There was one place that symbolized the moment when the British Empire firmly established itself as the strongest power in Europe.
Apsley House, the residence of the Duke of Wellington, the hero of Waterloo.
Though it was no longer as dazzling as it had once been, it remained one of the centers of high society.
Large gatherings were held there nearly every week, and influential figures from both the House of Lords and the House of Commons still paid their respects to the Duke.
As long as men who remembered Waterloo—and those who had actually fought there—continued to occupy the upper ranks of society, Wellington's influence would never truly disappear.
Even after stepping down from the leadership of the Conservative Party and taking on the role of a respected elder, the Duke understood the political situation of the Empire better than almost anyone.
The conflict currently unfolding in Parliament was no exception.
A rare generational clash within the Conservative Party.
At the center of that storm stood Charles Wellesley, the Duke's second son.
For the first time in quite a while, he crossed the threshold of his father's residence after receiving a summons.
Once, this place had felt overwhelmingly majestic.
Now, it merely struck him as a fine house.
Perhaps that was because he himself had now become the leader of a political faction.
"Father," Charles said with a respectful bow.
"It's been some time. I'm glad to see you're in good health."
"Yes, yes," the Duke replied calmly.
"You look well yourself."
"I hear you've been quite busy lately. Are things going smoothly?"
"No problems at all."
"No problems?"
The Duke's expression suggested surprise.
Which told Charles everything he needed to know about why he had been summoned.
In times like this, there was only one topic worth discussing.
"Yes," Charles said lightly.
"Did those old fossils from Parliament come here complaining that you should discipline your son better?"
"No doubt they lacked the courage to say it directly."
"They probably spoke in circles and filled your ears with criticism about me instead."
"Charles," the Duke said with a frown.
"Old fossils?"
"They may be older than you, but they've each won five or six elections to hold their seats."
"Well, technically I'm a multi-term MP myself now," Charles replied.
"But you still lack experience and seniority."
"You will only be thirty-three next year."
"When you were my age," Charles countered calmly, "you were already designated to command the Hanover expedition."
"It was canceled, of course, but I wouldn't say this age is particularly young."
After all, Napoleon Bonaparte had become First Consul for life when he was barely thirty.
Charles had no intention of becoming another Napoleon.
But calling a man over thirty "young" was simply a narrative crafted by elderly politicians unwilling to relinquish their positions.
"You have many MPs following you," the Duke continued.
"So naturally you have your own political stance."
"But don't you think it's too early to expand your influence by creating conflict with men who have served the party for decades?"
"You're still young."
"Two more elections, and you'll naturally rise to their level."
"But if you alienate them now, you'll only end up harming yourself."
"Father," Charles said calmly.
"Two elections is ten years."
"Patience is certainly a virtue in politics, and rashness can lead to ruin."
"But wasting time while waiting indefinitely is not patience."
"When an opportunity appears, a great politician must have the courage to seize it."
"So you believe this is that opportunity?" the Duke asked.
"Because it certainly doesn't look like one to me."
"That's because you've only heard their side of the story."
"They probably said I'm rushing ahead recklessly."
"That I'm driven by youthful ambition."
"That moving too fast could cause me to stumble."
"Something along those lines, I assume."
Charles smirked faintly.
People tended to talk more when they were nervous.
If they truly held overwhelming power, they wouldn't be whining to his father.
They would simply crush him themselves.
"Charles," the Duke said.
"You and the Prime Minister both know neither of you can deliver a decisive blow right now."
"If the public only sees internal fighting, it will create fatigue."
"That will weaken the party as a whole and strengthen the Whigs."
"That would normally be true," Charles replied.
"But hearing that even you believe that… is actually reassuring."
"I can proceed without hesitation."
The Duke's eyes narrowed.
"…Don't tell me you really intend to confront the Prime Minister head-on."
"If that weren't my intention," Charles said calmly, "I would have backed down already."
"The Canadian Immigration Bill must pass exactly as written."
"The Prime Minister's faction attempted to sabotage it to discipline me."
"Unfortunately for them… they chose the wrong strategy."
"The immigration bill is that important?" the Duke asked.
"…Is Killian involved in this?"
Involved?
Killian wasn't merely involved.
He was the one who stood to gain the most from it.
And the Prime Minister had unknowingly poured cold water all over the plan.
Which was why the situation had escalated this far.
Of course, the Duke didn't truly understand who Killian was.
In his mind, Killian was still the clever boy for whom he had written a recommendation to Eton.
"The plan itself was entirely Killian's," Charles said.
"…Are you being manipulated by that boy?" the Duke asked slowly.
"Manipulated?" Charles laughed.
"We benefit each other."
"I serve as Killian's shield, protecting him from threats."
"And Killian ensures that the shield protecting him shines brighter than anyone else."
"This time is no different."
"What Killian wants is simple."
"He wants to strengthen his position using Ireland and Canada."
"And what do you gain from this?" the Duke asked.
"Parliament."
Charles spoke the word calmly.
The Duke of Wellington's eyes widened.
Charles continued, explaining the future that would dispel his father's worries.
"Killian doesn't want Parliament restricting him."
"So naturally…"
"The person who won't obstruct him should control Parliament."
While Charles was speaking with the Hero of Waterloo, I was sitting across from Robert Peel in the Prime Minister's office.
Peel looked slightly restless.
"It seems the country has become quite noisy while I was away in Ireland and Scotland," I said.
"Yes… well… that does seem to be the case," Peel chuckled awkwardly.
"Wellesley came to see me immediately after I returned."
"He said it appears you're trying to restrain him."
"Well… that is…"
"The Canadian Immigration Bill is essential for relocating Irish migrants smoothly."
"Couldn't you generously support it for the sake of national interest?"
Peel thought for a moment.
Then he sighed and shook his head.
"It isn't that simple."
"You know as well as I do that the party's atmosphere hasn't been very good lately."
"In truth, the immigration bill is merely an excuse."
"I know," I replied.
"That's exactly why it's so absurd."
"If you want to fight, choose another bill."
"This issue concerns the livelihoods of hundreds of thousands—possibly a million people."
"But there's no need to expand westward," Peel argued.
"Canada's existing territory is already vast."
"And once Upper Canada and Lower Canada are unified, it will become even larger."
"There are more than enough reasons to expand westward," I said calmly.
"For the Empire's benefit, the bill must pass exactly as written."
"I've explained this several times already."
Western Canada wasn't merely about territorial expansion.
It was rich with coal, metals, and minerals.
Oil would matter in the future, though that wasn't something worth mentioning now.
Even without oil, Canada was land of immense value.
And yet the Prime Minister was obstructing its development because of petty party politics.
Naturally, it irritated me.
"Well… the United States might protest," Peel said cautiously.
"That can be dealt with."
"Allowing the United States to expand endlessly would harm us far more in the long run."
"All the more reason to support my proposal."
"But the party's opinion must also be considered…"
"Prime Minister," I interrupted gently.
"You are the leader of the Conservative Party."
"You must organize traffic at the intersection."
"If you don't, the carriages will pile up and crash."
This was both the strength and weakness of a parliamentary system.
A Prime Minister ultimately depended on support within the party.
Without it, the cabinet would become powerless.
Or worse—face a vote of no confidence.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do," Peel replied.
"If you and Charles simply step back this time, everything can be resolved peacefully."
"I don't understand why you insist on being so stubborn."
"…You truly believe we're the stubborn ones?" I asked.
"Those men have served in politics far longer than you," Peel said.
"Mr. Gove could win his seventh election next year."
"Mr. Starmer is the same."
"And Mr. Corbyn's family has represented their seat for generations."
"They've devoted decades to the party."
"Surely their dignity deserves consideration."
"Then let them preserve their dignity through another bill," I replied.
"If they withdraw now, I'll do my best to calm Charles."
"In other words…"
"This is the last chance to reverse the situation."
It was my final offer.
If they accepted, I could arrange a graceful retirement for them later.
But if they continued believing they held the advantage…
Then reality would have to be forced upon them.
Peel clicked his tongue and smiled faintly.
"You remind me of the first time I met you."
"It was at a party while the previous king was still alive."
"The Duke of Wellington introduced you."
"He said you were a brilliant student."
"Yes. I remember."
"That student now sits before me speaking of 'last chances' and pressuring me."
"How quickly time passes."
"It's advice," I said calmly.
"Not pressure."
"I'm afraid I cannot accept your advice," Peel replied.
"I have my own position, and members supporting me."
"And don't forget something."
"You are still a minister in my cabinet."
"If I fall, it won't benefit you either."
"You still need the title of Foreign Secretary to finish your work, don't you?"
So now that persuasion had failed…
He had moved on to threats.
At this point, the conclusion was obvious.
There was no point continuing the conversation.
"I understand your position clearly," I said politely.
"But could you at least try to persuade the others?"
"I'll try to calm Charles as well."
"I'll make the effort," Peel said.
"But this time, you and Charles must compromise."
"I've shown you plenty of consideration until now."
"Perhaps it's time you listened to your seniors."
Consideration?
He had thrown impossible assignments at me.
Then tried to send me off to Asia to keep me out of politics.
If he had even pretended to yield this time…
I might have softened slightly.
But after hearing this?
Now he would have to taste the consequences.
Peel was correct about one thing.
To continue shaping Ireland and Canada, I needed to remain Foreign Secretary.
But why did he assume that if he stepped down…
I would lose the position?
All I needed to do was ask the next Prime Minister to print me a new calling card.