In the banquet hall downstairs, Strauss's Waltz was reaching its climax. The champagne tower had been knocked over three times and rebuilt each time.
Andrew Carnegie stood in the corner, holding a glass of wine that no one had touched.
He watched with his own eyes as Felix led several people up to the second floor, his gaze filled with envy.
He knew who those people were. The President and vice president, railway tycoons, and foreign ministers.
Carnegie also wanted to go up, but unfortunately, he was stopped by the security personnel at the foot of the stairs.
"Sorry, sir. The second floor is a private area."
Carnegie gritted his teeth and turned to leave.
He swore that one day, he would make Felix personally invite him upstairs.
But in the study of the west wing, soundproof doors blocked out Carnegie's ambition and the clamor from downstairs.
Here, there was only the scent of tobacco and the smell of power.
Five people were sitting in the room.
Felix Argyle.
Ulysses S. Grant (President of the United States).
Thomas Clark (vice president and President of the Senate).
Cornelius Vanderbilt (President of the New York Central Railroad, former hegemon, now an ally).
Major Albrecht von Alvensleben (Military Attaché of the Kingdom of Prussia to the United States).
These five people sat around a round table.
There was no wine on the table, only a giant map of America.
"Gentlemen," Felix began, his voice steady.
"The people downstairs are celebrating peace and prosperity. But we all know that peace is just a rest between two wars."
"What are you trying to say, Felix?"
Vanderbilt was a bit impatient; he didn't like beating around the bush.
"Don't talk to me about doing it for the country. Tell me directly, how do we make money?"
"The way to make money is very simple."
Felix took out a baton and pointed to the eastern railway network on the map.
"Monopoly."
"Mr. Vanderbilt, you control the New York Central Railroad. I control the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad, the Erie Railroad, and the Pennsylvania Railroad. Plus my controlling interest in the Union Pacific."
"We effectively control 70% of the transport capacity in all of America."
"However..." Felix shifted his tone, "In some places, we are still engaged in internal friction, fighting price wars. This is very foolish behavior."
"I propose the establishment of a 'Railway Trust'."
Felix pushed a document to the center of the table.
"We will unify freight rates. Whether it's transporting coal, oil, or steel, the price will be what we say it is."
"If anyone wants to build a new railroad to challenge us..."
Felix glanced at President Grant.
"Mr. President, I think the Land Office and the War Department will have many reasons to reject their applications."
Grant was staring at a certain point on the map, seemingly in a daze. Hearing Felix's words, he looked up and flicked some cigarette ash.
"As long as priority for military transport is guaranteed, and... reasonable fares prevent the voters from revolting," Grant said slowly.
"I have no objection. Clark will handle the legal procedures."
vice president Clark smiled, a smile that radiated shrewdness.
"Local anti-trust laws haven't passed yet. Even if they do, the power of interpretation lies with the Supreme Court. Until then, this is a legal business cooperation."
"I agree to this."
Vanderbilt also quickly stated his position.
He was old and didn't want to fight anymore. Cooperating with Felix to split the profits was the best outcome for the Vanderbilt family.
Having settled things domestically, Felix turned to the Prussian.
"Major Alvensleben."
"Mr. Argyle."
The Major sat up straight; even in a private setting, he maintained his military bearing.
"I know what Chancellor Bismarck is preparing for." Felix pointed across the Atlantic Ocean.
"The French are arrogant; Napoleon III thinks he is the master of Europe. But Prussia wants to unify Germany, and war is inevitable."
The Major did not speak, but that in itself was a form of tacit agreement.
"Although I am a friend of Prussia, I care more about factories." Felix took a list out of a drawer.
"Here is the latest inventory list for Vanguard Military Industry. Breech-loading steel cannons, Gatling guns, and Nitroglycerin explosives (produced by Laughlin-DuPont Chemical and processed by Vanguard Military Industry)."
"The prices are very fair. Furthermore, I can use those merchant ships (which are actually modified armed transport ships) to ship them directly to Hamburg."
The Major's eyes lit up.
"That's wonderful. We need these, especially the explosives. The French fortifications are very strong. The production at that factory in Hamburg is too low. But I must be honest, there isn't much money in the country right now. The gold in the treasury must be saved for the war."
"No, no, no, you may have misunderstood me. I don't take gold." Felix shook his head.
"I want technology."
"I want the formula for Krupp's Case-hardened steel armor, and I want the chemical patents for your dye industry."
"This..." The Major hesitated. "These are state secrets; I cannot make that decision."
"If the war is lost, the nation is gone."
Felix leaned forward, whispering like a demon.
"And if I don't sell to you, the price offered by the French isn't low either."
Of course, this was a lie.
Felix hadn't contacted the French at all, but he knew the Prussians' fears.
"Fine, it's a deal." The Major gritted his teeth and agreed. "But it must be kept secret."
"Naturally."
Finally, Felix looked at Vanderbilt.
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Regarding steel."
"That kid named Carnegie took money from someone in London and is building an Open-hearth steel mill in Pittsburgh."
Vanderbilt snorted. "That Scottish shorty? He used to be Tom Scott's man. He's got a bit of cleverness."
"He wants to challenge me," Felix said indifferently.
"Or rather, that 'London friend' behind him wants to challenge me."
"Mr. Vanderbilt, I do not wish to see a single steel rail produced by Carnegie appear on your railroad."
"In exchange, Lex Steel Company will provide you with high-quality steel rails at 10% below the market price."
"Blockade him?" Vanderbilt asked.
"No need for a blockade for now." Felix smiled, his eyes playful. "Let him build the factory. Let him spend all of that London friend's money."
"But we must control his throat. If he wants to transport ore, transport coal, or ship out his steel rails..."
"The freight charges will be doubled." Felix held up two fingers.
Vanderbilt revealed a cruel and somewhat forced smile.
"Very well, I'll have the dispatchers take 'good care' of him."
Felix stood up.
"Then it's settled."
"Gentlemen, the agreement is reached."
He walked to the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of his prized bourbon whiskey, and poured five glasses.
"What happened in this room will determine the world for the next decade."
"To order." Felix raised his glass.
"To profit." Vanderbilt raised his glass.
"To the country." Grant raised his glass.
"To Germany." The Major raised his glass.
"To... the family." Clark raised his glass.
The five glasses clinked together.
The crisp sound was like a death knell, signaling the end of the era of free competition and the beginning of the era of monopoly capital.
Felix drained his drink and slammed the glass down on the table.
"Now, let's head back to the ball."
He straightened his bowtie, his face once again wearing that charming and hypocritical smile.
"Don't keep the ladies waiting."
As they walked out of the study and back into the radiant hall, no one knew that in those brief thirty minutes, America's steel, railroads, diplomacy, and future had already been carved up by these five men.
Felix stood by the railing on the second floor, looking down at the reveling crowd.
He saw Mrs. Astor chatting with the First Lady, her posture humble.
He saw Carnegie weaving through the crowd like a clown who couldn't find a dance partner.
He saw the entire world revolving beneath his feet.
"This is my ranch," Felix whispered.
Catherine walked over and took his arm.
"Is it all over?"
"No, darling." Felix looked out at the deep night sky.
"This is just the beginning."
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the oak floors.
The air still carried the lingering scent of last night's tobacco and alcohol. Servants were busy in the hall.
They swept broken glass into iron buckets, creating a sharp, clattering sound.
The carpet was stained not only with red wine but also with crushed flower petals.
Felix sat at the head of the dining table.
A cup of black tea sat before him, alongside a newspaper and a ledger.
Catherine sat opposite him, looking out at the lawn where workers were dismantling dozens of towering electric lamp posts.
"How much did it cost?" Catherine asked.
"Not much, only ninety-three thousand dollars." Felix flipped a page in the ledger.
"Of course, that's just for the drinks and ingredients, not counting the temporary power generation equipment."
"Was it worth it?"
"I suppose that depends on the results; at the very least, it's more persuasive." Felix took a sip of his coffee. "Frost."
Edward Frost appeared at the door.
"Boss."
"Tell me about the guests' reactions last night."
Frost walked to the table and spread out the categorized documents.
"Yes, Boss. The first group is the railroad tycoons. They were terrified. Mr. Vanderbilt's face was a bit grim when he left. However, he accepted our demand to sign the 'Freight Mutual Insurance Agreement' before the first of next month."
"Then there are the bankers; they were very interested in the cost of the manor. This morning, the Argyle Bank received three deposit applications from the Boston Consortium, totaling over a million."
"The last group is the politicians." Frost adjusted his glasses.
"They basically took all the gifts, including those gold-rimmed cigar cutters. President Grant's secretary privately asked me if we could set up a system of electric lights on the White House lawn."
The corners of Felix's mouth curled up.
"Tell him it's no problem, but the White House wiring will need an overhaul. Have White, the head of the Central Laboratory, provide a quote. The costs can be covered by the Department of the Treasury's public works fund."
"Understood. There's one more thing. It's regarding Mr. Carnegie." Frost pulled out the last sheet of paper.
Felix took a leisurely sip of his black tea.
"Speak."
"Last night, he tried to bribe the guards on the second floor to get upstairs. After failing, he drank heavily downstairs. Someone overheard him telling his brother that he intends to build a castle in Pittsburgh even larger than this one."
"Additionally, they took a train back to Pittsburgh at six o'clock this morning."
Felix tapped his fingers on the tabletop.
"It seems Carnegie is getting anxious."
"Of course he's anxious," Catherine interjected.
"He's using the British people's money; every day costs him interest."
Felix stood up and walked to the window.
"Notify Matthew Becker. Initiate Plan B."
"Yes, sir."
"Also, tell Jay Gould to come see me. Now."
...An hour later, in the study.
Jay Gould sat on the leather sofa.
His leg had fully healed, but he still walked with a habitual slight limp.
It made him look even more like some sort of cunning animal.
"Mr. Argyle."
Gould held an unlit cigar in his hand.
"I've reviewed the Erie Railroad's financial statements."
Felix sat behind his large mahogany desk without looking up.
"I heard from Tom that you seem to be cooking the books."
Gould's hand trembled slightly.
"That was to... to make the stock look better. I wanted to issue another round of bonds in London."
"I have no objection to swindling the British."
Felix looked up, his gaze cold.
"But I object to you swindling me. You've doubled some of the maintenance costs. Where did the rest of the money go?"
Gould swallowed hard.
"I... I bought some shares in tanneries in Upstate New York."
"Sell them," Felix said.
"Cough up the money and deposit it into the Argyle Bank's escrow account."
"Yes, sir." Gould didn't dare argue.
"Listen, Jay. I know what you're trying to do. You want to save up money to rise again and escape my control."
Felix stood up, walked around the desk, and stood before Gould. He was half a head taller than Gould, his shadow looming over the former Wall Street shark.
"Remember, if you were my enemy, it would not be pleasant. But you are currently my partner, so I am willing to give you a chance."
"From today on, the Erie Railroad will be merged into the 'Eastern Railroad Alliance'. You are to coordinate with Vanderbilt's New York Central Railroad for unified dispatching."
"Unified dispatching?" Gould's eyes widened.
"Does that mean we have to give up the competition for passenger traffic west of Buffalo?"
"You heard correctly. We need to concentrate our capacity on freight. Specifically coal and oil."
Felix picked up a document from the desk and slapped it against Gould's chest.
"These are the new freight rates, targeted at specific customers."
Gould opened the document. After a quick glance, his pupils constricted instantly.
"Pittsburgh... targeting steel mills that are 'not members of the Alliance'... freight rates increased by 150%?"
Gould looked up at Felix.
"You're planning to..."
"Remember, this is business." Felix turned and walked back to his seat.
"Execute it well. If anyone asks, say it's due to rising railroad maintenance costs and a shortage of railcars."
Gould held the document, feeling as if the few sheets of paper weighed a thousand pounds. He knew exactly who Felix was targeting.
Even though this would cause the Argyle Family's prestige and power to soar, he had no way to resist.
"I understand."
Gould bowed and backed out of the room.
Felix pressed the bell on his desk.
The door opened, and this time the president of the Metropolitan Trading Company, Bill Carter, entered.
However, he looked quite exhausted at the moment; he had spent the entire night in the kitchen.
"Boss." Bill placed his hat on his knee.
"It seems you didn't rest well. Have the leftover ingredients been handled?"
"Don't worry, they've been taken care of. The beef and seafood were sent to our food processing plant in Brooklyn. They'll be canned or used for staff meals."
"Good, I don't like waste."
"Boss, about the South." Bill hesitated for a moment.
"Silas sent a telegram earlier; we've run into a bit of trouble at our plantation in Georgia."
"What kind of trouble?"
"Some of the Black laborers... they want to leave. Because some factories in the North are recruiting, and the wages are higher than ours. Others want to farm for themselves."
Felix narrowed his eyes.
"Do they owe any debts?"
"Yes. Many owe money to our 'company store'. Food, clothes, tools—it's all on credit."
"Since they're in debt, they can't leave." Felix's voice was devoid of emotion. "That is the law."
"Have Silas find the local sheriff and bring back those who try to run away. The charges will be fraud and breach of contract. If the jail can't hold them, have them serve their sentences in our cotton fields."
"Also," Felix added.
"Raise the prices in the company store by another 10%. Especially for shoes and medicine."
"But..." Bill felt a bit of pity. "Some of them already can't afford to pay it back."
"So? It's better if they can't pay it back."
Felix picked up his pen and began signing documents.
"If they can't pay it off, they will forever be 'indentured laborers' for the company. We are civilized people, Bill. we value contracts."
Bill lowered his head. Whatever, they were just unimportant people anyway.
"Alright, alright, Boss."
The door closed.
Felix set down his pen.
He felt a bit of fatigue, but also an indescribable sense of fulfillment.
The gears of the entire empire were meshing together.
From the banquet halls of New York to the railroads of Pittsburgh, and down to the cotton fields of Georgia.
Every screw was under his control.
Except for that one man.
He picked up a telegram from the corner of the desk. It was from London. There was no signature, only a single line.
"The lion is old, but his teeth remain. Be careful."
Felix struck a match and lit the telegram. He watched as it turned to ash in the ashtray.
"Come then, Morgan."