Geneva, Winter 1828.
The first snowfall had barely melted from the edges of Lake Geneva, but the name Alex Carter was already echoing through the city's financial circles.
This mysterious young man, who claimed to be a Moravian merchant trained in finance at Vienna, had an almost prophetic sense of timing. His trades in silver and cotton had more than doubled his initial capital in just weeks—earning him admiration, suspicion, and curiosity.
Three men in particular took notice.
The first was Adrien de Castellane, a sidelined member of a powerful French banking family, exiled to manage the family's Swiss operations in Geneva. The second was Jean-Pierre Dufour, a cautious Swiss banker and staunch liberal. And the third, already deeply involved, was Count Széchenyi—the only one who knew the truth behind the mask of "Alex Carter."
Alliance Forged in Gold
In a modest apartment overlooking the lake, Széchenyi sat in silence, staring at the handwritten report before him:
Initial Capital: 15,000 francs.Profit: 280,000 francs.Time: 3 weeks.
It was real. The gamble he had taken was no longer a risk—it was a fortune.
He looked up at Franz, stunned.
"Franz…" His voice trembled. "If reclaiming your legacy weren't your goal, you could be the greatest financier in Europe. Richer than kings."
Franz smiled faintly. From his desk, he pulled out an unmarked Swiss bank check, redeemable at any branch—with no trace of origin—and handed it to Széchenyi.
"This is your original investment," he said, "and your share of the profits."
Széchenyi blinked, confused.
Franz continued, voice calm but unwavering. "From now on, you're not just my backer. You're my first true ally."
Széchenyi held the check, overwhelmed. He understood—this wasn't a payout. This was a bond. A pact. A beginning.
Franz's voice dropped. "I want you to return to Hungary. Contact Kossuth. Check the status of his arms contacts in the Balkans."
Széchenyi's expression turned serious.
"We'll send more people soon. The black market isn't just for trade. We need fighters—men we can train. Numbers are important. But loyalty and skill are everything."
Franz paused. "And soon, you'll meet someone tied to the Bonaparte name. The first of many."
Adrien de Castellane
The private dinner was quiet, but the energy between Franz and Adrien crackled with ambition.
Adrien, born into a prestigious French banking dynasty, had never been trusted with real responsibility. Instead, he was sent to Geneva—out of sight, out of power. But his eyes burned with resentment and hunger.
"I know who you are," Adrien said boldly. "Not your name—but what you are. And I want in."
Franz tilted his head.
Adrien continued. "I can give you access. Quiet networks in Paris and London. Intelligence from family circles. But only if you're building something bigger than trading profits."
Franz saw it then: the fire of a young man desperate to break free from the shackles of his bloodline.
"Then let's begin," Franz said simply.
Jean-Pierre Dufour
If Adrien was fire, Dufour was ice.
A respected banker in Geneva, Dufour believed in reason, order, and moral finance. He despised speculation—and even more so, political manipulation of markets.
But when Franz's bet on a cotton price surge came true—against every forecast and data point—Dufour was shaken. The market soared due to a surprise shipping delay, exactly as Franz had predicted. And Dufour, though reluctant, profited massively.
He requested a private meeting.
"Monsieur Carter," he said, his voice measured, "your insight is beyond explanation. I'm willing to join you—but not if this is only about money."
Franz didn't blink. "It's not."
He leaned forward. "The Bourbons are rotting from the inside. And France needs more than politics—it needs trust. If we control capital, we control perception. We don't just fund change—we become the change."
Dufour didn't respond. But the idea had taken root.
Three Men, One Plan
With Adrien providing shadow networks, Dufour offering a clean front through Swiss institutions, and Franz masterminding their strategy, the partnership took form.
They disagreed often.
"The Ottoman Empire's debt is a black hole," Dufour warned during a strategy session. "We should invest in railroads, not risky bonds."
"Wars make men rich," Adrien snapped. "If Metternich triggers war between Russia and the Ottomans, their bonds will crash. We buy low—sell when Europe negotiates peace. That's Franz's play."
Franz listened, then said quietly, "If you trust me, follow the plan."
And they did.
Széchenyi had already returned to Hungary. Adrien and Dufour remained—believing Franz to be a Moravian prodigy, not a royal heir with a hidden agenda.
They reaped the rewards.
With Franz's guidance, the trio profited from arbitrage in London cotton, Lyon trade bills, and Zurich silver. They amassed over 3 million francs—enough to fund a private army.
Franz didn't handle every trade. He built systems. He had Dufour set up a trust model that promised transparency and stable returns. This prototype would later become the foundation of Restoration Bonds.
Dufour, ever perceptive, began to suspect that "Alex Carter" had a purpose beyond profit. Adrien, on the other hand, saw Franz as a weapon to climb back into the de Castellane inner circle.
He quietly pushed the name "Alex Carter" through Parisian financial circles—elevating him to near-mythic status.