"Brave sons of Mexico! We will never bow to the invaders!"
"Drive back those filthy American aggressors! Do not lose hope!"
"Even if every northern province falls, we will fight to the last man!"
Mexico might have been the weaker power in terms of raw strength, but it was no stranger to foreign invasion.
Its people had grown accustomed to fighting outsiders.
They possessed a stubborn determination—an almost desperate refusal to surrender, no matter the odds.
But the age they lived in was not on their side.
No amount of patriotic fervor could overcome rifles and artillery.
Some had hoped that, as had happened to European armies in other lands, disease might decimate the invaders.
But the United States was not like the old European empires.
After the first clash near New Mexico, the Mexican army quickly realized the terrifying gap in military power.
Mexico's leader, Antonio López de Santa Anna, felt a chilling premonition.
At this rate—
The capital itself might fall within a year.
Yet just as the American advance appeared unstoppable—
The United States army suddenly halted.
Then descended into chaos.
It was a miracle that defied explanation.
Seizing the opportunity, Mexico poured every available soldier into New Mexico and Arizona.
Even as casualties mounted, they stubbornly continued the fight.
Meanwhile, the American commanders facing this absurd situation were steadily losing their minds.
"FUCK! Damn it! Those brainless idiots!"
"G-General! Lieutenant Colonel Bryant says he needs to return home to check on his family—"
"Return home?!"
Zachary Taylor exploded.
"The enemy is right in front of us! What kind of nonsense is that?"
"Does he think he's the only officer in this army with slaves back in the South?"
Taylor had defeated countless Native American tribes and Mexican forces throughout his career.
But he swore he had never experienced a situation this maddening.
Originally, the army's objective had been simple:
Advance west as quickly as possible.
But now Texas refused to cooperate, and the federal government kept changing its orders by the hour.
And as if that weren't enough—
His officers were constantly whining about their plantations burning in the South.
It was enough to drive a man insane.
"Do you think I don't have something to lose?" Taylor barked.
"I inherited one of the largest slave plantations in Virginia!"
"And yet here I stand—doing my duty!"
"If the officers who should set an example for the soldiers are only thinking about their own families, how are we supposed to fight this war?!"
"B-but General… the situation in the South is extremely unstable. There are reports that families have been killed in the slave revolts—"
"Those rebels will face the full force of the law," Taylor snapped.
"All we can do is trust the nation."
"Even if we cannot advance further, our orders are clear."
"We are to occupy Arizona and New Mexico and hold them."
Texas might refuse cooperation now.
But once the United States secured those territories, Texas joining the Union would only be a matter of time.
If they entrenched themselves here—
What could Mexico possibly do?
In a proper battle, they could easily sweep those taco-eating fools aside.
But that was the problem.
The United States was fighting with its own house on fire.
And while the army struggled at the front—
Politicians in Washington were pouring fuel on the flames.
Those damned politicians…
Even if they want to argue, they should finish the war first.
What are the soldiers risking their lives supposed to think?
Of course, Taylor understood the Northern politicians' fears.
Their greatest nightmare was that the British Empire might intervene.
If Britain became enraged and sent the Royal Navy—
The United States would be trapped.
The justification would be overwhelmingly against them.
No European power would support the United States.
Mexico, meanwhile, would celebrate.
Even if Mexico was a third-rate military power, the Americans would still suffer losses if they fought them without committing equal strength.
And in that situation—
They would also need to deter the British army in Canada, face the Royal Navy at sea, and suppress slave revolts in the South.
It was impossible.
The only way for the United States to escape this disaster—
Was to appease Britain.
Do something, you worthless politicians…
Listening to yet another officer begging to return home, Taylor felt a violent urge to blow up both the White House and the Capitol.
Washington D.C.
If the soldiers at the front were panicking—
The people in Washington were no better.
But the man under the greatest pressure of all was the one who had orchestrated the entire plan.
President John Tyler.
"This can't be happening!"
Tyler shouted wildly.
"This makes no sense! How did this happen?"
"Lincoln?! Who the hell is this bastard who dares attack the President during wartime?!"
"He must be a Mexican agent! No—an agent of Britain!"
"This must be Killian Gore's doing!"
"There's no way this situation could develop unless Gore bribed Lincoln!"
Muttering incoherently, Tyler suddenly turned toward Secretary of State Daniel Webster, who was staring at him in disbelief.
"Secretary Webster!"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"You said the plan was perfect!"
"Then how did it end up like this?"
Webster barely managed to suppress the curse rising in his throat.
The president himself had ordered the operation.
Now he was shifting the blame.
What exactly did he expect?
"Our mistake," Webster said carefully,
"was failing to consider that the slave hunters might be carrying something like a diary."
Tyler slammed the desk.
"But how did Lincoln obtain it?!"
"This is clear evidence he is colluding with Britain!"
Webster sighed internally.
"Your Excellency… if that were true, then Britain would already know we fabricated the evidence."
"If they had known beforehand, they would have openly condemned us."
"They would have had every justification."
Tyler hesitated.
Both men still remembered their meeting with Killian Gore.
The young prince-consort had been calm, intelligent, and frighteningly capable.
If such an opportunity existed—
He would never miss it.
"Your Excellency," Webster said quietly,
"you must remain calm."
"Many in Congress are already calling for your resignation."
"I am calm!" Tyler shouted.
"I'm telling you the British Empire is behind all of this!"
"They planned everything from the beginning to bleed us dry!"
Webster rubbed his temples.
"Your Excellency… we were the ones who blamed Mexico."
"And we were the ones who declared war."
"How could Britain possibly have orchestrated all of this?"
Tyler leaned forward.
"Lincoln."
"And the Pinkerton Agency."
"They are all British puppets."
"And the slave revolts in the South—those are suspicious too!"
"How could those stupid blacks suddenly launch mass escapes the moment Southern troops left?"
"That must also be Britain's doing!"
Webster stared at him.
So Killian Gore had somehow predicted the war years in advance?
Manipulated the Pinkerton Agency?
Controlled slave revolts across the South?
And orchestrated the entire situation to manipulate the United States?
What exactly was the president saying?
"Your Excellency…"
"If Congress hears you say such things, they will begin impeachment immediately."
"For now, Southern politicians are protecting you."
"But they will never risk a direct war with Britain."
Tyler slammed the desk again.
"Fools! They're dancing to Britain's tune!"
Webster sighed deeply.
First Tyler blamed Mexico.
Now he blamed Britain.
There was no consistency in American foreign policy anymore.
Webster had remained in office when every other minister resigned.
Now he regretted it.
I should have resigned with the others.
This man is finished.
A president who mistook fantasies for reality.
Webster now feared something else entirely.
That Britain might hear these accusations.
God help us…
Canada
In diplomacy, an apology alone solves nothing.
When a nation apologizes, it must also pay a price.
That was why diplomats rarely used the word "sorry."
But the American ambassador to Canada—
Edward Everett—
had already apologized so many times that I had lost count.
"I sincerely apologize!"
"Congress is currently investigating the matter. Once we understand the full situation, we will share everything immediately."
"This cannot be resolved with an investigation and an apology alone," I replied calmly.
"I understand that," Everett said desperately.
"But we must determine the exact facts before we know how to make amends."
"The British government does not intend to overlook this incident."
"Parliament has already decided to dispatch representatives to investigate."
Everett nodded repeatedly for hours.
But without instructions from Washington, there was nothing he could do.
Which meant the next step was obvious.
We needed to make Congress understand just how serious the situation had become.
So I wrote a letter.
A rather dramatic one.
"Due to the United States' fabricated conspiracy and the subsequent war with Mexico, the citizens living near the border have been deeply alarmed.Even Her Majesty the Queen has been greatly distressed.
In order to restore Her Majesty's peace of mind, I ask that Parliament consider additional measures."
The letter worked perfectly.
Public opinion exploded.
The most beloved figure in the British Empire—
Queen Victoria was currently in Canada.
And she was carrying the child who might one day inherit the throne.
Yet American agents had crossed the border, provoked chaos, and even started a war based on a fabricated accusation.
The outrage was immediate.
Both parties in Parliament quickly selected representatives and dispatched them to Canada.
Before long, two familiar faces stepped off the ship.
"Your Royal Highness!"
Benjamin Disraeli hurried forward.
"How much distress you must have suffered!"
Beside him stood Lord Palmerston, representing the Whigs.
"Parliament has resolved to investigate this matter thoroughly."
"We will support you in every possible way."
Both men condemned the United States in unison.
Their presence spoke volumes.
The Conservatives had sent Disraeli.
The Whigs had sent Palmerston rather than the moderate Gladstone.
No explanation was necessary.
"Thank you," I said with a smile.
"With Parliament's support, I feel much reassured."
"To what extent is Parliament willing to go?"
Palmerston grinned.
"That depends on how the United States responds."
"But both parties agree that every available option is on the table."
Which meant—
Even declaring war alongside Mexico.
Impressive.
Normally Parliament would argue endlessly.
But when there was an opportunity to carve up another country—
Suddenly everyone worked together.
Disraeli and Palmerston fought bitterly in Parliament.
Yet here they were laughing like lifelong friends.
"First," Disraeli said,
"we must isolate the American administration."
"But if impeachment proceeds too far, unexpected complications may arise."
"So we should conclude negotiations before that happens."
"An excellent insight," Palmerston replied.
"I was thinking the same thing."
"Although we have successfully secured Oregon, it would be a shame to stop there."
"What do you think, Your Royal Highness?"
"Of course we should not stop here."
"I intend to negotiate with both the United States and Mexico."
"Leave it to me."
"Excellent!"
Palmerston raised his glass.
"For the British Empire!"
Disraeli and I raised ours as well.
"For the British Empire!"
Left and right.
Government and opposition.
Conservatives and liberals.
Aristocrats and commoners.
All united.
This—
Was true national unity.
This was We Are the World.