London, UK. Lombard Street.
The air here seemed heavier than in New York, the sky shrouded in an eternal grey, a mixture of soot and fog.
The sound of carriages passing over ancient cobblestones was muffled, absorbed by the heavy buildings.
This was the heart of the world's capital, and George Peabody Bank, where Junius Spencer Morgan worked, was located at the center of this power.
Junius Morgan, the founder of the Morgan family, stood in his spacious and solemn partner's office. Unlike his ambitious son, as company chairman George Peabody gradually handed over control to him, he resembled more an old-school monarch.
His attire was impeccable, his eyes sharp, and his every movement exuded a seasoned composure.
At this moment, he was awaiting news of the scotia's arrival in Liverpool.
Old Morgan anticipated his son's return, and also a private father-son discussion about how to reshape America's financial landscape.
While not entirely agreeing with John Pierpont's overly aggressive methods, he nonetheless admired his son's ambition and his precise grasp of timing.
The office door was softly knocked.
"Come in," Junius's voice was low.
His chief secretary, a middle-aged gentleman as meticulous as he was, entered with a pale face.
In his hand was an opened telegram, freshly sent from the Liverpool port telegraph office.
"Sir."
The secretary's voice carried a tremor he couldn't control.
"Liverpool... news has come from Liverpool. It's about the scotia."
"He's arrived?" Junius turned around. "Tell him to come directly to London; I'll wait for him at the club tonight."
"No... Sir."
The secretary swallowed with difficulty, not daring to meet those sharp eyes.
"The ship... something happened on the ship. Liverpool police... in Mr. John Pierpont's first-class suite..."
Junius's heart sank sharply.
"...They found... two bodies."
Junius's hand trembled, and the cigar in his hand silently slipped, falling onto the expensive Persian carpet, burning a small scorch mark.
"Explain clearly."
Junius's voice trembled, yet was terrifyingly calm.
"It's... Mr. John Pierpont, and his personal valet."
The secretary's voice was almost a whisper.
"Police's preliminary assessment... is that they were victims of an armed robbery. There were signs of a fierce struggle, the safe was opened, and all valuables were gone. Both... suffered multiple stab wounds and died on the spot."
Robbery? Struggle?
Junius said nothing.
He simply walked slowly to the window with slightly faltering steps, looking out at the grey sky.
That heart, as hard as steel, felt as if it had been crushed by an invisible hand.
He knew his son.
John was such a proud, calculating man.
How could he die at the hands of a few foolish thieves, like an ordinary merchant robbed in a dark alley?
"Thieves..."
Junius repeated the word softly, his eyes misty with tears.
He remembered the name, repeatedly mentioned in his son's last letter.
Felix Argyle.
He knew this was by no means a simple robbery.
This was the most brutal and direct retribution from the New World... New York, Fifth Avenue mansion study.
Just hours after Junius Morgan received that death telegram on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, an encrypted message, delivered through a secret channel, was placed on Felix's desk.
Flynn's figure, as always, stood silently in the shadows.
Felix put down the documents for the "Lexington Steel Company" preparation plan and picked up the thin telegram paper.
"Cargo lost, channel cleared."
Felix fed the note into the fireplace flames; the paper quickly curled, blackened, and turned to ash in the high heat.
"Where are Viper and Echo?"
Felix spoke, his voice devoid of any discernible emotion.
"They have already separated immediately after landing in Liverpool, as you instructed," Flynn replied carefully.
"Viper went to Paris, Echo went to Berlin. They will cut off all contact and enter a silent state, awaiting your next instructions."
"Hm."
Felix nodded and walked to the large world map, his gaze falling on London.
Morgan, the most dangerous and unpredictable piece on his chessboard, had finally been cleared.
However, he felt no joy, only a sense of calm after resolving a major hidden danger.
Because Felix knew very well that this was just the beginning.
Old Morgan was still around, and according to history, next year he would take over George Peabody Bank, becoming an influential figure in London's financial circles.
A longer, more covert financial war might have just begun.
But he had already won himself the most precious time... That evening, at the Astor Mansion Hotel, in the luxurious suite belonging to European bankers.
Henry Ashworth, Emile Leroy, and Van der Burgh were engaged in a heated discussion over a memorandum for the issuance of new Union Pacific Railroad Company bonds, jointly drafted by Felix and Oliver Ames.
"Six percent interest, with Argyle's additional guarantee," Van der Burgh said slowly.
"Frankly, these terms are much more stable than what Morgan previously proposed."
"I'm not worried about the terms," Ashworth frowned.
"I'm worried about Argyle himself. This man, he's too unpredictable. Yesterday he was at loggerheads with Ames, today he can team up to deal with Morgan. So tomorrow, will he use the same methods to deal with us?"
"So, all the more reason for us to be his friends, not his enemies, wouldn't you say, Henry?"
Leroy from Paris smiled; he seemed more open-minded.
"Besides, he won, didn't he?"
Just then, a hotel waiter knocked and entered, delivering an urgent telegram from London.
"For me?" Ashworth took it, somewhat puzzled.
He opened the telegram, his eyes quickly scanning over it.
The next second, his composed face instantly turned ashen.
"What's wrong, Henry?" Leroy asked.
Ashworth didn't answer. He simply handed the telegram to Leroy beside him.
Leroy took it and looked, his smile instantly freezing.
"My God... John Pierpont... was... killed on the ship?"
"What?" Van der Burgh shot up.
"News from Liverpool," Ashworth's voice was somewhat dry. "The official statement is... he was robbed."
The three representatives of Europe's financial giants fell silent at this moment.
They all, without prior consultation, recalled Morgan's pale figure leaving Delmonico's Restaurant the night before last, in front of Felix Argyle's evidence.
They also recalled Felix Argyle's expression when discussing the "Nebraska conflict."
Robbery?
A robbery targeting such a sensitive individual, happening just as the ship was about to arrive in Liverpool?
These three bankers, accustomed to intrigue and power struggles in Europe, felt a chill run from their feet to their heads at this moment.
They finally understood that Felix Argyle's judgment of Morgan at the dinner was not the end.
It was merely... a public death sentence.
"Gentlemen."
Henry Ashworth slowly stood up. He walked to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a full glass of brandy, and drank it in one gulp.
He looked at the other two, his voice carrying an unprecedented gravity.
"I think regarding this new bond for the Union Pacific Railroad Company... we no longer have any reason to refuse it."
"And, I propose that we should immediately, in the name of our three banks, send a... highest-level cooperation invitation to Argyle Empire Bank."
Leroy and Van der Burgh exchanged glances, both seeing a deep trace of... awe in each other's eyes.
"I agree," Leroy said. "Cooperating with someone who can both create wealth and ruthlessly clear obstacles without hesitation."
He gave a wry smile, "At least we can sleep well, can't we?"
It was early morning in New York, on Wall Street.
As the first rays of sunlight struggled to penetrate the thin mist over the financial district, news more explosive than the Nebraska Massacre or the Broadway Assassination was crossing the Atlantic Ocean by telegraph from Liverpool, igniting the city's nerve center.
The New York Herald printing presses worked all night, and newsboys rushed into the streets like madmen, not even needing to invent inflammatory phrases; the headline itself was enough to make everyone stop:
"John Pierpont Morgan Dies Aboard the scotia. Robbery and Murder Case Shocks the Atlantic Ocean."
The news spread through exchanges, banks, and clubs within minutes.
Wall Street, a place almost numb to numbers and death, fell into collective silence.
John Crane was killed; people could understand that as a conspiracy. But John Pierpont Morgan… Junius Morgan's son, the young banker representing vast capital from London and Paris, was actually robbed and murdered like a slaughtered lamb in a first-class cabin of a heavily guarded ocean liner?
This was beyond the scope of a conspiracy; it was almost magical.
"Robbery?"
In a café near Union Square, the gentleman who had been speaking so confidently yesterday now held the newspaper with trembling hands.
"A group of thieves killed Morgan and his bodyguard, who was said to be quite skilled, and then disappeared into the Liverpool docks?"
"This… how is this possible?" His companion's face was pale. "What exactly happened on that ship?"
"I don't know."
Another person lowered his voice, his eyes filled with fear. "I only know that this Felix Argyle… seems to be cursed. First, his employees disappeared in the West, then reporters slandering him were everywhere. Immediately after, Crane, who was preparing to pledge allegiance to him, was killed on the street. Now, his biggest business rival has died on his way home."
"You… you mean…"
"I didn't say anything."
The man quickly shut his mouth, looking around in alarm.
"I just feel that the winds of change in New York… are about to shift completely."
...Fifth Avenue, Felix Argyle's mansion study.
Felix calmly put down The Times, which Frost had handed him, reporting Morgan's death. His face wore an expression that was a perfectly balanced mix of shock and grief.
"This is truly a… tragedy."
He spoke slowly, his voice devoid of any extraneous emotion.
"What has happened to this city? Lawless violence has spread from the prairies of the West to the shipping lanes of the Atlantic Ocean."
Frost stood by, silently taking notes. He knew his Boss's words were for outsiders.
"Edward."
Felix stood up and began to pace the room.
"We must do something. This is no longer just a business issue; it is a challenge to our entire civilized society."
He began to issue instructions.
"Immediately, in my personal name, send a telegram of condolence to Mr. Junius Spencer Morgan in London. Extend my deepest sympathies to him.
Tell him that although Mr. John Pierpont was our business competitor, he was still a talented and respected banker.
His unfortunate death is a loss to all of Wall Street."
"Also, issue a public statement in the name of the Argyle family. Strongly condemn this barbaric act of violence on the high seas. And, extend the scope of our fifty-thousand-dollar reward to this case."
"We must show the public that whether it is the murderer of Mr. Crane or the murderer of Mr. Morgan, the dark forces hidden behind them… those attempting to disrupt financial order with violence and panic, are our common enemies."
"Yes, Boss."
Frost quickly took notes. He couldn't help but admire his Boss's methods; this statement was watertight.
Not only did it completely clear him of any suspicion, but it also painted him as a guardian of order, united with the elder Morgan and Union Pacific in a common cause.
Just then, the butler knocked and entered.
He reported in a low voice, "Sir, Mr. Ashworth of Barings Bank, Mr. Leroy of the Rothschild family, and Mr. Van der Burgh of Hope Bank… they are here to visit. They have no appointment, but… they insist on seeing you immediately."
Felix and Frost exchanged glances.
"They came quickly." A slight curve appeared at the corner of Felix's mouth. "Please show them in."
...
A few minutes later, the three European bankers entered the study.
Their faces were somewhat pale, and their eyes were bloodshot; clearly, they had also been up all night.
"Mr. Argyle."
Henry Ashworth was the first to speak, his voice a bit dry.
"Forgive our unannounced visit. I imagine you have already seen this morning's news…"
"Yes, a terrible tragedy."
Felix motioned for them to sit, his face filled with grief.
"I was just drafting a telegram of condolence to Mr. Junius. John Pierpont… he was so young."
"Yes, a tragedy."
Ashworth looked at Felix's flawless face, feeling as if he were staring into an abyss.
He took a deep breath, no longer probing, but cutting directly to the chase.
"Mr. Argyle, representatives from our three banks held an emergency discussion this morning. We unanimously agree that in the current… turbulent situation, we need a stronger and more reliable partner in America."
"The new bond proposal put forward by Chairman Ames, jointly guaranteed by the Union Pacific Railroad Company and Argyle Empire Bank."
He glanced at Leroy and Van der Burgh beside him; both nodded solemnly.
"We have, in principle… agreed."
"Oh?" Felix feigned surprise.
"Gentlemen, you no longer need time to consider?"
"No longer needed."
Emile Leroy from Paris gave a wry smile.
"Mr. Argyle, Mr. Morgan's misfortune has made us clearly realize one thing. Investing in the land of America, we not only need to consider profit, but more importantly… safety."
"And you…" His gaze fell on Felix.
"You have proven to us that you are capable of both creating profit and, under any circumstances, protecting those profits. And…" He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was self-evident.
That was to protect partners.
They were scared.
Although European capital was not without assassinating rivals in its home territory, that was in desperate situations; generally, no one would do such things.
After all, everyone was just after money; there was no need to fight to the death, which might give other families a chance to annex both sides.
But Felix Argyle not only miraculously cleared himself of suspicion but also managed to have his opponent 'accidentally' die in a 'robbery' on the most heavily guarded ocean liner.
Working with such a person, who can both control and disregard the rules, is far safer than being his enemy.
"I'm very pleased that we've reached a consensus, gentlemen." Felix smiled. "So, regarding the details of the financing…"
"We fully entrust you and Chairman Ames to formulate them." Ashworth immediately stated.
"Barings Bank, the Rothschild family, and Hope Bank will jointly lead the effort to raise at least ten million dollars in Europe for this new bond. We… have only one small request."
"Please speak."
"We hope that Mr. Argyle's Argyle Bank can serve as the exclusive custodian and settlement agent for these funds in America."
A glint flashed in Felix's eyes.
He knew these three old foxes were offering him a pledge of allegiance. They had abandoned traditional partner banks and instead handed control of the funds over to him.
"I am honored, Mr. Ashworth." Felix stood up and shook hands with the three men one by one.
"Argyle Empire Bank will never betray your trust."
...
When the three European bankers left, satisfied, the study returned to quiet.
Frost looked at Felix, his eyes full of admiration.
"Boss, you not only defused the crisis, but you also… leveraged all of Europe's capital."
"This is just the beginning, Edward."
Morgan's death had cleared the last obstacle for him. Now all the pieces were in place.
"Flynn."
"Yes, Boss."
"Your people, keep a close eye on London."
"Junius Morgan is not his impulsive son. He is an older viper. He won't make any moves now; he will wait."
"What we need to do is to become stronger than him during his waiting period. So strong that he will never dare to show his fangs again."
Felix turned his attention back to Frost. "Send a telegram to Philadelphia."
"Tell Mr. Cassatt, the head of Lex Steel, that I have found him. Tell him to prepare for the arrival of a new era."
"Also, inform Miller and Bill. The turmoil in Nebraska has slowly subsided."
Felix looked at the vast western land on the map, and interest rekindled in his eyes.
"It's time for our 'Cyanide Minerals' and 'Metropolitan Trade' to truly… take root and flourish in that land."
Early winter of 1863, New York.
An early cold snap swept through Manhattan, turning the street puddles into thin ice, and the horses' white breath condensed in the crisp air.
The Union army entered a winter stalemate in the mud of Virginia and Tennessee, the roar of war temporarily subdued, but the city's commercial heart beat stronger than ever.
On the top floor of the Argyle Empire Bank building, the executive committee meeting room, a symbol of emerging power, was warm as spring.
In the huge fireplace, burning oak crackled softly.
A brand-new gas chandelier cast bright light on the large oval conference table, capable of seating twenty people.
At exactly nine o'clock in the morning, all the important leaders of Felix Argyle' commercial empire were present on time.
Jones, President of the Food Company, was talking to Catherine, President of Umbrella Corporation, about the winter supply of materials for the Five Points school.
Mr. Miller, dressed in a well-tailored black suit, sat silently.
Beside him was Tom Hayes, President of Patriot Investment Company, casually twirling a pencil in his hand.
Bank President George Templeton was carefully reviewing the documents in front of him.
Bill of Metropolitan Trading Company had come all the way from Chicago; his burly frame seemed to fill the chair, and a hint of lingering gloom remained on his face.
Charles Reeves of the Railway Company and MacGregor of Atlantic Power Plant were also all present.
In front of everyone was a steaming cup of hot tea and a quarterly operations report distributed by Frost.
When Felix entered the meeting room, everyone stood up.
"Gentlemen, lady."
Felix sat down at the head of the table and motioned for everyone else to sit.
"It's time for the Executive Committee's quarterly meeting again, and this is our first reunion after the turmoil."
His gaze calmly swept across the room.
"The past few months have not been easy for any of us. We lost loyal partners in Nebraska, and faced betrayal and assassination on the streets of New York. Someone tried to destroy everything we built with lies, ink, and bullets."
"But he failed."
Felix glanced at the report on the table.
"Now it's time for me to see how this machine is running after the storm. George, you go first."
President Templeton cleared his throat and opened the folder in front of him.
"Yes, Boss. First, after a brief market fluctuation, I am pleased to announce that the confidence of Argyle Bank's depositors has not only not been damaged, but has been unprecedentedly consolidated."
"Following the strategic cooperation with Union Pacific Railroad Company and your establishment of direct ties with three major European banks,"
His voice carried a hint of excitement that only bankers understood.
"This quarter, the bank's total deposits increased by thirty percent. More importantly, we have officially replaced Duncan Sherman Bank as one of the main underwriting agents for Union Pacific Railroad bonds in Europe. The first tranche of funds from Europe, totaling three million dollars, was safely deposited last week."
A suppressed gasp of surprise rippled through the meeting room.
"Tom." Felix turned to Hayes.
"Understood, Boss." Hayes smiled.
"Thanks to that fluctuation. Patriot Investment Company, through precise low-buying and high-selling during last month's chaos, made a profit of 1.2 million dollars on Union Pacific shares."
"In addition, as per your instructions, regarding the Public Chronicle in Philadelphia, we have acquired all their debts. Their editor-in-chief, Mr. Gauss, is now our best friend. The Boston printing press has also started operating at full capacity."
Next, it was the industrial sector.
Jones stood up.
"Food Company. All military canned orders were delivered on time. Sales of 'luncheon meat' and canned fruit in the civilian market continue to rise."
"Regarding 'clover project', the first batch of samples shipped to Europe received an excellent response."
"Mr. Nelson telegraphed back that high-end food merchants in London and Paris have shown strong interest in our products, only requesting improvements to the packaging."
Bill continued his report: "Metropolitan Trading Company. The Chicago slaughtering business, with Armour's 'cooperation,' has stably captured fifty percent of the market share."
"In Nebraska, we have purchased the land where Tommy and his team last fell, under the guise of 'pension funds.'"
"Union Pacific also fulfilled the agreement, assisting us in obtaining priority purchase rights for three other key ranches along the Platte River Valley."
MacGregor, the Scottish shipwright, excitedly spread out a huge blueprint.
"Boss, the first draft design for the Clover-class ocean liner has been completed. All-steel keel, twin steam power, cargo capacity of three thousand tons, and five hundred passengers. As long as funding and steel are in place, we can start construction at any time."
Finally, it was Mr. Miller's report.
"Vanguard 1863 Rifle and machine gun production lines are stable."
"As for the Shadow Force, the previously discussed proposal to increase it to one hundred teams has been officially approved. Secretary Stanton sent a telegram yesterday regarding the lease contract for ninety tactical support teams."
"A total of one hundred teams will all be deployed to the Western Front before the spring offensive next year."
"Regarding the Prussian contract, the first batch of weapon samples and supplies, a total order of five hundred thousand dollars, was shipped last week. The first advance payment of two hundred thousand dollars has been remitted to the Argyle Bank account."
"Finally, regarding the 'Sainn Minerals' project. Mr. Griffith's detailed exploration report has been completed. The preliminary conclusion is that the valley is sufficient to support our steel production for the next thirty years."
In the meeting room, everyone's breathing quickened. It seemed the true topic of the meeting was about to arrive.
Felix slowly stood up and walked to the huge map of the United States, picking up the piece of limonite from the table.
"Gentlemen."
He spoke, his voice echoing in the quiet room.
"We have money, markets, demand, and now we have resources. Templeton and Hayes have prepared the money for us. Jones, Bill, and MacGregor have opened up sales channels for us."
"Reeves' railway is waiting to transport our products. And Mr. Miller's arsenal is desperately craving one thing."
He held up the ore in his hand.
"Steel."
"The future of this country, and indeed the entire world, will be written in steel."
"Whoever controls steel controls the power to define this era."
"We can no longer rely on those old and controlled blast furnaces in Philadelphia."
"We must have our own furnaces."
"Therefore, I officially announce the establishment of 'Sainn Minerals Company' and 'Lex Steel Company' starting today."
Everyone held their breath, waiting for him to announce the two names that would control the empire's cornerstone.
"'Sainn Minerals Company' because its mission is not just mining. It requires the strictest security, the most precise logistics scheduling, and the iron fist to protect our interests in the most complex border environments. No one is more suitable for this position than Mr. Miller."
Mr. Miller stood up, saluted Felix, and said nothing, but his eyes conveyed everything.
Felix nodded to Mr. Miller.
"I know this will increase your burden. Therefore, I have decided to promote Mr. Frank Cole to General Manager of Vanguard Arms Company. He will be responsible for all daily production and operations of the arsenal and ammunition factory."
"And you will focus on the development of 'Sainn Minerals' and the strategic synergy of the two major companies."
"As for 'Lex Steel Company.'"
Felix's gaze swept over everyone.
"I have found the person to lead it."
"Mr. William Coleman."
"The current Chief Engineer of Pennsylvania Railroad Company, responsible for bridge and rail material testing."
"Through Mr. Cassatt's introduction, I have already had a conversation with him. He accepted my invitation and will officially assume the role of the first President of 'Lex Steel Company' starting next month."
Felix raised his teacup.
"Gentlemen, lady. A toast to our new companies and new colleagues."
"And even more, to the Age of Steel that we are about to forge with our own hands."
A cold north wind swept into New York City from the mouth of the Hudson River.
At the Pennsylvania Railroad Company's Philadelphia terminal, William Coleman made a final inspection of the section of track under his responsibility.
He kicked the cold sleepers with the tip of his boot, then crouched down, using his calloused hands to carefully inspect the rivets at a joint.
He had worked here for fifteen years.
He was familiar with the groan each sleeper made in different seasons, and the subtle metal fatigue of the rails under heavy pressure.
He had once been J. Edgar Thomson's most unpopular chief engineer, because he always rejected 'good enough' materials, insisting on using premium steel that was too costly.
He had argued with Thomson countless times over this.
Now Thomson was gone.
His old colleague, Alexander Cassatt, had taken over the company as general manager.
However, Coleman chose to leave at this time.
"William."
Cassatt personally came to see him off, a look of regret on his face.
"Are you truly decided? Stay in Philadelphia, and we can achieve great things together. Chairman Argyle has already approved my proposal; we will replace all substandard rails on the main line."
Coleman stood up, dusting off his hands.
He was a taciturn man, tall and thin, dressed in a stiff, starched coarse work uniform, his beard meticulously trimmed.
"Alex, you are replacing rails. But I want to build the furnace that will forge the future."
Cassatt was startled, then shook his head with a bitter smile. "You've met with the Chairman?"
"Yes," Coleman nodded, "last week. In New York."
"The Chairman's idea is too extreme," Cassatt said, "to use a few companies to challenge the old order of an entire nation."
"No. You are wrong, Alexander."
Coleman looked at the railway line stretching westward in the distance. "The Chairman's idea is correct; he merely sees through the rust to the future."
He picked up his simple suitcase.
"And I want to build it with my own hands."
...
Two days later, in New York, on the top floor of the Argyle Empire Bank building.
In Felix Argyle' study, William Coleman stood there for the first time, as the president of Lex Steel Company.
He was still wearing his simple work uniform, a stark contrast to the luxurious surroundings of mahogany furniture, Persian carpets, and French paintings.
"Welcome, Coleman."
Felix stood up from behind the massive desk, extending his hand.
He showed no hint of disdain for the other's attire; instead, his eyes were full of approval.
"Mr. Argyle."
Coleman shook his hand.
He didn't sit down, but walked directly to the table where a map of the Appalachian mountain range's mineral deposits was spread out.
"I've read Mr. Griffith's report."
He got straight to the point, without any pleasantries.
"The ore grade is very high, and the quality of the coking coal is nearly perfect. However, this doesn't solve the 'last fifteen miles' problem."
"Miller is solving that problem," Felix replied.
"His men are repairing those abandoned narrow-gauge tracks. Soon, the first batch of ore will be transported out."
"Narrow-gauge railway? Pulled by mules?" Coleman frowned.
"Sir, that can only be called transporting samples. A true steel mill needs to handle thousands of tons of ore and coal daily. This method of transport isn't even enough to maintain the temperature of a single blast furnace."
"I agree."
Felix nodded, very pleased with Coleman's direct and incisive style.
"Therefore, until Mr. Reeves and Chairman Baker politically clear the way for that standard-gauge branch line, we cannot build a factory in Pennsylvania. That would make us dependent on others."
"Then where should we build it?" Coleman asked.
"Come with me."
Felix didn't point on the map; instead, he picked up his coat and led Coleman and Frost out of the office... An hour later, a small steam ferry carried the three of them across the thin ice-covered Kill Van Kull waterway, arriving at the New Jersey coast, a vast expanse of saline land near Newark Bay.
The cold sea wind howled unchecked here, stirring up the dry grass on the ground.
In the distance, the main line of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company's tracks vaguely stretched southward.
"Here."
Felix stood on a vast empty plot of land, speaking to the desolation.
Coleman was stunned.
He looked at this place, which had nothing but dirt and reeds, his eyes filled with confusion.
"Sir, there's... nothing here."
"No, Coleman."
"This place has everything."
He pointed to the wide waterway to the east.
"This is a deep-water port, large enough for the ten-thousand-ton ocean freighters Mr. MacGregor will build in the future. Our ore can be transported here from Pennsylvania's ports by the cheapest water transport. The steel produced here can also be directly loaded onto ships and sent to Europe."
He then pointed to the faint railway line to the west.
"That's the junction of the Pennsylvania Railroad and the Central Railroad. The rails we produce can be laid wherever Mr. Cassatt needs them within a day."
Felix spread his arms, as if embracing the wilderness, "And this land is vast and cheap enough. It can accommodate all your dreams. Blast furnaces, converters, coking plants, rolling mills... a steel city capable of housing ten thousand workers. A completely independent industrial heart for us."
Following Felix's words, Coleman began to rapidly sketch blueprints on this barren land.
He seemed to see the flames of blast furnaces, the rivers of molten iron flowing, and the steel arteries connecting mountains and oceans.
He also finally understood why Felix had chosen him.
"I need a team."
After a long pause, Coleman spoke. A fire now burned in his eyes.
"Of course, I will give you a team," Felix immediately snapped his fingers in reply, "or rather, the authority to assemble a team."
"I need money."
"No problem," Felix raised his eyebrows, looking at him.
"Lex Steel Company's first startup capital, one million dollars. Jointly injected by Argyle Bank and Patriot Investment Company. This money will not be used to purchase land; the land will be bought by my private family fund and then leased to the company."
"This one million dollars," Felix's tone became serious, "will only be used for two things: planning and people."
"I don't understand metallurgy," Coleman said frankly.
"I only know how to use steel, how to judge its quality. So I need a genius who can converse with me."
"I've already prepared him for you," Felix smiled.
"Rhys Griffiths. Militech's chief metallurgist. A proud Englishman. He might be able to create alloys that don't yet exist in this world."
"I also need the best engineers."
"Then go find them in Europe."
Felix waved his hand in response, his words full of boldness.
"Coleman, your first task isn't to dig dirt on this land. It's to take the check and immediately depart for Europe."
"Go to Sheffield in England, Essen in Prussia, Le Creusot in France."
"Visit those ancient steel families, poach the most top-tier blast furnace designers and rolling mill managers."
"Tell them," Felix looked at Coleman.
"Lex Steel Company will offer them salaries they cannot refuse, and an opportunity to personally build the world's most advanced steel plant."
"I don't want a replica of a Pennsylvania factory, Coleman."
"I want you to use Griffith's technology and European experience to build a furnace of the future for me on this barren land."
"A furnace that will define this nation's steel standards for the next twenty years."
William Coleman looked at the man nearly twenty years his junior, at the ambition and blueprint burning like fire in his eyes.
Perhaps his decision to leave Philadelphia was the most correct one he had ever made in his life.
"Boss."
"It seems what you want isn't a factory, but a revolution."
"Then," a slight smile appeared on his face, "please allow me to be the chief architect of your revolution."