a year and had only reached this level. How long had Grisha been studying in Castel? A week?

“You learned fast.”

“Not really. Miss Bettys, the one teaching us, said that the person in charge of counting money starts learning calculus in a week. That’s fast,” Grisha said shyly. “Oh, and Miss Bettys’ fried fish is super tasty!”

“Wait—why is your teacher selling fried fish?”

“Miss Bettys was originally selling fried fish. Teaching us to read is just something she does on the side. Gwen-sister, everyone in Castel is amazing—it feels like everyone there can read!”

Gwen looked at Grisha, then at the letter in her hand, and suddenly began to waver.

She was just a farm girl, with no real skills besides strength. If she really went to Castel, what could she even do?

Farm? Did farming even need that much strength? It wasn’t like she had to fight with rye or vegetables.

“Grisha, maybe… maybe I shouldn’t go to Castel after all.”

“Gwen-sister, the letter came with an attachment—don’t you want to see it first?”

“Hmm?”

Only then did Gwen notice that Grisha had been carrying a square box on his back—about the size of a small crate. He carefully set it down and handed it to her.

Gwen hesitated for a moment, then opened the box—and locked eyes with Nora inside.

Bang! She slammed the lid shut again.

Taking a deep breath, Gwen slowly opened the box once more. Inside, Nora’s face grew darker and darker.

“L-Lady Nora!”

Nora glared at Gwen fiercely.

“Um… Lady Nora, I—I didn’t mean to! But opening a box and seeing a head staring back is… really terrifying!”

Gwen’s voice trailed off.

Grisha’s eyes darted about, and he quietly took a few steps back. When the two weren’t looking, he bolted out of the room.

A moment later, the entire Prison of Calamity echoed with Nora’s furious scolding.

——

Alexei picked up his pen, signed his name on the document, then pressed the seal and neatly stacked it aside. He let out a breath, rubbing his brow as he leaned back in the armchair.

The Northlands had plenty of troubles to handle. Construction alone would have been fine, but the local political landscape was maddeningly complex. The regional lords and nobles were tangled together in alliances and conspiracies, openly and secretly resisting Castel’s rule.

Forced to the limit, Alexei found negotiations impossible and progress stalled. In the end, he simply summoned Hunter back from Blood Harbor, drew up a list, and had the Expeditionary Army “negotiate” with them directly.

Alexei actually possessed considerable political skill—after all, he had clawed his way from nothing, an orphan who became the top graduate of the Royal Army Academy. He wasn’t short on experience in dealing with people.

But for this bunch of useless fools, he couldn’t even be bothered.

Come on—when the Expeditionary Army’s guns were already pointed at their heads, they still wanted to play political games? Any real smart man would have acted long ago.

Like Grand Duke Alvare—he surrendered faster than Alexei’s own advance. That was what truly gave him headaches.

The Expeditionary Army had fully supported his orders, and in less than a week, they wiped out all the local forces in the Northlands. Now, the Prison of Calamity was filled with a new batch of captives, waiting to be sent to the Tribunal for their “second lives.”

Alexei couldn’t help but smile. The sound of those nobles wailing for mercy still brought him joy. Maybe he’d stop by the prison later just to hear them again—it was oddly relaxing.

Just then, a small head peeked through the doorway.

Gwen was holding a sheet of paper, glancing nervously inside.

“What is it?”

Gwen forced a stiff smile and walked in, her expression awkward.

She was only a farm girl—the most important person she’d ever met was someone like Nora, a mere Father of the Silent Sanctum.

But this man—this was His Excellency Alexei, the Imperial Archbishop of Truth, the true ruler of the Northlands, the executioner who had slaughtered rebellious nobles, the very author of the Holy Text!

Even though Gwen didn’t fully understand the hierarchy of the Imperial Truth, she still knew that this man’s status was practically equal to that of the Pope—countless Noras apart from herself.

“Y-Your Excellency Archbishop…”

“Oh, Gwen. So, you’ve decided to go to Castel?”

At the mention of “Castel,” Gwen couldn’t help but shudder. Still, she gritted her teeth and nodded. “Y-Yes… You know about that?”

“Of course I do. The Lord himself is quite concerned about it—otherwise, he wouldn’t have written to you personally. Though, to be honest, it seems the Banshees are even more invested.”

Truly invested—they had even started a betting pool.

Gwen’s face filled with surprise, like a cat suddenly handed an entire fish.

She quickly handed him her travel application. Alexei glanced over it and signed his name without hesitation.

“Take it and go. A train will depart south in a while—you can catch it. If all goes well, you’ll arrive at Blood Harbor in time for dinner.”

It was only noon now. The train ride to Blood Harbor would take just a few hours.

Watching Gwen’s departing figure, Alexei smiled.

No one’s first trip to Castel had ever gone smoothly.