"...Sigh. I told him countless times not to push himself so hard."
John Gore attended his elder brother's funeral with mixed emotions.
Life followed no order—people might be born in sequence, but death never respected that sequence.
Still, he had expected his brother to live a few more years at least.
If he had to identify the cause, it was obvious.
His brother had worked himself to exhaustion recently.
And after destroying his health to build the Conservative Party's foundation in Ireland—
he had died before he could even enjoy the fruits of his efforts.
It was almost unfair.
"Father, you've arrived."
"Oh, yes. You must have had a difficult journey as well."
John looked at his son.
"I heard you were promoted to acting ambassador in Buenos Aires."
"Yes. I had to return to Britain anyway because of that. The timing… I can't tell whether it's fortunate or terribly unfortunate."
"A man's life belongs to God," John replied quietly.
"Still… since the heir is not yet an adult, there will need to be a guardian."
Philip answered without much thought.
"I heard he's close to Aunt Cecilia these days. Perhaps she'll become his guardian."
John had been thinking the same thing.
If he himself had been chosen as guardian, the family would already have contacted him when the will was revealed.
In truth, he had never expected such a thing.
After all, he had once hoped to inherit his brother's title and estate himself.
But the heir—
Killian—
was still a minor.
And that thought stirred complicated feelings.
"…Philip," John said quietly.
"I may sound like a terrible person for thinking this during my brother's funeral… but I can't help it."
"Father… surely you don't mean—"
"Killian is still young," John said.
"And although he's close to Cecilia, he's still just an Eton student."
"His reputation here cannot compare to yours."
"If we apply some… pressure…"
He stopped speaking.
Philip was intelligent enough to understand the rest.
After all—
Philip should have been the rightful heir originally.
Killian had appeared like an unexpected intruder.
But Philip shook his head calmly.
"Father, I understand your thoughts."
"But Killian is now the legitimate heir."
"What could we possibly do?"
"He has no real connections in this family," John argued.
"You and I are the ones who truly understand the family's power."
"But Aunt Cecilia exists," Philip said.
John snorted.
"She hasn't even been recognized by the royal family in a proper marriage yet."
"Do you think she has the time to worry about Ireland?"
"She might not even attend the funeral."
"And even if she does, she'll come alone."
"There's no way the great Duke of Sussex would come all the way to this shabby place."
Even John wasn't shameless enough to press the issue before the funeral ended.
But once the ceremonies were over—
he could apply pressure under the guise of negotiation.
With that plan in mind, John headed toward the family chapel, where Killian was waiting.
As the senior member of the family present, it was his duty to greet the mourners.
Of course, no truly powerful figures would travel all the way to Ireland.
At best, they might send representatives.
That alone would be enough to exchange introductions and perhaps present his son Philip.
But when John entered the chapel—
he froze.
"Ki—Killian… who are these gentlemen?"
"Uncle, you've arrived."
Killian smiled calmly.
"Fortunately, many people have traveled far to pay their respects to Father. I was just thanking them. Please allow me to introduce you."
"Ah… yes."
John cleared his throat.
"I am John Gore, Arthur Gore's younger brother. And this is my son, Philip Gore, currently serving as acting ambassador in Buenos Aires."
"I've heard much about you from Killian," said one of the men.
"Charles Wellesley. I had the honor of speaking with the Earl at a party recently… though I never imagined it would be our last conversation."
John knew of Charles Wellesley.
The rising star of the Conservative Party.
His presence wasn't surprising.
But it wasn't Wellesley who shocked him.
It was the man standing behind him.
"My father wished to come personally," the young nobleman said calmly.
"But the distance made that difficult."
"So he sent his heir instead."
"I am Arthur Richard Wellesley, the Marquess of Douro."
"My father was deeply saddened by the news."
"May the Earl find eternal peace beside God."
John nearly stammered.
"Th-thank you… my brother would surely be grateful."
Richard Wellesley barely looked at John or Philip.
Instead, he turned directly toward Killian.
"My father is concerned about you."
"The Earl's absence will be painful."
"But that also means our family—and our party—will look after you more closely."
"Thank you," Killian replied politely.
"I will do my best to become someone worthy of the party's trust."
"We'll speak more after the funeral," Richard said.
"My father wishes to discuss something important with you."
John watched in stunned silence as the heir to the Duke of Wellington entered the chapel.
Wellesley's presence alone was shocking enough.
But the Marquess of Douro himself?
That was unimaginable.
Richard Wellesley might only be a lieutenant colonel for now—
but his future as the next Duke of Wellington was guaranteed.
A future titan of the House of Lords.
Why would such a man travel all the way to Ireland?
And then—
within five minutes—
John received another shock.
"Are you Killian Gore?"
A messenger approached.
"I was sent by Prime Minister Robert Peel."
"He regrets that his duties prevented him from attending personally."
"But he has sent a written letter of condolence and a donation in memory of the Earl."
"He also requests that a memorial service be arranged in London once you return."
Killian bowed slightly.
"Please convey my gratitude to the Prime Minister."
John's mind went blank.
First the Wellington family.
Then the Prime Minister.
And suddenly the commotion outside the chapel grew louder.
This time John felt genuine fear.
Who could possibly arrive next?
"Brother, you're here as well."
John turned.
"C-Cecilia?"
Then he noticed the man standing beside her.
His eyes widened.
"Th-that gentleman beside you… surely he isn't—"
"Of course he is my husband," Cecilia said cheerfully.
"Introduce yourself."
John immediately bowed.
"M-my apologies! I should have greeted you first!"
"I am Cecilia's brother, John Gore. And this is my son Philip—"
"There's no need to be so formal," said the Duke of Sussex calmly.
"After all, we're family."
John's mind screamed that such a thing was absurd.
This man was a royal prince, the brother of the king.
Yet the Duke simply walked past him and approached Killian.
"Cecilia has been worried about you the entire journey," he said kindly.
"You must be grieving deeply."
"But you seem to be enduring well."
"Your presence alone is a great comfort, Your Grace," Killian replied.
"You helped my wife and me greatly before," the Duke said.
"So naturally I had to come."
"Oh, and the Duchess of Kent asked me to deliver a letter."
"I'd rather not deliver letters for that woman, but since one of them is from my lovely niece, I couldn't refuse."
"A letter from Princess Victoria herself?" Killian said.
"Please tell her I will express my gratitude personally when I return to London."
"Good."
The Duke nodded.
"It won't be easy, but you'll overcome this."
"After all, I've agreed to serve as your guardian."
"If you face any trouble, consult me."
"And if I'm too busy, Cecilia will handle it."
John blinked in confusion.
"…Guardian?"
"Oh," Cecilia said casually.
"You didn't know?"
"When Killian came to Ireland recently, we spoke with our eldest brother and revised part of the will."
"Originally I was supposed to be his guardian."
"But wouldn't my husband be better suited?"
"He agreed immediately."
"So until Killian becomes an adult, the Duke and I will serve as his guardians."
John stood frozen.
His nephew—
whom he had just been planning to pressure—
was now under the protection of a royal prince, the Prime Minister, and the Wellington family.
He slowly turned his head.
Killian was speaking comfortably with the Duke of Sussex.
Only moments ago, John had thought he could manipulate the boy easily.
Now—
Killian felt like something completely unknowable.
* * *
The day after the funeral.
After personally seeing off all the mourners, Killian sat in the drawing room facing John and Philip Gore.
"Thank you for helping during the funeral."
"It was my brother's funeral as well," John replied stiffly.
"You don't need to thank me."
"I still appreciate it."
Killian smiled politely.
"I apologize for not explaining the will earlier."
John cleared his throat.
"…It would have been helpful to know beforehand that the Duke of Sussex would serve as your guardian."
"If I had told you earlier," Killian said smoothly, "the surprise might have been less."
He gestured slightly.
"James."
James stepped forward with documents.
"His Grace the Duke of Sussex has appointed me as Killian's full representative regarding all estate matters."
"Therefore, I will oversee the administration of the Arran estate."
"That makes sense," John said slowly.
"A duke cannot manage trivial estate affairs personally."
"As you know," James continued, "the late Earl left the title and almost all assets to Killian."
John and Philip's expressions stiffened.
Philip had received only a very small portion of the inheritance.
But after witnessing the overwhelming support behind Killian during the funeral—
John dared not protest.
After all—
with the Duke of Sussex and Wellington family behind Killian—
what could he possibly do?
Legally speaking, Killian didn't even need to give them a single coin.
But Killian leaned forward slightly.
"I inherited almost everything, but I'll be living mostly in London."
"Even after graduating from Eton, I expect to spend most of my time there."
"So I won't be able to remain here in Ireland very often."
"…That's not ideal for managing local loyalty," John said cautiously.
"Exactly."
Killian nodded.
"So after discussing it with James and Aunt Cecilia, I decided to transfer all estate assets except the title to you and Philip."
John blinked.
"…What?"
"I'll keep the title of Earl of Arran."
"But I'd like you and Philip to manage the estate's assets."
"In return, you'll maintain the local loyalty of the estate and provide regular reports to James."
In truth—
the Arran estate's wealth was now less than a tenth of Killian's personal fortune.
And with several opportunities to multiply his wealth in the coming years—
he had no reason to cling to it.
Giving it away while appearing generous was simply the most efficient move.
After all—
neither Killian nor James could realistically manage the estate from London.
Someone had to do it.
And John—an experienced local noble—was the perfect candidate.
"…You're giving us everything?" John asked.
"Of course."
"As long as you fulfill my conditions."
"This seems far too generous," John said cautiously.
"Uncle," Killian said warmly.
"We're family."
"I believe family should support one another."
"If wealth I cannot use helps you and Philip manage the estate better, then it benefits our entire house."
And then Killian added one more piece of bait.
"This is confidential—but in a few years after Victoria becomes queen, I may receive an English peerage title."
John's eyes widened.
"So our family will finally enter the House of Lords?"
"Yes."
"And when that happens, it would be awkward for me to hold all the titles myself."
"So when I enter the House of Lords, the Earl of Arran title will pass not to my own children—but to Philip's heirs."
John stared at him in disbelief.
"You… you're serious?"
"If you want it in writing, I can sign it right now."
It cost Killian nothing.
By that time, his own children would inherit far greater titles anyway.
John exhaled slowly.
"…This benefits you far less than it benefits us."
"Uncle," Killian replied softly.
"Besides Aunt Cecilia, you and Philip are the only family I truly have."
"I may have arrived suddenly in this family, but I hope you'll accept me."
"After all—family is the only people we can truly trust."
John looked deeply moved.
"…Now I understand why Cecilia cares so much about you."
"Killian… I must apologize. In truth, I—"
"There's no need."
Killian smiled.
"The past is the past."
"Let's focus on the future."
"You manage the estate well."
"And I'll rise in London."
"One day, our family might hold important positions across this entire country."
John and Philip exchanged glances.
Their eyes filled with emotion.
They had been completely won over.
And with that—
Killian had secured the loyalty of the estate's managers.
Of course—
the display of power during the funeral had also served another purpose.
It reminded them that Killian was no ordinary heir.
When hiding great wealth, it wasn't wise to pretend to have nothing.
It was far more effective to appear as though five was all you possessed—when the truth was one hundred.
When Killian returned to London—
many things would change.
The time had come—
to reveal at least part of his true strength.