Persian Empire 1845

Chapter 592 Choice
Isberger is quite frustrated lately. As the head of Munich Bank, the largest bank in southern Germany, the economic crisis has caused the bank's funds to shrink at an alarming rate. Loans issued have become bad debts that cannot be recovered, and soon it may go bankrupt like Baden Bank.

As the oak doors of the Munich bank were pushed open, Isberg was stroking the leather ledger on his desk. The edges of the ledger were worn from repeated readings, and each page marked with the word "overdue" in red ink felt like a dull knife cutting into his heart. The man who entered was dressed in dark gray clothing, a Persian badge inlaid with turquoise pinned to his collar, followed by two attendants carrying black leather trunks—it was Farid, the chief negotiator sent by Ghahraman.

“Mr. Isberg,” Farid said in German with a slight Viennese accent, placing the briefcase on the mahogany desk and gently opening it. The neatly stacked gold francs gleamed coldly in the sunlight. “This is 50 taels, as our ‘goodwill deposit’ for the negotiations.”

Suppressing his inner turmoil, Isberg gestured to his secretary to pour Farid coffee. He watched as Farid locked the gold francs back into his suitcase, then suddenly noticed the pocket watch chain peeking out from the man's cuff. The pendant was a small Persian miniature painting.

Farid seemed to read his mind and chuckled lightly: "Mr. Isberg, we are not here to 'take advantage of your misfortune.' As you know, Vienna Credit Bank has shares in us, and Eurasian United Bank is also our partner."

He pulled out a document and pushed it in front of Isberg: "These are our conditions: First, Lion Bank will invest 300 million to acquire 60% of Munich Bank's shares; second, the bank will retain the name 'Munich Bank,' and you will continue to serve as president, but we will send three financial specialists to join the board of directors; third, we have a large-scale plan for the future, and we hope that you can cooperate."

“I’m afraid you want more than just this,” Isberger said, looking directly into Farid’s eyes. “The coal mines of Bavaria, the railway factories of Saxony—are you also trying to get involved through the banks?”

Farid didn't deny it. Instead, he pulled another map from his briefcase and spread it on his desk. The map marked in red the railway line from Munich to Vienna, extending to Constantinople, and finally reaching Baghdad. "Mr. Isberg," he said, "you see, if this railway were completed, industrial goods from southern Germany could be transported to Iran much faster, and Iranian cotton and carpets could be sold to Europe more easily. If the Munich Bank could participate in financing this railway, do you think the future profits would be low?"

His words struck Isberg like a pebble into a still lake. The Bavarian coal mines, hampered by a lack of funds, could expand operations with the help of bank loans, enabling them to partner with Iranian steel mills. The Saxon railway factory, already laying off workers due to declining orders, could be revitalized with contracts for the Persian Railway. And Munich Bank, as the financier of these projects, would receive far more in interest and commissions than its current bad debts suggest.

But before that, he needed to confirm one thing. "What exactly is this plan you're talking about? I need to know."

Farid didn't address the question directly, but instead brought up another matter. "Are you aware of the situation at the Württemberg Bank?"

He had looked into the Württemberg Bank; it had also gone bankrupt and been acquired. This bank was the largest in the Kingdom of Württemberg, and the acquisition and bankruptcy process took only one day. The acquired bank was, I think, called…

Isberg's eyes widened. "It's you guys!"

“That’s right. Not only the Bank of Württemberg, but also the Bank of Stuttgart, and the Bank of Baden is also in negotiations. These will all be combined into a large bank. You can imagine a bank comparable to the Rothschilds ruling this region.” “Comparable to the Rothschilds?” His voice trembled almost imperceptibly. “Mr. Farid, you should know that the banking system in southern Germany has always been tied to the royal families of the various states. The Bank of Württemberg is backed by the Grand Duke of Württemberg, and the Bank of Stuttgart has shares held by the Prince of Baden. Aren’t you afraid of angering these nobles by acquiring them?”

Farid pulled a wax seal bearing the emblem of a double-headed eagle from his inside suit pocket and gently pressed it against the edge of the document. “Mr. Isberg, the Viennese court has tacitly approved our plan. Look at this seal; it’s a special seal from the Austrian Ministry of Finance. With it, the Bavarian royal family will have no objections.” He leaned closer to the desk, lowering his voice further. “Besides, those nobles only care about their estates and titles. Bank failures will wipe out their savings. By taking over, we are actually helping them preserve their assets.”

As the secretary entered with the coffee, she happened to hear the word "property" and paused. Isberg waved her away, and as the office door closed, he suddenly asked, "The negotiations with Baden Bank aren't going well. I heard their president, Heinrich, would rather commit suicide than accept a foreign takeover."

“Mr. Heinrich is a respectable man, but he is too stubborn.” Farid took a sip of his coffee, his eyes turning cold. “The very night he refused to sign the share transfer agreement, the Baden Bank’s vault was ‘robbed,’ and his heirs had to come to us for help with the mess that was left.”

Isberger felt a chill run down his spine. He suddenly realized that the banks that were acquired were never "voluntary." But Munich Bank's situation left him no room for hesitation—the gold reserves in the vault were only enough to last three days, and depositors would be running for their money early tomorrow morning. At that point, the bank would collapse on its own without anyone else's intervention.

“You only have twenty-four hours.” Farid took out his pocket watch, and the moment he opened it, the Persian palace in the miniature painting was exceptionally clear in the sunlight. “By this time tomorrow, either we will sign the share transfer agreement, or Munich Bank will appear in tomorrow’s morning paper just like Baden Bank—I’ve already thought of the headline: ‘Another bank goes bankrupt, depositors besiege the head office all night.’”

Late at night, Isberg was alone in his office, opening the documents Farid had left behind. The first page was the share transfer agreement, the Golden Lion Bank's seal a glaring red; the second page was a list of financial officers, all three names followed by the note "formerly worked at Eurasian United Bank"; the third page was a preliminary plan for railway financing, the route marked in red stretching from Munich to Baghdad, with a line of small Persian writing beside it that he didn't recognize, but guessed was Ghahraman's signature.

Suddenly, the telegraph machine next door rang. It was from the secretary of the Bavarian Ministry of Finance, and the tone was urgent: "Mr. Isberg, the minister asked me to tell you that the bank's funding problem must be resolved by tomorrow. The royal family will not provide any assistance to the Munich Bank."

This shattered his last shred of hope. He picked up a pen and signed his name on the equity transfer agreement. The sound of the pen nib gliding across the paper was exceptionally clear in the quiet office. Outside the window, the first rays of morning light shone through the blinds, falling on the "overdue" red ink on the ledger, as if drawing a helpless period to this acquisition without bloodshed.

The oak doors of the Munich Bank no longer belong to him, starting today.

(End of this chapter)