In the Dominion of Canada, part of the British Empire, the rapid growth of Montreal and Toronto meant that resource-extraction factories were thriving day after day.
"So you're saying you want to buy all of this?"
"Not these items. I mean I want to buy the entire company."
"…Seriously? Do you really have that much money? Well, if you're offering a premium on top, we certainly have no reason to refuse."
"Good, good. If everything's settled, please sign the contract here. I still have five more companies to meet today, so let's move quickly."
Just as Killian had instructed, Lionel Rothschild, who had come to Montreal, enthusiastically swept up local Canadian businesses as though he were out shopping.
Money truly felt most exhilarating when it was spent lavishly like this.
Of course, under normal circumstances the discomfort of seeing one's fortune shrink would outweigh that pleasure.
But this time Killian had promised to reimburse everything.
Few things were as enjoyable as spending someone else's money.
"Hey, you there."
"Yes, sir!"
"You know the finest restaurant in Montreal?"
"Of course. I'll call a carriage for you immediately."
"Thank you. This is a little something for helping us finish the deal quickly. Go enjoy a good meal yourself."
"My thanks! I wish you great success in Canada!"
Unlike in Britain, where people often viewed Jews with suspicion, hardly anyone here seemed bothered by the fact that he was obviously Jewish.
At first it had seemed strange.
But after seeing Black men walking openly through the streets and mingling freely with white men—likely Irish—he quickly understood.
No matter how persecuted Jews were in Europe, they could hardly compare with the treatment Black people endured.
If Black people were treated this well here, then naturally Jews were simply regarded as another group of whites.
If he had realized this earlier, he might truly have established a Rothschild bank in Canada.
Unfortunately, that opportunity had already passed.
And that was a shame.
Watching Montreal's rapid development, the scent of money in the air was almost overwhelming.
What would this place look like thirty years from now?
Perhaps it might rival even second-tier British cities outside London.
And Canada was not developing only Montreal.
Toronto was growing at a similar pace.
Cities on the Pacific coast were also under development.
Even Lionel could not fully grasp Canada's potential.
Immigrants were arriving constantly.
According to Killian, the number of Asian immigrants would soon surge dramatically.
Once that happened, Canada's chronic population shortage would disappear.
Looking a century ahead, perhaps Canada might even rival Britain itself in economic strength.
It sounded unlikely.
But considering that the real leader of Canada was Killian, it was not impossible.
"I should ask His Highness for permission and invest properly once I return."
A Rothschild's pride would never allow him to ignore a golden opportunity like this.
Of course, he could not offend the man who ruled Canada.
So he would be content with profits within the limits Killian permitted.
The Rothschild family might be known for its appetite for wealth, but none of them were foolish enough to forget that excessive greed ended only in ruin.
Besides, from everything he had seen, Killian was not the type of leader who discarded his allies once they had served their purpose.
Simply collecting the fruits of power under him would be lucrative enough.
A Jewish banker like Rothschild never desired power itself.
Power only invited enemies from every direction.
As long as one attached oneself to a strong and stable ruler, the fruits of power could be harvested without risk.
Within a single week of arriving in Canada, Lionel had successfully acquired every company Killian had designated.
And then he was granted the opportunity to meet James, the head of the James Group—one of the richest men in Europe, whose vast conglomerate spanned both Europe and America.
"I have already heard from His Highness," James said. "You purchased sixty-five companies in Toronto and Montreal."
"Yes. All excellent businesses."
"Let's see… not bad. This should generate quite a stir. When we take them back later, the synergy will be substantial."
"In that case, may I return as planned?"
"Of course. But since you've heard even this much, I assume you will continue working with His Highness."
Was he wary of losing his position as Killian's trusted subordinate?
Lionel hesitated, but lying before a man of such stature would serve no purpose.
"Yes. I was fortunate enough to catch His Highness's attention. I intend to serve him to the best of my ability."
"Interesting. Then financial matters in Europe will likely fall to the Rothschilds."
"His Highness may operate banks directly in the New World, but running a bank requires professionals. How will that work?"
"He said we and Barings Bank will assist."
"I see. Working with His Highness opens doors to opportunities far beyond anything we've known. It's quite exhilarating."
Hearing those words from the head of a conglomerate that had built a golden empire across Britain and America gave them unusual weight.
When Lionel first learned that the real owner of the James Group was Killian, he had nearly dropped his jaw.
At the same time, he had offered sincere prayers of gratitude for the chance to become the subordinate of a man who possessed both immense power and wealth.
Why did Killian intend to establish his own bank in Canada?
Because in Europe he still had to be mindful of the British government.
The New World's financial system, however, was another matter entirely.
Which meant Europe would inevitably fall under Rothschild's responsibility.
Perhaps sensing Lionel's ambition, James smiled faintly.
"You have admirable spirit. You remind me of myself a few years ago. Keep working like that, and perhaps one day you'll stand where I do."
"Thank you! I appreciate your kind words!"
"Think nothing of it."
For a moment, Lionel thought he saw a trace of pity in James's eyes.
But he dismissed the thought.
Why would anyone pity someone as fortunate as he was?
If any Jew believed himself luckier than Lionel Rothschild, he would like to see them try.
Surely this was the blessing of Yahweh.
He felt full even without eating bread.
About a month after Rothschild departed for Canada, I summoned the leaders of both parties.
How could I, the Duke of Canada, stand idle while Canadian capital was being devoured by a Jewish bank?
After reviewing the documents I provided, William Gladstone nodded gravely.
"So this was happening in Canada while revolution swept across Europe."
"Yes. I failed to notice it sooner, but the Rothschild bank has been moving remarkably quickly."
"But is the Rothschild bank not close to Your Highness and to Benjamin Disraeli? Couldn't you simply summon its head and ask him to restrain himself?"
"Ah… I asked about that as well. Unfortunately, the bank operating in Canada is the French branch, not the British one."
Just as planned.
Although Lionel—the head of the British branch—had purchased the companies, the ownership had been transferred to Jacob Rothschild, the head of the French branch.
"France? So they're causing trouble again. If they're buying companies like this, it seems obvious they're preparing to formally enter Canada."
"That is exactly my concern. Britain has Barings Bank to prevent Rothschild from monopolizing finance, but Canada does not."
Canada's rapid industrialization meant capital was desperately needed.
If Rothschild entered with its immense financial power, Canada's financial sector could quickly fall under its control.
Gladstone frowned.
"Those Jews really do have an uncanny nose for money… Ah—my apologies. I did not mean that in reference to Benjamin."
"Bankers go wherever profit can be found," Benjamin replied calmly. "Not because they are Jews."
"Yes, yes. My mistake. In any case, allowing Canada's growing capital to fall under the control of the French Rothschild bank is clearly problematic. Since Your Highness holds full authority in Canada, perhaps you could amend the law to restrict foreign capital."
"That would discourage all investors from entering Canada. We cannot burn down the stable just to catch one rat. Instead, perhaps we should create a powerful bank that Rothschild cannot defeat."
Gladstone set down his teacup slowly.
"A new bank? Surely you mean…"
"Yes. Separate from the central bank, we will establish the Royal Bank of Canada. It will counterbalance foreign capital. With assistance from Barings Bank, establishing it should not be difficult."
"Banks require enormous capital. Where will that money come from?"
"I will provide it."
"…Not only the canal, but this as well?"
Of course.
That was precisely the plan.
Iron ore and coal flowing from Alaska were already pouring vast wealth into the royal treasury.
Once gold mining began, funding a few banks in Canada would hardly matter.
"Direct royal intervention in the market may not look ideal," I continued. "But I will entrust operations entirely to professional managers and simply supervise. The public will surely prefer that over Canada being swallowed by Jewish capital."
Especially French Jewish capital.
That combination alone would determine public opinion in Britain.
"I suppose that's true," Gladstone sighed. "Very well. The opposition will support the establishment of the Royal Bank. But it would damage the monarchy's dignity if the Crown were seen as profiteering. The royal family must only provide capital. Management must remain entirely private."
"Of course."
Naturally.
After all, the bank's real purpose was to dominate the private financial market and quietly convert the immense assets of the James Group into royal wealth.
If the Crown appeared directly involved, the plan would fail.
Benjamin voiced his support from the beginning, and William soon agreed as well.
If the Crown had proposed creating a bank in Britain itself, Parliament would have erupted in outrage.
But this was Canada.
And the stated goal was to defend Canada from French Jewish financiers.
Opposing that would make anyone look like a traitor.
The answer had been decided from the beginning.
Parliament only needed to nod.
No matter how carefully one examined my reasoning, could anyone detect even the slightest hint of personal greed?
This was pure patriotism.
Of course—
It would also make a great deal of money.
But just as everything was unfolding exactly as planned, and I was about to squeeze the final profits from Europe's ongoing chaos—
An unexpected visitor arrived.
Someone I had never anticipated.