"—The position of Canadian Plenipotentiary held by Killian Gore is hereby confirmed as valid, and the remaining term shall be set at three years."
Benjamin Disraeli's proposal passed so decisively that the Speaker did not even need to compare the volume of voices on either side.
The chamber had clearly swung in one direction.
In other words, even members of the Whig Party had sided with the Conservatives.
Part of the reason was simple: the Whigs had no suitable candidate to recommend for Canada.
But the larger problem was that Disraeli's logic was impossible to refute.
The British Empire prided itself on being the birthplace of parliamentary government and the original model of cabinet responsibility.
But "original" could also mean something else.
Old.
Britain had not consciously designed a cabinet system from scratch. Instead, it had gradually evolved by slowly stripping power from the monarchy over centuries.
As a result, the system still contained many inconsistencies.
Laws and unwritten customs frequently clashed.
When such contradictions emerged, Parliament often preferred to quietly gloss over them rather than resolve them properly.
One of the most famous examples was the authority of the monarch.
Contrary to popular belief, the King—or in this case the Queen—still possessed immense legal powers.
If one looked only at the laws on paper, the British monarch was far from a mere symbolic figure.
Legally speaking, the Crown could exercise enormous influence.
But an unspoken rule existed: those powers simply were not used.
If a monarch abused them, Parliament would undoubtedly strip them away.
For now, however, the institution of monarchy still carried symbolic value, so everyone pretended the issue did not exist.
If even the monarch stood on such a blurred boundary between law and custom, what of the Prince Consort?
Disraeli had argued that the law must prevail.
In truth, that was impossible.
Because no law defining the authority of the Prince Consort even existed.
The last time Britain had possessed a royal consort with political relevance had been nearly a century earlier.
How could the political environment of that era possibly resemble the present?
Until now, the issue had always been handled with the familiar British attitude of "what works, works."
And in fairness, Killian Gore had initially followed that tradition.
The moment he became Prince Consort, he resigned his ministerial office without hesitation and retreated into the palace to enjoy married life with the Queen.
But no one had expected the Canadian situation to become so complicated.
The Whig Debate
"So in the end, our party has not actually suffered any loss, has it?"
A Whig member spoke cautiously as their meeting began.
"The Prince Consort is no longer officially affiliated with the Conservative Party."
"That may be true in name," another replied, "but he remains close to the Prime Minister. He himself admitted that if Canada stabilizes, the current government may receive credit."
"But that statement proves his objectivity, does it not? If he truly wished to favor the Conservatives, he would never have said something that might disadvantage them."
The Whigs gathered immediately after the parliamentary session to discuss the situation.
Yet they struggled to reach a clear consensus.
It felt as though they had not technically lost anything.
And yet…
Something about the outcome left an uncomfortable taste.
Right on cue, John Russell raised his voice.
"Gentlemen! You are missing the real issue. Everything we saw today was orchestrated by Wellesley. Sending the Prince Consort to Canada was his plan from the beginning!"
"You believe the Prime Minister arranged all of this?"
"Of course! Have I not warned you repeatedly? We may all be dancing like puppets in the palm of his hand!"
Gladstone sighed.
Russell's conspiracies were nothing new.
But beside him, Henry John Temple began analyzing the situation more soberly.
"Our priority must be weakening the perceived connection between the Crown and the Conservative Party," Palmerston said. "If the Prince Consort successfully stabilizes Canada and its economy grows, people will naturally attribute the success to the Conservatives."
"That's a fair point," another member replied. "But how exactly do we prevent that?"
"First, emphasize that the Canadian administration includes personnel recommended equally by both parties. Stress that the project is politically neutral. And above all, remind the public that this was a bipartisan decision—not a Conservative achievement."
At first glance, Canada might have seemed like a distant colonial matter.
But recent reports suggested otherwise.
Its population had already surpassed one million.
Escaped slaves from the United States were arriving in growing numbers.
Cities near the Great Lakes possessed excellent conditions for industrial development.
And beneath the land lay immense mineral wealth—so abundant that some claimed one could practically strike ore with every swing of a shovel.
If developed properly, Canada might compensate for Britain's greatest historical regret:
The loss of the American colonies.
Even more intriguing was its multicultural population.
Scholars had begun arguing that Canada could become the testing ground for Britain's future colonial policy.
"How troublesome," Gladstone muttered. "Still, if the Prince Consort manages the situation well, this matter should fade away. Administrative success rarely attracts much attention, after all."
"Quite right," Palmerston agreed. "Failure is immediately visible. Success takes years to recognize."
"Exactly. If we manage the narrative early, public attention will eventually drift elsewhere."
Gladstone concluded that the situation was inconvenient—but far from disastrous.
Most voters, after all, reacted only to immediate issues.
And Canada lay across the Atlantic.
How many people in England would continue following events there closely?
To the average Englishman, Irish settlers and runaway slaves struggling to survive in the New World were little more than an occasional curiosity.
And so the Whigs ultimately decided that the issue did not require excessive concern.
Public Reaction
Meanwhile, the newspapers were far more interested in a different story.
"PRINCE CONSORT'S PATRIOTISM! WILL HE LEAVE HIS HONEYMOON FOR CANADA?"
"ALL FOR THE NATION! HOW WILL QUEEN VICTORIA RESPOND?"
Although the papers reported that I would continue serving as Canadian Plenipotentiary, the public cared little about the technicalities.
What fascinated them was something else entirely.
Would the Prince Consort really leave for Canada during the first year of his marriage?
And what would his wife—the Queen—think of that?
The reaction was exactly what I expected.
Most people had little interest in complicated political debates.
They preferred simple, emotional stories.
The Prince Consort arguing constitutional theory with Parliament was dull.
But the idea of a newlywed husband being dragged overseas for work—and possibly scolded by his wife—was far more entertaining.
Public gossip reflected that perfectly.
Poor Prince Consort. Working so hard for the nation—Her Majesty must be furious.
Still, if he's doing it for Britain, we should support him.
Some even joked that the Queen might end up throwing her husband out of the palace.
As a result, the affair became more of a social curiosity than a political controversy.
A Private Meeting
"I've already informed the Governor General that you will continue overseeing matters," said Charles Wellesley. "But surely you cannot leave for Canada immediately."
"There's no need for that yet," I replied. "Even if problems arise, instructions from here will suffice. The most important thing is simply that everyone knows I remain in charge."
"Still, sooner or later you will need to visit. What will you tell Victoria?"
"Well," I said lightly, "I'll explain that I'm not going because I want to. I'm going because Parliament and the Prime Minister begged me to."
Wellesley and Benjamin Disraeli stared at me in disbelief.
"That's not entirely accurate—"
"It's perfectly accurate," I said with a smile. "Did I threaten anyone with a sword and demand to be appointed Canadian Plenipotentiary?"
"Well… no."
"Exactly. They insisted I take the position."
Disraeli sputtered.
"You said earlier that if we waited long enough, Canada would eventually beg for your help!"
I shrugged.
"Do you have a transcript of that conversation?"
Disraeli nearly choked on his tea.
Wellesley groaned.
"I understand your predicament, Killian. But if you say that, it sounds as though I'm solely responsible for sending you overseas."
"Not at all," I replied calmly. "The Whigs insisted the position was politically neutral. Why should you carry the blame alone? Let them share the responsibility."
Wellesley blinked.
"Oh! So we simply explain that the Whigs failed to propose a candidate, leaving us no choice but to ask you to continue. Wait a moment… wasn't it Benjamin who argued your authority was still valid?"
Disraeli spat out his tea.
"W-what?! Prime Minister!"
"Am I wrong?" Wellesley asked innocently.
"You were the one who insisted we coordinate our roles before the debate!"
"Well… technically you were the one who executed the plan."
"At the very least, you must accompany me when we explain this to the Queen. Otherwise I'll tell her everything was your idea."
"That would be disastrous! She'll treat me like a sworn enemy!"
Everyone in Britain knew how happy my marriage was.
Palace servants had spread the news across the entire country.
Now imagine how the Queen might feel if someone tried to send her husband overseas during the happiest period of their lives.
If that wife also happened to be the monarch…
It was easy to understand why Charles and Benjamin were so eager to pass responsibility to someone else.
Personally, I had already tossed the blame neatly into their hands.
From here on, I could simply watch the fireworks.
After all, I was technically a victim too.
A loving husband forced to leave his beloved wife.
Surely Parliament wouldn't try to drag me down with them.
"Gentlemen, there's no need to worry," I said reassuringly. "I'll explain things carefully to Her Majesty. And if she's angry, we can simply blame the Whigs."
"Yes… yes, that's right," Wellesley said quickly.
"I agree," Disraeli added. "Gladstone has always been clever in appearance but useless in practice."
"For now, I'll continue enjoying my honeymoon with Victoria. There's no need to leave for Canada until war begins to loom."
The room fell silent.
Both men stared at me.
"…War?" Wellesley said slowly.
"Why would war break out in America?" Disraeli demanded.
"Oh, that," I said casually. "The situation is unstable. One could imagine a war happening eventually."
"Don't try to brush that aside!" Wellesley barked. "Every time you predict something, it ends up happening! Out with it!"
"Yes!" Disraeli added. "We need to prepare!"
I sighed.
Perhaps married life had made me careless.
Ordinarily I would never have let such a remark slip.
Still…
There was little harm in telling these two.
I calmly poured another cup of tea.
"Prime Minister," I said quietly.
"A war in America is inevitable."
Both men stared at me.
The blank expressions on their faces revealed just how little Britain truly understood about the rapidly changing situation across the Atlantic.
And they were hardly alone.
Most members of Parliament were equally ignorant.
After all, this was an age before telegraphs—let alone the internet.
Information from other continents moved painfully slowly.
I watched their reactions for a moment before finally revealing the true purpose behind everything I had been doing.
"And when that war comes," I said,
"what we must gain from it is not territory… but the future."
"The British Empire stands at a crossroads."
"Whether we remain the dominant power a century from now—or fade into decline—will be decided by what happens next."
Both men stared at me in disbelief.
I smiled faintly.
Of course they didn't believe it yet.
That was fine.
They could sit there and listen.
Because what I was about to explain—
was going to be one hell of a story.