"Your personal credit-caste level has fallen below the tier-one threshold," the mechanical voice chimed cold and clear from Lord Vane's wrist-interface, echoing through his sprawling penthouse as secondary privileges were suspended in real-time.
Far above the desperate shrieks of ruined tycoons, the upper spires of the Aether-Spire shimmered like polished ice under the brilliant afternoon sun. The high-end shopping district housed the city's most exclusive luxury vaults, catering exclusively to the ultra-elite whose credit lines remained unsullied by market volatility.
Inside the private showroom of House Aurelius, soft ambient string music drifted from concealed acoustic dampeners. The air smelled of rare crushed orchids and polished platinum. Double-layered bulletproof glass walls s
