When people think about the term of a member of parliament, they usually assume it is guaranteed—four years, maybe five.
That was certainly true in the modern era.
But surprisingly, that assumption did not apply at all in this period.
Members of the House of Lords served for life, unless something extraordinary occurred.
Members of the House of Commons technically had seven-year terms.
Yet in practice, almost no one actually served the full seven years.
Parliament was dissolved and elections were called so frequently that completing the full term was actually the exception rather than the rule.
Of course, when the political climate was stable—as it was now—the likelihood of a no-confidence vote or parliamentary dissolution was fairly low.
The ruling Conservative Party was stronger than ever, and the cabinet led by Robert Peel was widely regarded as competent and effective.
Most importantly—
I had forced Qing China to its knees and secured enormous gains for Britain.
The ruling party and the cabinet were aggressively promoting that success to maintain their popularity.
Headlines appeared daily.
France watches nervously, Russia trembles.
The golden age of the British Empire — The Peel government secures both economic prosperity and expansion.
The key to the future is Asia. Whoever controls Asia leads the world.
Meanwhile the Whigs could do nothing but watch helplessly as the gap in public support widened.
What would happen if elections were held under these circumstances?
The Conservatives would win in a landslide.
The Whigs would be lucky to secure even two hundred seats.
Ironically, that outcome might actually be inconvenient for me.
Fortunately, the next election was still some time away.
Until then, I needed to focus on strengthening my own position.
Which meant properly rewarding the people who had worked hard while I was away.
Charles Wellesley and Benjamin Disraeli deserved plenty of praise.
Politically speaking, the two of them were practically extensions of myself.
If I wanted their continued loyalty, I needed to make sure they shared both the glory and the benefits.
"Is it true you went to Buckingham Palace two days in a row?" Charles Wellesley asked casually.
"The day before yesterday was for the ball. Yesterday was for official discussions."
"Hm. Is that so? I thought perhaps you were finally about to become a member of the royal family."
Charles Wellesley grinned, speaking in a tone that could have been either a joke or half-serious.
Either way, it was a useful opportunity.
Understanding how people perceived the situation was important.
"Have there been rumors circulating?" I asked.
"Rumors? About you and Her Majesty?"
"Yes. If the gossip spreads too far, it would be disrespectful to the Queen."
Among the general public, there were no such rumors yet.
But the aristocracy operated under different rules.
It was worth confirming.
Charles Wellesley thought for a moment before shaking his head.
"No one seems to be discussing it seriously. Though honestly, I doubt there's anyone in London who doesn't know the Queen treats you rather favorably."
Benjamin Disraeli, who had been listening quietly, nodded.
"Her Majesty will eventually need to produce an heir. People see you more as… her trusted confidant."
Charles Wellesley chuckled.
"Now that I think about it, it's quite funny. If I were in your position, the rumors would have spread across London already. Something like 'romantic tension between Her Majesty and the Duke of Wellington's younger son.'"
"But Killian now holds a position comparable to yours, doesn't he?" Benjamin Disraeli said.
"Well, perhaps—if the rumors about his Eastern royal blood turn out to be true. Killian, is that story real? Honestly, every noblewoman I meet asks about it. Since they all think I'm closest to you, they keep interrogating me."
So that was it.
The aristocracy still believed I was fundamentally unqualified to be linked romantically with Queen Victoria.
No matter my accomplishments, I was still considered someone who did not belong on that stage.
As Charles Wellesley said, if I had been the Duke of Wellington's son, rumors would already be everywhere.
Or perhaps Victoria would have dragged me in before I could escape.
Emotionally, the attitude was slightly insulting.
But objectively, it was actually advantageous.
"He's not good enough yet."
That assumption meant they were underestimating me.
"I honestly have no idea whether I have royal blood," I said lightly. "If Korea or Japan decides to dig through their genealogies and present me with proof, then perhaps we'll know."
In truth, if either country decided to adopt me into a royal lineage, I would suddenly become royalty.
If not, nothing would change.
But Charles Wellesley interpreted my answer differently and nodded thoughtfully.
"So the investigation is still ongoing. That makes sense. I heard they would have to trace records back three hundred years. That kind of thing takes time. If anyone asks again, I'll just say the matter is still under investigation."
"Please do."
I clapped my hands lightly.
"Now that we've settled the rumors about me, we should discuss future plans. The reason I visited Buckingham yesterday was this report."
I handed them the document James had prepared.
Both of them reacted immediately.
"A potato blight? If this spreads, it could destroy entire harvests—and it's extremely contagious?"
"If the infection rate is that high," Benjamin Disraeli added, "it can't be contained. Unless every ship from the Americas is blocked completely, the disease will eventually reach Europe."
"Exactly," I said. "And in places like Ireland, where people depend heavily on potatoes, the moment the blight arrives, the situation will become hellish. That's why we must prepare now."
"Prepare…" Benjamin Disraeli muttered. "But is that realistically possible? Any large-scale effort in Ireland would require the government and Parliament to act together."
Of course.
Benjamin was being polite, but the implication was obvious.
Why would Parliament mobilize its resources to save Ireland?
To many in London, the deaths of Irish peasants were hardly a national priority.
One million people might starve.
Another million might flee the country.
Would Britain really allow something that inhumane to happen?
Incredibly—
Yes.
Because Britain's indifference toward Ireland would combine neatly with the fashionable theory of Thomas Malthus.
"So you mean," I said calmly, "some people will argue that if Ireland's population declines due to famine, it will actually prevent the so-called Malthusian Trap."
"…No one would say it that directly," Benjamin Disraeli admitted.
"But plenty of members of Parliament will think it."
Charles Wellesley nodded.
"And if government funds are spent on Ireland, they'll lose votes among English supporters. That will make them hesitate."
Naturally, Malthus himself had never advocated ignoring famine or disease.
But when had politicians ever bothered to interpret theory honestly?
They simply used whatever parts suited their interests.
Charles Wellesley leaned back in his chair.
"But Killian, Ireland isn't irrelevant to the Conservatives. It's one of our important bases of support. If we push this properly, influencing the Commons shouldn't be difficult."
"I agree," I said. "Daniel O'Connell is in the Commons as well. Building public opinion won't be difficult. Even mainland sentiment can be guided through the press."
In the original timeline, Britain's weak response to the Irish famine was not accidental.
The political elite had deliberately shaped the situation.
When Victoria visited Ireland to see the famine firsthand, Parliament carefully arranged her itinerary so she only visited wealthy northern areas that had not been severely affected.
Naturally, she concluded:
"It doesn't seem that bad."
And gradually lost interest in the issue.
How do you think the Irish people felt when they heard that?
It was hardly surprising that resentment toward Britain grew.
In this era, information moved slowly.
Without newspapers or direct witnesses, people might not know what was happening even in the next county.
But if the catastrophe and its consequences for the British Empire were explained properly, public opinion could be shaped.
The real question was the media.
Because newspapers were controlled by aristocrats and capitalists.
"Fortunately," I said, "Her Majesty has agreed to support this effort. Charles, Benjamin—I'll leave the Commons to you. But the House of Lords will likely obstruct us. I'll handle that myself."
"You think the old men in the Lords will listen to you?" Charles Wellesley asked skeptically. "If my father intervened it might help, but he's lost interest in politics lately."
"They probably won't listen easily," I admitted. "But we must try. This isn't just about Ireland. It's also the perfect moment for me to reclaim the political support in Ireland currently held by O'Connell—and strengthen the unity of the British Empire."
Charles Wellesley's eyes lit up.
"Ah, I see. If Britain helps Ireland in its darkest hour, the Irish might finally accept themselves as part of the Empire."
"Not just Ireland," I said quietly. "I'm also thinking about Canada."
Colonial rule maintained purely through force never lasted.
History had already proven that.
But if Ireland remained loyal—and Canada followed the same path—
The Empire could endure far longer.
Especially if Canada industrialized early and expanded westward.
Population was Canada's biggest weakness.
But the famine would provide… an opportunity.
"Simply planting alternative crops or importing grain won't prevent the famine completely," I continued. "Some people will have to emigrate."
"To Canada?" Charles Wellesley asked.
"Exactly. Canada desperately needs settlers for farmland and resource extraction around the Great Lakes. I already had the relevant legislation revised several years ago. All we need now is a structured migration program."
Charles Wellesley blinked.
"…You revised those laws years ago? But we only learned about the famine recently. Don't tell me you predicted this and sent James to the Americas?"
Sharp man.
But even if I told him the truth, he wouldn't believe it.
"Oh, nothing that dramatic," I said casually. "I simply believed the New World was the future and invested early."
Charles Wellesley laughed.
"Well, that sounds like you. In that case, you have my full support."
I nodded confidently.
"Once this plan succeeds, within ten years Ireland and Canada will both become our political strongholds."
In the original timeline, many Irish emigrants went to the United States.
Some even attacked British Canada during the American Civil War.
That kind of population loss could not be allowed.
And if Irish immigrants became the dominant community in Canada…
Which British politician do you think they would admire the most?
The answer was obvious.
House of Lords
Members of the House of Lords were required to be at least twenty-one years old before they could actively participate in debates or votes.
In 1840, I was still only twenty.
Technically, I had no voting rights.
But as a cabinet minister, I was permitted to speak in both the Commons and the Lords.
At the Prime Minister's request, I appeared before the House of Lords for the first time.
More than two hundred aristocrats filled the chamber.
My debut should have been historic.
Instead, most of the older peers looked distinctly displeased.
Their expressions said it clearly:
"The world has gone mad if a twenty-year-old boy stands here."
Some even showed open hostility.
Which was actually convenient.
Enemies who revealed themselves early were easier to handle.
"Minister," one peer began, "you stand before us today to testify regarding this… unfamiliar issue of potato blight. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"The report has been read by most members here. But given its shocking claims, we must confirm its reliability. Can its contents be trusted?"
"Absolutely," I replied calmly. "The research was commissioned personally by me. It includes testimony from scholars and experienced farmers. I even considered bringing infected samples, but that would risk spreading the disease."
"Understandable," the peer said. "Such a contagious pathogen could spread across Europe."
Then a Whig member interrupted.
"But Minister, weren't you in China until recently? When exactly did you have time to prepare such a report? Are you exaggerating this threat to maintain your wartime popularity?"
"Outrageous!" another member shouted. "How dare you question the patriotism of a minister who serves the nation!"
"And how dare you silence legitimate concerns!"
Ah.
Parliament.
Some things never changed.
And frankly, the chaos made me feel strangely comfortable.
"I instructed the report to be prepared before leaving for China," I explained calmly. "As many of you know, I have long taken interest in Ireland. Its agricultural dependence on a single crop—potatoes—is extremely dangerous."
"So you heard rumors about this disease and sent investigators to the Americas before departing?"
"Exactly. This report is not something I wrote hastily after returning from China. It is the result of nearly two years of research."
"If your predictions prove correct," one peer said cautiously, "the consequences could be severe. But publicly announcing such information could cause panic in Ireland."
"I agree," I said. "Public disclosure would be unwise. But preparations must be made. Millions of lives may depend on it."
The Lords exchanged uneasy glances.
No one wanted to oppose something framed so bluntly as a matter of life and death.
But neither were they eager to accept the proposals of a twenty-year-old newcomer.
Finally, one hostile peer spoke up.
"Minister, the war with China ended only recently. Indemnities have not yet been fully paid. Our merchants still require compensation for losses. Should we truly prioritize a hypothetical potato disease?"
"By 'merchants,'" I asked calmly, "do you mean those who lost fortunes selling goods China had explicitly forbidden?"
"They are still British merchants! The Chinese burned their property!"
"I see," I said mildly. "Then perhaps we should discuss that matter today as well."
Ah yes.
The opium merchants.
Men like William Jardine and James Matheson had already given me what I needed.
Evidence.
Evidence that would silence their political allies.
I distributed several documents across the chamber.
"Well then, gentlemen," I said quietly.
"Let us see whether you still wish to defend those merchants after reading this."