Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Very soon, the people from the other ambush points also returned.

“All of them were killed, not a single one left alive.”

The soldiers of the Resistance Army reported, their eyes full of excitement and exhilaration.

Even Gwen was somewhat shocked.

Ambushing and killing a few cavalrymen was not a difficult task, but to slaughter them so cleanly and neatly, without even the slightest ripple, had exceeded the expectations of these Resistance Army members.

Previously, under Nora’s leadership, they had indeed thought about resisting, but it was difficult to achieve any battle achievements.

The cavalrymen wore cuirasses, and those armors were standard military equipment, engraved with the crest of Earl Bazel, capable of easily deflecting arrows. Yet when the Resistance Army stripped them off, the armors were riddled with shocking bullet holes.

This gave them, for the first time, a realization about the muskets in their hands… those light bullets they fired were actually stronger than the arrows of the most seasoned hunters.

People returned one after another, and the atmosphere of excitement gradually spread through the entire camp. These refugees from the Northlands had always been chased and forced to flee everywhere. Even with Nora, they had still lacked the ability to fight face to face.

They had always been stifling with frustration.

The road ahead had seemed bleak. With Nora’s death in battle, all they could do was hide in the forest, clinging desperately to life. The Resistance Army had fallen into despair again and again.

But today, it was the first time they had seen hope.

Even Gwen’s eyes shone with brilliance. She kept telling herself to remain calm, yet the smile on her face could not be suppressed.

They had been sinking in despair for far too long.

The Resistance Army members looked at the muskets in their hands, no longer with any trace of doubt. On quite a few faces, fervor was already beginning to emerge.

“Miss Gwen? Ahem, Miss Gwen?”

Gwen hurriedly snapped back to her senses. Isaac was calling her, joy visible on his face as well.

“Miss Gwen, this operation was very successful. What comes next depends on how the Winter Wolves react.”

Gwen’s expression also became solemn: “Mr. Isaac, how should we coordinate with you on this matter?”

“There is nothing you need to do. Just sit back and watch.”

……

Grizzly Town.

In the past two days, the townsfolk had all kept their doors tightly shut, fearful of inviting trouble.

Not because of anything else, but because the lord’s Winter Wolves had stationed their guard troop here.

Old Wood wiped a glass while sighing in his heart.

Ever since those soldiers had arrived in town, his tavern business had been in shambles.

Not only did those bandits drink all his wine, they also turned his tavern upside down, smashing who knew how many tables and chairs when they got drunk and rowdy.

Yet he dared not show his anger—not only him, but everyone else in town as well. All they could do was pray for those men to leave soon.

Unfortunately, things went contrary to their wishes. Those men simply lingered here, unwilling to leave.

“Hey, boss, a pint of beer!”

Wood looked up. It was a new face. A somewhat small and thin man was standing at the door, looking around the tavern curiously.

“Are you one of the Winter Wolves, sir?”

The man at the door froze: “No.”

“Then are you a relative or a friend of the Winter Wolves?”

“Also no.”

Wood spoke grumpily: “Then you ought to know, we’ve long been out of wine here!”

The man paused, then suddenly chuckled: “If I were one of the Winter Wolves, how would you answer?”

“I would ask them whether they had any liquor to sell—since all the alcohol in the whole town has been seized by them!”

Old Wood angrily threw the rag in his hand onto the table: “Look at this, my glasses are already wiped cleaner than new. If there’s anything in this tavern cleaner than them, it would only be the barrels in the cellar!”

The people inside immediately let out a chorus of agreement. In their cups was only tea—if water steeped with Winterfruit leaves could even be called tea.

The man smiled at the wave of complaints inside, then casually asked: “So, what food do you have for sale now?”

“Only black bread, five Lios a pound!”

“Five Lios a pound!? Why don’t you just go rob someone? Even one Lio for five pounds would still be expensive!”

The man exclaimed loudly.

“You think it’s expensive? I think it’s expensive too! Even so, this five-Lio bread isn’t always available. Kid, you’re lucky today—these past few days they haven’t come for grain collection, so you can still buy some on the black market.”

“How could this be? I heard this year was a bumper harvest.”

“Sigh, all because of those soldiers!”

“What soldiers? They’re nothing but bandits!”

“That’s right, I heard lots of shops in town were completely looted!”

“Now, families with daughters keep their doors shut every day, not daring to let them out. Those beasts are capable of anything!”

The once silent tavern suddenly flared like a powder keg, instantly filled with a roar of voices.

Old Wood grew a little worried. He had wanted to hush his customers, but just then he saw that small man peek out the door, then casually shut it.

He gave Old Wood a reassuring look.

Old Wood did not feel much reassured, but since he also wanted badly to curse the Winter Wolves, after only a moment’s hesitation, he joined in the denunciation with the others.

The tavern patrons cursed heartily. Though they were only drinking tea, their faces all flushed red. Indeed, their resentment had long been festering.

“Boss, one pound of bread,” the small man squeezed up to the counter.

Old Wood froze: “One pound of bread costs five Lios. Young man, do you have that kind of money?”

“I don’t have any money!” the man sighed. “But what can I do? I still have to live. The money I work so hard to earn can’t even buy me bread anymore!”

The room gradually quieted, angry looks appearing on the people’s faces, yet all they could do was helplessly gulp down their bitter ‘drink’.

“I work hard for a week, yet only earn twenty Lios. Exchanged all into bread, that’s just four pounds! Four pounds of bread—I can eat it in a single day. The remaining six days, I have to starve!”

“And even bread at five Lios a pound isn’t always available to buy.”

“What can we do? All we can do is come here and drink!” A group of patrons at a distant table slammed their cups heavily onto the table.

“Oh, not drink. Tea. Fine, we all know, this is just some rotten leaves steeped in water!”

“Damn it, how did the Northlands turn into such a mess!”

“They ought to drive those bandits out!”

The people inside grew more and more agitated. Old Wood’s face flushed red, and he slammed the table hard: “I still have a barrel of wine. I secretly hid it away, but damn it, I’ll bring it out now—let’s drink another round!”

The patrons soon each received a share of wine. Though it was only one cup per person, it was real wine after all.

Everyone’s faces flushed red—it was hard to tell whether from the alcohol, or from their excitement, or perhaps both.

The small man, holding his cup, leapt onto the counter: “Friends, we can’t let Old Wood offer this barrel of wine for nothing. Each of us should throw in some Lios!”

Saying this, he poured out all the coins from his own pouch.

Old Wood froze, stammering: “Th-this might be too much…”

“What use are Lios anyway? They can’t buy bread or wine. As long as those Winter Wolves’ whelps stay here, we’ll go hungry and cold every single day!”

The people erupted in cheers, nearly lifting the roof.

They threw their coins into the wooden barrel, the small man collecting them without caring how much.

Soon, everyone had put in money—many even emptied their pockets completely.

They exchanged glances, and suddenly felt a strange sensation.

At this moment they possessed nothing at all, yet it seemed as if they possessed even more.

The man casually tossed the barrel aside, letting the coins spill onto the ground, but no one cared anymore.

“Everyone, I just heard some news on my way here…”