The Hungry Fortress Wants to Build a Battleship in Another World – World of Sandbox

“So then, what became of that foolish baron?”
“Yes, sir. He suffered severe °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° bruising across the body and a broken right leg from the impact on the water, and has been admitted to the military hospital. As the minutes have already been forwarded to the Army, they are unlikely to press us too hard on the matter.”
“Hmph. In another age, it would be a hanging offense. And he chose to direct his insolence at royalty?”
“Yes, sir. According to the report, without doubt. Whether one believes the counterpart or not is another matter—but taking the position that one does, the behavior was so outrageously rude that it could have prompted an outright declaration of war.”
“So he cannot even manage the bare minimum of courtesy as a man. Wretched fool. Does he think nothing of the groundwork and delicate adjustments we have labored to build?”
Fleet Admiral Alban Breias let out a long sigh as he read the report.
An Army colonel who had muscled his way into negotiations with Paraiso. He belonged to the Royal Capital Defense Bureau, and bore the noble title of baron.
Yet in the Kingdom of Lepuitari, the aristocracy had in practice long since been abolished. Noble privileges were still recognized, with a minimum annual stipend provided—but that was all.
The political structure of the House of Lords had collapsed in a coup. To avoid turmoil, the noble system was left in place, but government ministers and the military high command wielded authority equal to that of the peerage. Even a baron could not make absurd demands of them.
Still, a man with the rank of colonel could issue demands, and in the military’s rigid hierarchy subordinates could scarcely object. To heap the blame for this failure upon the negotiating officers would be a mistake.
“We shall lodge a formal protest with the Army, of course. But in this case we have no choice but to elevate the matter to the palace. We may well require the presence of one of our own royals.”
Unwelcome as that might be, once the other side had declared themselves royalty, the Kingdom had to match them with royalty in kind.
It was necessary to ascertain, once and for all, what sort of royal standing the counterpart held—was she in the line of succession, or merely of collateral bloodline?
The rank of the Lepuitari royal chosen to attend would have to be made to correspond. A mismatch too great, and even the act of meeting could be deemed an insult.
“From the next session, I shall attend myself.”
At last, the Navy’s high command was roused.
They had deliberately kept the matter at field-officer level, but that would no longer do.
The other side had revealed stature befitting recognition. They could hardly continue sending a mere lieutenant commander.
Alban Breias, Fleet Admiral of the Navy, whose position within the kingdom was considered equivalent to that of a Duke, made his decision.
He had hoped to push the matter through administrative channels and consult the Assembly, but circumstances demanded a direct, forceful correction. Should there be another misstep, Paraiso’s immense power might be turned upon the capital, Moor.
“Lieutenant Commander Estainka will be disappointed, but from now on I will take the reins. And mind—his career must not suffer for it. We’ll have the Army bear the responsibility.”
“Yes, sir. Understood. I will see to it.”
The recent fool had acted on his own, but as for the Army’s future moves—those were far harder to read. Bloated, greedy carcasses who lived only to indulge their appetites, they acted on emotion rather than reason, and possessed both the power and wealth to crush any problem they created.
“…Perhaps this is the moment to take them in hand at last. Foreign policy has stalled anyway. It will serve as the perfect pretext to divert resources inward.”
The Kingdom’s boundless expansionism had been brought to a screeching halt by Paraiso’s sudden appearance.
The fools might still think themselves free to act, but that would not continue.
Negotiations with Paraiso were troublesome, yes—but the other side was, fortunately, friendly. In this interval, the Kingdom could clean house, and finally undertake the reforms so long deferred.
“…It may be time to bring the Old Man back into the open.”

“Sir, you mean to summon him?”
“Yes. He’s surely tired of retirement by now. Send a messenger.”
◇◇◇◇
“Sir Amagio! Sir Amagiooo!”
Bam bam bam! The pounding on the door came from the village headman’s only daughter.
“Nngh—nnnnghh…”
The man lying face-down on the floor jerked at the noise, sluggishly lifting his head.
“Sir Amagio!! Are you asleep again!”
“…The way you say that, it sounds as if my sleeping were a crime…”
He muttered under his breath, gave his head a shake, and rose from the floor. He stretched, long and slow.
“Sir Amagio! Sir Amagio!!”
“Saarya. I’m coming. Stop pounding before you break the door.”
“Oh! You’re up, Sir Amagio!”
The pounding gave way to a rattling at the doorknob. Clearly this girl was of an exceedingly impatient temperament.
The man sighed, and click—unlatched the lock.
Instantly, bang! the door flew wide.
“Sir Amagio!!”
The girl leapt at him; the man caught her firmly.
“Saarya. I told you to stop throwing yourself at me.”
“It’s fine!”
Her cheerful answer drew a laugh from him. He ruffled her hair, then gently pressed her back and set her aside.
“So then. What brings you here so early in the morning, Saarya? Unusual for you.”
“Oh, that’s right!”
She scrambled to fish in her pocket, and pulled out a letter.
“Here! Addressed to you, from the capital! My father received it yesterday!”
“Hm, the capital?”
He accepted the letter and turned it over.
“…Hmm?”
“Sir Amagio, what is it? My father said he didn’t know the sender either!”
“Ah. An old friend, it seems. Been quite a long time.”
“……”
As she fell quiet, the man smiled again and set a hand atop her head.
“Don’t make that face, Saarya. My home is here. I always come back, don’t I?”
“…Last time you said that, you stayed away a whole year.”
“Ah… well, yes, that’s true. Sorry about that. My sense of time’s been slipping lately.”
He grumbled, glancing behind him—at a large crystal hung at his chest on a frayed shirt, scruffy beard framing his face.
All around the room lay heaps of metal devices, their purpose unclear.
“Haah… I’ve hit a dead end here anyway. And they say the capital’s developed some since. Might be time to show my face.”
“…Sir Amagio!”
Her puffed cheeks showed her protest.
“Ah, sorry, sorry. I get it, Saarya. I don’t know yet what the errand is, but I promise—I’ll come back once a month at least. All right? Will that do?”
“Uuuh… It’s a promise!”
“Yes, yes. A promise.”
“Very well, Sir Amagio. Tomorrow a carriage is leaving the village; perhaps you’d ride along?”
“That helps. I’ll do some trading too, send supplies back.”
“We’re always grateful, Sir Amagio.”
The man had come to the village with nothing but a single bag from his manor.
In the end, the letter was an invitation from a friend.
The gist: the state was about to shift again, and his help was needed.
“A foreign super-battleship, eh…”
Long ago—before the Kingdom’s reforms—he and that friend had spoken of giant mechanical ships that plowed the seas.
Perhaps one of them was now approaching, from beyond the horizon.
“Guess I’ll have to see for myself.”
Absentmindedly, he murmured, fingers brushing the crystal at his chest.
“And I’ll have to settle things with those I left unfinished… this time, for real.”
Some thirty years past, as one of the generals who became heroes of salvation, his name was known across the nation.
One of them—and one who had, outwardly, retired in harmony—held the hereditary title of Duke. That was the man’s station.
“But Headman, Saarya’s grown into quite the fine young lady.”
“…Don’t joke, Sir Amagio. She still hasn’t calmed a whit, spends her days dashing through the hills.”
“As the next headwoman, that’s only reassuring.”
Maybe I should find her a husband in the capital, he mused.
“If only you’d take her yourself, Sir Amagio, I’d have peace of mind.”
“Don’t be absurd. The age gap alone is ridiculous—and I’ve no such perversion as to marry a child whose diapers I once changed.”
Looking no older than a man in his twenties, Amagio thus replied, and watched fondly as the girl ran chasing the village children.