Industrial Cthulhu, starting from the island lord

Chapter 578 A Bowl of Hot Porridge

Nora watched in amazement.

"I'd heard long ago that being scolded by the steam engine was a unique feature of Castells, something one had to experience, but I didn't expect you to experience it so soon."

"It's...it's alright." Gwen scratched her head, grinning foolishly as she placed her hand on the boiler of the steam engine.

As a result, two red-hot coals popped out of the stove and hit her hand directly, startling Gwen into pulling her hand back.

Nora: "."

Gwen: "."

The stoker on the other side was already dumbfounded, skillfully dodging the coal ball that just happened to fly over before he came to his senses.

"No, actually this is quite an amazing thing! Machine spirits usually rarely pay attention to people, so if it curses at you, it means it's interested in you. This is something many mechanical apprentices envy but can't even dream of!"

His gaze toward Gwen held more than just envy; it even contained a hint of jealousy—why did the steam engine only scold you and not me? I've spent far more time with it!

Gwen was dumbfounded. Watching the steam engine begin spitting coal briquettes at the stoker, she cautiously took a few steps back, hugged Nora tightly, and whispered, "Are all Castel people this... twisted?"

"It should be just an isolated incident."

It must be said that Gwen really charmed the Steam Engine. She quickly started chatting with it, telling it about the snow and wind in the North, and the Steam Engine roared as it spewed out a few wisps of flame from its boiler.

Gwen thought most people would react this way, at least the superhumans should, but the steam engine didn't seem to like Nora. Gwen hung Nora on the flywheel and spun it around for a long time, but the steam engine ignored her. Finally, when Gwen tried to stuff Nora into the boiler, she was scolded by both the steam engine and Nora at the same time.

“Hmm, it’s probably because you’ve only come halfway, and the Steam Engine thinks you’re not being polite,” Gwen said to Nora, wiping the dust off her face with a towel.

I think you're being more impolite.

"What? You're asking me why the Steam Engine likes me so much? I think it's alright, I just make friends easily. Everyone likes Gwen. Nora, don't be discouraged, the Steam Engine will scold you one day."

Gwen, in a cheerful mood, reached out to pat Nora, ignoring Nora's increasingly cold gaze.
"Aaaaaah, Lady Nora, please don't bite me!!!"

The steam engine, still fuming, spat out a few more lumps of coal, which the stoker quickly shoveled back into the boiler.

Speechless all the way.

After traversing most of the Duchy of Tis, the train began to slowly slow down.

Gwen was now fully armored, including her gauntlets. No, especially her gauntlets.

Through the gaps in her armor, you could vaguely see a few teeth marks on her neck.

She held Nora in one arm, like a knight holding his helmet, and looked out the window with some curiosity.

"Is this Blood Harbor? There are so many people!"

“No, we’re not even at Blood Harbor yet.” Nora glanced outside. “This is the shantytown near Blood Harbor. Originally, this area was outside the city limits and belonged to the countryside, but as Blood Harbor grew larger, people started to gather outside.”

Gwen peered out and saw that the area was mostly populated by refugees. With constant wars on the mainland, they had no choice but to wander around, picking up materials outside the city to build makeshift shelters that barely provided any protection from the wind and rain.

"I thought Blood Harbor was a very prosperous place."

“Every prosperity has its limits. No matter how big a city is, it can’t accommodate everyone in the world. Besides, look closely at those people.” Gwen looked closely upon hearing this.

Although the refugees were dressed in tattered clothes, most of them looked fairly well. There were no corpses lying on the roadside, and not even much garbage had piled up.

“Although this area is outside the city, it is still managed and has basic order. Many people would rather live in this shantytown than leave because there is hope here.”

“Hope,” Gwen murmured to herself. She was a refugee of the White Ravens herself and knew all too well what refugees were like.

These people certainly didn't seem to be left to fend for themselves; upon closer inspection, almost all those in the shantytowns were women and children.

This is not because there are only women and children among the refugees. Refugees consisting only of women and children cannot survive. There is only one explanation for this situation: the able-bodied people have all gone to work.

Having a job means you won't starve; as long as you can survive, there is hope.

"Look over there."

Nora suddenly stirred against her chest. Gwen looked in the direction Nora was moving and saw a group of people standing in a long line, with hooded figures on both sides maintaining order. At the front of the line was a large pot.

Gwen narrowed her eyes. The physical abilities of superhumans far surpass those of ordinary people, including their eyesight, although she didn't consider herself a superhuman.

"Holy water? They're distributing holy water?"

Gwen was taken aback. Holy water was a very expensive thing. Not to mention refugees, even some nobles who had fallen on hard times had to use it carefully. How could it be distributed so casually?
Upon closer inspection, the "holy water" scooped into the bowl did not seem as clear as the church's; instead, it appeared somewhat thick. Gwen sniffed and then swallowed.

"That is holy water for the refugees."

“Use rice, rye, and any other food you can get your hands on, put them in a pot, add water and cook until it becomes thick, and that is holy water. It can save the lives of refugees, fill their stomachs, drive away the cold, and bring them hope. There is nothing more sacred than this.”

Gwen stared blankly at the stall distributing holy water.

“The newly recruited workers in Blood Harbor all worship Hughes as a god. No matter how hard we try to stop them, we can’t. Even if the Imperial Truth sends people to explain ten times, it’s no match for a bowl of hot porridge in my hand.”

A bowl of hot porridge.

Gwen looked at the fragrant pot, her throat bobbing involuntarily. Back when they first started their wandering days, all they had were hard, rock-hard flatbreads. They would grab a handful of snow, mix it with the flatbread, and shove it into their mouths to swallow it whole. If she had a bowl of hot porridge back then, she would have been willing to risk her life on the battlefield.

Later, when the bread wasn't enough, they drew their swords and cut flesh from the nobles.

Countless people have perished in the snowstorms of the North.

Cooking porridge doesn't require any advanced skills or those daunting books. A young man who has bought a ship's worth of goods on credit can do it by discussing it with his companions.

But even all the big shots in the North combined couldn't do it.

Gwen suddenly remembered that the resistance had not been short of food after capturing the first town.

The lords' granaries were always full of food, and if they were willing to distribute some, these White Raven refugees wouldn't risk their lives to steal it.

They clearly don't need much food; a bowl of hot porridge would be enough for them.

Sunlight falls on the land of Blood Harbor, and the frost and snow of the North are no longer visible.

(End of this chapter)