14-07-2025, 12:19 AM
Apollo Tower, Acton, Adelia
GLC Risk Management Division
February 5657
Two analysts were hovered over a terminal, trying to piece together the crash of Kaesama Stock Exchange, after the Kundrati government made the fair outlandish claims that foreign speulators were responsible. Emily Charleton, a Senior Risk Assessment Analyst that focused on rapid acquisitions with GLC's main Fund, while Nathan Kessler focused purely on the numbers to put together tends moving forward. “I’m telling you,” Emily said, her voice low as she leaned toward his monitor, “this doesn’t look like foreign action. It’s too clean.”
Kessler didn’t respond at first. His eyes moved slowly over the screen, numbers cascading in neat, brutal lines. Market activity in Kundrati, day-by-day, hour-by-hour, down to the second. A sell-off that started like a pulse and ended like a gutting. He dragged a box around the key spike.
“Foreign crash manipulation usually starts with a whisper; some panicked trade in a vulnerable sector, followed by algorithmic reinforcement,” she continued, pointing to the trend lines. “But this? It was like the curtain dropped all at once.”
He gave her a dry nod. “No shell firms. No swaps. No hedge funds pulling out in sequence. Not even Kalistani bookies trying to cash in on that bet they made through back channels. It’s all local money. Every trade, even our local ones, done purely in Kuno.”
Both analysts were intimately aware of how much foreign capital was involved in Kundrati on any given day, GLC held most of it, with it having been judged the most stable financial institution in the nation. All that was to say; if anyone had been bought off that wasn't in Kundrati there would have been a sign somewhere. They sat in silence for a beat, the whir of the server room undercutting the weight of realization. “Then where the hell did the panic come from?” she asked.
Kessler didn’t answer. Instead, he tapped open a different chart on the post-crash rebound. Eighteen percent bounce in five days led by three companies: Novak Agri-Enterprises, Ironcrest Technologies and the Podlezl Mining Conglomerate. Emily narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
He shook his head slowly. “Ninety billion Kuno. Liquid. Immediate. Like they just… had it.”
She looked away, then back. “Do we even know what that is in Lira?”
“With the beating the Kuno was taking, I think it's somewhere in the neighborhood of three billion,” Kessler said. “Give or take a few million. That’s not spare cash, that's sovereign wealth fund, nation-state level of liquidity, espceially for immediate investment to shore up essentially their entire economy.”
Emily sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So while the bottom fell out on everything—subsidiaries, transport firms, logistics, equipment suppliers—those three sat on the sidelines and waited.”
“Waited for it to burn,” Kessler muttered. “Then bought back the ashes. Their principal firms were barely affected. They got hit, but we're talking ripples on a pond compared to the rest of the Kundrati economy. The minute most of their economy was for sale, they swooped in and bought basically everything that supports their conglomerates or could support them, makes them self sufficient within the confines of the Kundrati economy.”
He wasn’t making accusations. He couldn't, not yet. The evidence didn’t say they did anything other then make a killing and buy swathes of the wider Kundrati economy. But it also didn’t say they didn’t.
What it did say, loud and clear, was that there were no foreign fingerprints on the detonation switch; no Kalistani speculators, no Luthorian arbitrage shells. Just a market that cratered with eerie precision and three well-positioned “patriots” with bottomless wallets who emerged at the right moment with capital to spare and a crowd of cameras waiting to declare them heroes.
“GLC came out alright,” Emily said, like she was trying to pull them both back into safer waters. “Not a single branch closed, still have cash on hand. We aren't overly exposed to loans, no bad leverage, thankfully a different pot of money. Hell, at this point, we’re practically the only thing keeping the Kundrati banking sector alive.”
Kessler nodded, jaw tight. “Which means we can’t just walk away. Not now.”
She looked at him. “So what’s the play? We let them believe the foreign sabotage line and keep pretending we didn’t notice anything?”
“I don’t know yet, way beyond my paygrade.” he said. “But if this was foreign sabotage, I’d be able to trace it. And I can’t trace anything.”
Kessler zoomed into a specific set of trades, small-cap acquisitions following the crash. Fire-sale prices. Whole mid-tier supporting firms bought up for pennies on the Kuno. And every time he traced the purchasing agents back… it led to friendly subsidiaries or holding companies tied to one of the Big Three. Emily leaned over again, whispering like someone might be listening through the fluorescent lights. “What are we even looking at, Nate?”
He stared at the screen. The puzzle wasn’t finished. Too many pieces missing. But the edges were starting to take shape. “I don’t know,” he said, voice low. “But whatever this is, it wasn’t a crash.”
GLC Risk Management Division
February 5657
Two analysts were hovered over a terminal, trying to piece together the crash of Kaesama Stock Exchange, after the Kundrati government made the fair outlandish claims that foreign speulators were responsible. Emily Charleton, a Senior Risk Assessment Analyst that focused on rapid acquisitions with GLC's main Fund, while Nathan Kessler focused purely on the numbers to put together tends moving forward. “I’m telling you,” Emily said, her voice low as she leaned toward his monitor, “this doesn’t look like foreign action. It’s too clean.”
Kessler didn’t respond at first. His eyes moved slowly over the screen, numbers cascading in neat, brutal lines. Market activity in Kundrati, day-by-day, hour-by-hour, down to the second. A sell-off that started like a pulse and ended like a gutting. He dragged a box around the key spike.
“Foreign crash manipulation usually starts with a whisper; some panicked trade in a vulnerable sector, followed by algorithmic reinforcement,” she continued, pointing to the trend lines. “But this? It was like the curtain dropped all at once.”
He gave her a dry nod. “No shell firms. No swaps. No hedge funds pulling out in sequence. Not even Kalistani bookies trying to cash in on that bet they made through back channels. It’s all local money. Every trade, even our local ones, done purely in Kuno.”
Both analysts were intimately aware of how much foreign capital was involved in Kundrati on any given day, GLC held most of it, with it having been judged the most stable financial institution in the nation. All that was to say; if anyone had been bought off that wasn't in Kundrati there would have been a sign somewhere. They sat in silence for a beat, the whir of the server room undercutting the weight of realization. “Then where the hell did the panic come from?” she asked.
Kessler didn’t answer. Instead, he tapped open a different chart on the post-crash rebound. Eighteen percent bounce in five days led by three companies: Novak Agri-Enterprises, Ironcrest Technologies and the Podlezl Mining Conglomerate. Emily narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
He shook his head slowly. “Ninety billion Kuno. Liquid. Immediate. Like they just… had it.”
She looked away, then back. “Do we even know what that is in Lira?”
“With the beating the Kuno was taking, I think it's somewhere in the neighborhood of three billion,” Kessler said. “Give or take a few million. That’s not spare cash, that's sovereign wealth fund, nation-state level of liquidity, espceially for immediate investment to shore up essentially their entire economy.”
Emily sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So while the bottom fell out on everything—subsidiaries, transport firms, logistics, equipment suppliers—those three sat on the sidelines and waited.”
“Waited for it to burn,” Kessler muttered. “Then bought back the ashes. Their principal firms were barely affected. They got hit, but we're talking ripples on a pond compared to the rest of the Kundrati economy. The minute most of their economy was for sale, they swooped in and bought basically everything that supports their conglomerates or could support them, makes them self sufficient within the confines of the Kundrati economy.”
He wasn’t making accusations. He couldn't, not yet. The evidence didn’t say they did anything other then make a killing and buy swathes of the wider Kundrati economy. But it also didn’t say they didn’t.
What it did say, loud and clear, was that there were no foreign fingerprints on the detonation switch; no Kalistani speculators, no Luthorian arbitrage shells. Just a market that cratered with eerie precision and three well-positioned “patriots” with bottomless wallets who emerged at the right moment with capital to spare and a crowd of cameras waiting to declare them heroes.
“GLC came out alright,” Emily said, like she was trying to pull them both back into safer waters. “Not a single branch closed, still have cash on hand. We aren't overly exposed to loans, no bad leverage, thankfully a different pot of money. Hell, at this point, we’re practically the only thing keeping the Kundrati banking sector alive.”
Kessler nodded, jaw tight. “Which means we can’t just walk away. Not now.”
She looked at him. “So what’s the play? We let them believe the foreign sabotage line and keep pretending we didn’t notice anything?”
“I don’t know yet, way beyond my paygrade.” he said. “But if this was foreign sabotage, I’d be able to trace it. And I can’t trace anything.”
Kessler zoomed into a specific set of trades, small-cap acquisitions following the crash. Fire-sale prices. Whole mid-tier supporting firms bought up for pennies on the Kuno. And every time he traced the purchasing agents back… it led to friendly subsidiaries or holding companies tied to one of the Big Three. Emily leaned over again, whispering like someone might be listening through the fluorescent lights. “What are we even looking at, Nate?”
He stared at the screen. The puzzle wasn’t finished. Too many pieces missing. But the edges were starting to take shape. “I don’t know,” he said, voice low. “But whatever this is, it wasn’t a crash.”