As expected, the process of nominating Lord Charles Wellesley as the Tory candidate for South Hampshire proceeded smoothly.
"He's only just begun his military career and he's already resigning to enter politics? Isn't that a bit sudden?"
"I heard he originally planned to pursue advancent in the army. But with the party struggling lately, he apparently decided to do his part and run in a difficult constituency."
"Really? I didn't know that. Sounds like he's a better man than I thought."
"Well, South Hampshire didn't have any other candidates besides Fleming anyway. From the party's perspective, this isn't a bad developnt. Honestly, it's about ti we started projecting a younger image."
Recently, public opinion toward the Tory Party in Britain could be sumd up in a single phrase.
Outdated reactionaries.
It wasn't anyone else's fault.
The Tories had brought that reputation upon themselves.
Their popularity was at rock bottom.
If they had at least been competent conservatives, that might have been one thing. But they had failed to suppress riots effectively, failed to ease tensions with the Irish, and failed to satisfy the growing demands of the middle class.
In fact, the only thing the party was widely praised for was opposing reform bills that threatened the interests of landlords and aristocrats.
Once a political party becos trapped in the image of being antiquated and stubborn, it can take years to escape it.
Under those circumstances, the rise of young politicians like Lord Charles was a genuinely positive signal.
And it wasn't just him.
There was also William Gladstone, a fellow Oxford graduate.
If used properly, the two of them could help the party shed its stale image.
Senior figures like Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington were determined not to waste this opportunity.
Frankly speaking, if they couldn't even capitalize on montum like this, they might as well retire from politics and spend the rest of their lives as forgotten old n.
Of course, even with such developnts, it would be impossible to overturn the entire election.
But if they could gain even a single additional seat, it would still be worth celebrating.
And I also intended to ride this wave by sending one more young politician into Parliant.
So the more attention these rising figures attracted, the better.
"Jas, did you find the man I asked about?"
"Yes," Jas replied. "Since he's running for election and has published several moderately popular books, he wasn't difficult to locate."
"That's a relief. I was worried it might take longer."
Jas tilted his head.
"But why him? I looked into him, and while he's talented, he doesn't seem extraordinary. I'll admit that running as an independent took so nerve… but surely you don't think he'll actually win this election?"
Of course not.
He absolutely wouldn't win.
If history followed the path I rembered, the man I had asked Jas to investigate would not succeed in elections for quite so ti.
He hadn't graduated from one of Britain's prestigious universities.
Nor had he attended elite public schools like Eton, Harrow, or Winchester.
And he also carried the additional disadvantage of being born Jewish, which still attracted prejudice in British society.
In every sense, he stood outside the traditional establishnt.
In fact, he would lose election after election.
Six tis.
anwhile, his contemporary William Gladstone would win imdiately and enjoy a brilliant debut in politics.
Yet the man I was thinking of would not give up.
After six defeats, he would finally win a seat in Parliant as a Conservative.
And in ti he would grow into one of the greatest figures of the Conservative Party—forming a lifelong rivalry with William Gladstone, who would lead the Liberals.
The man was Benjamin Disraeli.
Though one thing surprised .
I had assud he ran as a Conservative from the beginning.
But it seed that at this stage he was actually running as an independent.
Did he truly believe he could win like that?
His age wasn't much different from Charles or Gladstone's.
His confidence was certainly impressive.
"You said you wanted to et him in person. What did he say?"
"He's willing to make ti," Jas said. "He's struggling to find a proper patron, so he probably feels like he's discovered an oasis in the desert."
"So his situation is even worse than I thought."
I had expected his political base to be weak.
But not this weak.
Had he truly believed that the success of a few novels would carry him to electoral victory?
Perhaps the young Disraeli was simply brimming with youthful confidence.
Of course, most young people possessed a bit of that.
Still, I had always imagined the future leader of the Conservatives as a rather dignified figure.
This version of him was… unexpected.
Then again, I wasn't a historian.
Perhaps he had always been known for his flamboyant personality.
In fact, standing him next to the serious and principled Gladstone might create an entertaining contrast.
"Arrange the eting as soon as possible," I said. "I want to speak with him personally."
"You intend to reveal your identity when you et him, young master?"
"He's soone I want as a long-term political ally. It's best to establish a good relationship from the beginning."
Sending Lord Charles Wellesley to Parliant was important.
But he was essentially my equal.
Even if he cooperated with , he would still be a partner who required careful handling.
What I needed as well was soone capable—soone whose abilities rivaled Gladstone's—but who would be more directly aligned with .
In that regard, Disraeli was the perfect candidate.
His future potential had already been proven.
Yet at the mont he lacked both political and financial backing.
If I invested in him now, the returns could easily multiply many tis over in the future.
* * *
They say a man's actions are the footprints of the life he has lived.
If you study those footprints long enough, it isn't difficult to understand what kind of person he is.
And Benjamin Disraeli was exactly as I had expected—spirited, witty, and bold.
"Good day! Benjamin Disraeli!"
A man eting a potential patron while dressed in a bright green suit that practically sparkled.
That alone told his ntality was far beyond ordinary.
"I am Killian Gore, heir to Arthur Gore, the Earl of Arran. Thank you for coming all this way."
"Not at all," Disraeli replied cheerfully. "This is my first ti visiting the area around Eton College."
Removing a stylish top hat that matched his flamboyant attire, he accepted a cup of coffee from Jas and sat down lightly across from .
"But as you ntioned, I'm not exactly a man with ti to spare. If you don't mind, perhaps we could proceed straight to the point?"
"Of course," I said. "You must return to your campaign soon. Speaking of which—have you decided how you plan to conduct your election campaign?"
"Well…" Disraeli shrugged.
"I suppose I'll give speeches to the public and post pamphlets outlining my ambitions."
"And you don't plan to adopt the thods other candidates use?"
I tilted my head slightly.
"This may sound blunt, but that approach seems unlikely to succeed."
The constituency he was contesting—High Wycombe—was anything but easy.
And as an independent candidate, Disraeli lacked the resources of a political party.
Every aspect of his campaign depended solely on his own organization and influence.
Speeches and pamphlets alone would never compete with party machines.
Disraeli knew it too.
But there was little he could do.
"For now," he said with a faint smile, "my strategy is simply to make my na known. At least I'm not entirely unknown. With so luck, perhaps an opportunity may appear."
"You know as well as I do that it won't," I said gently.
"That approach is like throwing eggs at a stone wall and hoping it eventually breaks."
I leaned back slightly.
"Jas must have ntioned that I invited you here because I'm interested in supporting you. So please give an honest assessnt."
Disraeli studied carefully.
"Before that," he said slowly, "may I ask why you wish to support at all? Perhaps you are an enthusiastic reader of my novels?"
"Sothing like that," I replied with a smile.
"I simply have high expectations for you."
"I did so research myself," Disraeli continued. "The Earl of Arran belongs to the Tory Party. Are you hoping to recruit to the Tories?"
At the mont, Disraeli was not only an independent.
His views leaned surprisingly close to radical reform.
Given his future as the leader of the Conservatives, the contrast was striking.
"Do you dislike the Tory ideology?" I asked.
"Not entirely," he said. "I agree with preserving tradition and social order. But the party often seems… excessively rigid."
"Then this conversation should be easier," I replied.
"In truth, so of us wish to preserve the Tory principles while making the system more flexible. There are several young candidates who share that vision."
Disraeli raised an eyebrow.
"That sounds promising, but forgive for saying so—aren't you rather young to be discussing such matters?"
He smiled slightly.
"I hear you've only just entered Eton. That makes you what… twelve years old?"
Indeed.
Disraeli was roughly sixteen years older than .
Without the title of an earl's heir, he probably wouldn't have bothered eting at all.
"Let clarify sothing," I said.
"I am not attempting to recruit you on behalf of the Tory Party."
I leaned forward.
"I am offering you support as Killian Gore, personally."
Disraeli blinked.
"…What?"
"You don't even need to run as a Tory in this election," I continued. "In fact, winning as an independent would increase your value when you eventually join a party."
The coffee cup froze in midair.
"So the Earl of Arran's family intends to support ?"
"No," I said.
"I intend to invest in you."
Disraeli frowned slightly.
"I don't quite follow. If you beco the earl one day, wouldn't that amount to the sa thing?"
"And more importantly—without the Earl's approval, wouldn't this be aningless?"
I could see irritation forming in his eyes.
He must have wondered whether he had wasted his ti traveling here to indulge a child's fantasy.
The simplest way to resolve that doubt was to show him proof.
"In practical terms," I said calmly, "helping one man win a seat in Parliant does not require my father's permission."
I nodded to Jas.
"Show him."
Jas placed the bank ledger on the table.
Disraeli's eyes widened as he read it.
Even after investing heavily in Chicago, the account still contained over £100,000.
The profits from the casino alone were already generating tens of thousands of pounds per year.
In other words, even a single casino made my personal inco comparable to that of many major aristocrats.
Including the £150,000 taken from Turner—and the expanding assets in Arica—
There might not have been another twelve-year-old in Britain, royal family excluded, wealthier than .
Disraeli stared at the ledger.
"T-this… that's… more than one hundred thousand pounds?"
"Yes," I said calmly.
"And it has nothing to do with the Earl of Arran's estate."
I smiled.
"Does that make your journey here feel worthwhile?"
Disraeli fell silent.
He was clearly trying to reorganize his thoughts.
Candidates in those days typically spent a few hundred pounds on an election.
Perhaps a thousand at most.
If Disraeli spent twice as much as his competitors, defeat would beco far more difficult.
Money was one of the most reliable ways to win elections in that era.
I slowly slid a £2,000 bill of exchange across the table.
"I will support your entry into the House of Commons," I said.
"So why not beco allies?"
"Together we might reform Britain's suffocating political system."
I looked directly at him.
"Others may fail to see it, but I believe you will beco a great figure in British politics."
Disraeli blinked.
"I don't believe I've done anything to deserve such praise…"
"They say books are mirrors of the mind," I replied.
"By reading your works, one can glimpse how you see the world."
"And I am convinced that a man who thinks that way will one day beco a giant of British politics."
The praise had been sowhat improvised.
But it worked.
Disraeli's expression brightened imdiately.
He had entered politics with youthful ambition.
Yet without patrons and facing near certain defeat, he must have felt considerable anxiety.
Now soone had recognized his potential.
Of course he smiled.
"Thank you for your confidence," he said.
"Shall we discuss the details of this support?"
"Certainly," I replied.
"Though the conversation may take so ti. Shall we continue it over dinner?"
Disraeli laughed heartily.
"That sounds excellent. I was just beginning to feel hungry."
His laughter now carried none of the fear of defeat.
I returned the smile.
With this eting, I had gained another reliable ally in Parliant.
A man of imnse potential.
And in truth, the person who most wanted to laugh at that mont—
Was .
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