Chapter 48 - The Feast of Vipers
Sylvester tilted his head slightly, studying the Grand Duke as if he were an insect pinned to a board.
"You speak of patience, Alexei, yet you are drowning in debt," Sylvester said, his tone conversational, laced with absolute venom. "Your yacht, your private fleet, your mercenary army—all of it was financed through credit extended by the Bank of Zurich under the assumption that you would deliver the Aegis ledger by the end of this quarter."
Alexei’s smile froze. The tumbler in his hand ceased swirling.
"Marcus," Sylvester said quietly.
Marcus placed the titanium briefcase on a nearby iron table, flipped the latches, and turned a high-resolution display toward the Russian aristocrat.
"At six o'clock this evening," Sylvester continued, step by step advancing toward the dais, "my shell entities initiated short positions against thirty-two commercial shipping lines owned by your family trusts. At seven o'clock, the European Maritime Authority received encrypted logs documenting your corvettes smuggling illicit weapons through international waters."
A sudden murmur of panic broke out among the gathered oligarchs in the room. Several men pulled out encrypted satellite phones, their faces draining of color as they read real-time alerts.
"What have you done?" Alexei hissed, rising to his feet, the aristocratic veneer cracking to reveal the snarling predator beneath.
"I didn't come here to negotiate for Lucas," Sylvester said, his eyes burning with lethal certainty. "I came here to bankrupt you. Your accounts in Cyprus, Zurich, and London have been frozen under international anti-terror directives. Your ships are legally seized. Your crew will not be paid tomorrow morning."
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Alexei’s face twisted into an ugly, murderous mask. "You insolent dog! You think a few frozen ledgers protect you? You are on *my* platform, surrounded by *my* guns! Kill him!"
The guards in the room drew their weapons.
