"…I think we've made enough progress for today. Military matters really aren't my strength, so I ended up taking more time than expected."
"It's fun figuring things out together," Victoria replied with a faint smile. "Actually, the clumsy parts make you seem more human. If you were also an expert in military affairs, I might seriously start wondering what you really are."
"I'm relieved I still seem human," Killian said lightly.
"Still, you could have taken the day off. You must be under a lot of emotional strain."
Victoria studied the boy sitting across from her, wearing a smile as perfectly carved as a statue.
He smiled like that—but what did he truly feel inside?
When she first heard the news and wrote a condolence letter, she had honestly been unsure what to say.
She did not really understand what it meant to lose one's parents.
Her father had died when she was only one year old.
She had never truly known the feeling of losing a parent.
Her father had been absent for as long as she could remember—but she did understand loneliness.
Killian, however, regarded his father as the greatest benefactor of his life.
The sense of loss he must feel now must be enormous.
She could imagine it, at least somewhat.
Even though her own father had always been absent—and even though the only parent she had was that mother—
Victoria still did not want her mother to disappear entirely.
If Conroy were removed someday, she still hoped their relationship might recover.
Even after suffering terribly since childhood, the bond between parent and child was not so easily severed.
"It's all right," Killian said calmly.
"To be honest, I wish Father had lived longer and seen the man I would become."
"But he told me he was happy."
"And the letter you sent brought me great comfort. Thank you again."
"It's nothing," Victoria replied. "If there's ever anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask. I sometimes feel like I haven't properly repaid what you've done for me."
"I'm not expecting anything," Killian said with a small smile. "But if I ever truly need help, I'll ask."
She felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
He had said something similar before.
Yet he had never asked for a single favor.
At first, she had been certain he wanted something.
Everyone who approached her always did.
Even if they pretended otherwise.
After all, she was destined to become Queen of Britain someday.
Many people hoped to secure future advantages—even family members were no exception.
But Killian had only pretended to covet a title when speaking in front of her mother.
In private, he had never asked her for anything.
In fact, he had even said it would look better if support for his title emerged naturally in Parliament.
Thinking back—
he had asked for something once.
That she bless the marriage between Uncle Frederick and Cecilia.
And that he hoped he would not face discrimination for being Irish.
But those were hardly demands.
They were simply requests for fairness.
At first she had not understood.
Now she did.
The reason he was satisfied with so little was simple.
He possessed an unshakable confidence in himself.
If he could simply stand on equal ground with others, he was confident he could compete with anyone.
And from what she had seen so far—
that confidence was justified.
In economics, society, and politics, she had never met an adult with insight equal to Killian's.
Yet he was one year younger than her.
How someone his age possessed such understanding remained a complete mystery.
If there was one thing she disliked—
it was the way he sometimes treated her like a much younger girl.
For now she was his student, so she tolerated it.
But someday she might need to properly redefine their relationship.
"By the way, Killian," she said suddenly.
"Didn't you give me homework last time?"
"About determining who benefited most from the recent election."
"I thought about it carefully. Could you grade my answer?"
She spread several newspapers across the table.
The headline read:
"Shock: O'Connell's repeal faction supports the Conservatives — Robert Peel becomes Prime Minister."
"People expected Daniel O'Connell to drift away from the Whigs," Victoria said, "but hardly anyone thought he would side with the Conservatives."
"Even the pro-Whig Morning Chronicle claimed he was just pretending in order to increase his political value."
"Many people likely thought so," Killian said. "O'Connell and the Conservatives haven't exactly been allies."
"Exactly," Victoria said.
"The Whigs suffered a massive blow."
"The Conservative leadership strengthened its position."
"And the king gained influence by backing the new prime minister."
"So," Killian asked, "who benefited the most?"
Most observers would say either the Conservatives, who regained power, or the King, whose decision to appoint the prime minister was vindicated.
Some might even say O'Connell, who now held real influence in Parliament.
But those conclusions came from journalists with limited information.
Victoria knew something they did not.
She knew who had predicted this outcome from the start.
"The Conservatives gained a lot in Ireland," she said.
"And strangely enough, O'Connell suddenly put aside his conflicts with them and cooperated."
"The newspapers credit Charles Wellesley, but I remember something you told me."
"You said you were close with Charles Wellesley."
Killian raised an eyebrow.
"You remembered that?"
"Of course."
"I think someone helped Wellesley negotiate with O'Connell behind the scenes."
"Otherwise his sudden success makes no sense."
"That person must be someone with influence in Ireland—perhaps a noble or powerful family."
"And that person must also have gained significant power from this election."
"What do you think?"
It was more intuition than analysis.
Yet Victoria felt strangely confident.
Killian looked at her with the same unreadable eyes as always.
Then he chuckled.
"Seventy points."
"That's less analysis and more choosing a suspect first and fitting the circumstances afterward."
"But the fact that I got points means you're not denying it," she said.
"If you present deeper reasoning next time," Killian replied, "I might answer properly."
"You're leaving already?" she asked.
"You're finishing earlier than usual."
"I have another appointment," he said.
"I need to meet the Prime Minister."
Victoria watched him stand.
After meeting the future queen of Britain, he was now casually going to meet the prime minister.
Yet he carried himself as if he were simply taking a stroll.
Something about him felt different today.
More mature?
No.
That wasn't right.
He had always been unusually mature.
Still—
something had changed.
She could not identify exactly what it was.
But the current Killian seemed… more natural.
Victoria watched his back until he disappeared from sight.
* * *
"So she noticed after all."
Killian muttered to himself.
Victoria had reached the conclusion he expected—though he had practically spoon-fed her the clues.
For now, only someone who knew him well could even imagine such a possibility.
But in a few years, others would likely arrive at similar suspicions.
Still, the exchange had been useful.
He now knew exactly what position he should occupy within the party.
Killian boarded a carriage waiting outside Kensington Palace and headed toward Westminster.
10 Downing Street had not yet become the prime minister's official residence.
If this meeting had taken place earlier, he would have brought Wellesley or Disraeli with him.
But things were different now.
When he entered the office alone, Robert Peel greeted him with a broad smile.
"Welcome," Peel said.
"The journey from Eton to Westminster isn't exactly short. Was the trip tiring?"
"I came from Kensington," Killian replied. "So it wasn't long."
"Ah, right—you were with the princess."
"I hope I didn't interrupt anything?"
"Not at all."
"By the way, I should have come earlier to congratulate you."
"Congratulations on your reappointment as Prime Minister."
Peel's smile widened.
"Hahaha. 'Reappointment' sounds grand, but the first time was practically temporary."
"This is the first time I truly feel like a proper prime minister."
"And I should be thanking you."
"According to Wellesley, you played a major role in persuading O'Connell."
Killian shrugged lightly.
"Since you already know, denying it would be pointless."
"Yes—I worked quite hard."
In truth, Victoria had been correct.
It would seem suspicious if Wellesley alone had suddenly convinced O'Connell, despite having little prior connection.
Since Killian intended to start revealing his influence within the party anyway—
he had decided to use the opportunity.
The report Peel received had therefore contained a simple conclusion:
Charles Wellesley succeeded in persuading Daniel O'Connell largely thanks to the influence of the Arran family—and Killian Gore.
"To be honest," Peel said, "when Wellesley told me to trust him, I was worried."
"He's talented, but this was an extremely important matter."
"What kind of magic did you use to persuade O'Connell?"
If O'Connell had returned to the Whigs—
Peel would have lost the premiership after only four months.
Not even George Canning's record of 119 days.
Canning had died in office.
Peel would simply have been forced out.
"O'Connell sincerely cares about Ireland," Killian explained.
"But even when the Whigs held overwhelming parliamentary seats, the Church Reform Bill failed."
"Deep down, he must have begun wondering whether Ireland would remain stagnant if he stayed with them."
"Wellesley told me he planned to exploit that fear," Peel said.
"But O'Connell isn't easily persuaded."
"That alone wouldn't change his position."
"Of course not," Killian said.
"My late father spent years expanding our influence in Ireland."
"In the recent election, we regained many districts in central Ireland that had previously been controlled by the Whigs."
"And O'Connell has another concern."
"He lacks a successor."
Peel frowned.
"A successor…? Surely you don't mean—"
"Yes."
"My family will continue gaining influence in Northern Ireland."
"If I eventually align myself with O'Connell's cause, his concern about lacking a successor disappears."
Peel's smile vanished.
"O'Connell is a repealer," he said slowly.
"Surely you're not suggesting—"
"If I had other intentions," Killian replied calmly, "I wouldn't be telling you this openly."
"There is more than a forty-year age gap between O'Connell and myself."
"I can learn from him slowly… while gradually absorbing his political network."
Peel leaned forward.
"Is that truly possible?"
"If you succeed, Ireland becomes a Conservative stronghold."
"With your support, Prime Minister, it's absolutely possible."
"My father already prepared the strategy."
"I only recently learned its full scope."
"All we need is to grant Ireland gradual concessions without provoking public backlash in Britain."
If Killian credited everything to his late father—
it avoided suspicion about his own sudden brilliance.
And he could still secure political advantage.
"Remarkable," Peel murmured.
"To think the Earl of Arran had planned something so meticulous."
"Perhaps he simply wished to secure his son's future before he died."
"My uncle is currently managing Northern Ireland for me," Killian added.
"He's working to bring other landlords and nobles to our side."
Peel chuckled.
"Receiving a title has made you more reliable already."
"Thank you."
Killian leaned slightly forward.
"I intend to bring at least ninety Irish seats into the Conservative fold within ten years."
"But to achieve that, there are certain laws that must pass during this term."
Peel waved a hand.
"You mean the tithe reform promised to O'Connell?"
"That will pass without difficulty."
"That promise was for O'Connell," Killian replied.
"Northern Ireland also has a strong Anglican population."
"So we need different concessions."
"I don't want to burden you excessively."
"If you can pass three bills before your term ends, Wellesley and I will handle the rest."
"Three bills before the end of my term?" Peel mused.
"That's roughly one per year."
"That's not unreasonable."
"But my answer depends on the content."
"What exactly are these bills?"
Killian smiled faintly.
"Of course."
What else could they be?
If he was going to exert this much influence—
he intended to collect an appropriate reward.
Peel had said his answer might change.
But Killian already knew the truth.
The Prime Minister didn't actually have that option.