Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Chapter 40: Diary

Nora opened the door, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and hung the iron shovel behind the door.

The room had little in terms of layout, just a table, a wooden chest, and a rolled-up bedspread in the corner.

She pulled the wooden chest in front of the table. At night, she would lay a blanket on top and sleep there, but for now, it served as her bench.

Supporting herself with her hands, she sat on the chest and kicked off her bearskin boots.

She had brought them from the northern frontier, but they were stifling in the island’s humid air.

She had been here for quite some time without realizing it, and she found herself missing the churches and snowstorms of the north.

Nora's gaze dimmed slightly as she reached under the table and took out a notebook.

This was her diary. Every clergy member of the Silent Sanctum kept one.

The White Scourge was too terrifying in the north.

By the time rescuers arrived, the churches often held nothing but frozen corpses encased in ice.

Their only way of knowing what had happened was through the diaries left behind.

Because of this, many people resisted writing in a diary, feeling as though they were penning their own epitaph.

But Nora had never thought of it that way. To her, keeping a diary was something romantic.

To record one’s entire life in a book, to open it and feel as if conversing with oneself, it felt wonderful, as though the line between life and death blurred.

She loved it.

Taking out a quill from a small box, she uncorked an ink bottle and dipped the nib inside.

Carefully, she brushed aside a stray strand of her long white hair that had fallen onto the paper and began to write.

[Seventh day of the Month of Blossoms, clear skies.

[Today is a day worth recording. I have been on Castel Island for nearly two months, and finally, there has been some progress with the Church’s mission.]

[Persistence was indeed the right choice.]

[Since the beginning of this month, the island’s lord, Hughes, has not responded to me. He has not even mentioned the promises he once made. I had thought this mission was already a failure.]

[But this morning, he contacted me through the Empress’s channels. This confused me at first. Later, I realized he might be trying to establish an official connection with me.]

[This is good. Though his previous promises will likely amount to nothing, at least this signifies a form of recognition, recognition of my strength.]

[He must be in trouble.]

[As expected, after an exchange of false pleasantries, he asked me to treat his “non-human friend.”]

[And he made new promises.]

[Even though I know they are lies, the words “This is your home too” still made my heart tremble.]

[How long has it been since the followers of the White Raven had a home?]

[To my successor, you should understand this feeling.]

[Like a bonfire in a blizzard, like the first light of dawn breaking through the eternal night.]

[At that moment, a scorching fire surged in my chest. I would do anything for even a sliver of hope.]

[Even if it means cooperating with a heretic like Hughes.]

Nora frowned slightly as she wrote this, pausing to glance at the sky outside.

Carefully setting her quill aside, she hopped off the chest and turned to open it.

Supporting the lid with one hand, she reached in with the other and pulled out a suit of armor bound together with leather straps.

She unfastened the straps and sighed softly, laying out each piece on the floor in preparation for wearing them later.

This type of full plate armor was difficult to don without assistance, but unfortunately, she was alone.

After arranging the pieces, Nora hesitated. She glanced at her diary, reluctant to part with it, then sat back down at the table and continued writing.

[From the moment he mentioned the non-humans of the sea, I knew he had already been corrupted. If he is the lord of this island, then the heretics must have already infiltrated this place.]

[Since that day, corruption has spread across the entire ocean. There are no longer non-humans in the sea,only monsters.]

[But strangely enough, I have not detected a single trace of corruption on him.]

[He dared not seek the Candlelight Church’s nuns for help, so he turned to me instead. I suspect that once I complete the treatment, he intends to silence me.]

[He deliberately contacted me through official channels, likely planning to shift the trouble onto me later.]

[Too bad he knows nothing about the Burier. He does not understand the immense power that sacred death can bring.]

Nora squeezed the quill in her hand and let out a soft snort.

[I will heal him, I will conceal the truth for him, and I will force him to fulfill his promise.]

[The Sanctum has no path left to take. We must seize any chance for hope, even if it means working with the minions of an evil god.]

[Though the lord is already corrupted by the Evil god, Castel Island is not beyond saving. If we can establish a Church here and build a sanctum, then this place can still become a home for the White Raven’s followers.]

[Home... We have sacrificed too much for this word. The White Scourge has destroyed everything, and countless kin have fallen into despair.]

[Thankfully, there is still hope here.]

[Our predecessors paved the way with blood and flesh. Now, it is my turn.]

[I have already dug my own grave. My successor, please remember to bury me.]

[May the storms pass, and may the flowers bloom.]

Nora snapped her diary shut with a crisp sound.

She carefully wiped it with the edge of her sleeve, then picked it up and inspected it, flipping it over to ensure it was clean and tidy.

Good. Neat and organized, this was her book.

Her future successors would read this diary and remember her. In a way, it would be as if she were still with them.

Her hands trembled slightly at the thought.

She placed a prepared bouquet of flowers on top of the diary.

These were flowers she had brought from the northern frontier, wildflowers she had picked by the roadside, with no name. She had carefully tended to them all this time, but now it no longer seemed necessary.

She had already written a secret letter, which would soon be sent. The Sanctum would dispatch a successor.

Now, she needed to fulfill her duty.

Nora pulled the padded underlayer from the chest and slipped it on, followed by the chainmail, and finally, the plate armor.

Strangely, once she wore the armor, all the weakness, hesitation, and sentimentality faded away.

She was a warrior now. She would die on the path of the charge.

How wonderful.

Her lips curved slightly, but she quickly pressed them together.

In her left hand, she picked up her tower shield. In her right, a flail.

Buries of the Silent Sanctum were not skilled in reasoning, but when the spiked head of a flail caved in an enemy’s skull, they should gain some enlightenment.

For this reason, Nora had even engraved holy scriptures onto the head of her flail.

Dressed in full armor, she turned back to close the chest and tidy the table.

After a moment’s hesitation, she wrote a note, folded it, and placed it beneath the diary.

With everything done, she pulled on a cloak to conceal her armor, opened the door, and walked out without looking back.