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

That report came like a bolt from the blue.
“Unidentified fleet inbound, heading for the harbor!”

The first alert was an emergency signal from Moar’s great lighthouse. It was a crisis code that simply was never used. The duty officer who noticed it at first had no idea what it meant. He’d been taught the code on his first day of assignment years ago—and had never seen it since. He couldn’t even recognize it.
“Hey—that’s the Fleet Approach Alarm!! A fleet, five or more ships, affiliation unknown!!”
A certain staffer in the department, famous as a manual zealot, shouted when he saw it. No one doubted his knowledge. The communications officer sprinted at once to alert Harbor Security.

Meanwhile, the mysterious fleet kept closing. Merchants who spotted it hurriedly sheeted their sails and began clearing out of its path. If you block a warship’s way, you have no grounds to complain when you’re sunk without ceremony.
Warships have top priority of passage; merchantmen are the lowest. That said, Lepuitari’s naval vessels had a reputation for strict discipline and proper manners.
“This is bad—we won’t make it in time!”
“Move it!! Get those sails up!!”

But ships anchored at moorings don’t get underway so easily. Crews fought to raise sail, yet in most cases half the hands were ashore when lying in harbor. Inevitably there were vessels that simply couldn’t move as intended.
“They’re coming this way!!”
“—! They turned…? Oi, they turned—they turned! You, drop anchor! Run, run, run!!”
The approaching warship slowly altered course to port. Likely to avoid an immobilized merchantman. Noticing that, the merchant crew hastily doused canvas. Catching the wind wrong could put them on a collision course. If the other side would avoid them, the safest move was not to move at all.
“Whoaaa…! Look at the size of it!!”
“What country’s ship is that!?”
“No sails and no paddles! Is it Lepuitari’s newest class!?”

The warship’s hull was painted pure white. With no sails set and only a single mast, one could guess it was powered. Despite being no smaller than the Lepuitari Kingdom’s capital ships, its speed was unbelievably high. From the moment the lookout cried out, it was on them in a blink.
“Watch the wake!!”
“She’s gonna roll—hang on!!”
The white warship’s wake threw the merchantman into a heavy sway. Clinging to bulwarks and masts, the sailors stared up in a daze as the hull swept past. Ordinarily, warships never passed so close. Routes were announced in advance—and hardly any warships anchored in the capital Moar’s harbor to begin with.

Thus Moar Harbor slid into a mild panic. Not quite a stampede, but rumors flew—unveiling of a new class, an enemy raid—and onlookers jammed the quays and piers. Naturally, the more people gathered, the slower the Navy moved, though several coastal patrol craft somehow managed to shove off—with crews clearly short of complement.
Amid the confusion, the fleet eased to a halt. One ship stood out, immense—likely the flagship. Around it, eight warships formed a tight ring at close intervals. Though they hadn’t dropped anchor, their relative positions did not waver a hair. Anyone who knew what they were looking at would have recognized that this was an extremely advanced technique.
“Captain, what do we do? Boarding inspection!?”
“Idiot—how are we supposed to board a foreign man-of-war!? They’ll kill us!”

Nor could a patrol craft blunder close. Attempting to board a warship would be judged a hostile act, and they’d have no complaint if they were sunk for it. The state might complain, perhaps—but it would be his and his men’s lives lost. Without formal orders, there was no reason to approach.
Luckily, the pure-white warship merely sat there, showing no sign of doing anything else. Until orders arrived from command, they could only remain on station under the pretext of surveillance. The captain decided as much and ordered the anchor dropped.
—

“Nobody told me this. What was the Coast Guard doing!?”
“They may have slipped into the Lafreto Sea under cover of night.”
“Of course they did! That’s why we reinforced the Carmora Strait—how many hulls do you think we assigned there!?”
Supreme Commander Alban Bleyas, stationed at headquarters, bellowed at the subordinate who had brought the report. The Lafreto Sea, bay though it was, was vast—and a border with other nations to boot—making total surveillance impossible. Therefore patrol craft at the Carmora Strait had been increased, with regulations requiring at least three hulls on night watch at all times. To let not one or two, but a fleet of nine pass through—there was no word for it but gross incompetence.
“Lord Alban! An urgent letter from Carmora Port!”
“…Read it.”
“Yes, sir. From: Carmora Port Commander, Colonel Clude Moa. To: Royal Navy Supreme Command, External Affairs. New Calendar 32, October 32, 08:16—visual contact with unidentified fleet transiting the Carmora Strait. Six confirmed. Estimated eight or nine. All ships under power. Patrol craft unable to make contact. Exercise caution. End of message!”
“…Eight in the morning—today.”

Current time: October 32, 16:00. If the report was to be believed, the fleet had passed the Carmora Strait and reached the capital Moar in eight hours.
“Lord Alban. An urgent letter from Braoritter Port!”
Alban Bleyas motioned silently for the continuation.

“By your leave! From: Braoritter Port Commander, Colonel Belias Grand. To: Royal Navy Supreme Command, External Affairs. New Calendar 32, October 32, 12:36—report received from Carmora Port of unidentified fleet incursion. At 12:51, patrol craft sighted a silhouette believed to be the same unidentified fleet by visual. One confirmed. No sails; presumed under power. Patrol craft unable to make contact. Exercise caution. End of message!”
That corroborated the Carmora report. A near-identical alert from another port meant the information was likely correct unless they were colluding. And it was hard to imagine Lepuitari Navy colonels submitting coordinated deception.
After this, similar reports and follow-ups would pour in from ports and patrol craft across the region.

At this point, there was no denying it.
The fleet now stationary in the capital Moar’s harbor had come from the ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) Carmora Strait to Moar in a mere eight hours or so.
That was a speed regime the Lepuitari Royal Navy’s latest ships had not attained. Outwardly, even the newest steam screw vessels needed over twenty hours to cover that distance; in unofficial speed trials, none had ever broken fifteen.
“This is bad…”

The Supreme Commander muttered it without thinking. Fortunately, it seemed no one heard. The Navy’s top man could not be caught voicing despair. Alban Bleyas drew a deep breath and issued orders.
“No one is to make the first move. Convey this as a strict order to the lowest ranks. Next, prepare envoys at once. Put the garrisons at Braoritter Port, Weissritter Port, and Vatsila Port on a war footing. I’m going to the palace to report; send a herald ahead. And I want direct visual confirmation—assign me someone versed in armaments. We depart immediately.”
“Understood!”
At his orders, the room sprang into motion. An underground passage connected headquarters to the harbor watchtower; using it, they could confirm the situation quickly. Unidentified warships had penetrated right up to the harbor mouth. In the worst case, they could shell the royal palace.

There was not a moment to spare.
And all of it was watched by a spy-bot, quietly clinging to a corner of the ceiling.