Ever since the capitalism took root, it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that almost every major problem in the world has ultimately been caused by money.
The Revolutions of 1848?
If workers had been guaranteed adequate wages and a decent work-life balance, such upheavals would never have erupted in the first place.
The American Civil War?
That war, too, was inevitable given the economic structure of the Southern United States, where the entire system relied upon slavery.
Even the two World Wars that followed were, in the end, catastrophes born from the tangled web of national interests.
In other words, they too were fundamentally problems involving vast sums of money.
As long as the concept of economics exists, nations and money can never truly be separated.
Even those socialist states that once claimed to despise capitalism and promised to build a new society—what eventually happened to them?
Did they not end up becoming even more obsessed with money than many capitalist nations?
"Reports say the workers who had gathered in France demanding the dissolution of parliament have dispersed."
"Already? Faster than I expected. It seems François Guizot faithfully applied the tactics I taught him."
"That was also thanks to the grain shipments Your Highness sent. Without food, no amount of reform would have saved him. The farmers would have dragged him out of office."
That was true enough.
News had spread throughout France that Britain had exported large quantities of grain, and public sentiment toward Britain had improved significantly.
Of course, that was largely thanks to the rumor campaign.
I had made sure word spread that Guizot had desperately begged for food—and that I had personally persuaded the prime minister to approve the shipments.
And even now that story was spreading throughout France.
If France was going to be used as Europe's policeman in the future, the French public would have to feel friendly toward Britain.
My new partner in this endeavor, who had been standing quietly in the corner, finally spoke.
"Your Highness… I should have thanked you earlier. I apologize for coming so late."
"There's no need. You carried out my request perfectly. If anything, I should be the one thanking you."
"Thanking us? We are the ones who profited immensely."
My loyal source of funds—no, my partner—continued.
He was Jacob Mayer de Rothschild, the head of the Rothschild banking family in France and the uncle of Lionel de Rothschild.
"To be honest," Jacob said with a respectful bow, "when my nephew began investing money to improve our social image, I wondered what he was thinking. But the results have been remarkable."
"Indeed. Especially for you. Whether we like it or not, being Jewish means you must be more careful with public perception."
"I understand. In fact, I appreciate your consideration."
Exporting grain to France did not mean it would magically reach the people.
Someone had to oversee distribution—ensuring there were no middlemen siphoning off profits, that supplies reached those who needed them, and that prices were set fairly.
And naturally, all of that required money.
The person I had introduced to Guizot for that purpose was Jacob Rothschild.
The condition was simple.
The French government had to widely publicize that the Rothschild bank was actively helping to relieve the suffering of French citizens.
People never forget those who help them in times of crisis.
It is a universal truth.
And if that savior happens to be someone they used to criticize?
Then gratitude becomes mixed with guilt.
The effect becomes far greater.
"We announced the creation of the Suez Canal Company together with the French government," Jacob continued.
"Yet no one has raised objections."
"If anyone did," I replied, "they would be the strange one."
Governments across Europe often borrowed money from the Rothschilds for public works.
But because public perception of Jews remained negative, states had generally avoided allowing them to openly participate in projects or share in profits.
The Suez Canal, however, required the creation of a company and negotiations with Egypt.
That meant the Rothschilds would inevitably appear in public.
"Once negotiations with Egypt are completed," Jacob said, "construction will begin."
"And at some point we will claim additional funding is needed and issue shares."
"Your Highness can purchase all of our shares at that time."
"Good. Then the canal matter is effectively settled."
I stared at the map spread across the table.
Within a year, control of the Suez Canal would fall into my hands.
Of course, real profits would not come until long after the canal actually opened.
Meanwhile, investment opportunities in Canada and the United States were increasing rapidly.
Constantly routing money through intermediaries was becoming inconvenient.
Even using Rothschild or Barings Bank had limits.
They were partners—but they were not me.
And aside from Jacob, they were not trusted enough to see all of my cards.
Eventually I reached the obvious conclusion.
If I wanted to safely launder the assets generated by my businesses, I would need my own bank.
Then, using projects like the Suez Canal, a future Panama Canal, and the bank itself, I could gradually convert those vast private assets into legitimate royal wealth.
Layered through multiple financial structures, no one would suspect anything.
They would simply marvel at the immense fortune of the royal family.
However—
If I, who already controlled a canal project, also established a bank, Parliament would certainly intervene.
Which meant the Rothschilds' unfortunate public reputation still had one final use.
"So," I said casually, "I would like to propose another joint venture."
"We would be honored," Jacob replied. "What kind of venture?"
"You know Canada is rapidly expanding its industry. Establish a bank branch there."
"Then begin acquiring every resource company I designate."
"…Pardon?"
"That would certainly attract warnings from the British government."
"Exactly."
"That is the point."
"At the moment, London is completely distracted by the revolutions sweeping Europe."
"By the time they notice, you will already control a considerable amount of capital."
"And after that?"
"I will handle the rest."
"And if the government forces us to sell everything back?"
"Then I will buy it myself."
"You will profit either way."
At those words, Lionel and Jacob immediately returned to their natural expressions.
The expressions of bankers.
France.
Austria.
Hungary.
And the British Empire.
While Europe descended into chaos, the foundations of the British royal family's future wealth were quietly being secured.
Around the time Italy rose in rebellion for independence and Hungary openly revolted against Austrian Empire—
Chaos was spreading in Kingdom of Prussia as well.
"Guarantee the establishment of a liberal system!"
"Awaken, aristocrats!"
"This country does not belong to the Junkers! Grant us freedom!"
Absurd slogans echoed through the streets.
The capital Berlin had become a nest of rioters.
Germans were famously disorganized—but even this level of chaos was astonishing.
At first he believed the best solution was simply to crush them.
He had even attempted to arm forty peasants from his estate and march toward Berlin.
But the regimental commander in Potsdam refused, insisting they must wait for the king's orders.
Looking back, the plan had been reckless.
Even for a young man.
If he allowed instinct to guide him rather than reason, he would be no different from the mobs in Berlin.
The riots had to be suppressed.
But brute force alone was not the answer.
Perhaps there was a smarter way to control the situation without bloodshed.
After all, the lower classes of Germany were easily swayed by simple promises.
After arriving in Berlin, he spoke with several nobles.
Their intellectual poverty nearly gave him a headache.
They insisted bourgeois liberals must be crushed.
That Germany had no need for a parliament.
Had the rioters poisoned Berlin's water supply with some drug that reduced intelligence to that of animals?
Otherwise, how could such stupidity be spoken with complete seriousness?
To preserve the old order, the grievances of the public and the bourgeoisie had to be addressed.
When he suggested even modest electoral reform—granting voting rights proportional to property—the nobles erupted in ridicule.
"You've been farming in Pomerania too long. This country must be ruled by the Junkers."
"Are you not a Junker yourself? How can you say such things?"
"I'm not denying that," he replied.
"But governing is not simply about crushing people. It requires eliminating grievances and building a sustainable system—"
"Perhaps you've become more like your peasants than your fellow landowners."
"That's not what I meant! If Frederick William IV of Prussia heard my argument, he would understand—"
"Dream on. His Majesty will never listen to heresy like yours."
Laughter filled the room.
The nobles assumed the unrest outside was nothing more than temporary noise.
Their strategy was simple.
Pretend to compromise when anger grew too strong.
Then return to the old ways once things calmed down.
It had worked before.
They believed it would work again.
He silently concluded that these men were beyond saving.
Yet that realization did not comfort him.
News soon arrived that the French government had dispersed its demonstrators by promising moderate reforms.
Austria, too, had announced similar measures while suppressing the Hungarian rebellion.
The strategy was identical to the one the young man himself had envisioned.
Not temporary measures—
But reforms that prevented the seeds of chaos from ever growing.
If society was to avoid falling into the hands of radicals preaching communal production and distribution, the state had to ensure workers never listened to such madness.
The old tactic of pretending to reform only to reverse course later was no longer enough.
If Prussia continued lagging behind, it might one day again be crushed by France.
Tracing this political strategy back to its origin, the young man quickly discovered where it had begun.
"Killian Gore of the British Empire pacifies Chartist unrest with promises of gradual reform."
That was it.
France and Austria must have learned from this example.
Killian Gore.
Five years younger than him—yet already a former minister in the British government.
His name was known even in Prussia.
The realization was impressive.
While Prussia was still reacting to events, he had already acted long before.
"Yes," the young man murmured.
"If everything is to be rebuilt, we must learn from every example available."
For Prussia to truly become strong—
Even the decaying old order might have to be sacrificed.
The future of the nation would not be decided by the Junkers or by liberal ideology.
It would be decided solely by the power of Prussia.
"In that case…"
"Perhaps I should see him for myself."
The young man in his early thirties turned away from the chaos of Berlin.
Otto von Bismarck began his journey to London.