Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“Hunter, His Lordship is calling for you.”

“I have no time to see any lord. Damn it, I’m very busy. Stand back—don’t touch my equations!”

The two Holy Guard soldiers stared speechlessly at Hunter. They were the same pair who had escorted him last time. Back then, they already thought Hunter seemed a bit unhinged, and now it appeared that nothing had changed.

Beside them, Yami gestured lightly and lowered his voice. “Don’t mind him. Something up here doesn’t work too well. He learns things very slowly.”

Yami tapped his own head.

“But give him some time—he eventually figures things out.”

A sudden exclamation rang out from inside the room.

“Wrong!”

Hunter almost leapt from his chair and rushed to the two Holy Guard soldiers. “You just said His Lordship called for me? My God, I’ll go right away! I actually got so absorbed in math problems that I ignored His Lordship’s summons—my God!”

Yami jerked his chin toward Hunter.

“See?”

“So, His Lordship hopes that I’ll take a trip to the Northlands?” Hunter solemnly set down the documents in his hand.

“Yes.” Hughes nodded. “You know quite a lot about the Northlands. If you’re willing to contribute, the duration of your penal labor will be reduced. You will also receive a salary equivalent to an ordinary resident. If you make additional contributions, you may receive rewards according to the military merits system—of course, since it is meritorious service performed under guilt, you’ll need to multiply the results by an extra weighting coefficient.”

“No problem. I am willing to go.”

Hughes raised an eyebrow. He had long heard that Hunter seemed to have a favorable impression of Castel, which was why he chose him for the Northlands mission. But he didn’t expect it to go this smoothly.

Could Castel Syndrome really include a bit of Stockholm syndrome?

Hunter’s gaze burned so intensely that Hughes had to avert his eyes.

“Alright. Since you’re willing to help, go report to the Expeditionary Army. Someone will handle the paperwork for you. There’s a train leaving for the Northlands tonight. Get some rest early. The situation is urgent—the ride may not be very comfortable.”

“Yes—yes, my Lord.” Hunter nodded hastily. After a moment, he spoke again, somewhat hesitant. “May… may I ask something? Those weapons that annihilated the Allied Forces—can they still be used? Will there be a tremendous cost?”

Hughes showed a faintly intrigued expression.

“I intend to avenge Nora and hang Bazel’s head on the dome of Castel’s chapel. You should know that.”

“Yes, but I hope to understand Castel’s approximate combat effectiveness to help you make a decision. I actually know a bit about the battlefield. My major was mechanical engineering for siege operations.”

“My suggestion is that you see it for yourself—language becomes pale in the face of explosive yield.”

After leaving Hughes’s office, Hunter was quickly escorted to the Expeditionary Army’s formation. Blood Harbor already had many Expeditionary Army personnel on standby. Most of them were islanders of Castel. When there were no orders, they would go teach classes at the schools, but once needed, they could immediately mobilize.

Hunter had spent a long time in military camps, yet he had never encountered a system like that of the Expeditionary Army.

In the Northlands, the core of every noble lord’s army was always the nobles themselves. Castel’s Expeditionary Army, however, was the exact opposite. Hunter could clearly feel that the soldiers were the most important component of this army.

This wasn’t the army handing over command authority—it was that the Expeditionary Army possessed an extraordinarily high overall quality. The soldiers carried out orders proactively. In a noble army, such a thing was practically impossible.

Only by promising lavish rewards before battle could officers motivate soldiers to fight. As for minor tasks like preparation, officers usually had to use fists and kicks to force the soldiers to work.

But the soldiers before him were nothing like anything Hunter had ever seen.

This was a feeling that was difficult to describe. He constantly felt… these people seemed to carry out every task with genuine seriousness—acting proactively and dutifully from the depths of their hearts.

Castel must have spent enormous effort cultivating these soldiers. But… why?

 Weren’t soldiers consumables? Even elite soldiers merely had better equipment and higher levels of training—they did not suddenly become so proactive.

As a scholar, Hunter had one advantage: whenever he didn’t understand something, he would ask.

He asked a nearby Squad Leader directly, and the man smiled after hearing the question.

“This is called organizational cohesion. As the name suggests, it refers to the proportion of personnel within an organization who are able to carry out the superior’s orders. If they execute my orders seriously, it means our organizational cohesion is high.”

He patted the bolt-action rifle beside him.

“You think we win battles because of our weapons? Alright, yes—our weapons alone are enough to win. But organizational cohesion is the key that determines whether a military force is strong. You know, Castel refuses to recruit anyone with a criminal record during Conscription.”

Hunter widened his eyes. This was completely outside his expectations. Many lords even preferred dragging prisoners onto the battlefield. As long as they were given enough rewards and pardons, these prisoners became the bravest cannon fodder.

Of course, sufficient enforcement squads had to be present behind them.

“You’ll understand once you’re on the battlefield. There’s a sentence in the Holy Text that I like a lot: on the battlefield, the most important thing is always people.”

Hunter nodded half in understanding. Suddenly, he felt that even though he had already stepped onto the island, his understanding of Castel remained shallow. Beneath its seemingly simple exterior, this indescribable steel giant had an entire set of its own operating logic.

Blood Harbor, inside the slums.

The slums had now undergone restructuring. Most people had already moved into resettlement housing. Although these residences were somewhat simple in layout and not very spacious, at least they were sturdy—enough to keep out wind and rain.

At this moment, two young girls sat cross-legged beside a small tea table, whispering to each other.

“Gwen, what should we do with our snack stall? Yami was taken away by His Lordship. We’re missing one person…”

“One less person—how does that affect anything?”

“Mm, no one is keeping the accounts anymore… but I can keep them. I got an ‘Excellent’ in Mathematics. Gwen, you probably won’t have any problems either. Yami… well, he also stole fried fish sometimes, and occasionally stuffed extra ketchup into customers’ fries.”

Bettys muttered for a long time and was surprised to realize that after losing Yami, their snack stall actually—

Was completely unaffected!

“But—but our stall is called ‘Yami Fried Fish.’ Without him, it feels… not authentic.”

“Then just change the name. ‘Delicious Fried Fish’?”

Gwen answered absent-mindedly. Recently, she had been feeling unusually restless.

“Forget it, let’s not talk about that.” Bettys leaned in mysteriously.

“Gwen, have you seen this? Castel’s official Newspaper. It has news about the Northlands. The leader of the Resistance Army actually has the same name as you!”

Gwen looked at the Newspaper in Bettys’s hands in surprise. Soon, her breathing grew heavier and heavier.