Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

No matter what, she was the Empress of the Empire, the one who had single-handedly dragged the Empire out of decline and restored its vitality. What had she not seen before? How could she possibly disgrace herself like Galahad?

“Docked!”

With a loud cry, several sailors cast ropes toward the shore, and the steam engine beneath the deck slowly came to a halt.

The Prince also stepped out of the cabin.

He remembered Galahad had once mentioned seeing an ironclad warship sink here.

But since a vessel could now sail to Blood Harbor, it showed that Castel’s shipbuilding technology had matured. Such arbitrary sinkings should no longer happen. An entire ship of steel—even for Castel’s level of productivity—should have been an astronomical cost, shouldn’t it?

Standing at the bow, the Prince surveyed the surroundings. As expected, he saw no other vessels. On the empty sea stood only a lighthouse, so it seemed Castel’s shipyards must have been built elsewhere.

A long wooden plank was laid from the ship to Castel’s pier. On the pier stood a newly built structure, raised higher on the sea-facing side, making disembarkation smoother.

The Prince’s gaze fell on the structure. It was made of steel, clearly built by Hughes to flaunt his wealth.

Using precious steel to build such a thing—in the Empire, that was indeed extravagance. But since the Prince had seen ironclads before, he felt little awe.

Still, he did not dislike it. Castel was his ally, and the stronger his ally, the more at ease he felt.

Hughes himself led several men from the port to greet him. Since the Prince was, after all, the head of the Principality of Tis, Hughes naturally had to welcome him personally.

The Prince showed a proper smile, exchanged a few words of courtesy with Hughes, then let his eyes wander around.

It had to be said, Castel was indeed a beautiful island. The seawater was azure, seagulls cut across the sky, and the island bore little trace of artificial excavation. Only a few scattered buildings could be seen. One had to gaze far into the island’s center to find the cluster of fortress-like towering churches.

Galahad had said the island held a limb of a Heretical God. Before coming here, the Prince had reminded himself over and over not to make a fuss. Looking around now, he saw nothing of the sort.

It seemed Galahad had exaggerated. That Heretical God’s domain must have covered only a small area.

The island did, however, have many inexplicably high walls, topped with plants. Overall, the sight was quite pleasing—the natural landscape blending harmoniously with the artificial structures. Perhaps something similar could be done later in Blood Harbor.

The Prince’s gaze then landed on two towering figures, and his expression grew solemn.

Banshees.

Clad in full heavy armor, yet without the slightest clumsiness of heavy infantry. Ordinary soldiers donned heavy armor only before battle, since it consumed immense stamina.

But these extraordinary beings wore armor a fist’s thickness thick, as if it were mere paper, moving without stiffness or distortion.

That thickness…

The Prince quickly calculated in his heart. Even the bullets of a bolt-action rifle would struggle to pierce such armor, let alone the Empire’s musket squads.

If such warriors appeared on the battlefield…

He had heard there were hundreds of them?

No, not even hundreds were needed. With just ten of these warriors, he would have had the confidence to redraw the Empire’s map. They could easily tear through enemy lines, and even the strongest defenses would collapse before them like paper.

Extraordinaries did not go to the battlefield? That was only because most extraordinaries were too weak and would be quickly consumed. But with such powerful Banshees, all rules would have to be rewritten.

The Prince sighed softly, suppressing the jealousy in his heart.

After their greetings, Hughes invited him to visit the Airship Harbor.

The Celestial Behemoth was undergoing repairs there. Though the Prince had already seen its massive form, he still couldn’t help but take a deep breath when he beheld it again.

From the ground it was far more imposing than from the sky. Its size was almost equal to one of his former palaces. A palace floating in the heavens—no matter how many times he saw it, the thought made his scalp tingle.

But it looked a little different from before.

The bomb bays beneath the airship had been dismantled, replaced with a square cargo platform.

“For the next while, the Celestial Behemoth will mainly be used for transportation. Our factories on the Martha Archipelago are under preparation. At present, seaship capacity is limited, so most materials rely on air transport.”

Hughes explained from the side.

The Martha Archipelago.

Of course, the Prince knew what that was. Back when he still sat upon the Throne, the Pirate King had been his greatest nemesis.

But unexpectedly, neither the Empress nor the Pirate King had endured…

“How is the Pirate King now?” the Prince asked casually. Since Hughes could establish factories there, the Pirate King must have been taken care of.

“Well…” Hughes glanced at a nearby high wall, his expression turning odd. “He is also in Castel now.”

“Oh?” The Prince instantly grew interested. “Then may I see him? I heard he had a great treasure.”

Hughes shot the Prince a glance, knowing he must be saying this deliberately.

The world’s flow of information was still far too slow. What’s more, across the whole Storm Ocean, only Castel’s power remained. The Prince had no way of knowing the Pirate King’s Court’s fate.

It seemed he wanted to sow discord.

But how would he react if he learned half of the Pirate King had gone into the furnace, and the other half had sprouted into trees?

As for the Pirate King’s treasure—

Hughes did not take it seriously. Even if it existed, with the Storm Ocean’s meager productivity, how much could truly have been amassed?

Far better to focus on developing industry. With even a little output, one could easily outstrip any so-called treasure.

Soon the two of them boarded a carriage and departed.

“A carriage? I thought there might be other means of transport—steam cars, perhaps,” the Prince said with a laugh.

“Steam locomotives do exist. But recently the Air Harbor has had too many goods to transport, so all the engines have been hauling cargo. Freight cars can seat people, but the conditions are poor.”

Right then, a whistle blew in the distance. The Prince turned his head, eyes shining with fascination, as if that steam-spewing iron engine were a priceless treasure.

“I wouldn’t mind riding it.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the chance.” Hughes winked, already considering whether to let the Prince see the Network Path.

Now, the surface and underground of Castel were practically two different worlds.

The Prince nodded, about to withdraw his gaze.

So far, Castel seemed to have a decent industrial base, but nothing particularly astounding.

He still could not understand why Galahad had lost control in fear.

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. He looked toward the lighthouse at sea, confused.

Why did it seem just now as though it had grown taller?