Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“Ignati, ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍Patriarch, do you know my name?”

Ignati stared at Nora for a long while, as if seeing her for the first time. Only after a long pause did he slowly nod.

“I know you, Nora. I know every Burier in the Sanctum.”

His gaze fell on Richard and on Nini, who stood outside the tent. His eyes lingered for a moment on Nini’s serpentine tail, covered in scales, before slowly retracting.

“Since you recognize me, then when the Sanctum abandoned the Resistance Army back then—there must have been a hidden reason, wasn’t there?”

Ignati raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but Nora cut him off without hesitation.

“You don’t have to say it. I can probably guess. It was nothing more than sacrificing us to resolve the White Calamity.”

The man’s expression dimmed slightly. He didn’t try to argue—he simply nodded.

“I am not blaming you—or rather, at least here, I do not intend to blame anyone. Though you abandoned me and the Resistance Army, you did not intend to survive alone. I saw the moment when you prepared to perish together with the White Mist.”

At those words, even Nini put down her pen and nodded solemnly.

The Silent Sanctum’s choice might have been laughable; its ending, too, might have been laughable.

But their courage should not be mocked.

As Patriarch, Ignati had given up all worldly matters and led the priests of the Sanctum to die together with the White Mist. No matter what, such an act was undeniably heroic.

And the Transcendents of the Sanctum—even they were willing to follow him unto death.

“The Silent Sanctum has always been built upon sacrifice,” Ignati’s voice was aged and deep, carrying a heavy gravity. “When the great Cataclysm descended a thousand years ago, the Sanctum of Forgetting abandoned its people and its duty, splitting from the Church and hiding within the White Calamity. It was then that the Buriers sacrificed themselves one after another, allowing the Children of the Bone-White Raven to survive, and keeping the Church from falling into eternal oblivion like the Sea Temple did.”

“We are no nobler than our predecessors,” he said slowly. “We are still using the blood of Buriers to buy a sliver of life for the Children of the Bone-White Raven.”

“That,” Nora said sharply, “is exactly the problem.”

Everyone turned to look at her.

Her face had flushed red, yet she met their eyes without fear. Looking around at the people of the Silent Sanctum, her words carried a flame of anger.

“A thousand years ago, our predecessors bought the Sanctum’s continuation with sacrifice. And a thousand years later—must we still rely only on sacrifice?”

Ignati frowned slightly, puzzled. “Otherwise, what else could we do?”

“As I said before—we are in Castel. Do you know how long it takes to travel from the Northlands to Castel now?”

“Only a few hours! Just a few hours! The railway built by the Expeditionary Army makes crossing half the Empire easier than visiting the next town!”

“Castel resolved the White Calamity without you. Those hordes of white bones—no army could stop them, no amount of lives could fill that endless pit of resurrection. Yet the Expeditionary Army managed to hold the Fortress!”

“Even if the Expeditionary Army had no way to solve the White Calamity, they could still survive by escaping aboard airships—have you even seen an airship? Castel can now explore the heavens, while we still crawl upon the earth.”

“Our chain flails are the same as a thousand years ago. Our doctrines are the same as a thousand years ago. Our sacrifices are the same as a thousand years ago! Are we not simply repeating the past again and again!?”

“Sacrifice is noble, yes—but if everything must always depend on sacrifice—can that truly be the right path?”

“My friends, we were born on another land, one that held our brothers and sisters. Now, we can only gather in exile—we have already lost everything.”

“We do not fear loss. We do not fear sacrifice. But now we stand on the edge of having nothing left. I believe the Silent Sanctum is at its most perilous moment. We must find a new path!”

Her breathing came heavy, yet her eyes shone with light.

Looking at those before her, she felt, for a fleeting moment, that she had returned to that familiar land—

—that land to which she could never return.

Nora turned her gaze to Ignati, her voice softening slightly.

“Patriarch, theoretically, Buriers cannot truly die. But of all those who have lived through this thousand years, only you remain. Tell me—has the Sanctum truly progressed at all?”

With Nora’s question, every Burier in the tent turned to Ignati.

Some faces were filled with resentment.

Some only confusion.

But most looked upon him with pleading eyes.

They wanted Ignati to tell them that the Sanctum was not merely repeating the past.

They did not fear sacrifice—but they did fear that their sacrifice might be meaningless.

Yet, in the midst of all those hopeful gazes, Ignati remained silent.

“Patriarch,” Nora continued, “long ago, you sent me south to find a home for the Children of the Bone-White Raven, and to seek an answer for the Silent Sanctum. This is my answer.”

“This is Castel. You might as well see it with your own eyes—this miraculous land.”

Brilliance surged in Nora’s eyes.

She had arrived here almost at the same time as Hughes.

When she first set foot on this island, it had been nothing but barren soil.

But now—Castel had grown powerful beyond imagination.

“My brethren, go and see for yourselves. See Castel—the new home of the Bone-White Raven’s faithful. The Lord of this land, Earl Hughes, has given me his word—you may freely visit, and even preach.”

The priests of the Silent Sanctum exchanged glances, each seeing the shock reflected in the others’ eyes.

Permission to visit was one thing—but permission to preach?

For a moment, they thought they had misheard.

Even entering the territory of the Church of Candlelight required negotiations and written approval—

And now they were being allowed to preach freely?

Had this Lord gone mad?

Ignati turned toward the tent’s entrance. Richard met his gaze and nodded solemnly.

“Yes,” he said, “this is an order personally given by the Lord.”

“If you’d like,” Nini said excitedly, raising her notebook, “I can show you around myself!”

“Please convey my gratitude to Earl Hughes,” Ignati said, bowing slightly. “He is a noble man.”

He looked at the priests behind him, then turned back to Nora, his expression complex.

“I will see it for myself, Nora. I will see the answer you have found.”

“Patriarch, we—”

Ignati raised a hand, interrupting softly.

“It seems the White Calamity has been resolved. Then the Sanctum no longer needs a Patriarch such as I. Nora was right about one thing—we must find our own path. If all I can bring to the Sanctum is sacrifice—”

His gaze wavered slightly. Suddenly, he looked back toward Nora.