"Not long ago, a messenger sent by the Whigs came to see me," O'Brien began. "I already knew they were trying to lure our MPs over to their side, so I intended to drive him away immediately. But the offer they made to me was… different."
"Why you?" Killian asked calmly.
O'Brien glared at him.
"Think about it! If you have a brain, try using it!"
The fire in his eyes burned fiercely—like a man determined to clear his name of the accusation of treachery.
"They know perfectly well that within the Young Ireland faction I'm considered one of the more radical voices. Do you think the Whigs—or the Conservatives—are blind? Of course they approached me differently."
"I see," Killian said. "And we're supposed to believe the Whigs offered something that actually benefits Ireland?"
O'Brien snorted.
"Don't be ridiculous. Do you think the Whigs care about Ireland? Of course not. They were pursuing their own interests."
Killian leaned back.
He had to admit he was curious.
Just what kind of sweet talk had convinced a hardline Irish nationalist like O'Brien?
"Fine," he said. "Continue. I'll judge after hearing everything."
"Their first objective is simple," O'Brien said. "They want to remove Daniel O'Connell."
Killian shrugged.
"That hardly sounds surprising."
"I laughed too," O'Brien admitted. "Until I heard what they were offering."
"What—Irish independence?"
O'Brien said nothing.
Killian blinked.
"…Wait. You're serious?"
"Do you think the Whigs would simply grant independence?" O'Brien scoffed. "You must take them for fools."
"Then explain."
O'Brien leaned forward.
"In parliamentary politics, what matters most?"
"Winning elections," Killian replied.
"Exactly. And right now the Whigs can't win. They've completely lost Ireland."
That much was true.
Public opinion in Britain itself was already divided nearly fifty-fifty.
And with more than a hundred Irish seats effectively beyond their reach, the Whigs had little hope of forming a government.
Meanwhile the Repeal Party—the potential kingmaker—had developed an unexpectedly cordial relationship with the Conservatives.
"So what's the proposal?" Killian asked.
"The Whigs want O'Connell gone," O'Brien said. "But they don't intend to destroy our party entirely."
He paused, then continued with quiet intensity.
"After O'Connell falls, I take control of the Repeal Party."
"And?"
"I consolidate Ireland—including the north currently under Conservative influence."
Killian raised an eyebrow.
"That would give you seventy to eighty seats."
"Exactly."
"And those seats support a Whig government."
"And in return," O'Brien said, "Ireland becomes independent."
Killian laughed openly.
"You really believe that?"
"Why not?"
"Because the moment the Whigs lose Ireland," Killian replied sharply, "public opinion in Britain will crucify them. They'd be branded traitors who sold the kingdom."
Frankly, the backlash would be even worse than that.
They would be accused of treason.
Perhaps even face assassination attempts.
The Whigs weren't idiots.
They must have planned something more.
Fortunately, O'Brien was eager to prove he wasn't a traitor.
Which meant he was answering every question Killian asked.
"That problem is solved as well," O'Brien said.
"How?"
"The Whigs won't simply grant independence."
Killian frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"O'Connell's downfall will be exposed as a Conservative conspiracy," O'Brien said calmly.
"And?"
"Using that outrage, we ignite mass uprisings across Ireland."
Killian closed his eyes.
His head was starting to hurt.
"So the riots justify independence."
"And the Whigs blame the Conservatives for everything."
Killian exhaled slowly.
Seen from the perspective of a radical nationalist, the plan was undeniably tempting.
Only O'Connell would fall.
If the Whigs betrayed them afterward, they could simply switch allegiance to the Conservatives.
And for someone like O'Brien—who believed violence might be necessary—the strategy aligned perfectly with his convictions.
"So," Killian said slowly, "Ireland gains independence. The Whigs regain power by sacrificing the Conservatives."
"A mutually beneficial arrangement."
O'Brien nodded.
"Exactly."
"And if they betray you?"
"Then we support the Conservatives instead," O'Brien said. "Our seats remain valuable."
Killian studied him carefully.
"You admire O'Connell," he said. "Yet you're prepared to destroy him."
"I respect him deeply," O'Brien replied. "But his methods cannot win independence."
He spoke with fierce conviction.
"Refusing to spill even a drop of blood is the same as expecting to win a war without casualties."
"And the riots?" Killian asked quietly.
"People will die."
O'Brien didn't hesitate.
"If that happens, I'll be the first in the streets alongside them."
"If I die, so much the better."
"The flames of rebellion will only grow stronger."
Killian remembered something O'Connell had said before.
I will not build independence on the corpses of my own people.
Perhaps O'Brien was right, pragmatically speaking.
But Killian found himself agreeing with O'Connell.
Not that he would ever say so aloud.
"Well," Killian said solemnly, "it seems we misjudged you."
O'Brien nodded sharply.
"You did."
"But surely you don't expect an apology alone after abducting me."
"Of course not," Killian replied.
"We're not like Daniel O'Connell. If violence is necessary, we're willing to use it."
He leaned forward.
"Believe it or not, we also want Irish independence."
"If your plan requires assistance, we'll help."
O'Brien narrowed his eyes.
"Then start by removing that mask."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"My position in society makes it impossible," Killian replied. "If I reveal my identity, I'd need permission from my superiors."
"So you're not the leader?"
"Think about it," Killian said. "You can tell from my voice I'm young. Do you really believe someone my age runs an organization like this?"
O'Brien hesitated.
"…Fair point."
"But if you can't reveal yourself, how do I know you're sincere?"
Killian answered by placing something on the table.
Stacks of banknotes.
Fifty-pound notes.
O'Brien's eyes widened.
"About five thousand pounds," Killian said casually.
"Consider it compensation for today's… inconvenience."
"And funding for your operation."
O'Brien stared.
"That's real?"
"If you borrow money from the Whigs, they'll own you later," Killian said. "Better to avoid that risk."
"And this proves our sincerity."
After a long moment, O'Brien nodded.
"Very well."
"How do we contact you?"
"Once my superior approves, we'll send someone."
"In the meantime, prepare a detailed plan—and estimate the funds required."
They shook hands.
Five thousand pounds had vanished in an instant.
But considering what Killian had gained, the expense didn't bother him in the slightest.
O'Brien agreed to keep the meeting secret from the Whigs.
Killian even gave him another hundred pounds to compensate the unfortunate driver who had been knocked unconscious.
"Oh, one more thing," O'Brien said as he prepared to leave.
"What should I call your organization?"
"The Irish Liberation Front," Killian replied.
O'Brien nodded slowly.
"Very well. I'll remember that."
Then he paused.
"If you're truly prepared to target nobles and sitting MPs, there's someone you should deal with."
Killian smiled faintly.
"Who?"
"A traitor to Ireland."
"A man with Irish blood who serves England."
"The worst part is that he spreads the idea that success is possible within the British system."
Killian sighed.
"And his name?"
"You know him."
"Killian Gore."
"The Earl of Arran."
"If you truly want Irish independence, he must be removed."
Killian almost laughed.
Of course.
He had expected nothing less.
"Killian Gore is certainly… a concerning figure," he said carefully.
"Some believe he's too young to be a real threat."
O'Brien shook his head.
"No. He's the son of a viper. If you spare him because of his age, his poison will kill us someday."
Killian paused.
Then nodded.
"You're right."
"If someone threatens Ireland's future, leaving them alive would be foolish."
He looked directly at O'Brien.
"I promise you something."
"You will never face Killian Gore once he becomes an adult."
O'Brien grinned.
"That's good to hear."
Satisfied, he left the underground chamber with Killian's men.
Killian watched him go.
Technically, he hadn't lied.
O'Brien truly would never meet an adult Killian Gore.
Because they would not live under the same sky for very long.
Thirty minutes later.
"The cleanup is complete," James reported.
"No loose ends?"
"None. We returned him to his carriage with his eyes covered. He'll never find this place."
Killian stepped outside and climbed into the carriage waiting behind the building.
"This turned out bigger than expected," he said thoughtfully. "What a headache."
"Should we inform the Prime Minister?" James asked. "This could destroy the Whigs entirely."
Killian shook his head.
"A man clever enough to design a plan like this will have prepared for failure."
"If O'Brien is exposed, they'll simply cut him loose."
In other words—
The Whigs would sacrifice O'Brien and escape unscathed.
"And even if their plan succeeded," Killian continued, "do you really think they'd grant independence?"
James smiled faintly.
"Probably not."
"No. They'd use the riots as justification to crush the Young Ireland faction entirely."
Which meant one thing.
No matter how events unfolded—
There was no happy ending waiting for O'Brien.
"So what do we do?" James asked. "Letting him take all the blame feels like a waste."
"Tell no one," Killian said.
"Not the Prime Minister."
"Not O'Connell."
James raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Because if they act naturally," Killian said, "the rats inside the Whig Party will think their plan succeeded."
"And when they believe they're safe…"
Killian smiled.
"They'll crawl out of their holes."
No matter how carefully someone planned, they could never account for every possibility.
Especially when they were blindsided by something they had never imagined.
Killian leaned back in the carriage.
The bait was ready.
Now all that remained—
Was to see who bit first.
It was time to go fishing.