Autonomy and independence.
They may appear similar on the surface, but in truth they are fundamentally incompatible paths.
They could never coexist.
"If that is truly your decision," Daniel O'Connell said, rising from his chair, "then there's nothing more to discuss. Attempting a challenge, failing, and overcoming it—that privilege belongs to the young. I enjoyed our conversation today."
He had confirmed that no persuasion would change my mind.
So he prepared to leave.
But I had no intention of letting him walk away so easily.
From everything we had discussed, there was no doubt that O'Connell's devotion to Ireland was genuine.
And from the way he had tried so persistently to persuade me, it was obvious what he had hoped to accomplish by arranging this meeting.
I couldn't simply let such a valuable opportunity slip away.
"Mr. O'Connell," I said, "before you go, may I ask you one question?"
"That's hardly difficult. Go ahead."
"It's related to what we were discussing earlier. If a catastrophic disaster struck Ireland—something that caused enormous suffering and ignited a powerful movement for independence… would you simply watch it happen?"
"That's absurd!" O'Connell snapped. "No cause is worth sacrificing the lives of countless countrymen as fuel for political passion!"
"I thought so," I said calmly. "And I agree. That question wasn't really the one I wanted to ask."
I paused briefly.
"What I actually want to know is this: were you trying to persuade me because you hoped to recruit me to the independence movement?"
This time, O'Connell did not answer immediately.
He stared at me for a moment, then clicked his tongue softly and stroked his sideburns.
"Was it really that obvious?"
"You kept telling me to change my mind."
"Well," he said with a shrug, "there's no reason to hide it. Charles Grey told me that if you continued to grow under Tory support, you could become a major threat to me. He was trying to make me wary of the Tories and push me into the Whigs' camp."
So he had seen through the prime minister's scheme.
That was the advantage of decades in politics.
"The prime minister probably assumed you would still accept the Whigs' hand even if you realized his intentions," I said.
"Most likely," O'Connell admitted. "And he also believed I wouldn't be able to persuade you. Judging by today's result, he was right."
He sighed lightly.
"Still, it's a pity. You and I aren't truly rivals—there's too much of an age gap. By the time you enter politics in earnest, I'll either be retired or in the grave."
"You shouldn't say that," I replied. "Ireland still needs you to witness how much it can improve."
O'Connell chuckled.
"I'd certainly like that. But the real problem is something else. I'm growing older every day, yet I have no successor."
He studied me carefully.
"To be honest, I had hoped… if you changed your mind, perhaps you could inherit my role as Ireland's political center."
Before I could respond, he waved dismissively.
"Yes, yes—I know what you're thinking. Betraying the Tories might trouble you. But if the Whigs supported us, that problem could be resolved."
He leaned forward.
"Imagine it. The heir of a powerful northern Irish family joining forces with me in the south. Do you have any idea how great that influence would be?"
He shook his head.
"But since you refuse to abandon the autonomy path… it's a meaningless thought."
If I could absorb O'Connell's influence, Ireland would become my political base far more easily.
But submitting myself under him—even temporarily—was never an option.
Still, that didn't mean cooperation was impossible.
"Mr. O'Connell," I said, "must I change my position and become your successor for us to work together?"
"…What?" he said, frowning. "What are you talking about? I will never abandon independence, and you believe it impossible. Cooperation is obviously impossible."
"Not necessarily," I replied.
"You said it yourself—I'm still young. By the time I enter politics, you may already be nearing retirement. That means we have no reason to oppose each other right now."
He slowly sat back down.
"Go on."
"The prime minister probably told you that the Tories will dominate Ireland in the future. And that the only way to stop them is for you to join the Whigs."
"That's correct."
"But let's be honest," I continued. "Even if you join the Whigs, will you truly have influence within their party?"
O'Connell remained silent.
"The Whigs already hold a massive majority. If you join them, the only role you'll have is raising your hand when their internal factions disagree."
The Whigs held 441 of the 658 seats in the House of Commons.
O'Connell's forty-two seats would change nothing.
He knew that better than anyone.
"Your criticism is painful," O'Connell admitted. "But we cannot join the Tories either. They oppose Irish reforms at every step."
"Even if they changed their stance," he continued, "our combined seats would still fall far short of a majority."
"That's true—for now," I said.
"But will it remain true after the next election?"
He frowned.
"What are you suggesting?"
"The Irish Church Reform Bill will never pass."
"…Why not?"
"If the Tories frame it as an attack on loyal Anglican believers, that alone will be enough to block it."
"And I happen to know that the King opposes the bill as well."
"The King?" O'Connell said sharply.
"Yes. The Church, the House of Lords, and the Crown are aligned against it. A bill opposed by all three has no chance of passing."
In truth, I knew this because of history.
In the original timeline, reforms regarding Irish tithes and church structure were introduced gradually.
This sweeping reform proposal was doomed from the start.
"So you're saying the Whigs will lose support if their major reform fails?" O'Connell asked.
"That alone might not be enough," he added. "Their majority is too large."
"It might not be," I admitted.
"But what if the conflict between the Whigs and the Crown becomes public?"
"You believe the King will oppose them openly?"
"I correspond regularly with His Majesty regarding Princess Victoria's education."
He hadn't said it directly.
But the King was increasingly uncomfortable with the Whigs' aggressive reform agenda.
After all, his natural political instincts leaned conservative.
"So you think he'll restrain the Whigs and favor the Tories?" O'Connell asked.
It sounded like speculation.
But in reality, it was a prediction based on historical fact.
William IV would soon become the last British monarch to appoint a prime minister against parliamentary wishes.
If that moment were handled carefully—
History might unfold very differently.
"The Tories lack the strength to win a majority on their own," I continued.
"But what happens if Ireland abandons the Whigs?"
O'Connell's eyes narrowed.
"Neither party could form a majority," I said.
"And in that situation… you would become the deciding vote."
He leaned back slowly.
"…Continue."
"I will quietly inform the Tories," I said.
"They cannot pass the current reform bill—but if they agree to moderate the tithe burden, which affects Irish daily life the most, then you may be willing to support them."
"You think those stubborn Tory conservatives would accept such a compromise?"
"Recently, younger reform-minded conservatives have been gaining influence," I said.
"You've heard of Charles Wellesley and Benjamin Disraeli, haven't you? I'm on good terms with them."
"Conservatives are not always reactionary. There are many young politicians who believe change is necessary."
O'Connell clenched his fist.
My voice grew firmer.
"If you wish, you may continue pursuing Irish independence freely. Support whichever party you like on ordinary matters."
I paused.
"But when my colleagues and I propose legislation we truly need—your support will be enough."
O'Connell nodded slowly.
"So I maintain influence as a decisive power… while you and your allies expand influence inside the Tory Party."
"Exactly."
"And if I fail to achieve my goals before you enter politics… you expect me to retire gracefully."
"That wasn't exactly my intention," I said.
But it wasn't entirely wrong either.
By that time, I would surpass O'Connell's influence in Ireland anyway.
"If your methods fail," I added, "isn't it fair to give mine a chance?"
O'Connell burst out laughing.
"You truly believe you can rise to the very top of this country."
He shook his head.
"I was mistaken. You were never meant to be my successor."
He studied me closely.
"Someone aiming for the highest offices in Britain—perhaps Prime Minister, perhaps even Speaker of the Lords—would gain nothing from inheriting Daniel O'Connell's position."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But tell me something. What would you do if I rejected your offer and revealed this entire conversation?"
"You're welcome to do so," I replied calmly.
"But I suspect the Whigs would sooner believe you're trying to smear a harmless student than accept that a boy who has attended Eton for barely two years could devise such a scheme."
O'Connell laughed again.
"That's probably true."
He shook his head.
"At first, I thought you were clinging to the Tories for protection."
He looked at me with a mixture of emotions.
"But now I realize—you intend to devour the Tory Party from within."
After a moment, he extended his hand.
"If a student possesses such preparation and audacity, I cannot help but acknowledge it."
"Our goals may differ," he continued, "but whichever of us succeeds, Ireland will improve."
He smiled faintly.
"It saddens me that you cannot share my dream. But knowing that someone like you exists in Ireland… lightens my burden."
"So," I said, "should I take that as acceptance of my proposal?"
"Yes," O'Connell replied. "On one condition."
"If the King truly clashes with the Whigs and the reform bill fails—then I will follow your strategy without complaint."
"That seems fair."
We shook hands.
It had been an unexpected meeting—
But the result was worth more than anything I could have hoped for.
Ironically, I almost felt grateful to the Whigs.
After all, they were the ones who had sent Daniel O'Connell to test me.
Of course, for now, I would have to let them believe their move had worked.
* * *
About an hour after meeting Killian Gore, Daniel O'Connell arrived at Parliament to meet Charles Grey.
"Ah, you're later than expected," Grey said. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten."
"That would never happen," O'Connell replied calmly. "Our conversation simply lasted longer than anticipated."
Grey had asked O'Connell to report what they discussed.
O'Connell had not refused.
But the man who entered Parliament now was not the same man who had met Killian earlier.
After all, he wasn't here merely to keep a promise.
He was here because Killian had asked him to come.
"I'm curious what kept you talking for so long," Grey said.
"Oh, I asked him many questions," O'Connell replied. "If I'm to understand how the Tories intend to use him, I must understand the boy himself."
"Quite reasonable," Grey said. "So? What did you think of him?"
Grey leaned forward slightly.
"I met him once before. He seemed like a very intelligent young man."
"Intelligent…" O'Connell murmured.
It wasn't wrong.
But was that word really enough?
At that moment, O'Connell realized something.
Charles Grey had not understood even one percent of Killian's true nature.
"You said you met him at Buckingham Palace, correct?" O'Connell asked. "What impression did he give you?"
Grey shrugged.
"He's clever, composed, and understands his situation well. In fact, he seems keenly aware of his limitations."
Grey smiled faintly.
"It's admirable, really. The Tories clearly have an eye for talent."
His limitations?
Admirable?
O'Connell nearly laughed.
But he merely nodded.
"I had the same impression," he said calmly.
"Talented—but aware of his place."
He continued smoothly.
"That's probably why Wellington favors him. A useful Irish hound who won't overreach himself."
Grey nodded thoughtfully.
"In that case… what about my earlier proposal?"
O'Connell smiled politely.
"I will consider it positively."
Grey looked delighted.
O'Connell gave a courteous farewell and left Parliament.
He hadn't lied.
He truly would consider the offer.
But he had never said he would accept it.
And it was true that he felt the need to take someone's hand.
It just wasn't the hand the prime minister had extended.
As he walked away, a strange thought crossed his mind.
Two Irishmen—
One a seasoned rogue.
One a dangerous prodigy.
Quietly plotting behind the empire's back.
The thought lasted only a second.
Then O'Connell chuckled.
After all—
Wasn't scheming politics the oldest tradition of the British Empire?
If so, perhaps it was time Ireland learned from the best.