The waters of the Indian Ocean were eerily calm, moonlight rippling across black waves like polished glass. HMS Caesar, a Royal Navy steamship, cut through the Horn of Africa’s warm seas with an elegance that belied its purpose. Steam billowed faintly from its twin funnels, and the gentle thrum of its engines was the heartbeat of an empire on the move.
The League was aboard.
Five men sat in the grand state cabin — a space lined with dark mahogany, velvet curtains, and polished brass. Crystal lamps glowed softly overhead, reflecting against gold pocket watches and monocles. These were no common aristocrats. These were the men who moved nations like chess pieces: Ashcroft, Danforth, Fox, Price, and Lyon — the five who believed they owned the world.
They dined on roast pheasant and buttere
