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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Qualification
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It took Wellesley a mere few days to acquire all of Jack's assets.
This was thanks to having already completed all the groundwork with his lawyer several days in advance.
Had Jack been given a little more time, he might have had a chance to hide his assets, but they had swooped in and seized the documents so quickly that there was no opportunity.
Even so, the total didn't quite reach 120,000 pounds, but he hadn't expected to wring that much out of him from the start.
Wellesley, knowing this full well, let out a series of hearty laughs, a smile plastered from ear to ear.
"Khahahaha! Killian, did you see it? That bastard Jack looked like he'd been possessed by a demon."
"Wouldn't anyone? He lost his entire fortune overnight and is now facing prison."
"This must be what they mean by reaping what you sow, right? I haven't felt this gratified in my twenty years of life. This is all thanks to you."
"The credit isn't mine alone. It was only possible because you trusted me and played your part so diligently, Lord Wellesley."
Half of it was lip service, but the other half was sincere.
Charles Wellesley, though a bit rough around the edges, was capable of seeing a task through once he was given a role.
At first, I had been slightly worried about his unrefined nature, but looking back now, it was just right.
If he had been overly perfect and capable, there was a high chance he wouldn't have needed me at all.
In truth, even Charles Wellesley, despite the solid backing of being the Duke of Wellington's son, was just a young man in his early twenties.
Publicly, he was a top-tier elite, but he was still a promising youth who had not yet fully emerged from his father's shadow.
For our future partnership, this was the optimal level—no more, no less.
"Come to think of it, this is the first time I've gotten my hands on such a large sum of money without my father's help. And since I own the gambling den, there will be a steady stream of additional income. Have you thought about what you'll do?"
"Yes. I have a plan."
"Really? What are you thinking? Share it with me. An investment? Or a business?"
Normally, no one seeking to grow their money would ask the opinion of a boy twelve years his junior.
But Wellesley's first concern was how I intended to use my half of the recent earnings.
Through our conversations and this recent affair, I could feel that he now treated me as a complete equal.
In other words, it was time to harvest the seeds I had so diligently sown.
"I do have an investment plan. It's top-secret, something I haven't told anyone."
"Usually, when someone starts with those words, it's likely to end in disaster..."
"I'm going to put all of my share into it. Not only that, but for the time being, I plan to pour in every penny of income from the gambling den as well."
"To go that far, it must be a real honey pot, right? Let me in on it. We're going to be partners for a long time, aren't we? We should share the good things."
"Of course. Since we'll be partners, there's no problem in telling you. But before that, there's something we need to make clear."
Beyond being simple business partners, what would I do with Wellesley? How far would I groom him to become a sturdy breakwater for me?
It was time to show him a fragment of the grand picture I was painting.
Only then could I mold him into a powerful ally who would trust me absolutely and never entertain any foolish notions.
To earn someone's trust, you must also satisfy their desires.
"Lord Wellesley. Why do you think I wish to partner with you?"
"Hmm? Well... because getting close to me would be of great benefit to you, wouldn't it?"
"That's right. You are the son of the Duke of Wellington, this nation's hero. But you are also the second son, unable to inherit the dukedom. That is precisely why I want to partner with you. Not in a bad sense, but in a good one."
"You want to partner with me because I won't become a duke? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"Not at all. Someone who is set to inherit a dukedom is more likely to become passive. Immense authority and power will come to them automatically; all they have to do is protect it. You, on the other hand, are different, aren't you? I'm certain that deep down, you have a strong desire to climb higher on your own merit."
At my words, Wellesley nodded silently.
That was, after all, the very reason he had joined the military right after graduating from Eton College.
Wasn't his own father, the Duke of Wellington, the third son of a noble family with no prospect of inheriting an estate, who had thrown himself into a military career?
"Unfortunately, it will be difficult for you, Lord Wellesley, to become like the Duke of Wellington. And please don't be offended, I'm not referring to a difference in ability."
"Are you saying that even if I had my father's ability, I couldn't become like him? Why?"
"Because an adversary like Napoleon, who stood in this country's way, is unlikely to appear again."
"Aha! So that's what you meant. That certainly makes sense."
"Yes. No matter how much you advance in the military, it's highly unlikely you'll follow the same path as the Duke, who became a national hero by defeating Napoleon, just as Scipio became a hero of Rome by defeating Hannibal. And I, who say this, do not have much to inherit either. Even if I were to inherit the Earldom of Aaron, as an Irish noble, I wouldn't be able to enter the British House of Lords."
In other words, while our backgrounds seemed impressive on the surface, a closer look revealed minor flaws.
Wellesley gave a bitter smile and shook his head at our shared predicament—both nobles, yet both unable to enter the House of Lords.
"So, what are you saying? That I should just serve my time in the army, since I can't become like my father, and then switch careers to become a politician?"
"Yes. You have no need to fixate on the House of Lords, Lord Wellesley. The tide of the times is shifting toward strengthening the power of the House of Commons anyway. The House of Lords is mighty now and will remain so for some time, but the gap between it and the House of Commons will continue to narrow."
"The House of Commons..."
"You are more than qualified to become a representative of the House of Commons. And as your right-hand man, I could probably earn a British peerage for myself, not just an Irish one."
"So, the goal is for me to become this country's Prime Minister and for you to become a member of the House of Lords. A rather grand dream for a ten-year-old boy... No, childhood dreams are meant to be big, so that sounds just about right."
He still seemed to be taking my words as a joke, but I wondered if he would feel the same way a short while from now.
"In any case, that's why I intend to make a fortune. Elections, politics—they're all money pits, aren't they? The more you've saved up, the more you can invest. So, my first goal is to become immensely wealthy."
"No, what kind of child talks like... Be honest with me. You're not ten, are you?"
"I told you. Sometimes people appear in this world who can't be understood with common sense. Just think of me as one of them. In front of others, I just act like a moderate prodigy, but I'm showing my true self only to you, Lord Wellesley."
"What? Haha! Well, well. What an honor."
It was half-true, yet he brushed it off as a simple joke.
Well, I hadn't intended for him to take it seriously from the start, so this was a normal reaction.
After a long laugh, Wellesley's expression turned serious again as he spoke.
"I understand your intentions. You're proposing we become true partners who plan for a long-term future together, not just in name only, right?"
"Yes. Still, you can't completely trust the words of a ten-year-old boy, so I'll share a bit more of the information I have. You said you were wondering where to invest your money, right? Invest in the United States."
"The United States? The one across the Atlantic? I've heard things are booming over there, but is it really that promising of an investment?"
"And within the United States, real estate is the best right now. From what I've heard, a massive canal construction project is planned in the vicinity of Chicago, or maybe it was all of Illinois... I think it was the whole state. Prices are about to skyrocket, so I'm going to gather all available funds and invest everything. My analysis shows that for the next two years or so, it's fine to pour in money as soon as it comes in."
"Analysis? What information did you base this analysis on?"
It was information I'd gleaned from case studies on economic crises I memorized back when I was pretending to be a professor.
The first global economic crisis of the 19th century, which erupted as capitalism matured and the economies of various nations became more intertwined.
Ostensibly starting with the collapse of cotton prices in the United States, this crisis would bring considerable damage not only to America but to Europe as well.
Being no true expert, I lacked the finer details, but I clearly remembered one crucial point.
The fact that the canal construction project I mentioned to Wellesley would cause land prices in key areas of Illinois, including Chicago, to skyrocket by over 1000% from the early 1830s, forming a massive real estate bubble.
This bubble would burst with the Panic of 1837, bankrupting the many European investors who had put their money there.
"It's not from a single source but a comprehensive analysis of information from various channels, so it's difficult to explain in a single sentence. But for now, just trust me and invest. Or, you can just watch me invest and jump in later if you like."
"...Is that so? Then I think I'll watch for a few months before I get in. Canal construction isn't a one or two-year project, after all. It's not that I don't trust you, I just want to observe the situation for a bit before I commit."
"Of course. Investments should be made with caution, so your judgment isn't wrong, Lord Wellesley."
Even if he said a few months, considering the time it took for ships to cross the Atlantic, Wellesley would be entering the market almost a year later than me.
By then, my investment would have multiplied several times over. How envious he would be.
But that was fine. A taste of such regret would make him more inclined to listen to my words in the future.
After all, I would be raking in money, and if Wellesley himself was willing to sacrifice profits to pay his tuition, who was I to stop him?
The thought of him becoming as meek as a lamb by next year was enough to make me smile.
* * *
"You want me to write a letter of recommendation for whom?"
The true power broker of the British Empire, a national hero.
The man who had defeated Napoleon, the pride of Britain, and the leader of the ruling Tory Party, the Duke of Wellington, frowned as he looked at his foolish son.
"Killian Gore. He's the eldest son of the Earl of Aaron, an Irish noble. Father, you know the Earl of Aaron, don't you?"
"I do. He's the one who won a seat in the House of Commons for our party, isn't he? I thought he resigned his seat and returned to his homeland after receiving his earldom. And did he even have a son?"
"He's supposedly a bastard, but the Earl seems determined to make the boy his heir. It's a bit complicated to explain, but I promised the boy I would get a letter of recommendation from you."
"You promised he would receive my letter of recommendation on your own authority?"
A sigh escaped him reflexively upon hearing his foolish son's words.
Had raising him so indulgently made him live under the delusion that he himself was the duke?
He had thought he'd educated his son under a strict regimen, but it seemed he had been completely mistaken.
"Charles, do you not understand the power my letter of recommendation holds?"
"Of course, I do. After Waterloo, haven't you always been number one on the list of Eton's most distinguished alumni? If you write a letter of recommendation, it's as good as an acceptance letter."
"Exactly. It is because it holds such influence that I have no intention of writing one for anyone who does not truly deserve it. And yet you, even as my son, would make such a promise so carelessly?"
"Father, Killian is a genius whose absence from Eton would be a tremendous loss to this nation. As a nobleman of this country, I judged it my duty to ensure such a talent receives the best education."
The novel excuse left him momentarily stunned.
At the same time, a flicker of interest sparked within him. Who was this Killian, to warrant such high praise from his son?
"The Earl of Aaron's son is that intelligent? And how would you know?"
"You can tell just by speaking with him. A once-in-a-century genius... well, maybe not, but he is a genius nonetheless."
"What is that supposed to mean? A genius nonetheless, you say?"
"Yes. There is no doubt about that."
Even if he was not his father's equal, Charles was a prodigy who had received an elite education at Eton from a young age and was now excelling in the military.
If such a son was emphatically calling a young boy a genius, there must be something to him.
"If he truly is that brilliant, I suppose there's no reason I couldn't write it. Earl Aaron has been close to our party since Pitt was alive, so it wouldn't hurt to cultivate his heir."
Still, he couldn't simply hand out a letter of recommendation bearing the name of the Duke of Wellington.
"Bring him here. If you speak so highly of the boy, I shall see him for myself."
In the end, regardless of what anyone said, he would decide after speaking with the boy himself.
He would determine whether this boy, Killian, was worthy of a letter of recommendation bearing the name of the Duke of Wellington.