22 Broad Street, London, British Empire.
In Junius Morgan's private study, the fireplace dispelled the damp chill characteristic of England.
The room's decor retained the Regency style, with dark mahogany bookshelves filled with hardcover financial yearbooks and nautical charts.
Junius sat behind a large Queen Anne-style desk.
He wore a strictly tailored black suit, his graying hair combed meticulously.
Age had carved deep lines onto his face, making him look like a cold stone statue.
His personal aide, Oliver Sterling, stood before the desk, handing over a freshly decoded telegram with both hands.
"Sir, this is an urgent telegram from Philadelphia. It's from Mr. Drexel."
Junius took the telegram, his gaze sweeping over the cursive letters.
"...Forcing through the Mandatory Gauge Standardization Act... violent mergers... pleading for the initiation of emergency joint intervention..."
Junius finished reading word by word.
He showed no emotional fluctuations, merely folding the telegram silently and pressing it under a brass paperweight on the desk.
"It seems Drexel is panicking."
Sterling broke the silence, glancing cautiously at him.
"Argyle's expansion speed has exceeded their expectations. If we don't intervene, the B&O Railroad and Carnegie's steel mills will soon be swallowed up. Our industrial layout on the North American East Coast may suffer a heavy blow."
Junius stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window of the study.
Outside the window was the gray London sky, with steamboats on the River Thames sounding their whistles.
"Industrial layout."
Junius repeated the phrase, a hint of imperceptible mockery in his tone.
He turned and walked toward a locked iron cabinet in the corner of the study, taking out a key and turning the lock.
Surprisingly, there were no ledgers or gold bars inside the cabinet.
Only a few mementos.
A blood-stained pocket watch, a water-stained diary, and a photograph of a young man.
It was John Pierpont Morgan, his son.
Junius's fingers lightly brushed the edge of the photo frame.
"They think I care about the width of those rails? Care about whether that little Scotsman can smelt steel?"
Junius's murmur was somewhat low.
"Sterling, you should know how John died."
Sterling bowed his head, avoiding Junius's gaze.
"The report said... he was discovered by a thief on a passenger ship crossing the Atlantic Ocean, and then..."
"Lies!"
Junius suddenly raised his voice, but quickly restrained himself.
He turned around, his gray eyes reflecting a cold chill.
"John met with his accident on the ship home only after going to New York to try and block Argyle. My intelligence network has investigated thoroughly. That night, someone bribed the sailors on the ship. He wasn't killed by a thief; it was a premeditated murder!"
"And the beneficiary of all this is that Felix Argyle."
Junius closed the iron cabinet and locked it.
"From the day I received the news, this was no longer a business competition for market share."
Junius walked back to his desk.
"For these past few years, I have lived in agony. If I hadn't sent John to America, perhaps this wouldn't have happened. He would be alive and well, married with children. But now... this is a debt of blood. What I want is not to stop a bill, but the complete destruction of the Argyle Family. I want that upstart to lose all his wealth and power, and finally beg for death in despair."
Sterling felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Then... sir. Mr. Drexel suggests we apply joint pressure to force Washington to yield..."
"Hmph~ That is a merchant's way, not a hunter's way."
Junius sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the desk.
"If it's just pressure, Washington's politicians might temporarily shelve the bill to settle the diplomatic storm. But Argyle would remain unscathed. He holds the technology for electric lights, oil fields, banks, munitions, and so on. As long as he has cash flow, he can make a comeback."
"Therefore, I will cut him off at the roots."
Junius took out a map of European financial power distribution and spread it on the desk.
"Sterling, Drexel's telegram has given me the perfect excuse. An excuse to strap the entirety of European capital onto the war chariot."
"Argyle's rise has already caused panic among those old fogies in London and Paris. Though they haven't said it outright, I know they fear their steam engines will become scrap metal. Now, with his ambition to monopolize North American railroads, all the excuses have come together."
"Go draft the invitations," Junius commanded.
"Invite Baron Léonce de Valois of France, and Lord Richard Grosvenor, representing domestic English capital. Tomorrow night, I will host a banquet for them in a private box at the Savoy Hotel."
Sterling recorded the names, hesitating slightly.
"Sir, if you disclose your entire revenge plan to them, they may not be willing to risk triggering a financial crisis for your personal vendetta."
"Who said I was going to tell them the truth?"
Junius wore a calculating smile.
"On the surface, I will be a leader clamoring to maintain free trade and protect European assets in America. I will propose a 'decent and powerful' diplomatic protest. I will make them believe we only want to teach that arrogant Yankee a lesson."
"But in reality..."
Junius paused, his gaze sharp as a knife.
"I will use the joint protest letter they sign as the fuse to ignite panic on Wall Street. While they are still waiting for Washington's reply, I will use all the Morgan Family's secret funds to frantically short America's national debt and all the listed stocks under Argyle's name."
"I will create a man-made avalanche and bury every living thing beneath it."
Sterling looked at the head of the family he had followed for over a decade, somewhat dazed.
"But sir, in doing so, we will also offend these European capitalists. If they find out..."
Old Morgan raised his hand to stop him.
"Then don't let them find out! Say no more, I have made my decision."
Sterling was taken aback, then chose to bow his head.
"Phew... understood, sir. I will send out the invitations immediately."
As the study door closed.
Junius took out Drexel's telegram again and threw it into the fireplace.
Watching the flames consume the paper, Junius picked up the black tea on the desk.
"Just you wait, Argyle. I'll show you the price of provoking an Old Lion."
The following night.
London, the Savoy Hotel.
The night view of the River Thames was shut out by heavy velvet curtains.
Inside the private box, a crystal chandelier cast a soft glow, illuminating an aged bottle of Bordeaux at the center of the dining table and an untouched Beef Wellington on a silver platter.
Three men representing the power of European capital sat around the table.
Junius Morgan sat at the head of the table.
To his right was Lord Richard Grosvenor, a portly British aristocrat wearing a monocle whose family controlled a third of Britain's coal mines and numerous overseas shipping lines.
To his left was Baron Lyons de Valois.
This Parisian financier wore an exquisite French tailcoat and a neatly trimmed mustache. He represented France's vast overseas lending network.
The dinner pleasantries had concluded, and the waiters had been dismissed.
Sterling locked the door to the box from the outside.
Junius pulled the re-transcribed secret letter from Philadelphia out of his pocket and pushed it to the center of the table.
"Gentlemen, please take a look at this plea for help from the New World."
Junius's voice was steady, without a hint of impatience.
Lord Grosvenor picked up the letter, his eyes narrowing behind his monocle.
Baron Valois held his wine glass and leaned in to read along.
The only sound in the box was the rustling of paper.
"Hmph... ridiculous."
Lord Grosvenor tossed the letter back onto the table with a cold snort.
"Does this man, Felix Argyle, think America is his private estate? Forcing a unified gauge and squeezing out the Baltimore Railroad. This is an overt violation of business rules."
"Not only that, Your Lordship."
Baron Valois set down his glass, a glint of shrewdness in his eyes.
"As far as I know, this Argyle has just established an entity called 'General Electric.' The glass light bulbs they produce have already begun to light up the streets of New York. While I'm skeptical about the commercial use of electricity, if he is allowed a monopoly on this technology and combines it with his railway and energy empire, the value of the traditional gas companies and steel mills we've invested in across North America might plummet."
Junius cut into the conversation at the right moment.
"That is precisely why I invited you both here tonight. Argyle is no longer a mere American businessman; he is a Leviathan spiraling out of control. He uses money to bribe congressmen in Washington and private forces to suppress competitors. If that 'Standardization Act' is officially passed, it would mean the White House legally recognizes his monopoly."
Junius crossed his hands on the table.
"Gentlemen, our families have invested tens of millions of pounds and francs in North America, purchasing their national debt and funding their canals and railways. We cannot stand by and watch this vast wealth be swallowed by an unruly New York upstart."
Lord Grosvenor cut a small piece of steak and chewed it.
"Mr. Morgan, your concerns are not without merit. But America is, after all, a sovereign nation. We cannot simply send a few gunboats to blockade their ports as we would with India or Africa. That would trigger a diplomatic disaster."
"I am not suggesting the use of force."
Junius replied.
"After all, we possess a weapon sharper than cannons: the flow of capital."
Junius produced a draft of a joint statement he had prepared in advance.
"I propose that the three of us here, representing the European financial world, submit a formal joint protest to America."
"In the protest, we shall state clearly: we are gravely concerned by Washington's indulgence of the Argyle Family's monopoly and their arbitrary changes to infrastructure standards. Such actions severely undermine the foundation of the free market. If the bill is not vetoed by the President, the European financial community will indefinitely suspend the underwriting of the Federal Government's next issue of national debt and cease providing new credit lines to all North American railway companies."
Baron Valois raised an eyebrow.
"Cutting off credit? That's a ruthless move. Grant may be an old soldier who knows how to fight, but running a country requires money. If the treasury is empty, he won't even be able to pay his troops."
"Precisely," Junius nodded.
"This is a dignified yet powerful warning. We don't need to sell off assets in the market, as that would cause us book losses. We only need to choke off their future pool of funds, and the politicians in Washington will naturally weigh the pros and cons. They will obediently toss that bill into the wastebasket."
Lord Grosvenor wiped the juice from the corner of his mouth and thought for a moment.
"This proposal is sound. It demonstrates our firm stance without causing substantial market turmoil. As long as Washington backs down, our interests will be secured. I agree to sign this protest."
Baron Valois did not immediately voice his stance.
He picked up his glass of Bordeaux and swirled it gently.
The dark red liquid reflected a hazy luster under the lights.
He then took a sip and placed the glass back on the silver coaster. The Baron looked at Junius, a meaningful smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Mr. Morgan, your plan is very thorough and is indeed a good way to restrain that American upstart."
The Baron paused, leaning forward slightly and lowering his voice.
"While this method is good, I believe there is an even better one."
Junius's eyes narrowed slightly as he calmly watched his French partner.
"Oh? Does Your Lordship have something in mind?"
Baron Valois leaned back in his chair, pulled a slender cigar from his jacket pocket, and lit it.
"To those hungry wolves, warnings and protests are merely a tickle."
The Baron exhaled a puff of blue smoke.
"If we're going to act, why not stir the waters even further?"
Greed, typical of a speculator, flickered in the Baron's eyes.
"If, on the same day the protest is submitted, rumors spread that America's gold reserves are depleted or that several major railway companies are about to default... it would trigger a brief market panic. We could then scoop up those panic-sold shares at low prices. When Washington yields and the market rebounds, we would not only protect our existing interests but also make a massive profit."
"That is the true essence of our coming across the ocean to do business, isn't it?"
The atmosphere in the box instantly turned subtle.
Lord Grosvenor frowned, clearly uncomfortable with such a gambling-like proposal.
Meanwhile, Junius was laughing inwardly.
He had been worrying about how to tie these two to the chariot of the great crash he was preparing to engineer, only to have the French Baron, driven by greed, take the initiative to propose escalating the situation.
"Oho, Your Lordship."
Junius raised his glass, masking the joy in his eyes.
"Your proposal is quite enlightening. Perhaps we can indeed discuss how to gain some extra compensation during this 'protest'."
Three goblets clinked softly over the dining table.
The crisp clink of glass sounded the death knell for Wall Street. A financial strangulation, cloaked in the guise of a protest, had officially begun.