Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Hunter, although a scholar, specialized in engineering machinery, a field whose practical applications lay mainly in various giant siege engines.

Because of this, he had actually studied city walls quite extensively.

Yet the city wall in front of him made him frown deeply.

Who was in charge of Castel’s engineering design? This level was far too poor.

The construction orientation of these walls was simply wrong. Built vertically—what could such walls even defend?

Castel was an island, and the enemies came from outside. These walls did not even stand horizontally in front of an approaching foe.

What was more, their very form was incorrect.

Normally, city walls were trapezoidal—narrow at the top, wide at the bottom.

Such a structure had natural stability, allowing it to withstand attacks more firmly and calmly. Even if breached, temporary repairs were much easier.

But the walls of Castel were of uniform width from top to bottom, and the top was even planted full of trees. What kind of—

Hmm?

Hunter suddenly froze.

Why were there trees planted atop the city wall?

Upon closer inspection, the width of these walls seemed excessive; the top was wide enough for several carriages to run side by side. Though it was unclear from below as viewed from the train, it certainly looked different from ordinary city walls.

No battlements, no firing slits, no towers—only lush greenery, like the aerial gardens described in books.

Hunter’s confusion did not last long. Soon, he saw people plucking grain from the trees.

Hunter rubbed his eyes in bewilderment.

One after another, towering “rye trees” stood as tall as several grown men. People used long poles to support and cut them down, standing far away to avoid the black substance flowing from the cut surfaces.

Then they removed the fist-sized grains and tossed them down from the wall.

Below the wall, large canvas sheets were spread out. Once enough grain accumulated, machines grabbed the four corners of the canvas and rolled everything into a massive wagon bed.

Hunter stuck his head out of the train window and, unsurprisingly, saw similar wagon beds on the train.

So that was it. This had to be some kind of agricultural manor’s harvesting operation. Building the plantation on an elevated platform—though requiring enormous infrastructure—would make harvesting extremely convenient once completed.

Look at those workers: plucking the produce and simply tossing it down, then transporting it by train. Indeed, a highly efficient system.

In other words, these were not city walls at all, but elevated agricultural zones. With that explanation, their structure and construction style suddenly made sense.

Now this was what architecture should look like.

Hunter nodded in satisfaction and leaned back to continue enjoying the scenery.

A long while later, he suddenly sprang up from his seat.

“Wait—no!”

It took the two Holy Guards quite some effort to press Hunter back down.

Though he stopped struggling, his mouth certainly didn’t rest.

“Why are those grains so big?!”

One Holy Guard answered irritably, “No reason! They’re just that big!”

“And what’s that black stuff flowing out?”

“I don’t know—go ask the one inside the Stellar Furnace.”

“Then—”

“Stop talking to him! Want to give him a sedative shot or what?”

“Good idea.”

The two Holy Guards grabbed a box from their belts and were about to open it, when Hunter suddenly fell quiet.

He continued staring at the walls outside, but his expression gradually relaxed. The acute tension faded.

The two exchanged looks, scratching their heads in confusion, slowly loosening their grip on him.

Naturally, Hunter had once again recited that name silently in his heart.

This time, the feeling was even clearer—those indescribable, incomprehensible, sanity-shaking presences retreated rapidly, as though even those terrifying, eerie beings feared this name.

What power did this name hold, that it could stabilize his cognition and sanity?

Hunter did not know, but scholars were experienced with such matters—this world was full of things that defied understanding. If something could be used, then it could be used.

If the name worked, then he would recite it in his heart. He had not been bewitched, nor did he intend to join any cult. He was merely utilizing it.

No problem.

Although, the creations of Castel truly were miraculous. Even he could not help but feel sincere admiration for this lord, let alone others.

People treated the lord here as a god—largely understandable.

But he was a scholar, armed with knowledge and reason, unlike those ignorant commonfolk, and naturally would not make such mistaken assumptions.

However—

Hunter suddenly remembered what the Doctor had once said: the deeper one delved into knowledge, the easier it was to go mad… Why was that?

A shadow crept across his heart.

“Newspapers! Anyone want newspapers? Peanuts, melon seeds, sweet fruit wine, and special fried Devil Fish—everyone, mind your feet~”

A train attendant shouted while pushing a cart down the carriage, instantly drawing Hunter’s attention.

He had little interest in snacks, but newspapers?

Rhine always published a Newspaper, and Hunter had arranged to have them regularly delivered to the Northlands. He loved reading political news.

Unfortunately, despite the vast land of the Northlands, they had none of these fashionable things. He hadn’t expected to see any here in Castel.

Before coming, he had thought this place was a barren island. Now it seemed hardly inferior to Rhine at all.

“Give me one,” he said reflexively, reaching out—then realized he had no money and paused in embarrassment, unsure what to do.

Before he could react, the two Holy Guards leapt from their seats.

“No!”

“Don’t give it to him!”

They grabbed Hunter’s hand, staring at the attendant as though facing a deadly threat.

“We’re Holy Guard, escorting a prisoner. This is his first time in Castel. You—you take that Newspaper away! Don’t let him read anything!”

The attendant hurried to explain, “This is an official, legal Newspaper, not one written by the War Correspondent Team. Absolutely—very likely—free of any hidden material. Very safe!”

“No—he’s already gone insane multiple times. Take it away, take it away! That thing is too dangerous!”

Hunter watched, baffled. It was just a Newspaper—why were these two reacting so dramatically?

A Newspaper. It wasn’t as if he had never read one. Ridiculous.

The two Holy Guards stared warily until the attendant left the carriage, finally breathing a sigh of relief.

The train slowed as a soft sound came from a concealed pipe above the carriage:

“Approaching Castel Main Cathedral. Please gather your belongings and prepare to disembark.”

Hunter looked up in interest, ready to study the sound-transmission mechanism, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

The two Holy Guards looked at him solemnly, tension in their eyes.

“Ahem… We’re heading to the Main Cathedral now. You’ll definitely see the Stellar Furnace.”

“What I’m about to tell you—you absolutely mustn’t be afraid…”