Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Josh had originally intended to run away.

He did not know much about the Church, but with his meager religious knowledge, what he had done was probably enough to get him tied to a stake and burned ten times over.

He had established a religion in the name of Castel—no, a cult.

That in itself was nothing much. In another lord’s territory, at most, it would have earned him a whipping. After all, he was not stupid. Though he had borrowed Castel’s name, he had desperately praised Hughes in the Holy Text, twisting his words into praise. With some clever arguing, it might have passed off as a “well-meaning deed gone wrong.”

But who could have thought that the Lord had actually established a Church?

In that instant, Josh was directly promoted into a heretic.

Everyone knew that heretics were far more hateful than pagans.

And Josh, of all people, had chosen to weave Hughes himself into the Holy Text of the Cult of the Hidden, writing his name in bold strokes. This time, he had single-handedly pushed himself onto the throne of the Heretic Leader.

Not only that, when Josh later learned that the Lord’s Church was called “Imperial Truth,” he nearly collapsed.

After the Empress’s death, the Empire had completely fallen into the hands of several Churches. The Royal Family had been thoroughly driven away from the center of power—it was no longer the Empire of old.

The Lord was the Frontier Count, with a legitimate claim over the Storm Ocean, and commanded immense military might. Now, he even extended his reach toward Blood Harbor.

If he so wished, with a mere rallying cry proclaiming Castel as the Empire’s true heir, he could establish a Second Empire with ease.

But such a claim would sound strange: the Churches inherited the Imperial orthodoxy, the Prince of Tis raised the banner of rebellion against the Empire, and in the remote frontier, “Imperial Truth” spread, seeking to become the Second Empire.

Josh shook his head, as if to fling away the messy thoughts crowding his brain.

There were many possibilities, but no matter how things developed, his Cult of the Hidden would only become the stumbling block in the Lord’s path forward!

Josh only tasted bitterness in his mouth.

He had witnessed the entire battle just now, and seen so many tall, otherworldly beings take part—later, he learned they were Banshees.

Then, recalling the Lord’s miracle-like inventions…

Josh felt as if he had glimpsed the truth:

Hughes had to be the leader of some heretical… some secret Church, using the name of industry as a cover, secretly unleashing forbidden knowledge to achieve some grand design.

Though he had not yet figured out what that grand design was, the explanation felt extraordinarily reasonable!

Why did Castel have so many Extraordinary beings as followers? Why had industry advanced so rapidly? Why had the entire island disappeared, only to reappear?

Josh dared not think further. He was already paranoid enough to start suspecting that even the Empress’s assassination was tied to the Lord!

He could not hesitate any longer. Now was the best chance to escape. If he waited, it would be too late!

Josh held his breath, trying not to draw attention, rose from the battlefield, and tiptoed toward a nearby alley.

Everything went smoothly. Next, he only had to—

Josh’s lifted foot froze.

He stared at the white-haired little girl standing in the alley ahead, eyes wide.

A second later, he came to his senses, frantically gesturing for her to stay quiet—but too late.

“Pri——est——Loooord!!!!”

Gwen came wailing out of the alley, leaping into Josh’s arms, smearing tears and snot across his robe.

The entire congregation of the Cult of the Hidden turned their heads to look.

“Gwen… sob… Gwen was so scared… Gwen got lost outside and almost couldn’t make it back…”

Only then did the believers notice their Priest, and they charged forward in fervor—

“Priest Lord, thank the heavens, Priest Lord, we survived!”

“Praise the Priest Lord! Praise our Lord Hughes!!”

“Priest Lord, I am hungry—when will we brew Holy Water?”

“Priest Lord, can we also see the Envoys of God?”

Josh was surrounded on all sides by the believers. Their excited chatter turned into cheers, and soon the frenzied crowd began tossing him up and catching him again.

Josh’s eyes went empty, as if his soul had already died.

The words “The Holy Text was something I made up” could no longer leave his mouth.

Until, carried on the shoulders of the believers, he was brought all the way to the seaside—only then did Josh suddenly realize something was wrong.

He, the Priest, would of course be put on the stake, but what about these believers of the Cult of the Hidden?

Would Hughes really forgive those who believed in doctrines he had fabricated?

These Northlander refugees had finally found shelter in Blood Harbor…

What if…

Josh shivered. Struggling to his feet, he shouted urgently to the believers:

“Children, run quickly! That place is not home! What those people believe is not—”

“Not what?”

A vast shadow fell over him, freezing his movements.

He raised his head, staring at the towering steel giant—the Banshee clad in full heavy armor.

From afar, it had not seemed so imposing, nothing compared to the Compassionate Mother.

But up close, Josh truly felt the crushing pressure.

From the fully enclosed helmet glowed two faint blue lights. The Banshee lowered her head to gaze at him.

“N-nothing. I meant… we are also citizens of Castel, not outsiders.”

The towering Banshee straightened, satisfied, and patted his head:

“Right. We all fight for Castel, don’t we?”

Josh could only nod frantically—though perhaps it was from the Banshee’s pats, since all six of her hands had come down on his head in turn.

Though their first encounter was hard to describe, the armies of Castel turned out to be surprisingly friendly toward the believers of the Cult of the Hidden.

Josh was even invited aboard that massive iron box for a tour—the shipyard engineers repeatedly emphasized it was an ironclad warship, but to Josh, it felt far too much like a massive coffin.

He had to wait here for a while. It was said the Lord himself had gone to negotiate with the Prince, and would return later.

Josh, half in despair, decided he might as well wander about since escape was impossible.

Like a condemned man about to mount the gallows no longer caring whether the rope around his neck was one loop or two.

The Holy Guard who had come along were treating the wounded and clearing the battlefield among the ruins of Blood Harbor. Josh had wanted to help, but a Banshee stopped him.

Her armor was damaged, and she had simply cast aside her helmet, letting golden hair flow freely in the wind.

Josh recognized her—she was the very Banshee who had fought the Compassionate Mother. Her name was said to be Nini.

Though he felt his days numbered, Josh still put on a solemn expression.

Nini’s figure charging across the battlefield had already won his heart. Such a powerful warrior had to be a fearless hero, worthy of all respect.

But Nini’s first words left him utterly lost.

“So you are the famous Josh, right? I am Nini. I want to interview you and write a report… is that alright?”