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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Buckingham's Call (2)
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"...So, I won't be able to come here next weekend because I have to attend the commemoration."
"Presentations and debates by exceptional students… it sounds fascinating. *Sigh*... I wish I could go, but I'm afraid it's impossible. It's such a pity."
"His Majesty must have sent the Princess an invitation. Did you not receive it?"
"I did. But unfortunately, my dear mother and Sir Conroy have decided that I am scheduled to be ill that day."
There it was.
Victoria's incurable illness, which flared up whenever there was a royal-sponsored event or party.
Because of this malady, which was miraculously scheduled to be cured the moment she came of age, the current Victoria was unable to attend most functions.
And it seemed this time would be no different.
"That's a shame. It would have been a good experience for the Princess."
"A debate between Eton and Harrow sounds like it would be quite a fiery competition. Has the topic been announced?"
"Yes, the topic of debate will likely be the abolition of slavery, the most talked-about issue recently. It's a sensitive matter, but since they're young students, they can discuss such a topic without much burden."
"Then Killian will be participating in the debate, won't he?"
This was the normal reaction, right?
No matter how I looked at it, Headmaster Keate's attempt to exclude me was strange.
"No. I felt I've been standing out too much recently, so I decided to sit this one out."
"Still, with the school's honor at stake, wouldn't the teachers want you to participate?"
"The strange thing is, the headmaster seemed to prefer that I not participate."
"Really? That's odd. Even if it seems trivial, when pride is on the line like this, you'd think they'd want to bring in as many outstanding students as possible."
So far, everyone who had heard the story had reacted the same way she did.
If not just me, but James, Wellesley, and even Victoria felt a similar sense of doubt, then I had to assume there was definitely something going on.
The problem was, no matter how much I looked into it, I couldn't figure out the reason.
I had an informant look into whether the headmaster had met anyone recently, but there were no unusual signs.
The only people were Eton's teachers, the headmaster of Harrow with whom he was coordinating, and the royal officials who planned the event.
Could he have decided that having an Irish nobleman of mixed Asian descent as a representative of Eton wouldn't look good?
If it were something like that, I could dismiss it as me overreacting, but the headmaster didn't seem to be that kind of person…
No, when information is this scarce, it's best not to get lost in speculation. I should prepare myself to handle any variables that come my way.
Instead of making wild guesses, I needed to be ready to react flexibly to whatever happened.
"Oh, by the way, Killian. Even if I can't go to the event, Sir Conroy probably will."
"You mean Sir John Conroy?"
I had been to the palace quite a few times now, but I had strangely rarely encountered John Conroy, the Duchess's de facto secretary.
I had seen him with the Duchess and exchanged simple greetings, but we had never had a lengthy conversation alone.
Not that he was someone I particularly wanted to talk to, so I hadn't given it much thought.
"Mother speaks so highly of you that he doesn't seem suspicious, but it looks like he wants to have a more in-depth conversation with you at some point. He'll likely approach you deliberately at the commemoration, so I thought you should know."
"Thank you. I'll be sure to prepare myself."
"Honestly, that man is such an ass… he's just a terrible person. I'll be looking forward to seeing how you trick him, you know? It's the only way I can soothe my disappointment about not being able to attend."
Perhaps as we grew closer, the true feelings she had been suppressing were inadvertently slipping out.
Knowing the environment she had grown up in, her reaction didn't seem unnatural at all.
If anything, the fact that she wasn't spouting curses was a testament to the superhuman patience she was using to suppress her emotions.
"Then after the commemoration, you should hear what Sir Conroy has to say. He'll be singing my praises, explaining with spittle flying just how useful a talent Killian Gore is to the Princess."
"Oh? In that case, wouldn't he be offering an uncharacteristically accurate opinion?"
"That's right. It would be the first day Sir Conroy ever gave the Princess useful advice. We should mark it as an anniversary later."
"Pfft, that really would be a historic event."
Victoria's face brightened noticeably, her mood seemingly lifted.
"Princess, once you come of age, he is a man who will not even dare to remain where your gaze might fall. Whatever nonsense he spouts, let it go in one ear and out the other. When you can't, just imagine his currently smug face turning pale with shock. It might soothe your heart, if only a little."
"But if His Majesty's health fails before then, I'll have to see that detestable man for another six years."
"His Majesty will grit his teeth and hold on until the Princess can safely inherit the throne. In fact, if you were to pick the two people in this world who despise Sir Conroy the most, the first would be the Princess, but the second would undoubtedly be His Majesty."
Strictly speaking, the King disliked the Duchess even more than Conroy, but since she was Victoria's mother, I didn't mention it.
Come to think of it, since the King himself is hosting this commemoration and presenting awards, I'll have to face him at least once.
He must know that I meet with Victoria often, so he'll probably try to sound me out in some way.
It was getting complicated, but if I changed my perspective, this could be an opportunity.
If I could avoid suspicion in a place teeming with political heavyweights from both parties and royal officials, who would dare threaten me?
At least until I stepped onto the front lines of power and drew everyone's aggro, I would be free from their checks.
Since it was tiring to put on an act for each person individually, it might not be a bad idea to put on a definitive show for everyone at once.
The illusion that Killian Gore is nothing more than an Irish country bumpkin who poses no threat whatsoever to the foundations of the British establishment.
* * *
On the day of the long-awaited commemoration, the atmosphere was buzzing with more excitement than anticipated.
The students who arrived before Buckingham Palace by carriage were filled with awe as the grand gates opened, their eyes sparkling.
When the guards in their distinctive red uniforms stepped aside with disciplined movements, gasps of admiration escaped everyone's lips.
"Wow! I can't believe the day has come when I actually get to enter this place."
"My father said he'd been to a ball here, but now I finally…"
"My God."
Surprisingly, the reactions of the noble scions were no different from those of the commoners.
Even Robert, the second son of the Duke of Rutland, was visibly excited, so one could only imagine how the others felt.
"Have you not been inside Buckingham much either, senior?"
"Of course not. My father has been many times, but I haven't. Only for things like weddings or baptisms. Events held inside the palace are generally for nobles, high-ranking officials, and foreign ambassadors. I've certainly never been to a gathering like this, where we are the main guests and can interact with His Majesty."
"So this is an exceptional event."
"According to my father, this event is meant to be a grand display of how much the British Empire values its future talent. I suppose that's why they're going to such lengths to treat us this way."
As expected of the nation that reigned as the world's strongest power in the 19th century, they really were on another level.
Although I was viewing it through a lens of suspicion, I had to admit that the very fact they could hold such an event was commendable.
Even if there was an ulterior motive, everyone could agree with the purpose of holding such an event.
It was proof of how much society respected intellectuals and outstanding students.
Of course, Confucian nations in Asia also favored scholars who would become future officials, but the feeling was slightly different.
It was no wonder the students were collectively swept away by the grandeur, half-losing themselves in the moment.
Soon, we disembarked from our carriages, passed a magnificent fountain, and reached the palace entrance.
Upon entering, the view of the ceiling, adorned with gold-leaf molding, intricate frescoes, and all sorts of rare works of art, was sucked into our vision.
While everyone was lost in a wave of awe, a royal herald in a crisp blue and gold uniform unrolled a scroll, cleared his throat, and announced loudly:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the representatives of Eton College have arrived!"
Finally, the doors to the Grand Hall opened, and the sound of gentle, echoing applause filled our ears.
"Wow… this is insane. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight."
At someone's moved voice, the students, who had been stiff with nervousness, nodded in agreement.
Looking around, I could see the students from Harrow, who seemed to have arrived a little earlier, frozen in the exact same posture.
If I look too relaxed, I might stand out in a bad way.
I had planned to just chat with Gladstone or Wellesley, who must be here somewhere, and then head back, but it was time for a change of plans.
Quickly scanning my surroundings, I deliberately stiffened my posture and stuck close behind Robert.
Headmaster Keate, who had entered the Grand Hall with us, wore an unusually kind expression as he gently patted the students' shoulders and gestured around.
"There's no need to be so nervous. There's still time before the event begins. Some of our alumni are among the distinguished guests, so let's go and greet them. I'll introduce you, so everyone follow me."
"Yes, sir!"
Perhaps he was trying to ease their tension beforehand, knowing that they would surely make mistakes in the upcoming debate if they were too nervous.
Whatever the reason, a large group of students huddled together, following Keate and greeting the guests.
Thanks to this, the atmosphere warmed up, and the students began to relax.
"Killian Gore, may I have a word with you?"
From within the flood of bustling guests, a middle-aged man with a sturdy build approached and spoke to me.
Thanks to Victoria's prior warning, I wasn't flustered at all and nodded naturally, slipping away from the line of students.
"Of course, Sir Conroy. The event hasn't started yet, so a brief moment should be fine."
"Excellent. Then let us find a suitable spot for a short chat."
John Conroy, secretary and advisor to the Duchess of Kent, led me without hesitation to a corner of the Grand Hall.
"To be honest, we should have had a private conversation like this much sooner, but the timing was always off. Still, I'm glad we have the chance now. Within the palace, the Duchess or her attendants were always around."
"Does the Duchess not trust you completely, Sir Conroy?"
"Of course, she does. And I trust her completely as well. But, how should I put it, aren't we both men from Ireland? In that respect, I wanted to have a serious talk with you somewhere private. I thought there might be some common ground that only we Irishmen share."
Seeing Conroy's friendly smile, I understood why he hadn't opposed the Duchess keeping me by her side.
I had expected him to raise objections and had prepared countermeasures, but had this man been building a one-sided sense of camaraderie with me all this time?
Well, life as an Irishman in the upper echelons of British society must have been incredibly difficult, so I could understand his sentiment.
In that case, I had no choice but to use this.
"I haven't had the chance to say so, but for that very reason, I have secretly admired you, Sir Conroy. You are something of a role model to me."
"Are there not far more distinguished men around you than I?"
"I'm sure there are, if I look. The problem is they're all English."
"Ha, so it's true. Those detestable bastards. Listen, Killian, as a fellow Irishman, let me give you some sincere advice. No matter how promising a student you are at Eton now, or how much you've caught the eye of the Tory leaders, in the end, you'll only be able to clean up after them. You know why, don't you?"
"Because I'm Irish."
Conroy chuckled darkly.
"Exactly. They'll make a show of embracing Ireland because they have to. But the moment you try to rise above a certain level? They'll come at you with fire in their eyes, dig up every single one of your weaknesses, and tear you to shreds. At first, I was naive enough to believe I could rise through the ranks if I achieved great things, so I joined the military. I went to a military academy and even participated in the Napoleonic Wars, but they never acknowledged me. Ha!"
They say everyone has a reason for being twisted; perhaps Conroy was one of the sad monsters born of this era.
There's no villain without a backstory, and if he had participated in the Napoleonic Wars and still wasn't recognized, it seemed a natural progression for him to turn bitter.
"That must have been heartbreaking. To have been part of the great achievement of ending Napoleon's reign and still not receive recognition…"
"Indeed. Although, I did not participate in the Battle of Waterloo."
"Ah, then the Peninsular War…?"
"I couldn't participate in that either, due to certain circumstances."
"…"
What was with this guy? Then where in the world was he supposed to have distinguished himself?
Could it be that the reason he wasn't recognized was because he made excuses to get out of every fierce battle?
Logically, if he had performed like a true war hero while crushing the French, the English would have had to acknowledge him, no matter how much they discriminated against the Irish.
Of course, I couldn't say that out loud, so I had to quickly find something else to say, which wasn't easy even for me.
Ah, that's right. Since he couldn't perform, I'll just assume there was a situation that made it impossible.
"...I see. I understand now. Those base Englishmen must have used despicable tricks to prevent you from reaching the decisive battlefields, stopping you from achieving glory and gaining recognition. What vile creatures."
"Th-that's right! I knew you'd understand. Those Englishmen will never stand by and watch when you have a chance to rise to a key position later on. That's why I changed my plans."
"You mean making the Duchess regent?"
"Yes. Isn't it amusing? The fact that this Irishman, John Conroy, whom they so despised and looked down upon, will become the power behind the queen they adore and love."
"Just imagining it makes my heart swell with pride! As a fellow Irishman, I will support your great cause with all my heart, Sir Conroy. But, if I may ask, what are your plans after the Duchess becomes regent? If possible, I would like to contribute my humble efforts to that grand design…"
A man with the grand ambition of getting one over on Britain as an Irishman surely wouldn't be satisfied with merely being the power behind Victoria.
I needed to gently probe for his plans and see if there was anything useful I could extract.
But upon hearing my question, Conroy stared at me with a look of incomprehension.
"Is there really a need for any further plans? To be the power behind the queen, to meddle in domestic politics, to have a say in royal appointments, and to move this Buckingham Palace, the very heart of Britain, according to my will… that is to be at the core of power itself."
"…"
Really? Could he have realized I was testing him and was putting up a smokescreen?
No, even so, if a man had plotted to gaslight a young princess to become the power behind a regent, wasn't it basic to have some grander design for what came after?
I had hoped he wouldn't say that playing master of Buckingham Palace was his life's goal, but Conroy's smile was 100 percent pure, unadulterated sincerity.
"Has there ever been an Irishman in history who has achieved as much as I will? I will be able to move the monarch of this great empire, which can be called the strongest in the world, according to my will. Ah, of course, when that time comes, I'll see to it that you get a title, so don't you worry. Those bastards stick together to discriminate against us, so we should stick together too. Fortunately, the Duchess of Kent is an open-minded woman, so let's use her influence to climb as high as we can."
Small.
All sorts of thoughts and feelings surfaced in my mind as I listened to him, but in the end, they were all summed up in a single word.
His vessel was far too small.
If he had intended to use Victoria's influence to build an unassailable fortress that no one in this country could challenge.
If he had conceived some sort of stratagem to maintain his power and influence even after the Duchess's regency ended.
Then, separate from him being a scumbag who would gaslight a child to wield power, I might have been able to acknowledge his ambition as an Irishman trying to rise high.
But I never imagined that the true nature of his so-called ambition was nothing more than petty revenge and self-consolation against the English who had ignored him.
Of course, my mouth and my mind were, once again, working in perfect opposition.
"As expected, Sir Conroy's vision is on another level. You are someone who actually puts into action things I have only ever imagined, so as a young man, I feel a little dizzy just trying to keep up."
"Don't mention it. The Duchess tells me your intelligence is extraordinary, so continue to study hard and hone your skills. Who knows? You might end up in a position like the Queen's chamberlain. Of course, there will be more than a few who oppose it foaming at the mouth, but that won't be a problem if we join forces. Let's work hard together as fellow Irishmen from now on."
I respectfully took the hand Conroy offered and bowed my head.
"The honor is all mine. From now on, I will place my trust solely in you, Sir Conroy, and the Duchess."
I'm sorry, but I have no intention of partnering with someone whose impoverished imagination sets his limits at the position of a mere chamberlain.
John Conroy. It seems there will be no place for you in the future of the British Empire.
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