Among the financial elite of the British Empire, there was one name that stood above all others.
A man whose businesses stretched across the British Empire, the United States, and now even Canada.
In America, some had begun calling him "the Father of Black Civil Rights."
That man was James.
Dragging his exhausted body from bed, James rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly.
To the people around him, he was nothing less than a legend.
They called him the King of Capitalists, the man who had built a kingdom of wealth.
James could only laugh bitterly at the title.
Certainly, the seat he occupied resembled a throne built from money.
But the true owner of that kingdom was someone else entirely.
In fact, fewer than five people in the entire world knew the truth.
James was not the king.
At best, he was the steward.
Well… perhaps a steward with unusually broad authority.
If he wished, he could spend the kingdom's money freely and indulge in luxury.
And the real master of the kingdom would not complain.
The problem was that he never had the time.
Money piled up endlessly, yet he was too busy to enjoy any of it.
Human beings could grow accustomed to anything.
But every time James thought he had adapted to his workload, more responsibilities appeared.
Still, things had improved recently.
He had appointed salaried figureheads to run operations in various regions, giving him at least a little breathing room.
His current goal was simple.
Drive those replacements hard enough that they could eventually take over his workload entirely.
If the man above him refrained from launching any new ventures…
A one-month vacation might finally become possible.
Unfortunately for James—
God had clearly abandoned him.
Alaska
"I recently concluded negotiations with Russia," Killian said casually.
"We're going to buy Alaska."
James blinked.
"Alaska? You mean the Russian territory above Canada?"
"That's the one."
"We secured it for the bargain price of £1.35 million."
"The problem is Parliament will inevitably complain that even that is too expensive."
"So I'm thinking it would be better if we just purchased it with our own money."
James frowned.
"£1.35 million isn't a problem… but spending that kind of money on empty land feels wasteful."
"Empty land?" Killian scoffed.
"If it were really worthless, why would I spend my own money on it?"
"Use our businesses in Canada to place bids."
"We'll need to survey the resources and prepare for extraction."
James sighed inwardly.
Of course.
There was no way Killian would ever agree to a deal that involved losing money.
Somehow, the man had already determined that Alaska was full of resources.
And if that was the case…
How much wealth could possibly be buried in that frozen land?
James already controlled most of the coal and iron mining rights in Canada.
If Alaska were added to that portfolio—
The scale of wealth would become almost unimaginable.
"Will we really be able to secure the mining rights that easily?" James asked.
"I told you—we're buying the land ourselves."
"The entire purchase price will come from me."
"I'll cover roughly sixty percent using the assets currently attributed to me."
"The remaining forty percent will come from private investors."
"So the remaining forty percent will involve Canadian mining companies?"
Killian nodded.
"Exactly."
"Why not simply pay the entire amount from royal funds?"
Killian shook his head.
"If I end up owning all the resources personally, people will complain later."
"They'll say the land was purchased too cheaply."
"Or that a member of the royal family should share the profits for the greater good."
James sighed.
The money had not even been distributed yet, and already people were imagining how to spend it.
But strangely—
James felt no doubt at all.
If Killian said resources would be discovered, then they would be discovered.
The only question was how much.
"So bringing in private investors creates the appearance of sharing profits with the public," James said.
"Exactly."
"And coal and iron will be useful immediately."
"There's also the possibility of gold."
James froze.
"…Gold?"
"Yes."
"But if news spreads that gold has been discovered, what do you think will happen?"
"Every fool in the world will rush there."
"Population growth is fine, but the chaos would be unbearable."
Mining rights.
Land regulations.
Efficient extraction technologies.
Infrastructure.
Every step would require massive investment.
But the reward?
Potentially limitless.
Technically, the rights were being opened to private enterprise.
In reality, those "private enterprises" were all part of Killian's network.
In other words—
Alaska itself would become a permanent fountain of wealth for Killian.
Preparing the Investment
"I'll send instructions to Canada immediately," James said.
"Coal companies, iron mining firms, locomotive manufacturers, labor agencies…"
"We'll divide the bids across seven or eight companies."
"That should avoid suspicion."
"Excellent."
Killian stood.
"I suppose I should also deliver a speech in Parliament."
"Something like this:
'The most important matter is securing the northern half of North America for the British Empire.To achieve that, we must prevent Russian expansion.Therefore I will personally finance the purchase of Alaska.I will not burden British taxpayers with a single penny.'"
"What do you think?"
James wiped imaginary tears from his eyes.
"Your generosity moves me deeply."
"Someone might ask what you gain from such a sacrifice."
Killian grinned.
"What do I gain?"
"The love and admiration of the loyal citizens of the British Empire, of course."
James watched him leave.
His workload had increased again.
But at least there were competent managers in Canada now.
He could squeeze them for labor.
Just as James prepared to depart—
Killian spoke again.
"Oh, one more thing."
James froze.
"I heard demand for the clothing factories we recently acquired is skyrocketing."
"This is the perfect opportunity to dominate London's fashion industry."
James closed his eyes.
Here it comes.
"Mass-produce ready-made clothing for workers."
"And create luxury brands for the upper classes."
"Perhaps items like the high heels worn by the Queen."
"You mean products modeled after what Her Majesty wears?"
"Exactly."
"But we'll divide the brands."
"An ultra-luxury brand."
"A slightly lower luxury line."
"And a premium line for the upper middle classes."
James sighed.
Killian understood human psychology perfectly.
Visible status symbols.
If people could instantly recognize someone wearing the highest brand, they would feel superior.
And the key advantage?
The ultimate model.
Queen Victoria herself.
With that endorsement, the empire's most prestigious luxury brand could be created overnight.
"James," Killian said casually.
"Before you leave for Canada, prepare the launch of these fashion brands."
"…Me?"
"Who else could I trust with something like this?"
"If it succeeds, you'll be dressed head to toe in luxury goods that even aristocrats envy."
Three seconds.
That was how long it took for James's admiration to evaporate.
Killian might possess genius bordering on prophecy.
But as an employer—
He was absolutely merciless.
Parliament Accepts
As expected, the Alaska purchase caused controversy at first.
But the issue was quickly resolved.
The opposition's main argument had been simple:
Why should Britain pay Russia for Alaska at all?
But when it became clear that private investors would fund most of the purchase—and Killian himself would pay the rest—the critics fell silent.
"Personally, I doubt any capitalist would invest in a frozen wilderness," one Whig politician remarked.
"But if His Royal Highness the Prince Consort intends to use his own fortune, we see no reason to object."
Of course, he could not resist making one final jab.
But what could they do?
The investment announcement was published.
And within one day, the entire funding target had been met.
The opposition could only stare in confusion.
"How did this happen?"
Eventually they concluded that investors trusted the royal family.
Some even worried those investors had wasted their money.
I wondered what their reactions would be—
when Alaska's resources began pouring out.
And how Russia would feel once it realized it had sold Alaska for a mere £1.35 million.
Just imagining it made my mouth water.
Arrival in Canada
With the matter settled, preparations for Canada finally began.
For the Queen of the British Empire to visit a colony with her husband was unprecedented.
The government mobilized every resource to prepare.
Soon enough—
Victoria and I crossed the Atlantic together.
At first I had worried about spending two weeks aboard ship.
But Victoria handled the voyage surprisingly well.
Occasionally she complained of mild nausea.
But a little seasickness was nothing unusual.
With no urgent time limit, we treated the voyage like a leisurely cruise.
Meals together.
Conversations.
Sleeping in the same cabin.
Sharing jokes with attendants and officials.
It felt like a long-overdue vacation.
Finally—
Canada.
Even before disembarking, thunderous cheers erupted from the harbor.
It was understandable.
After all, the Queen herself had come.
But amid the sea of cheering crowds, someone else caught my eye.
The Governor General of Canada.
The poor man looked half dead.
Dark circles nearly reached his chin.
At his age, working so hard might actually kill him.
And when I thought about who had forced him to work this hard—
Yes.
That would be me.
"Your Royal Highness!" the governor shouted.
"Welcome back to Canada—!"
Then he realized his mistake.
"Y-Your Majesty! It is the greatest honor of my life that you have come!"
After greeting Victoria, he quietly approached me.
"Your Royal Highness," he whispered.
"There is an urgent matter."
"Did something happen?"
"…Yes."
"It was not our fault."
He glanced around nervously.
"Four days ago, American slave hunters crossed the border while searching for escaped slaves."
"That happens often enough."
"But this time the group was large."
"And they were heavily armed."
He swallowed.
"There was a firefight."
"There were many casualties."
I nodded slowly.
"How unfortunate."
"And at such a delicate time, with Her Majesty the Queen visiting."
American slave hunters crossing the border.
Opening fire.
Killing people.
And all while the Queen of the British Empire was visiting Canada.
If this became public—
How frightened Her Majesty might be.
As the Queen's husband and Canada's representative…
I could hardly ignore such an incident.
I clenched my fist in righteous fury.
And bowed my head—
so no one could see the smile creeping onto my lips.