The hardest part about living in the modern era while possessing the knowledge of a modern person is that things you were taught as absolute truths suddenly carry no meaning here.
Elections are a perfect example.
Anyone raised in a democratic country grows up with the four principles of elections almost ingrained in their bones: universal suffrage, equal suffrage, secret ballots, and direct elections.
But in this era, proposing such principles would make you look like a dangerous radical trying to shake the very foundations of society.
The Chartist movement was a perfect example.
If modern people were shown the demands of the Chartists, most would probably react in the same way.
Guarantee of universal suffrage and secret ballots
Abolition of property qualifications for candidates
Equalization of electoral districts
Viewed today, these are simply common-sense ideas.
But in this era, they were nothing more—and nothing less—than the agitation of extremists seeking to destroy society.
On top of that, the Chartist movement had developed through radical methods that terrified the ruling classes, and I knew very well that this would ultimately lead to its failure.
Yet I also knew another fact.
Not long after the movement was crushed, the electoral laws would be revised.
And by the time the twentieth century arrived, most of these demands would be accepted as natural.
Knowing all this made preparing a speech about the Chartist movement far more troublesome than I had expected.
The solution I personally considered ideal was to accept the points where compromise was possible and introduce the rest gradually over time.
But even that was not easy.
Take Queen Victoria herself, for example.
"If one wishes to discuss governance, shouldn't one possess at least a minimum of knowledge? Are these Chartists trying to drag the country into mob rule?"
"Well… the workers have absolutely no means of influencing politics right now. They must feel frustrated."
"That may be true, but isn't it unrealistic? Is there any country on earth that grants voting rights to every adult man regardless of property, race, or class?"
"No."
Exactly.
Victoria's view was simply the general consensus among the ruling classes of the world.
It was a truth as unquestioned as the fact that the sun rises in the east.
Victoria was not narrow-minded.
This was simply what everyone believed.
Parliament wasn't expecting me to accept the Chartists' demands.
What they wanted was a magnificent speech that would crush the movement.
In fact, they undoubtedly assumed that I also regarded the Chartists' demands as worthless nonsense.
Victoria probably believed the same.
"Parliament really is shameless. They don't want to antagonize the workers too strongly after beating them down before, so they're asking you to carry the burden instead."
"That's exactly it."
"…Honestly. Since this is clearly a domestic political issue of the British Empire, couldn't you have simply refused?"
"I could have escaped using the law as an excuse. But that would still be nothing more than avoidance. Many intellectuals would say the Prince Consort simply hid behind legal restrictions and proved he was just another member of the upper class."
"But the law explicitly states you must not intervene in domestic politics…"
Whether the law said so or not, people were creatures who placed their feelings above everything else.
Especially when dealing with sensitive social issues like this.
The moment Killian Gore's name became involved, expectations were inevitable.
People would believe that the Prince Consort—just as before—would offer a clever solution.
In a way, I had brought this upon myself.
I had solved many problems that way in the past.
"Parliament has already advertised that I will personally comment on the issue, so there's no way out now. I'll just have to handle it as best I can."
"If things go wrong, you'll end up trapped between Parliament and the workers."
"Or if things go well, I might win the support of the workers. Honestly, the timing isn't bad. The hospital and school bearing the royal name will open soon."
The greatest beneficiaries of Victoria's hospital and my school would naturally be people from the middle class and below.
In this era, wealthy people usually summoned physicians to their homes rather than visiting hospitals themselves.
Because of this, the royal family already enjoyed a reputation as benevolent figures who cared for the people.
And the same words could sound completely different depending on who spoke them.
Whether I ended up looking like a fence-sitter or a magnanimous leader embracing both sides could depend on the smallest nuance.
It was a dangerous tightrope.
But I was confident.
When it came to battles of words, only a handful of people in the British Empire could compete with me.
And if I combined that with knowledge from the future and dressed it in convincing rhetoric, I doubted anyone could defeat me.
Speeches were the same.
Unless the opponent was a scholar who had built an entire intellectual universe of his own, a sharp tongue alone might be enough to drive them into complete confusion.
Seeing my confidence, Victoria eventually nodded.
"Well, since it's you handling it, I'm sure you'll manage. But if you need help, tell me anytime. I'll do whatever I can."
"I appreciate it, but it's better if you say nothing about this matter. With the hospital opening soon, it would be best if you simply focus on that."
In matters like this, the best course was to avoid stepping too deeply into the water.
Dragging the Queen into it would hardly produce a good picture.
Of course, my own involvement was already unusual.
But Parliament knew that too, which was why they accepted my conditions without protest.
The compensation I had secured was not small.
So in truth, I wasn't losing anything.
But only a fool would admit that openly.
Officially, this speech would be remembered as Killian Gore's generous act of cleaning up Parliament's mess.
Naturally.
As the date of Killian Gore's speech on the Chartist movement approached, excitement spread across London—and indeed throughout the British Empire.
George Julian Harney, one of the leaders of the Chartists, fiercely condemned Parliament for dragging the royal family into the matter.
"So the legislative body cannot even reach a conclusion on its own and must summon the Prince Consort, whose duties lie outside domestic affairs? Is Parliament admitting its own incompetence? This is nothing but a cowardly trick!"
"Hear, hear!"
"But George, does that mean you won't attend the speech? If so, the seat I reserved for you—"
"N-No! Regardless of Parliament's trickery, we must hear what the Prince Consort has to say! I will certainly attend, so don't even think of taking my seat!"
What opinion would the husband of the Queen hold regarding the expansion of suffrage?
Not only Chartists but even neutral observers debated fiercely as they tried to predict Killian's stance.
"After all, the Prince Consort is still part of the royal family. If you expect too much, you'll only be disappointed."
"But hasn't he shown great understanding toward the suffering of the Irish? And didn't he ensure equal treatment for the Black people who had lived in miserable slavery in Canada? If he treats them that way, how could he ignore the citizens of Britain? I trust him."
"Hmm… you may only end up disappointed."
Among those observing the movement were two young thinkers—Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels.
After listening to the discussions around them, Marx noticed something surprising.
Public opinion seemed slightly tilted toward the belief that Killian would ultimately side with the upper classes.
Yet that also meant that nearly thirty to forty percent of people believed he might be different.
That alone astonished Marx.
"Friedrich , the people of this country seem to have unusually high expectations of the Prince Consort. I've never seen a nation where the spouse of a monarch attracts this level of attention."
"It's inevitable. He's a war hero who led Britain to victory against Qing China, and the Duke of Canada who doubled that territory. Despite all that success, he even supported Parliament's law restricting his involvement in domestic politics. Naturally people admire him."
"Even so, he's still a champion of capitalism. From what I hear, he's been promoting industrialization and nurturing capitalists in Canada."
"Well, that's hardly unusual for someone in the ruling class of this era. Personally, I don't expect the Prince Consort to be any different. The people here may believe he's special, but from an outsider's perspective they're all much the same."
It was a cynical opinion, but a typically objective one from Engels.
Marx took his seat in the front rows reserved by the Chartists and calmly waited to see the true intellectual level of the British Empire.
After nearly half a day of waiting, the royal guards finally entered the hall.
They secured the area, separating the crowd and ensuring safety.
Once everything was ready, Killian Gore slowly stepped onto the platform under the escort of officers.
Just as the rumors claimed—he was tall, handsome, almost shining with presence, like a prince straight out of a fairy tale.
Perhaps that was why Marx felt a sudden irritation.
The world was unfair.
Soon afterward the parliamentary representatives took their seats behind the podium: Prime Minister Charles Wellesley, along with Benjamin Disraeli, William Ewart Gladstone, and Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston.
The murmuring crowd instantly fell silent.
No one needed to announce that the speech was about to begin.
Killian raised his voice without any lengthy preliminaries.
"First, I would like to thank the citizens who have gathered here from across the country despite the short notice. I am aware that there has been considerable controversy surrounding the People's Charter and the demands of the workers. However, I have been occupied with many responsibilities, and the legal restrictions on interfering in domestic politics have made it difficult for me to speak openly. Many of you likely believe that the royal family should express an opinion on such a sensitive issue. Frankly speaking, you are correct."
Starting with something this sensitive immediately?
Marx had expected the speech to begin with harmless pleasantries before approaching the main topic.
Instead, the opening had already defied expectations.
Even Engels beside him stared at Killian with clear surprise.
"When Parliament asked me to comment on the controversy, that was precisely why I accepted. If one thinks about it, every aspect of life is political. How could I remain silent about every issue simply because it concerns domestic politics? However, the law prevents me from directly intervening in policy. I must make that clear in advance."
"Nevertheless, I confirmed with the judges that offering commentary on such matters does not violate the law. So I would like to speak freely with you today. Let us go straight to the point."
"Expanding suffrage."
"We must do it. It is something that must be done."
"…?"
"…?"
The audience—Chartists, intellectuals, and even the parliamentary representatives seated behind him—stared with wide eyes.
No one had expected such a colossal bomb to be dropped at the very beginning.
At that moment, the instincts of Marx—who had encountered countless politicians, thinkers, and revolutionaries—sent him a powerful intuition.
This man was different from the rest.
Regardless of how the speech ended, Marx suddenly found himself wanting to speak with him personally.
Without realizing it, Marx clenched his fist and leaned forward, completely absorbed in the Prince Consort's words.