St. Petersburg, capital of the Russian Empire.
Since Tsar Nicholas I ascended the throne as the eleventh ruler of the Romanov dynasty, the man who had effectively come to dominate Russian diplomacy—Karl Nesselrode—had found his worries only growing deeper.
Thus far, Russia's foreign policy had progressed smoothly. Known across Europe as the "Gendarme of Europe," the empire had intervened energetically in continental affairs and generally gotten its way.
Domestically, too, stability had returned. The once-uncertain balance of power had solidified under Nicholas I's rule, and the Russian Empire now stood as an uncompromising autocracy, showing not the slightest sign of internal instability.
There was, however, one persistent obstacle.
Russia's repeated attempts to finish off the declining Ottoman Empire had been thwarted again and again—largely because of the interference of the British Empire.
Russia stood so close to its objective that it could almost taste it. With just a little more expansion, the Ottomans could be pushed aside entirely and replaced.
If that happened, Russia might even dominate the Black Sea, opening the door not only to overland trade but also to immensely profitable maritime commerce.
Perhaps patience would eventually bring the right opportunity.
But judging from how things were unfolding, that hope seemed increasingly unrealistic.
Those islanders.
For reasons Nesselrode could hardly fathom, the British never stopped ranting about warm-water ports, interfering hysterically whenever Russia made even the smallest move.
Of course, securing such a port would indeed be a tremendous prize—but it was not Russia's immediate objective. From St. Petersburg's perspective, the British reaction was absurdly exaggerated.
Still, Nesselrode had to admit that Britain's reasoning made sense from its own point of view.
If Russia obtained a permanent warm-water port and began expanding its naval power, it would become a grave threat to British maritime supremacy.
As Foreign Minister, Nesselrode had long accepted that conflict with Britain was inevitable so long as the Russian Empire pursued expansion.
Yet recently, the hypocrisy of those islanders had begun to grate on him.
Whenever Russia so much as stretched its borders a little, Britain reacted as though the world were ending.
And yet Britain itself seemed perfectly comfortable expanding everywhere.
Had they not already swallowed the vast subcontinent of India whole?
Even that was apparently not enough.
Now they were sniffing around Qing China, planting their flag at key strategic locations.
What was this nonsense?
When Britain expanded, it was noble imperial progress.
When Russia expanded, it was barbaric conquest?
The more Nesselrode watched, the more he found their behavior petty and contemptible.
Still, Russia might have simply cursed them and moved on if China had been the end of it.
But it wasn't.
Now Britain was stuffing huge numbers of Irish settlers into its colony of Canada, expanding relentlessly westward.
Very well, Nesselrode could tolerate that much.
Canada was a colony after all, and the lands being occupied were largely empty.
But this?
This was too much.
"Absolutely ridiculous," Nesselrode muttered.
"What? The Queen of Britain is marrying some nobleman with the blood of Korea and Japan in his veins? Are those bastards serious?"
The news of Queen Victoria's marriage to Killian Gore had, of course, reached St. Petersburg through diplomatic channels.
When Nesselrode first read the report, he could not help but laugh in disbelief.
He had heard the name Killian Gore before.
The capable British troublemaker who had played a major role in beating Qing China and seizing key territories.
Rumor had it the man was so talented he had even become the youngest cabinet minister in Britain.
Fine.
If such a capable man became the Queen's husband, that was understandable.
But this ridiculous claim—that he carried the blood of Korean and Japanese royalty?
That was beyond absurd.
Killian Gore, according to every record, was an Irish nobleman.
How could an Irish aristocrat possibly share blood with royal families halfway across the world?
In Europe, intermarriage between royal houses was common.
But Asia was different.
Nesselrode was certain of it.
"Those islanders know nothing about Asia," he scoffed.
"They're forging some clumsy fabrication based on European assumptions."
Of course, Britain could fabricate whatever it liked.
The real question was why.
Why go to such lengths to stage such a spectacle of a wedding?
To Nesselrode, the answer seemed obvious.
Britain was signaling its intention to intervene more actively in Northeast Asia, just as it had already done in China.
If Korea or Japan ever fell under British influence, Russia might find itself completely blocked from expanding toward the sea.
That could never be allowed.
Absolutely not.
"France cannot possibly be ignorant of Britain's intentions," Nesselrode muttered. "They will surely send someone to observe this wedding."
Normally, royal weddings were occasions where foreign states simply sent congratulations through their ambassadors.
But this time was different.
As the man responsible for Russian diplomacy, Karl Nesselrode decided he would personally attend Queen Victoria's wedding—officially to offer congratulations, but in reality to observe Britain's diplomatic direction firsthand.
And surprisingly…
He was not the only one to reach that conclusion.
The French Foreign Minister, François Guizot, declared he would also attend the wedding for precisely the same reason.
Before anyone realized what was happening, the royal wedding in Britain had become something else entirely—
A gathering of Europe's leading diplomats.
French Foreign Minister François Guizot plans to visit to congratulate Her Majesty Queen Victoria on her wedding.
Russian Foreign Minister Karl Nesselrode has expressed his desire to attend the ceremony.
Austrian Foreign Minister and State Chancellor Clemens von Metternich intends to attend Her Majesty's wedding…
What was this?
Since when had a wedding turned into a diplomatic summit?
Of course, it was not unusual for high-ranking officials to attend the wedding of a reigning queen.
But when foreign ministers began arriving en masse as if by prior agreement, it was obvious something else was going on.
And when I thought about it carefully, the reason was painfully obvious.
"My background, I suppose."
Foreign embassies never sat idle. They would have gathered every scrap of information about me and reported it back to their governments.
From their perspective, my identity must have looked suspicious enough to shatter the ceiling.
Naturally they suspected that Britain might use this marriage as a pretext to pursue a more aggressive expansion into Asia.
To be fair, that suspicion was not entirely wrong.
Still, I had not expected so many ministers to show up in person.
Then again, perhaps it simply proved how significant the British Empire's influence had become in Europe.
"But why," I muttered, flipping through another document, "are these reports all being sent to me?"
I was the groom about to be married.
Why was I receiving diplomatic briefings?
Shouldn't the Foreign Secretary be handling this?
Wait.
Right.
The Foreign Secretary was me.
If I had known things would turn out like this, I would have resigned the moment the marriage announcement was made.
Instead, I had insisted on remaining in office until after the wedding.
And now, just days before the ceremony, I was drowning in work.
Worse still—
Those ministers, arriving with barely concealed suspicion…
I had to greet them personally.
One or two might have been manageable.
But how many were coming now?
Could I really meet each of them one by one?
For a moment I considered simply sending the Undersecretary in my place.
After all, the groom of a royal wedding could reasonably claim to be too busy.
But when I thought about Britain's interests, that option quickly disappeared.
Moments like this were opportunities.
If I spoke carefully, I could ease their suspicions while quietly feeding them exactly the narrative I wanted.
And if the public saw that I was still working tirelessly for the empire even on the eve of my wedding…
That would not hurt my popularity either.
Thus, despite my impending marriage, I set off to meet the French minister.
"Welcome to the British Empire," I said, offering my hand.
"I am Killian Gore, Foreign Secretary of the British Empire."
"I must say," the man replied, surprised, "I never expected the future royal consort himself to receive me personally."
"France may be a neighboring nation, but you are still a visiting minister. Naturally I should greet you myself. Besides, are you not here to celebrate my wedding? All the more reason for me to welcome you personally." I laughed.
"Haha… when you put it that way, it sounds perfectly reasonable."
François Guizot smiled.
"To be honest, I was hoping to speak with you as well. I hope you will forgive my frankness, but your… background is extremely interesting."
So he was getting straight to the point already.
Honestly, I appreciated that.
I still had several ministers to meet today.
"I was surprised myself," I said calmly.
"Until recently, I knew nothing about my Eastern ancestry."
"You mean you had no knowledge of it at all?"
"Of course not. I came to Britain when I was barely old enough to understand the world. If no one told me, how could I possibly know which royal house my blood came from?"
Guizot nodded thoughtfully.
"That is true. But then how was your royal lineage discovered? Did Britain conduct its own investigation?"
The question was polite.
But the suspicion behind it was obvious.
Did Britain fabricate the entire story?
Normally such a question might irritate someone.
But in this particular matter, I was completely innocent.
After all—
The Korean court and the Japanese court had launched their own enthusiastic competition to prove my royal bloodline.
I had not interfered at all.
"Actually," I said with a smile, "I was quite shocked myself. The investigations were conducted independently by Japan and Korea. Britain did nothing at all. In fact, I first heard about it while I was still in Canada."
"You mean those two countries investigated and announced it themselves?"
"Exactly."
If Britain had fabricated such a lineage, Europe's diplomats would have torn the story apart immediately.
And if Korea or Japan publicly denied it?
France and Russia would celebrate while condemning Britain.
No.
In this case, even I had been caught completely off guard.
They could investigate all they wanted.
They would find nothing.
"Then," Guizot continued carefully, "does this mean Britain may establish friendly relations with those two countries in the future?"
A cautious politician would avoid answering that question.
I deliberately shook my head.
"No. Korea and Japan likely do not even know about my upcoming marriage. And Britain has no intention of actively intervening in Asia at present. If we approached them using blood ties, it would appear far too obvious. Her Majesty does not wish this marriage to be interpreted in that way."
"Ah… I see," Guizot said quickly. "It seems I allowed politics to cloud what is truly a celebration of love. My apologies."
"Not at all," I replied. "I understand why people might think that way. That is precisely why I wish to clarify our sincere intentions."
"In that case, allow me to offer my heartfelt congratulations to you and Her Majesty."
"Thank you. I look forward to seeing you again at the banquet."
After a warm handshake, I left the French embassy.
The moment I stepped outside, I summoned one of my aides.
"Did you call for me, Minister?"
"Yes. I need you to send a message to the Governor of Shanghai immediately."
"Of course. What message should I deliver?"
If Guizot was investigating this matter so aggressively, his intentions were obvious.
Many people believed Japan opened its ports only after pressure from the United States.
But few remembered that Korea had nearly faced the same fate from France decades earlier.
France had intervened in Vietnam and then attempted to extend its influence to Korea.
From what I remembered, the entire affair ended in embarrassment—and French forces even required assistance from the British Navy.
That had been several years in the future.
But now that I possessed potential influence in both Korea and Japan, France would surely want to plant its flag in the region first.
"Send messages to Korea, Japan, and Vietnam," I said.
"Tell them the French… or rather, the élan might send a fleet soon. Advise them to prepare. And inform them that if they require assistance, they need only ask."
Why should the French enjoy themselves while attending my wedding empty-handed?
Still, I was a generous man.
I would not fuss over such trivial matters.
If they would not bring a wedding gift—
I could simply collect one myself.
After all, I had never once said Britain would intervene.
But if they asked for help, that would be a different story.
I had not spoken a single lie.
Now all that remained was to wait.
Let us see what kind of amusing adventures the French would embark upon in Asia—and what answers Korea and Japan would give them.