Spring in London, 1845.
The uproar surrounding the East India Company had largely subsided, and the new commission established to govern India had been ford without difficulty.
My plan—to place the bla for everything on the East India Company—worked even better than expected.
It wasn't just empty words.
Once the discriminatory treatnt of local soldiers was actually reversed, complaints against Britain in India almost completely disappeared.
"So all of this was the East India Company's doing?"
"I knew it. That ans those bastards cut our wages just to stuff the money into their own pockets?"
"Exactly. The governnt in Britain had actually told them to treat local soldiers properly, but the company swallowed the money instead."
"Those sons of bitches. Can we just shoot them right now?"
"Looks like the leaders involved are about to rot in prison anyway. Serves them right."
The East India Company had beco the villain of the story.
The royal family, anwhile, appeared as the righteous force that had punished the company and restored justice.
With such a clear narrative, it was only natural that the Sepoys and the previously suppressed local officials began expressing enthusiastic support for the Crown.
"Long live the Queen!"
"From now on India will be ruled by the Royal Commission!"
In the original tiline, India had been nothing more than a vast warehouse for Britain's exploitation.
But now I needed to think more carefully about its long-term role.
Canada was different.
I could ensure that Canada would never drift away from the British Empire, even after a century or two.
Preparations for that had already been completed, and everything was proceeding according to plan.
My own position as Duke of Canada was part of that strategy.
So were the Irish immigrants who would soon form the backbone of Canadian society.
Their loyalty to was absolute.
And it wasn't just the Irish.
Black communities in Canada, unlike those in the United States where "freedom" was often little more than rhetoric, were being genuinely integrated into society.
Because of that, they revered—almost worshiped—Canada and the policies I had established.
And soon there would also be waves of immigrants from Asia.
Those newcors would likely support even more strongly than the Irish or the Black communities.
After all, they would trust soone connected to the Yi royal family and the Tokugawa lineage far more than the distant British aristocracy.
Of course, if that loyalty lasted only during my lifeti, it would an nothing.
But fortune had favored .
My children had been born in Canada.
The Irish would naturally view my son favorably.
Asian immigrants would do the sa.
And if that child eventually beca king, the symbolism would be imnse.
A monarch whose bloodline truly connected Britain and colonial Canada.
I hadn't planned it that way.
But sotis fortune simply stacked itself layer upon layer.
Perhaps it was heaven's ssage that the British Empire must never let Canada go.
Or perhaps not.
Either way, Canada's role was clear.
India's was not.
Simply exploiting it, as in the original history, would be inefficient.
But turning India into an industrialized partner like Canada was unrealistic.
Even now India's population numbered hundreds of millions.
Integrating such a massive region fully into Britain?
Impossible.
What about separating only the wealthiest regions and tying them directly to Britain?
It was an interesting idea.
But there were far too many factors to consider.
For now, the imdiate crisis had passed.
Public opinion in India was manageable.
There would be ti to improve things gradually.
At the mont, what mattered most was the event right in front of us.
The year was 1845.
To commorate the 30th anniversary of the victory at Waterloo, Britain once again planned a massive celebration.
Although he had stepped away from active politics—or perhaps precisely because of that—the star of the event was Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington, who could now appear without political burdens.
For him, it was a chance to relive one of the most glorious monts of his life.
Military leaders, the Pri Minister, the Queen, mbers of the royal family, and nurous veterans gathered for the ceremony.
Soldiers marched in full dress uniform.
Weapons and equipnt used thirty years earlier were displayed once again.
The atmosphere reached its peak when Pri Minister Charles Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington's son, stepped onto the stage.
"Ladies and gentlen, and especially the brave veterans gathered here today.
You can surely imagine how deeply moved I am to stand before you.
I was still a child when these heroes fought so bravely at Waterloo. I rember waiting anxiously in Britain for news of the battle's outco."
He paused, then turned toward his father seated beside the Queen and .
"When the news finally arrived—that Britain had defeated Napoleon—our entire nation rejoiced.
To the young boy I was then, my father, who had returned after defeating Napoleon, seed greater than any man in the world.
And today, as Pri Minister of this country, it is my honor to express my gratitude to him and to all the veterans present here.
Because of you, I have been given the chance to serve this nation."
"I thank you all once again."
Thunderous applause erupted.
When the Pri Minister of the British Empire bowed deeply to the audience, the soldiers responded with roaring cheers.
The Duke of Wellington himself rose from his seat, tears in his eyes, applauding louder than anyone.
After the Pri Minister, it was now the Queen's turn.
As Queen Victoria rose to replace him at the podium, the entire hall fell silent.
"I am deeply pleased to see all of you gathered here today to commorate the thirtieth anniversary of Waterloo.
Waterloo is a victory of profound aning for the British Empire.
It preserved Europe's freedom from Napoleon's grasp and proved once again that Britain stands at the forefront of the age."
She paused briefly.
"But we must never forget that such glory was achieved through the sacrifice of countless heroes who gave their lives."
Just as I had suggested beforehand, Victoria focused her speech on honoring the fallen.
Since the Pri Minister had praised the veterans, the Queen's role was to commorate those who had died.
I stepped forward carrying a list of nas copied from the Waterloo morial.
Victoria accepted it carefully and continued.
"There are many things gained through victory in war.
But we must never forget what is lost.
Countless young n of Britain fought bravely for their country, for their families, and for the people they loved.
Many never returned ho.
Had it not been for the brilliance of commanders such as General Wellington, many more lives might have been lost.
As Queen of this nation, I wish to thank those heroes who saved so many lives."
Each word struck directly at the audience's hearts.
That part wasn't even written by .
It seed Victoria had begun to understand exactly how to move people emotionally.
"Thirty years have passed since Waterloo.
During that ti our empire has grown and flourished.
And it will continue to grow even stronger.
But we must never forget the sacrifices of those who gave their lives for this nation.
We must build a Britain where young n with limitless potential do not perish in vain.
Together—with the royal family and with all our people—we will create a stronger and more compassionate empire."
When Victoria finished speaking, she bowed slightly toward the list of fallen soldiers.
There was no applause.
Instead, the generals and veterans rose and saluted in perfect unison.
No one moved until the Queen returned to her seat.
Later events followed, but nearly everyone agreed on one thing:
The Queen's speech had been the highlight of the day.
The stage was perfectly set.
Now the next step would be easy.
"Gentlen, thank you all for attending today's gathering."
"It's our honor, Your Highness. If the royal family shows such concern for the army, how could we refuse?"
Field Marshal Hugh Gough, who had recently grown much closer to , looked years younger than before.
"Her Majesty said during the Waterloo ceremony that she hopes young n will no longer die in vain for their country," I said.
"As her husband, how could I ignore such a wish?"
Gough chuckled.
"Your devotion to the Queen is admirable."
"In truth, I agree with her," I continued.
"During the war with Qing China, very few soldiers actually died in battle. Most died from disease. We took precautions, but so still perished. Lives that might have been saved were lost."
"Disease is always the greatest danger when fighting abroad," Gough replied. "But given the circumstances, your campaign was extrely well managed. Without you, the casualties might have been ten tis worse."
Commanders were never indifferent to wounded soldiers or epidemics.
If a hundred soldiers were wounded, the army lost far more than a hundred fighters.
dical staff had to care for them.
The army's movent slowed.
Morale suffered.
One wounded soldier could affect an entire unit.
Veterans like Gough understood that better than anyone.
"According to my research," I said, "more than forty percent of soldiers wounded in battle eventually die from their injuries. Sotis the rate exceeds fifty percent."
"A grim reality," Gough said quietly.
"In most battles, soldiers rarely die instantly from gunfire. Even when shot, they usually survive long enough to be carried away."
But surviving the battlefield did not an survival.
Most wounded soldiers died later—after enduring terrible agony.
Gunshot wounds required careful disinfection and strict cleanliness to heal.
Military hospitals rarely t such standards.
Sotis it would almost have been kinder to die instantly.
"So I intend to improve the dical conditions within the army," I said. "Of course, this must not harm military efficiency. That is why cooperation from the army is essential. I hope we can continue discussing this matter together."
"You have my full support," Gough laughed.
After that, I greeted the donors who had supported the event.
And finally—
I t the man I had wanted to speak with since seeing his na on the list.
"Your Highness! It is such an honor to be invited personally."
"The honor is mine. Anyone who supports a royal project deserves an invitation. Your na is William Edward Nightingale, correct?"
"My goodness… you even rember my na…"
"It's rare for a respected landowner to take an interest in improving the army's dical system. May I ask what inspired you?"
William Nightingale scratched his head awkwardly.
Then he lowered his voice and sighed.
"To be honest… my daughter started talking about becoming a nurse, which is a ridiculous idea. I thought supporting this event might persuade her to give it up."
I had been about to ask whether he had a daughter.
Conveniently, he brought it up himself.
"So," I said casually,
"what is your daughter's na?"
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