Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Lord ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍Hughes slowly lowered his head while seated in the armchair, and far away—at an unknown distance—another shell opened its eyes.

The ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍first thing Hughes saw was the large hole in his chest. He had long since grown accustomed to the wound that no longer bled, but after finishing his conversation with The Prince, gazing at the injury that had killed him, he suddenly felt a trace of sentiment.

“If ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍it had not been the Church of Candlelight that found me, but the Empress’s people instead, I might have entered the upper ranks by improving the Bearing. Perhaps by now I would have become some level of civil official—maybe even one of Archbishop Alexei’s subordinates.”

“Or ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍perhaps I would have successfully organized the workers, founded some underground organization, and entered Isabella’s sight. Maybe that Empress would not have needed to stage the act of being assassinated and dying.”

“Unfortunately, ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍there are not so many ‘ifs.’ The Church of Candlelight forced me step by step to this point.”

The ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Prince wanted to go to war with the Church of Candlelight, but even without The Prince, Castel would eventually have fought the Church.

Including Hughes’s choice to pursue development—it had never been a rejection of war. It was simply more cost-effective. As for what Hughes himself truly thought—

He stared at the hole in his chest, and his gaze gradually turned cold.

A blood debt must, of course, be repaid in blood.

After a long while, Hughes lowered his head to look at his hands, then at the White Mist surrounding him. He took a deep breath.

“I should contact Miss Beatrice first. Before I knew it, she had already become the ruler of the Empire and the Church—though only in name.”

The last time he had seen Beatrice, she had just become a Transcendent, still an inexperienced young girl.

And now—

“The White Mist has not yet dispersed. It seems Little Gwen still hasn’t finished over there.”

“It’s not yet the time we agreed upon, so I won’t disturb her for now.”

“Although I tried before and failed… hm, I’ll try once more.”

Ever since this shell of Worker Hughes had inexplicably arrived within the White Mist, Hughes had never once succeeded in reestablishing the Connection.

Soon, he located the threads belonging to Beatrice, Gwen, Kenn, Jeremiah, and Zoe. After a moment’s thought, he put Gwen’s thread back.

He did not immediately establish the Connection. Instead, he first attempted to sense Beatrice’s existence.

To perceive another’s state through a thread was extremely difficult; usually, sensing a general direction was already good enough.

But this time, Hughes gradually furrowed his brow.

“Why does it feel… somewhat closer? Is it the influence of the White Mist?”

After thinking for a moment, he pulled over Jeremiah’s thread and lowered his head to sense it for a while.

“Strange. Only Beatrice’s has changed. Perhaps something really did happen on her side.”

“Never mind. I’ll try establishing the Connection first.”

Hughes gathered the threads together, tied them into a knot, and gave them a tentative tug.

The threads extended far off diagonally upward, leading who knew where.

It was the same sluggish resistance as before; the threads did not budge.

“It seems it still won’t work. Forget it—looks like this route is blocked…” Hughes rested his chin in his hand and frowned in thought.

Just as he was about to give up and prepare for Consciousness Return, his hand suddenly trembled.

No—it was the threads that trembled, pulling his hand along with them.

Hughes widened his eyes.

Fries: 『？』

Fries: 『Wait, I’m not mistaken, am I? It—it’s connected again?』

Fries: 『Wow, it really connected!』

Captain: 『.』

Fries: 『Captain! It actually worked!』

Fries: 『Hahaha, this Connection hasn’t appeared for over a year. I thought I’d never see you all again!』

Fries: 『Gwen? Scepter? Writer? Are you all still here?』

Writer: 『.I’m here.』

Fries: 『That’s great, that’s great! Miss Writer, have you written your novel?』

Writer: 『.』

Writer: 『N-no…』

Captain: 『Alright, we can talk about that later. Haven’t you noticed that Scepter and Gwen aren’t here?』

Fries: 『R-right… It’s been a long time since we’ve seen Little Gwen. The time before last she didn’t seem to speak either, but when we called her, she responded. This time she hasn’t… Miss Scepter too.』

Writer: 『I remember Miss Scepter mentioned last time that she had run into some trouble and needed to take a risk. Could it be…』

Hughes also recalled this matter.

Previously, not knowing Beatrice’s identity, he had assumed it was merely infighting among upper nobles. Now, thinking about it, since Beatrice had been pushed forward as Pope, she must have been completely controlled by the Church. If she had taken a risk—

Hughes thought of the letter she had sent him. Beatrice had now become the new Empress of the Empire. Whether she chose to resist or to flee, it seemed both had failed.

Where would Beatrice be now? Logically, she should be confined in Rhine.

Isaac had once said that the Ashes’ Alliance had already established certain channels within the Empire and had even infiltrated Rhine.

Perhaps Isaac’s side could attempt contact?

But that would be extremely dangerous. Given Beatrice’s identity, even as a puppet, she stood at the very center of the stage.

And since she had remained silent all this time, perhaps she had already—

Scepter: 『.』

Writer: 『!!!』

Fries: 『!!!』

Captain: 『!!!』

Fries: 『I—I’m not mistaken, right? That was Miss Scepter? Miss Scepter, you’re here too? How are you?』

Writer: 『Miss Scepter, I’ve managed to connect with some forces now. Perhaps I can provide some assistance. What is your condition?』

Scepter: 『^^』

Writer: 『？』

Scepter: 『#￥**Ｙ＃＠）＆＠！￥％～＃＃』

Writer: 『Uh… Miss Scepter?』

Scepter: 『#&……@#@&@！！』

Writer: 『Is something wrong on my end? Why can’t I understand what she’s saying?』

Fries: 『Uh, I didn’t understand either. What is that? Some foreign language? The Imperial language?』

Captain: 『We are already speaking the Imperial language. What is commonly called the common tongue is essentially the Imperial language… Strange. I don’t understand her either. I know most of the languages on the continent. I even know a few phrases in the odd dialect of the Southern Continent. But what she’s saying is none of them.』

Scepter: 『#&%#*（@……￥&#@……~』

Fries: 『Miss Scepter, can you understand us? If you can, cough once.』

Scepter: 『#）*&&#……！@』

Writer: 『Something feels wrong. Listen carefully—these sounds she’s making don’t seem to be a language. In any language, certain words repeat frequently. But every tone she produces feels subtly different.』

Fries: 『You mean—』

Writer: 『She doesn’t seem to be speaking. It sounds like meaningless whispering… or wailing.』