The riots that erupted across Ireland were suppressed before they could truly gain momentum. What had been planned as the opening act of a grand upheaval ended as little more than a momentary disturbance.
Up to that point everything had proceeded according to the original design.
But the moment William Smith O'Brien was arrested instead of Daniel O'Connell, the entire situation changed.
The authorities quickly revealed the nature of the events: indiscriminate riots carried out during an election campaign—violence that threatened the sacred institution of parliamentary politics.
And the perpetrators?
A radical faction within the Repeal Party known as the Young Ireland.
Several extremists who had directly worked with O'Brien were arrested one after another. The rest hurried to issue statements distancing themselves from the incident.
"Violence is unacceptable! We stand for peace!"
"Violence is wrong!"
"The Young Ireland faction? I've never heard of them."
To begin with, not everyone in the Young Ireland movement had shared O'Brien's belief that violence must be used.
They had merely disagreed with O'Connell's absolute stance that violence should never be used under any circumstances.
Most had only argued that violence might need to be considered as a last resort.
Those who insisted it should always be used were, in fact, a minority.
But once it became known that O'Brien had attempted to frame O'Connell himself as the mastermind behind the riots in order to overthrow him, the Young Ireland faction collapsed overnight.
Anyone even suspected of being connected to O'Brien risked being beaten to death by an enraged mob before the Irish police could arrest them.
Even prominent figures such as Thomas Osborne and John Mitchel, both widely regarded as leading members of the Young Ireland faction, were not spared from suspicion.
"Punish O'Brien!"
"The path Ireland must follow is peace!"
The extremist faction that had begun gathering strength by questioning O'Connell's strategy vanished completely before the election even concluded.
The result was clear to everyone.
Only Daniel O'Connell could lead the Repeal Party.
Thus, despite the chaos that had briefly swept across Ireland, the 1837 general election came to its end.
And on the very day the election concluded, Daniel came to see me.
"Killian… this was all your doing, wasn't it?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Don't pretend. Before all this happened, you asked me about O'Brien. You already expected something like this would happen, didn't you?"
"Your instincts are sharp, Daniel."
I smiled slightly.
"You're right. The reason I didn't tell you was simple. If you had reacted in any way, O'Brien might have changed his plans. I needed to prevent that."
Daniel stared at me silently for a moment before sighing and sitting down.
"Start from the beginning," he said. "I know O'Brien well. I don't believe he would do something like this merely to push me aside and seize the Repeal Party. There must have been another reason. And I suspect you know it."
"I do. In fact, I was planning to contact you soon anyway."
Unlike Robert Peel, Daniel still had a great deal of work to do in the future. It would be easier for him to act if he understood at least part of the truth.
So I told him everything.
O'Brien's true objective.
And the Whigs' intention to discard him once he had served his purpose.
As the explanation continued, the muscles in Daniel's face gradually stiffened.
"…I see. So the goal wasn't simply to remove me. The real aim was to frame the Conservatives and ignite a nationwide uprising. An extraordinarily dangerous plan."
"Now you understand why I intervened," I replied.
"There's a world of difference between someone making radical statements and someone actually trying to carry them out. O'Brien crossed that line."
"…I understand. So you had O'Brien arrested and used the opportunity to eliminate the entire extremist faction of the Young Ireland movement."
"You would have struggled to deal with them yourself," I said calmly.
"But as O'Brien proved, those young radicals would eventually cause trouble if left alone. When an opportunity appears, it's better to uproot the problem entirely."
It wasn't just about Daniel.
It was also about my own safety.
O'Brien hadn't carried out his plan, so the matter had ended as a mere incident.
But was he really the only person within the Young Ireland movement who wanted to eliminate me?
As I rose within the House of Lords, more radicals would inevitably appear who resented my success.
Better to dismantle the entire faction now before it could become a future threat.
"But the ones who started this were the Whigs," Daniel said slowly. "Why leave them alone until the election ended? If you had seized this opportunity, you might have destroyed them completely."
"Destroyed them?" I asked. "Why would I do that?"
"Because none of this would have happened if they hadn't encouraged O'Brien. They bear responsibility."
He paused.
"…Unless exposing them would actually hurt us in the long run. Was that your intention?"
I couldn't help smiling.
Decades in politics had clearly sharpened his instincts.
"Even if the Whigs were involved, confronting them openly would only complicate matters," I said.
"So I sent them a warning instead—one that suggests someone knows everything. That should make them realize they're now wearing a leash."
"The Whigs remain a large opposition party with more than two hundred seats," Daniel murmured.
"That means the Conservatives must still contend with them. And the importance of our party remains unchanged."
"Exactly. And all the people within your party who questioned your leadership have now vanished. Even the remaining radicals are clinging to you for protection. At least until the next election, you won't have to worry about internal conflict."
"…It seems I owe you yet another debt."
Daniel studied me.
"So what should I do now?"
I had wondered whether he might resent the fact that I had acted without informing him.
But there was no sign of anger.
Then again, Daniel O'Connell had survived decades in the brutal world of nineteenth-century politics.
Moderate he might be—but naïve he was not.
He understood the benefits of the situation without needing them explained.
"For now, don't pressure the Whigs directly," I said. "Just behave in a way that makes them wonder whether you already know everything."
"And you?"
"Next year I'll be entering the House of Lords. From there, I'll do what I can for Ireland."
"The Conservatives agreed to that?" Daniel's face brightened. "So you'll be in the Lords while I remain in the Commons. That's excellent news."
Even after all his years in the Commons, Daniel knew perfectly well how powerful the House of Lords still was.
It no longer vetoed legislation openly as often as before, but it could still demand revisions to almost any law.
And on top of that, it functioned as the empire's highest court.
For now, the upper chamber still held greater authority than the Commons.
That meant something important.
Even if Daniel expanded our influence in the Commons, my plans could still be blocked unless we gained influence in the Lords as well.
"The Commons has its share of pride," I said, "but the Lords are on an entirely different level. Many of them are bound together by an overwhelming sense of aristocratic privilege. I'll observe the atmosphere carefully at first."
"That's wise," Daniel replied.
"Some people won't look kindly on your background. Keep your head down in the beginning. And if you ever need help from the Commons, tell me."
He paused before adding,
"And remember—you should build relationships with the Irish representative peers already sitting in the Lords."
The British House of Lords primarily admitted peers from England and Wales.
But Scotland and Ireland could not simply be ignored.
Sixteen Scottish peers and twenty-eight Irish peers were elected as representatives to sit in the Lords.
They held their seats for life.
When one died, however, the seat did not pass automatically to his heir. Instead, a new family would be chosen to fill the vacancy.
The only way for a noble house to secure a permanent seat in the Lords was exactly what the Conservatives had promised me:
a new English peerage.
"I hope they view me favorably," I said lightly.
"…Given your age, I wouldn't count on it," Daniel replied with a wry smile.
"But what can they do? You're not the type to sit quietly just because someone disapproves."
He knew me far too well.
Truthfully, fewer than half of those men would support me from the start.
Why would they?
A boy barely out of childhood would receive a permanent English peerage the moment he reached adulthood—while their own families held only temporary seats.
Of course they would resent it.
Most would likely complain about my youth, question my experience, or attempt to control me.
Perhaps there was a one-percent chance my expectations would prove wrong.
But experience suggested otherwise.
If they found my presence uncomfortable…
Well.
I could always help them adjust their posture.
August 1837
With 798,000 voters casting their ballots, the long election campaign finally came to an end.
And once again, the results divided the fortunes of Britain's political parties.
Conservatives — 310 seatsWhigs — 292 seatsRepeal Party (Daniel O'Connell) — 56 seats
Inside the Whig headquarters, the atmosphere was grim.
John Russell lowered his head while watching the expression of Viscount Melbourne.
"…Russell," Melbourne said quietly, "I won't demand an explanation. But we must understand how this happened. Have you discovered the cause?"
"Not completely. But I have some suspicions."
Russell felt bitter.
Their plan had been flawless.
They had prepared thoroughly.
They had deceived the Conservatives with perfect misdirection.
The Conservatives had suspected nothing until the very end.
Yet somehow everything had collapsed.
"We have no evidence that our information leaked," Russell said. "Perhaps O'Brien simply mishandled the situation."
"That's not the issue," Melbourne replied. "O'Brien won't fall alone. If he implicates us, what then?"
"That shouldn't be a problem. Apparently he kept insisting during the election that the Whigs were behind it, but he couldn't produce any proof."
"That's strange," Melbourne said slowly. "Unless he was a complete fool, he must have gathered at least some evidence connecting us to the affair."
In truth, O'Brien's accusations had already cost the Whigs seats in the election.
If he had possessed real evidence, the defeat might have been catastrophic.
"O'Brien claims someone stole all the documents he had prepared," Russell said.
"Stolen?" Melbourne narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't you, was it?"
"Of course not."
Russell shook his head.
"Most likely someone discovered his plan and acted before we did."
Melbourne's gaze fell upon a letter lying on the table.
"Could it have been the one who sent this warning?"
Russell clenched his teeth as he looked at it.
That letter had paralyzed them.
It arrived the moment O'Brien was arrested.
And its message was simple.
If you do not wish the truth to be revealed, remain silent and do nothing.
At first they suspected it was a bluff.
But the way events unfolded suggested otherwise.
"It's clear," Russell said quietly.
"The person who sent this letter is the one who destroyed our plan. And judging from the situation, he likely possesses proof that we were connected to O'Brien."
"Then it can't be the Conservatives," Melbourne said. "If it were them, they would have exposed everything immediately."
Russell nodded.
"If they had used this during the election, we wouldn't be sitting at nearly three hundred seats. We'd be lucky to have a hundred."
Melbourne exhaled slowly.
"If not the Conservatives… then who?"
Only one name came to mind.
"…Daniel," he muttered.
Russell nodded reluctantly.
"Other than Daniel O'Connell, there's no obvious candidate."
If Daniel held the evidence, his silence made sense.
If the Whigs collapsed entirely, the Repeal Party would lose its position as kingmaker.
For them, the ideal situation was exactly this: a Whig Party strong enough to matter, but too weak to govern alone.
Still, Russell could not shake the unease in his chest.
He had met Daniel many times.
Daniel was intelligent and capable—but was he truly the kind of strategist who could manipulate their entire plan and bind their hands like this?
Unless…
Unless someone else stood beside him.
Someone unseen.
Someone holding the weapon that could destroy them at any moment.
For the first time since entering politics, John Russell felt a chill run down his spine.
He stared at the handwriting on the warning letter and murmured,
"…Who are you?"
Of course, there was no answer.