Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

“How’s it going, Chloe? Busy lately?” Hughes grinned as he looked toward the diary placed on the Presiding Judge’s desk.

〖Hmph, wherever something’s busy, you just send me there, don’t you?〗Chloe replied irritably.

She didn’t know why, but she always felt that after dying, she had somehow become even busier than when she was alive. Back then, when she was alive, she could rest when she was tired and sleep when she was drowsy—but now, without a body, even working several nights in a row didn’t feel exhausting anymore.

“That’s impossible—absolutely impossible! Chloe, you’ve got to believe me! I would never target you, never assign you extra-hard work on purpose!” Hughes swore with an exaggerated sincerity.

And he wasn’t even lying. Back when they were still in Castel, all he had to manage was a tiny island. But now, things had expanded—Blood Harbor, Castel, and soon the Northlands—all required manpower and attention to govern.

And that was with the Prince already taking care of a significant portion of the administrative chaos.

“Sometimes I think the feudal system actually had its perks,” Hughes sighed dramatically. “At least you could just toss all the trivial matters to someone else to handle.”

〖You’re literally doing that to me right now!〗Chloe’s tone grew sharper.

“That’s different! Under the feudal system, you hand out both duties and power. I’m only giving you the duties—no land attached.”

〖Fine, fine!〗Chloe snapped, laughing in exasperation. 〖One day, I’ll lead the Tribunal in rebellion, storm Castel, and seize your throne!〗

“What nonsense—where did you even pick that up?”

〖Nini’s newspaper.〗

Hughes was speechless. He turned his gaze away and opened a case file. “So—Alvare’s verdict is today, right? How are you planning to judge him?”

Alvare’s situation was quite special—perhaps the most unique in the entire Northlands. That was why Hughes had personally come here today.

Technically speaking, he wasn’t supposed to interfere in the Tribunal’s decision-making. But as the Lord, he did have the authority to issue recommendations.

And that was a power he had never delegated. Countless examples had proven that if a separate oversight existed outside the judicial system, the system would become a mere façade—hollow and powerless. So, for major cases like this, Hughes always reviewed them himself.

〖This one… is indeed a bit tricky. The harm he caused wasn’t serious, and in fact, he helped us quite a bit. I plan to refer to previous cases and sentence him to a minor offense. You know what I mean, right?〗

Minor offenses usually carried short sentences—but that wasn’t the key point.

The key was: minor offenses were eligible for bail.

When Hughes revised Castel’s constitution, he was quite conservative regarding the bail system—it was only permitted in rare circumstances.

Castel wasn’t short on money, nor did it need to compromise with any internal class. Chloe, who oversaw the Tribunal, had even fewer weaknesses than Nora, which made Castel’s judicial system remarkably pure. It might not have achieved perfect fairness, but it was truly progressing in that direction, rather than regressing like the rest of the world.

At least in this era, it was far more advanced than any other power.

“His case is rather unique. I have an idea…”

Alvare entered the Tribunal with a tense expression.

He had heard many terrifying rumors about this place. Several Northern lords had already been judged here—some were even his own vassals—and every one of them had complained bitterly afterward.

“Dead people judging the living,” they said. “No respect for noble dignity.”

In short—it wasn’t supposed to be a pleasant place.

But as Alvare stepped inside and sat at the defendant’s table, he was… surprised.

It actually didn’t seem so bad.

At least everyone seemed reasonable, and they carefully read out his crimes—the legal articles they were based on, how each offense would typically be sentenced, and which mitigating or aggravating factors would apply.

After listening for a long while, Alvare was left with one overwhelming impression:

Clarity.

To his own shame, he had always thought himself a benevolent ruler toward his commonfolk. Yet when passing judgment, he was often impatient.

Forget explaining his reasoning to the accused—he sometimes invented new laws on a whim, just because he didn’t like someone.

Justice? The Duke’s word is justice!

“…Based on the regulations read above, and in light of your contributions during the expedition,” Chloe declared, “in the name of the Castel Tribunal, I hereby pronounce: Alvare, all lands under your domain in the Northlands—except those required for personal residence—shall be confiscated and placed under Castel’s authority!”

“Your private wealth, however, remains yours—but must be used as directed, per the requirements detailed in the verdict document.”

“Alvare, do you have anything further to say?”

Normally, Chloe wouldn’t even give the convicted a chance to speak.

First, to maintain the Tribunal’s dignity—she was announcing a judgment, not negotiating one.

Second, those who appeared before her usually bore heavy charges—rarely someone like Alvare, who had escaped imprisonment altogether.

Indeed—Alvare was not sentenced to jail time.

That was Hughes’ idea.

Originally, Chloe had planned to confiscate most of Alvare’s property and impose a sentence.

But Hughes proposed something new.

He wanted to use Alvare’s influence in the Northlands—to have him lead by example by investing his wealth in the region’s reconstruction.

In the past, Castel’s economy followed a near-communal model. Currency circulation was minimal, since Castel was an isolated island with a self-contained economy.

But now, things were changing. Castel sought to spread its influence onto the mainland—which meant deeper integration with the wider world, at least economically.

To attract talent from Blood Harbor and beyond, Castel needed to offer proper compensation. But wealth didn’t appear out of thin air. A single Blood Harbor was manageable—but if the entire Northlands were included, and no proper economic system was established, Castel would end up endlessly bleeding money northward.

Unsustainable.

Military expansion was profitable, yes—but Castel aimed to be an industrial power. If it indulged in war-driven growth, it would merely become another Empire—an unstoppable war machine fueled by conquest.

And that was exactly what Hughes didn’t want.

So he planned to develop the Northlands—but not with Castel’s own funds.

Since Alvare was among the beneficiaries of this reconstruction, surely he could contribute some wealth, right?

As one of the Three Grand Dukes of the North, if Alvare set an example and encouraged the other nobles to follow, the entire process would proceed much smoother.

And given Alvare’s pragmatism, Hughes doubted he would defy Castel’s will.

Hughes smiled with satisfaction at the thought.

“I object! I disagree!” Alvare suddenly shouted, slamming the table in front of him.

“Why won’t you sentence me to prison? I want to go to Castel!”