Industrial Cthulhu, starting from the island lord

Chapter 643 The Rhine Machine

Rhine City.

The capital of the empire, a miraculous city built out of thin air, a paradise for factory owners and the new nobility, and a holy site of the mechanical sanctuary.

Of course, these are all old titles, and since the Empress's assassination, these names are rarely mentioned anymore.

This place was originally built by the royal family. In order to support the Mechanical Church to rival the Candlelight Church, the royal family invested in it without regard to cost.

Rhine did not disappoint people's expectations. As bags of Rhine were thrown down, a large number of factories sprang up. A new noble class centered around the factory owners also emerged. The old nobles gradually extended olive branches, and many even lowered their status and started their own factories.

Back then, this place was full of life. Although the workers at the bottom were still considered waste, at least the nobles were willing to share some of the scraps from their profits as carrots dangling in front of them, to entice people forward.

At that time, the city was vast, chaotic, and dangerous, but also full of opportunities.

But gradually, everything began to sink, with no turning back.

When Frey arrived at the city of Rhine, he felt as if he were seeing the corpse of a giant.

This is the city gate of Rhine City. Freya pulled up his stained hood and cautiously peeked out from the queue.

He traveled in an airship with Zoe and her group for some time within the Empire, then secretly landed in a secluded spot, and the two groups split up.

Besides him, there were several soldiers under Erwin's command. Those men were mainly there to contact the Ash Alliance, while he was to try to blend in as his own identity.

This wasn't difficult; Frey had spent his childhood on the streets and knew exactly how to deal with all sorts of people.

With the fake identity he got from the Ash Alliance and a few bags of Leo's funds, infiltrating Rhine would be a piece of cake.

That's what he originally thought.

Frey stood in the queue, looking at the city guards at the gate and the supervising priest with a look of disbelief on his face.

The queue he was in wasn't long; at least for a large city like the Rhine, it shouldn't have been so short.

But Frey wasn't surprised at all; in fact, he thought it was a miracle that there were so many people.

This was simply because the search upon entering the city was so bizarre.

Frey has dealt with the city guards quite a few times. They are a pack of greedy wolves. When they set their sights on you, you can't be penniless, nor can you be too fat, or you'll get into trouble.

But the people in front of him completely overturned Frey's understanding.

A priest in a long robe was holding a long whip and was excitedly lashing a person kneeling on the ground.

"Memorize it! Memorize it! You must memorize the candlelight prayer. How can you know the greatness of the Papacy if you don't recite the doctrines?"

Snapped!
As the whip fell, a pale welt appeared on the man's back, which immediately swelled up and turned a glaring purplish-red, with faint traces of blood seeping out.

To enter the city, one must memorize the doctrine of candlelight.

The priest grinned maliciously as he whipped the person, and the people in the queue fell silent in fear.

Frey opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he only adjusted his hood, hiding his expression in the shadows.

What an outrageous request!
Even in White Stone Castle, the greedy soldiers only wanted Leo; they could buy peace by paying money.

Here, the priest seemed to simply enjoy torturing people.

—The man wasn't incapable of reciting the doctrine; he was struggling to chant it, but with each line he recited, a whooshing sound came from the air, and soon a bloody welt appeared on his back. The priest's words, accompanied by his sinister laughter, echoed through the city gate: "Everyone is a sinner, and everyone must atone for their sins. Hahahaha, recite it quickly!"

"This flame... is not the scorching remnants of the sun, nor is it a radiant offering. Ah!"

"Damn it! You piece of trash! Who gave you the right to taint the doctrine of candlelight with such vile words!"

"With candle tears covering your eyes and candle wicks nailing your tongues, do you feel the sacredness of the candlelight?"

Frey stared in shock at what he saw. The priest seemed to want neither money nor whether the people in front of him were devout; he simply wanted to vent his anger.

Frey's gaze fell on the kneeling man who was chanting prayers. He was thin, had a bitter face, and his clothes were tattered.

But these tattered clothes were probably very important. He couldn't bear to see them torn by the whip, so he carefully placed them aside and let his flesh and blood bear the blows.

The priest was probably tired. He whipped the whip for a while longer, then put it on the table next to him and shook his hand.

"next."

Another person came up, equally thin and poor, as if they were carved from the same mold.

He took off his clothes and gently placed them aside, then knelt down with his head down, mumbling a prayer.

The priest waved his hand: "I'm tired."

After saying that, he sat down on an armchair with a parasol over his head. The guards quickly surrounded him and offered him drinks.

Frey's eyes darted around. Perhaps the previous man was just unlucky, and the priest just happened to be looking for someone to vent his anger on.
"Quickly, move the machine up here!"

A soldier who looked like a squad leader was fanning the priest while shouting at the soldiers next to him.

Soon, several soldiers carried over a large iron machine.

Frey cautiously peered out. In the past few days, he had been with Castells' delegation and had seen many kinds of machinery. The steam engines that could curse and even spew coal briquettes when they got angry left a deep impression on him.

But the machine in front of him still left him somewhat bewildered.

He looked at it for a long time, but still couldn't figure out what it was for.

It appeared to be a roulette wheel, with cylindrical grooves on the rim connected by a crankshaft in the middle, and a delicate handle at the other end.

It looks somewhat like a flywheel on a steam engine, but there are subtle differences.

The soldiers carried the machine over, placed it in front of the priest, filled it with fuel, and the wheel slowly began to rotate.

Perhaps it's a fan? Frey had seen similar structures on airships. To keep cool, some stokers would add a few gears to the steam engine to make a simple gearbox, and then connect a fan to it with bearings, so that a breeze would blow when the steam engine was started.

Of course, if you anger the steam engine, you can expect a typhoon to pass through.

"Sir, please."

The soldiers set up the machine, and the squad leader handed the priest's whip over with a handkerchief.

The priest grunted in response, casually inserted the whip into the spinning wheel, and then reclined comfortably in his armchair, turning the other handle.

The wheel turned, and the whip cracked as it fell. Now he could whip the kneeling believers without having to exert himself.

(End of this chapter)