The city of Montreal had always considered itself untouchable. With its fortified banks, old-money dynasties, and French aristocratic pride, it was the beating heart of the northern Old Guard.
Lady Mortensen presided over this fortress. Draped in black silk, her silver hair pulled back in a crown of braids, she was as much a relic as she was a ruler. But unlike the Carroways, she was patient. She understood that to defeat the Emperor, one did not need brute force. One needed time.
And time was something she had in abundance.
The Black Rose's Shadow
The golden-dipped rose Arthur had sent still haunted her nights. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it smoldering in the fireplace, its glow reflected on her trembling hands.
Her advisors pressed her to ignore it."A bluff," said Duke Levesque. "Ashford thrives on intimidation.""Then let him," she whispered, her voice cold. "But fear sharpens the blade. We will not underestimate him."
Instead of silence, she chose defiance. Mortensen ordered the first open boycott of Ashford goods in North America. Montreal's cafes refused Ashford's imports. Its banks froze Ashford-linked accounts. The Mortensen network blocked Ashford digital systems at every border crossing.
For the first time since his rise, Arthur felt genuine resistance.
Ashford's Countermove
Arthur received the reports while sitting in his Manhattan war room. His empresses circled him, each waiting for his command.
"Mortensen plays a longer game," Bianca warned. "She's not trying to win today. She's trying to bleed us, inch by inch."
Eva smirked, typing rapidly across her holographic interface. "Bleed? Please. I can turn her financial walls into glass. If she hides her accounts, I'll expose them. If she freezes us out, I'll collapse her currency overnight."
Arthur shook his head. "Not yet. A currency war would draw in Europe. I want her isolated, not martyred."
He tapped the glowing map of North America. Montreal pulsed red."Instead, we squeeze her from within. If she wants to starve us of markets, we'll make her people starve of everything else."
Candy grinned. "You're saying we flip her workers? Her streets?"
Arthur's eyes hardened. "Exactly. Montreal will eat itself before she realizes the trap."
Seeds of Collapse
Within two weeks, Arthur's empire had planted roots in Montreal's underbelly.
Bella's food empire flooded the black market, making Ashford grain cheaper than Mortensen bread.
Yesenia's priests infiltrated churches, whispering sermons of Ashford destiny.
Roxy's digital networks carried propaganda disguised as entertainment, mocking Mortensen nobles as parasites.
Nora's underworld assassins made key Mortensen allies vanish, leaving the rest paranoid and distrustful.
The boycott that was meant to weaken Arthur instead weakened Mortensen. Her factories stood idle, her workers restless, her allies silent.
The Firebrand's Rise
But just as Montreal began to crumble, a new voice rose.
At a rally in the old quarter, a man in a crimson coat stood before thousands. His name was Sebastian Voclain, Mortensen's nephew, and unlike the aging nobles, he was young, fiery, and charismatic.
"Do you not see?" he roared to the crowd. "Ashford is no savior—he is a parasite! He buys your bread only to sell it back with poison! He takes your daughters as trophies for his harem! He will turn Montreal into New York's slave!"
The crowd erupted.
For the first time, Arthur's black market advantages met a wall of ideology. Mortensen's nephew had become the rallying cry of the northern rebellion.
Emperor's Reflection
Arthur watched a recording of the rally, glass of wine in hand. The crimson-coated man's words echoed in the dim penthouse.
Vivian's voice was cool. "A dangerous man. He's uniting them under a banner you cannot easily buy or kill."
Arthur's smile was thin, sharp."Every rebellion needs a face. Let him rise. When the time comes, I'll burn that face into the world's memory as the price of defiance."
The golden interface pulsed before his eyes.
Mission: Break the Montreal Gambit.Reward: Continental Monopoly (Finance Sector Expansion).
Arthur set down his glass."Montreal will not just fall," he whispered. "It will become my proving ground."