Hearing that Parliament had been preparing to stab me in the back since the very moment of my welcome ceremony killed any desire I had to enjoy the festivities.
I might not be a savior of the nation like Scipio, who crushed Hannibal, but I had still done more than enough for the interests of the British Empire.
And yet the moment I returned, they were preparing to pass a law making it absolutely clear that I was never to even dream of interfering in domestic politics.
I understood it.
I had always known this day would come.
But understanding something didn't mean it felt good.
The response I needed was already clear in my head.
Of course, storming into Parliament immediately and slaughtering those ungrateful bastards until they couldn't even open their mouths—
That was obviously impossible.
Because the place I had to go the moment the ceremony ended had already been decided long before my trip to Asia.
"…I'm here."
"You're already finished with the ceremony? I thought it would take longer."
I had made her go to Canada right after we married.
Then endure a long pregnancy there.
When she finally returned to London with our children, her husband had already left for Asia.
Even if she hadn't shown it outwardly, I could easily imagine how she must have felt.
Yes.
In situations like this, there was only one correct response.
"I have no excuse. I'm truly sorry!"
"Why are you apologizing? It's not like you went because you wanted to."
"Even so… the fact remains that I left you alone for almost a year."
"That's enough. I'm the Queen of this country. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little upset, but if I couldn't understand something like this, that would be the real problem."
Even if someone said they understood—
Human nature meant understanding didn't always equal forgiveness.
Of course, her anger would end up directed at Parliament rather than me.
But I still couldn't help feeling a bit uneasy.
"First, that Prime Minister—"
"We can talk about that later. Come here first. You should see our children."
"Are they awake?"
"It's nighttime. Of course they're asleep. Come quietly so you don't wake them."
It had been almost a year since I left Canada.
I slowly followed Queen Victoria toward the small bed.
"Whoa…"
I nearly made a sound.
Two tiny lives lay there, breathing softly in their sleep.
In just one year, they had grown this much.
They had already been unbelievably adorable before.
Yet somehow they were even more lovable now.
"They're only about a year old… but they've grown so much."
"Children grow every single day," Victoria said. "Come to think of it, you didn't even get to see their first babbling."
Ah.
That one hurt.
I had missed the moment they first tried to speak—even if the words were clumsy.
Was this the price of leaving the children entirely to their mother and running off to Asia?
Seeing my wounded expression, Victoria chuckled softly and looked back at the sleeping children.
"They're so lovely that I sometimes lose track of time just watching them."
"I can understand why."
Just looking at them made the corners of my mouth lift.
How could I possibly stop smiling when these children were mine?
As I stood there watching them for a while, everything that had happened earlier felt strangely insignificant.
Was this what fathers meant when they said seeing their children after work erased the fatigue of the entire day?
"Uu… waa…"
One of the children wriggled slightly in their sleep, tiny hands moving about.
Watching them like that made the political struggle over power feel absurdly hollow.
Even if I did nothing, these children would grow up as beloved princes and princesses of this country.
Would they really want more power or inheritance than that?
Wasn't it just the selfish desire of a parent to give their children more and more?
"You look much better now," Victoria said. "Earlier your face looked a little shadowed, like something had happened."
"Hm? Was it that obvious?"
"Apparently so. I don't think I've ever been able to read your emotions from your face before. Maybe that's what people mean when they say married couples understand each other."
That was surprising.
No one had ever read my emotions from my expression before.
Perhaps it meant I had let my guard down around Victoria.
After a brief moment of thought, I straightened up and stepped away from the bed.
For a moment I had almost melted completely.
But in the end—
I was still myself.
Power.
Influence.
I had no intention of giving up either.
Giving up because the children might not want it?
That was nothing more than a moment of weakness disguised as parental virtue.
I would gather everything I could.
And pass down as much as possible.
If the children didn't want it?
Then I would simply give it to the one who did.
After all, we weren't going to have only one or two children.
And even if they looked like little angels now—
Eventually they would grow up.
They would experience the turbulence of society.
They would become more worldly.
That wasn't pessimism.
That was simply reality.
Would it really be good for them to live their entire lives seeing only pleasant things?
To grow up naive and sheltered?
I didn't think so.
Victoria might disagree with me on that point.
But realistically, our children would need to be even more alert than I was.
Because in the future, the absolute monarchies of Europe would disappear one by one.
And the age of democracy would inevitably arrive.
Things would be fine while Victoria and I were still here.
But when these children inherited my position—
Would they be able to protect it?
No.
The answer was obvious.
They would need strict education from a young age.
And anything harmful to them would have to be removed completely.
"Victoria. Actually, I heard something from Prime Minister Charles Wellesley during the ceremony…"
When I told her about Parliament's plan to stab me in the back, her face hardened immediately.
"Seriously? Those people are unbelievable. They begged you to go overseas, and now that you're back they betray you like this?"
"They used me while it was convenient," I said. "Now they've realized I've grown too big."
"Even so, there should be basic decency! Let's just confront them directly like the Prime Minister suggested. If necessary, I'll support you."
"That won't be necessary—"
"It's outrageous! Even if you're willing to let it go, I'm not. I spent nearly a year without seeing my husband because of those people. And now they respond like this instead of thanking you?"
Strangely enough, I was the one being wronged, yet she was angrier than I was.
So now I had to calm her down.
From her perspective, though, the reaction made perfect sense.
Perhaps she had already been itching for a confrontation with Parliament.
As Charles had said, if we combined his authority, my influence, and Victoria's support, crushing Parliament wouldn't be difficult.
For a moment, I even considered it seriously.
But no.
Open conflict between the Crown and Parliament was never a good option.
Even if we crushed them now, resentment would remain.
And they would attack us every time they saw an opportunity.
But letting it go entirely was also unacceptable.
Since Victoria was angrier than I was, having her support would actually make things easier.
If they wanted to pick a fight—
They should be ready to pay the price.
But before that—
"We can discuss the complicated matters tomorrow," I said. "For now… shall we go to the bedroom?"
After all, we had a year's worth of reunion to catch up on.
* * *
After finishing his conversation with Killian, Prime Minister Charles Wellesley returned home with a slightly lighter heart.
Honestly, he had no idea how to handle the situation.
But since Killian said he had a plan, Wellesley decided to trust him and wait.
No matter how he thought about it, blocking Parliament's scheme seemed impossible without a direct clash between the Crown and Parliament.
And the only solution Wellesley himself could imagine was crushing Parliament outright.
But Killian had always managed to do the unexpected.
So this time would surely be the same.
Charles Wellesley waited.
And waited.
But strangely enough—
Killian did nothing.
The day when Parliament would formally introduce the bill defining the Prince Consort's authority was already approaching.
"Gentlemen," William Gladstone announced confidently, "it seems the time has come to discuss the bill. His Highness has achieved tremendous accomplishments in Asia. We should pass this law as soon as possible to honor his achievements."
The Whig MPs all nodded in unison.
On the surface, the bill was meant to honor Killian Gore Hanover.
The real goal, however, was something else entirely.
It was to appear supportive of the royal family while quietly placing shackles around its neck.
"Until now," Gladstone continued, "Parliament has repeatedly created temporary positions whenever the Prince Consort's help was needed. But how long can we continue doing this? If exceptions keep piling up, Parliament's authority will suffer. And frankly, it isn't good for the royal family either."
"Indeed," another MP added. "The Duke of Canada title will eventually pass to his heir. Since the authority attached to it is so immense, we should clearly define its limits in law to prevent future conflict."
"If we establish those powers in advance," another said, "won't that make things easier for the Prince Consort as well? There will be no more disputes over tradition."
What incredible excuses.
Wellesley silently cursed while watching the Whigs groom each other's arguments.
From the outside, their reasoning sounded perfectly logical.
Even members of the government party couldn't openly object.
Many of them actually agreed.
They respected Killian and wanted to remain close to him.
But they firmly believed that members of the royal family should not involve themselves too deeply in politics.
"Prime Minister," someone asked, "what is your opinion?"
"I believe the opposition's argument has merit," Wellesley replied calmly. "The real question is how the powers should be defined. If the restrictions are too severe, people will complain. But if they're too loose, that will cause problems as well."
"Exactly," Gladstone said. "That is why we believe this bill must not take away any of the Prince Consort's current authority."
He then submitted the draft bill.
"The core provisions are as follows. The Prince Consort of the British Empire may not hold official positions within the government or Parliament of Britain itself. However, this restriction does not apply to colonial administration. Outside Britain, he may act freely and hold any office without limitation. Any hereditary titles or authorities may also be passed on to his heirs…"
The rest of the document continued with elaborate explanations.
But the real objective was clear.
Inside Britain—
Killian would be barred from holding any official political position.
No matter how powerful he became in the colonies, the center of power was still England.
And there, his arms and legs would be bound.
And yet they expected me to accept that quietly?
Wellesley remained silent.
He acted as if he completely supported the Whigs, never once showing opposition.
"Then let us pass this in the House of Commons."
"Once the House of Lords approves it, the law will take effect."
"Excellent! His Highness will surely be pleased. Unlike Canada, where the administrative structure is already organized, Asia still lacks clear authority structures."
"Ha… ha… yes. That's wonderful news."
Watching the bill pass with astonishing speed, Wellesley forced a bitter smile.
Is this really how things are supposed to go?
Killian…
You really do have a plan, right?