For a politician, having a reliable patron was invaluable.
For young men like Benjamin, who had not yet established themselves politically, it was practically a necessity.
Still, Benjamin had not rashly seized Killian Gore's offered hand the moment it appeared.
At first glance, Benjamin could seem somewhat frivolous—his flamboyant appearance and quick wit often gave that impression.
But his true strength lay in the seriousness hidden beneath the showmanship.
When Killian first approached him, Benjamin had even suspected he might be the target of some elaborate trick.
After all, common sense raised an obvious question.
How could a boy possess more than one hundred thousand pounds?
And not inherited wealth either.
Killian had claimed that once his property holdings were included, the total value of his assets was several times greater.
The more Benjamin examined the matter, the stranger it seemed.
Even the conditions of the patronage were suspiciously favorable.
There was only one requirement Benjamin absolutely had to follow:
He must never reveal that he was being funded by Killian Gore.
That was it.
Nothing else.
To demonstrate his sincerity, Killian had even arranged a meeting between Benjamin and Charles Wellesley, the second son of the Duke of Wellington.
The explanation had been simple.
If Benjamin entered Parliament next year, Charles would become his colleague. It was best that they become acquainted in advance.
Only then did Benjamin finally begin to believe that Killian was serious.
It was difficult to accept.
But the boy had truly read his novels—works into which Benjamin had poured his soul—and recognized his potential.
If someone could accumulate such wealth entirely by his own efforts, then he was no mere child.
Simply a younger man.
Benjamin decided to take Killian's hand.
At least until the current election was over.
And from the very first day Killian began supporting his campaign—
Benjamin discovered something astonishing.
So this… is what elections look like?
He realized firsthand how effortless politics could become when one possessed money.
"Currently, the two leading candidates in High Wycombe are George Dashwood of the Whigs and Colonel Robert Smith of the Tories," one of Killian's hired analysts explained.
The man spoke with the calm confidence of a seasoned professional.
"If no unexpected variables arise, those two are expected to win the seats. Dashwood has represented the area for ten years and maintains strong local influence. Colonel Smith is a decorated veteran of the Napoleonic Wars."
Benjamin stared at the group of advisors.
He had no idea where Killian had found them.
But they were dismantling the opposing candidates' strengths and weaknesses with ruthless precision.
"Between the two, Colonel Smith would be the easier opponent to defeat," another analyst continued. "However, if Benjamin intends to join the Tory Party next year, attacking a future party colleague may prove unwise. Therefore, we will focus on unseating Dashwood instead."
Benjamin blinked.
"That sounds simple enough," he said slowly. "But Dashwood has spent a decade building relationships here. Removing him won't be easy."
Killian shrugged.
"Every strong opponent has weaknesses."
"I already sent agents to investigate every influential figure in the district before we even met."
Benjamin stared.
"You were investigating my opponents before you even met me?"
Killian merely smiled.
Benjamin couldn't deny it.
The boy truly had chosen him from the beginning.
He still didn't understand why.
But he would be lying if he said he wasn't moved.
And Killian didn't stop there.
Pamphlets promoting Benjamin flooded the entire district.
"A young politician for a new age! Vote for Benjamin Disraeli!"
"The future belongs to youth! Benjamin is High Wycombe's best choice!"
Killian even hired singers to perform a campaign song.
"Benjamin Disraeli treats the town! Come get bread and money—no repayment required!"
People who came to receive campaign pamphlets were given small gifts, food, and sometimes money.
"Look! It's Benjamin!"
"High Wycombe's new hope!"
With money pouring into the campaign, Benjamin's name spread rapidly.
People who had never heard of him before now recognized him.
More importantly, everyone wanted to know who was funding him.
Killian had clearly predicted this reaction and encouraged even more aggressive campaigning.
But the real lesson Benjamin learned went far beyond simple spending.
Money alone didn't win elections.
What mattered was how efficiently that money was used.
* * *
At first glance, Britain in the early nineteenth century seemed admirable.
It held regular elections.
It had a functioning parliamentary democracy.
When I first arrived in Britain, I had almost been impressed.
But it didn't take long to see the truth.
Compared to modern standards, the system was democracy in name only.
The reality would evoke nothing but disbelief.
"Based on our information," one of our agents explained, "High Wycombe has roughly five hundred eligible voters."
"Realistically, about four hundred will actually vote."
I nodded.
"That makes the work easier."
Benjamin shook his head.
"That's not unusually small."
James agreed.
"Most constituencies are around that size."
They were right.
Even the massive constituency of South Hampshire, where Charles was running, had only about a thousand voters.
Before the recent Reform Act, some constituencies had fewer than ten voters.
It sounded absurd.
But considering the era—the 1830s—it might still be considered progress.
The electorate had expanded from roughly 1% of the population to around 5%.
By the standards of the time, that was a huge improvement.
Still, I had no intention of playing fair within such a flawed system.
"Our investigation shows that Dashwood has spent ten years distributing local privileges among certain elites," one of our agents reported.
"We should focus our attack there."
Benjamin nodded.
"So we attack corruption?"
"No," I replied.
"That tactic works when elections involve tens of thousands of voters."
"In this district, the voters care about something else."
Benjamin frowned.
"I intended to emphasize my ideals and show how I differ from established politicians."
It was an admirable strategy.
And completely ineffective.
This was the 1830s.
Voting rights were tied to property ownership.
Meaning every voter belonged to the middle class or higher.
Naturally, they had specific interests.
"Your speeches are important," I said.
"But they help secure victory—not seize it."
"First we must pull Dashwood down to your level."
Benjamin blinked.
"But earlier you said voters didn't care much about corruption."
"This isn't simple corruption."
"Dashwood designed policies that benefit the upper elite rather than the middle class."
"While quietly enriching himself."
Benjamin nodded slowly.
"Yes… that might work."
"If we expose that pattern, middle-class voters will turn against him."
"Then your speeches will give them a new candidate to support."
Benjamin hesitated.
"But won't that anger the upper-class voters?"
"They'll abandon me."
I shook my head.
"If you cater to them, do you think they'll abandon Dashwood for you?"
"And remember—they'll also vote for Colonel Smith."
"There will be roughly four hundred votes cast."
"If you secure 150, victory is almost guaranteed."
Benjamin stared at me.
In elections with massive electorates, such divisive tactics were dangerous.
But with only four hundred voters?
And clear class divisions?
It was the perfect strategy.
"We'll begin the full campaign in three days," I concluded.
"Prepare everything."
"James, organize the teams."
"Benjamin, refine your speeches for the middle-class voters."
James nodded.
"Yes."
Benjamin smiled.
"I'll make sure my sincerity comes through."
Dashwood clearly believed Benjamin posed no threat.
After all, he was merely an independent novice.
Even while we gathered intelligence and printed thousands of pamphlets, Dashwood showed no sign of concern.
Which made what happened next even more devastating.
"Calm yourselves!" Dashwood shouted to an angry crowd.
"These accusations are lies!"
"Boooo!"
"Explain yourself!"
"Down with Dashwood!"
Pamphlets detailing Dashwood's favoritism toward wealthy elites had reached every middle-class voter.
They were based on truth.
But carefully exaggerated.
Which made them impossible to refute.
Soon Benjamin was delivering speeches that fueled the outrage.
"Friends!" he cried.
"How long will we tolerate politics that serves only the privileged few?"
"Who built this nation's prosperity?"
"We did!"
"With our labor!"
"If society is changing, then politics must change as well!"
"Britain needs new representatives—young men willing to fight for you!"
"So give me your vote!"
"Let me fight for you in Parliament!"
The crowd roared.
"Disraeli for Parliament!"
Within two weeks, Dashwood's once-secure popularity collapsed.
Benjamin approached me afterward, still stunned.
"I realize now how unprepared I truly was."
I shrugged.
"I simply prefer doing things thoroughly."
"Other candidates won't go this far."
Benjamin nodded.
"Even so, you've taught me lessons I might not have learned for years."
He paused.
"Though… I've been thinking."
"You said you would provide £2,000."
"But everything we've done must have cost far more."
"Of course," I said casually.
"At least twice that."
Benjamin blinked.
"But you only promised two thousand."
"If I believe an investment has potential," I said lightly,
"I see no reason to be stingy."
Benjamin lowered his head.
His face was slightly flushed.
They say men become loyal to those who recognize their worth.
I didn't know if that was entirely true.
But one thing was certain.
After this election, Benjamin Disraeli would remember who had backed him first.
And the money I spent today would be insignificant compared to what that relationship would yield.
A few months later, the election results arrived.
As expected:
The Whigs won a landslide victory.
The Tories suffered a crushing defeat.
But amid that outcome, an unexpected event occurred.
Three young men entering politics for the first time—
Charles Wellesley.William Gladstone.Benjamin Disraeli.
All won seats in Parliament.
Soon after, Benjamin abandoned his independent status and joined the Tory Party.
Led by Charles, the Tories eagerly promoted the rise of their young politicians in the newspapers.
And the person who had quietly orchestrated events behind the scenes…
Was forgotten by the public.
Remarkably quickly.