It had to be said, Rivera chose his timing well. The entire Austrian government was busy preparing for the grand military parade, and the sudden appearance of a few new investment firms barely drew anyone’s attention. It wasn’t as if such financing operations had never happened before as they were simply more common among publicly listed companies. As long as the projects looked legitimate, the approval process would go through without a hitch. As a professional financier, Rivera was an expert in this field. The paperwork was all there, just that the labels didn’t match the contents. Even the seventy-million loan contract was meticulously prepared, its purpose being to imitate and borrow the prestige of the earlier agreement between Spain and the domestic banks. The Austrian newspapers had reported on that Spanish loan before, but in this era, information didn’t travel fast. There was no way those papers would ever reach every corner of the world. So when Rivera held his financing conference in Vienna, everything went according to the usual routine. Risks and profits were laid bare and people could invest or walk away as they pleased. The real money came from outside Vienna. From Moscow in the east, to Stockholm in the north, to London in the west, and even across the ocean to North America, Riviera’s net spread far and wide. A scam of such massive scale could never have been executed by one man alone. The profits had to be shared. Without the cooperation of his Jewish associates across the world, Rivera’s plan would have gone nowhere. Most of them didn’t even realize they were taking part in a fraud. Many genuinely believed this was a revolutionary new financial model, and plenty of wealthy Jewish capitalists even invested themselves. According to Rivera’s grand business blueprint, their combined fundraising would exceed the amount of Spain’s official loan, with the surplus used for further investments. It was the perfect setup. The world was at the tail end of an economic crisis, assets were at rock-bottom prices, and it was the ideal time to buy in and wait for the rebound. If one could survive the worst of times, what followed would be pure profit. But such opportunities were usually reserved for big capitalists and financial conglomerates. Ordinary people lacked the capital and patience to time the market precisely. If they invested too early, they would run out of money before the recovery arrived. But if thousands of middle-class investors and small property owners pooled their resources together, the total wealth would rival that of any major consortium. With such enormous liquidity, they too could claim a share of the rebound profits. And as investors, they would become shareholders in this new financial empire. At that time, fear still lingered from the recent crisis. Most people were too anxious to invest. Keeping money in the bank earned almost no interest. Worse, there were account management fees. Fixed deposits offered slightly better returns, but the money was locked up, no withdrawals allowed before maturity. Leaving large sums of cash at home was unsafe and even the wealthy were growing restless. Everyone had the same thought: If only there were a safe, reliable investment channel that promised stable and generous returns. Rivera’s scheme was built precisely around this demand. It was a playbook that would still work in the twenty-first century, let alone in the nineteenth. Everyone knew Spain was struggling financially. After all, if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be borrowing from abroad. But when someone claimed that Spain might actually go bankrupt, plenty of people were quick to refute it. No matter how far it had declined, Spain was still seen as one of the world’s great powers, just behind Britain, Russia, and the Holy Roman Empire. It still held vast, fertile colonies and possessed the wealth accumulated from centuries of being a colonial empire. Surely, they said, once it weathered the current storm, things would improve again. And even if it did go bankrupt, weren’t there still collateral assets to rely on? By borrowing and slightly revising the contract clauses guaranteed by the Austrian government and the Empire’s major banks, Rivera made the risk appear minimal. How could ordinary investors, ignorant of the details, possibly tell real from fake? Even if someone did notice something wrong, peer pressure and the crowd would drown out their doubts. As the saying went, “When the crowd exceeds ten thousand, the average intelligence is halved.” There were never ten thousand attendees at his conferences, but a good story could lower anyone’s guard. Even if the audience was full of sharp minds, Rivera made sure to plant a few shills in the crowd. Once someone took the lead and put down money, the rest would follow like dominoes. It wasn’t as if investors had to wait thirty years to see a return. The next month, they’d already get paid. Even if they had doubts, many couldn’t resist trying a small investment. And once they saw those first returns, who could stop themselves from investing more? The scam had only just begun. The net wouldn’t be pulled tight for a long time yet. Not even Rivera himself could fully see through the illusion anymore. He was living inside the beautiful lie he had woven. In theory, as long as the Spanish government didn’t default and the investment firms maintained their cash flow, the scheme could run indefinitely. New investors’ money went to fund the Spanish loan, later investors’ funds paid the earlier investors’ dividends. Any extra money could be poured into actual investments. Early on, cash would be abundant, plenty to spend lavishly on acquisitions. If the economy recovered quickly, those cheap assets would soon skyrocket in value. As long as profits rolled in fast enough, paying dividends would never be a problem. Later, he could even lower the payout rates gradually to reduce the risk of a cash flow collapse. If the plan succeeded, Rivera would no longer be a con man. He would be hailed as a visionary entrepreneur, a master of capital strategy, a name to be studied and revered by future generations. Running a scam under the guise of building a business, Rivera radiated the zeal of a true founder. Wherever he went, he carried himself with the confidence of a self-made success. He didn’t just fool the investors. Even his employees were so inspired they could no longer tell up from down. Many poured their life savings into the company, convinced they were joining a golden road to wealth. When investors saw that even the employees held shares, their confidence grew. “If the staff themselves believe in it,” they thought, “this must be solid.” Naturally, they invested even more. By the second half of 1895, the great master of capital operations, Mr. Rivera, had embarked on a world tour, preaching his gospel of wealth and recruiting top talents from every field to expand his empire. Even Adler, who knew the inside story, began to doubt his own suspicions. Was this really a con artist? The man looked, spoke, and acted exactly like a born entrepreneur. … While the game of capital continued, the Holy Roman Empire’s third-anniversary military parade was in full swing. Emperor Franz rode a tall white stallion, leading his retinue as he inspected the troops. Waving to the crowd was out of the question. With his mediocre riding skills, letting go of the reins would be asking for disaster. Besides, he was the Emperor. There was no need to play the man of the people during a parade. Maintaining imperial dignity was enough. In truth, Franz would have preferred to sit comfortably in his modern automobile while inspecting the forces. But the Holy Roman Empire prided itself on its knightly traditions, and the Habsburgs were the very symbol of them. To demonstrate martial spirit, Franz had no choice but to mount a horse. Even in his sixties, the Emperor could still ride into the parade grounds. What excuse did others have? Many high-ranking officials, of course, were absent. Not by choice, but by necessity, their bodies simply couldn’t endure the ordeal. Just because Franz could still manage at sixty-five didn’t mean his aging ministers could do the same. One mishap and a solemn military parade would turn into a farce. Unwilling to risk embarrassment, Franz ordered all senior officials to rest backstage. The top ministers watched from the sidelines, and naturally, the lower-ranking bureaucrats followed suit. Thus, the 1895 parade became almost entirely a showcase for the military. Aside from members of the royal family, the procession was filled with generals and marshals. After completing his inspection and returning to the viewing platform, Franz, visibly tired, gave a simple command, “Begin!” The cannons thundered, and the color guard marched forward, hoisting the imperial double-eagle banner high. Their steps were perfectly synchronized, each movement precise to the centimeter. From the side, the soldiers looked like a single line, a wall of discipline and pride. As the national anthem played and the flag rose slowly into the sky, everyone stood solemnly, eyes fixed forward. Only the Emperor and Empress remained seated. To be honest, Franz never cared much for such ceremonies, but even he had to admit they served a purpose. Scanning the crowd, he saw nothing but reverence and focus. Everyone’s gaze was fixed on the rising flag. He, however, found his own eyes wandering. After all, the cameras were rolling. If he was caught looking bored or inattentive, that image would haunt him forever. Not that it mattered much. For an emperor like him, even his smallest gesture would be interpreted as something profound. If anyone else looked around, they’d be called distracted. But if the Emperor did it, it was inspecting the entire field. Once the flag was raised, the parade formations began to march past the palace square. Thankfully, Franz had expanded the palace and the square in earlier years; otherwise, there wouldn’t have been enough room for such a grand display. Row after row of soldiers marched in flawless formation, chins up, spirits high. First came the honor guard, followed by the army, navy, air force, and the troops of the federal states. Then came the armored columns, tanks, artillery, and mechanized units, all exuding an aura of power that could make even distant spectators tremble. Finally, the air formation flew overhead. Though the air force was a recent creation, it was determined to make its mark. Airships had already been phased out. Now, airplanes were the pride of the imperial skies. Symbolically, exactly one hundred aircraft took part in the parade, representing perfection and completeness. Unfortunately, they flew so fast that after three circles around the square, the show was already over. Many barely got a good look before the planes disappeared into the horizon. As for aerial acrobatics, Franz had put his foot down. He wasn’t ready to risk his life for a spectacle. The air force had assured him repeatedly that nothing would go wrong, but the cautious Emperor refused to tempt fate. In fact, the very idea of having aircraft fly overhead had taken courage on his part. Aviation accidents were far too common in those days. Even in the Imperial Air Force, not a year went by without a few crashes. For safety’s sake, Franz never traveled by plane, and he forbade any aircraft from flying directly above him. It was an unnecessary rule, really, since no sane pilot would dare fly over the Emperor. That would be seen as an act of disrespect, a crime punishable by death. Even during the parade, the air force kept their distance, careful not to let their flight path cross over the sacred head of His Imperial Majesty.
*** https://postimg.cc/gallery/PwXsBkC (Maps of the current territories of the countries in this novel made by ScH)
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