Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“No, just a normal mistake. Thanks for your help.” Hunter smiled as he took the parchment.

“You’re welcome. Remember to come tonight to continue teaching calculus—the Holy Text doesn’t cover that part.”

“Alright.”

Hunter handed the parchment over, pulled out a pen, corrected the wrong word, and pushed it back into the sweaty hands of Alvare.

“You two know each other?”

“Not really. I sometimes join the Expeditionary Army’s study sessions to teach a bit of calculus. We’ve probably met there.”

“Then… why is he a soldier?” Alvare couldn’t help but ask. “With that kind of knowledge, wouldn’t being a tutor be far better than a soldier?”

Seeing Hunter’s faintly amused look, a shocking thought suddenly flashed through Alvare’s mind.

He turned his head to look around the carriage.

Most of these soldiers had applied to withdraw to Blood Harbor. They weren’t on active duty at the moment—some were chatting idly, others napping against their seats, or… reading.

Reading?!

Only then did Alvare notice that nearly every soldier carried a book—not for decoration, nor one of those Holy Texts from the Silent Sanctum used to smash people, but books that bore visible signs of use and wear, actually being read.

These soldiers could read?

How many soldiers were here? Alvare leaned out of the carriage window—car after car stretched into the distance, too many to count.

If all these carriages were full of soldiers—and all of them literate—

With his terrible arithmetic, Alvare thought for a long while and arrived at a conclusion that shook him:

There were probably more literate people on this train than in all the Northlands.

For commoners, literacy was a luxury. If his ducal manor needed a scribe, the best way was to find one among impoverished nobles.

An entire town might not have more than a handful of literate people. Some knights who rose through military merit were themselves half-illiterate.

Alvare felt as if he were submerged in icy water. He trembled as he confirmed the terrifying thought in his heart—

It wasn’t that literate people chose to become soldiers.

It was that every single person in the Expeditionary Army could read.

How many people were in the Expeditionary Army? Alvare didn’t know, but it was definitely far more than what this train could hold.

Thinking deeper—would Castel really send all the literate people to war? There must be even more who could read back there.

Alvare still couldn’t figure out what use literacy had in war, but he knew one thing: making an entire army literate must have consumed an astronomical amount of resources—resources he couldn’t afford even if he sold himself.

Watching Alvare’s trembling rolls of fat, Hunter couldn’t help but chuckle. He decided to add another spark to the fire:

“Uncle, tonight I’ll be teaching calculus again. In the Northlands, there are fewer than five people I can even roughly discuss the topic with—but among the Expeditionary Army, there are at least ten in this carriage alone.”

Alvare stared at Hunter, eyes wide in disbelief, with even a hint of pleading—hoping this was just some cruel joke, that the young man was merely mocking him.

But Hunter shrugged. “I’m not lying. Now do you believe I’m worse off than the owner of the Fried-Chicken Stall?”

Alvare looked around at the soldiers, then down at his own layers of fat. After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned in and whispered, “How much does one earn a day running a fried-chicken stall in Castel?”

Hunter blinked. “Why are you asking that?”

“Well… you were sentenced by the Tribunal to several years of labor, right? If I ever get sentenced too… I’m not good at studying. I’m worried I’d starve in Castel. But I am pretty good at frying chicken.”

It seemed he had really frightened the man. Hunter couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. “Don’t worry. Surviving in Castel isn’t that hard. I don’t have much talent myself, but they still let me join the research teams. There’s hardly anything lacking there—as long as you’re willing to work hard, you won’t starve.”

After a pause, Hunter lowered his voice. “Are you really good at frying chicken?”

“Exceptionally good!”

Looking at Alvare’s triple chin, Hunter had to admit, it was quite convincing.

“Then I can introduce you to the owner of that Fried-Chicken Stall. He’s great at calculus but not so great at cooking. One of his assistants recently ran off, so he’s looking for someone.”

“It’s a deal, Hunter, my boy! You can’t just stand by and let your uncle starve!”

“No one starves in Castel,” Hunter thought back to his days on the island. “But you might die from exhaustion. They say the overtime’s pretty bad—some people even have to keep working after they die.”

“That—t-that horrifying?” The folds on Alvare’s face scrunched up even more in despair.

“Your crimes aren’t that serious though. You surrendered before a fight even broke out. You might not be sentenced for long. I was dug out of the battlefield—well, I mean, captured.”

Alvare nodded, then his gaze froze as it fell upon Hunter’s fine noble garments.

“Your treatment doesn’t seem like that of a labor convict.”

“Of course not. I decisively sold off my family. Archbishop Alexei let me keep quite a bit. Honestly, I live better now than before. Back in my family, I didn’t even have such good treatment.”

Hunter raised his chin proudly.

Alvare slowly narrowed his eyes. Maybe… he could do something similar? Atone through merit? That was something he was quite good at.

The factions of the Northlands flashed rapidly through his mind.

The train belched thick smoke as it carved a dark line across the wasteland of the North.

When they departed, it had already been afternoon. Now, the sun was sinking beyond the horizon, and night had fallen upon the Mortal Realm.

And beneath that falling night, the train arrived at the platform of Blood Harbor.

The Expeditionary Army soldiers disembarked in order. The soldiers responsible for guarding Alvare and Hunter also led the two of them toward the carriage door.

Hunter had been walking behind Alvare, but as they reached the doorway, he suddenly remembered something and hurried to step ahead of him.

“What’s wrong, Hunter?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

Alvare looked at Hunter in confusion and, as he reached the door, casually glanced outside.

Then he froze.

The sky had gone completely dark—but what did he see before him?

Countless lights stretched across the horizon, as though the stars themselves had been pulled down from the heavens and laid upon the Mortal Realm. The brilliance outshone even the brightest star—an entire city blazing with light, as if night had never fallen.

A City That Never Sleeps.

Alvare stood dumbfounded at the train door.