I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution

Mitia’s brand-new territorial law had been welcomed by everyone except the nobles nailed to the stakes; it had made them see the hope of living again, not merely of surviving.

The most immediate return was that every recruitment office in the four territories was packed, full of people of every age—some with hair already white, many underage—eagerly volunteering for service.

The size of Mitia’s army was growing exponentially, and in infrastructure, tens to hundreds of thousands of bonded laborers were being sent in batches to lay down sleepers and paving stones along the planned lines.

Rails and steam locomotive engines and carriages were also being produced around the clock; to speed things up she organized large convoys of wagons to transport industrial machines to the territories to build factories and expand capacity.

Basically, by the time the first batch of new recruits finished training, the production lines could be debugged and put into service.

Then they would be transferred into the workshops for a few months to make equipment for themselves and for later recruits.

At the same time, a brand-new corps was being built from its basic framework, just waiting for the recruits to fill its ranks.

The wilds of the magic world did not lack magical beasts; they were uninterested in lifeless things like rails, but they were very curious about noisy locomotives running back and forth.

Although steam engines had been fitted with steel cowcatchers and even heavy machine guns mounted on carriage roofs, a month in and a few would still be wrecked by magically powerful or massive beasts.

If it was just freight that was fine, but once they carried passengers—hundreds per train—a single accident would become a major disaster.

So it became necessary to form one or more road-guard corps: they were military-industrial units that built dwellings and small stations along the route themselves so supply trains could stop.

They also bore the duty of regularly clearing nearby magical beasts; facing complex and changeable environments and difficult supplies, their casualty rates could not be low.

In future this unit might be the loneliest and hardest-working of all the forces, so Mitia raised their supply-priority to the highest and gave them the largest allowances and compensations.

Meanwhile, the four highest-ranking earl families among the four territories were, in these days, being escorted one after another into the Astal territory to face the final judgment of territorial law and the people.

Men, women, the old and the young of the four earl families were all imprisoned—neat and complete, not one had escaped.

Whether someone was guilty or not depended on the evidence; if execution was warranted, the people did not mind lending a bullet, and she had no plan to establish any special protection laws for the moment—judgment would be carried out as it should be, irrespective of age.

She was not fond of the phrase 【災不及家人】 (“misfortune shall not befall the family”), unless the other side had practiced 【惠不及子孫】 (“benefit that does not reach descendants”).

Perhaps because Mitia had enjoyed too much recent success and that made her unpopular, she ran into a very thorny, big problem.

The Pontiff of the Church of the Magic Goddess had come.

The Church worshipped the Magic Goddess Ivdien, the common faith of the seven surrounding nations.

Though they had not formed a nation, they could legally raise armies made up of believers, the total of which exceeded that of a kingdom.

Churches scattered across the seven nations’ towns and countryside also firmly held the work of healing and medical care; in a sense they controlled the life and death of ordinary people—even Mitia had once accepted help from a church priest or father.

And the crowning of a king of the seven nations required the Pontiff’s blessing to possess legitimate authority.

This behemoth, frankly, was something Mitia did not want to touch, so she had, consciously and unconsciously, deliberately avoided too much contact or conflict with them.

Unexpectedly, the other side still took the initiative and came knocking, traveling all the way from the Ovinia Royal Capital’s headquarters.

Mitia was thoroughly annoyed, but she still had her guards invite the Pontiff and his retinue in for a meeting.

After the customary pleasantries, the Pontiff, whose face was full of benign kindness, stated his purpose to Mitia.

There was no doubt: he had come for the four kingdom earls being escorted into the Astal territory.

He hoped Mitia would pardon the crimes of the four earl families; the Goddess would bless her with safety and health.

That last line was said jokingly; more accurately the Pontiff promised that the Church would treat her rebellion with deliberate indifference—no participation, no discussion.

Mitia hesitated for a while over this, and finally shook her head and gave her reply:

“Sorry, Your Holiness. Their crimes will receive the judgment they deserve under the watchful eyes of the people at large. I can assure you there will be no wrongful convictions—if innocent they will be released immediately, and there will be no pursuit.”

The smile on the Pontiff’s face stiffened; wasn’t that just stating the obvious—if they were innocent, why would he have come?

He said patiently, “An earl being tried for crimes in a foreign land has no precedent. If guilty and to be punished, it should be done by the Kingdom of Ovinia, not by Astal. Am I right, Miss Mitia?”

“No! Only their former subjects have the right to judge their merits and faults, not you, me, or the Kingdom of Ovinia. I am merely maintaining basic impartiality and nonpartisanship.”

The smile disappeared from his face.

“But if you truly do this, you would shake the stability of the seven nations’ nobility; the negative consequences would be catastrophic, and the continent would be drenched in blood.”

“And the enormous sin of killing that you would create could not be forgiven by the Goddess; your soul would fall into hell after death and never be released!”

“As the Goddess’ representative on this continent, I could not bear to see the people fall into war again. Please let go of grudges and restore peace to this world.”

Mitia raised an eyebrow at his words, picked up the military cap at the side of the table, stood and put it on, then looked back at the Pontiff who had been staring at her and said:

“You seem not to have understood the logic. If they lived, their oppression of the people would not stop, and our war would have to continue—that is the greatest sin! Where does peace and tranquility come from?”

The Pontiff paused.

“Where there is a kind heart, it is everywhere.”

Mitia tilted her head.

“Nope. They don’t die, I can’t sleep.”

The saintess beside the Pontiff could not tolerate it any longer; she stepped forward and glared angrily at Mitia: “You! You scorn the teachings of the Goddess, you disrespect the Pontiff, blasphemer of the Goddess, heretic!”

Mitia folded her hands behind her back and waved: “Your Holiness and the saintess must be weary from travel. Send them to rest.”

“Lord Mitia, you seem to hold a strong prejudice against the nobility, but do not forget—you were once a noble yourself. If you unleash the devils in people’s hearts, you will not escape either.”

The Pontiff made a final effort, trying to ‘convert’ Mitia back.

“I stopped being a noble long ago; the King of Ovinia revoked my noble honors. I am nothing but an ordinary commoner now.”

Mitia shrugged.

“If that day comes and the fire burns me as well, and the people begin to doubt my identity, then I will be very happy,”

“because in that world I would certainly be the last obstacle pressing down on them, and you… would all be my companions in burial.”

“You think I fear you slapping a label on me? Laughable!”