"Prime Minister, everything is ready."
Having finished his preparations, Charles Wellesley looked at himself in the mirror.
The suit was perfectly tailored from the finest fabric.
Yet no matter how refined the clothing, it could not hide the signs of age reflected back at him.
"I do not like watching people leave one by one. Perhaps it would be easier to go first."
"Please do not say that. You are still in good health."
"Good health? My knees ache every morning."
Just days ago, he had been drinking and laughing with Killian.
Now he was on his way to a funeral.
Such was the reality of aging.
He checked his attire one last time and stepped into the carriage waiting outside.
Though automobiles were becoming common, he still preferred a horse drawn carriage.
Perhaps that too was a sign of age.
Killian had once said that refusing to accept new things meant one had grown old.
At the time, he had not argued.
Now he understood.
"We have arrived."
Wellesley had wanted to hold a state funeral for Benjamin Disraeli, but the expected crowds made it impossible.
Even so, the presence of Victoria, Killian, and Edward made it a grand ceremony.
Contrary to expectations, William Gladstone delivered the eulogy sincerely.
Watching, Wellesley glanced at Killian.
His expression carried deep emotion.
When James had died, he had seemed distant.
Now he appeared more reflective.
Perhaps one grows accustomed to loss.
Wellesley wondered who would go first.
Given their ages, it would likely be him.
Part of him wished for greater sorrow.
Another part preferred a brighter farewell.
"…You were the last person he saw?"
"Yes. I did not think it would be the last time."
"At least he left smiling."
"I told him everything he wished to hear."
It was a peaceful end.
Still, Wellesley's thoughts turned to politics.
With Disraeli gone, the party would change.
Even now, he thought first of consequences.
Perhaps he had become too accustomed to power.
Yet he knew it was time.
Better to leave with honor than collapse in office.
Killian had already stepped back.
It felt unfair to remain alone.
After the ceremony, he stopped Killian.
"Do you have any plans today?"
"No."
"Then spend the day with me."
"You can afford that?"
"I can. If someone can do my job better, they can take it."
Killian smiled.
"Then let us drink in his memory."
They left together.
Seeing the carriage, Killian shook his head.
"You still use this?"
"The engine is too loud."
"You should lead by example."
"I will for official events."
They rode in silence.
After decades together, silence felt natural.
Eventually, Killian asked,
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere meaningful."
After some time, they arrived.
Killian stepped out and froze.
"…This place."
"The place where it all began."
The old casino where they first met.
Now a private club.
Inside, a table was prepared.
"Shall we play a game of poker?"
"Why not."
Attendants joined reluctantly.
Wellesley received his cards.
"A strong hand. Shall we wager?"
"You are proposing gambling to the King-Consort?"
"Afraid to lose?"
Killian smirked.
"Do not forget who taught you."
At first, luck favored Wellesley.
"Full house."
"Another win."
Killian frowned.
"Did you arrange this?"
"Of course not."
But once Killian focused, the outcome reversed.
He reclaimed everything.
Wellesley laughed.
"A good match."
"If this were real, you would be ruined."
"Then it is fortunate it is not."
They dismissed the attendants.
Wellesley shuffled the cards.
"Your tricks were impressive."
"They require preparation."
"So you would use them if necessary?"
"If victory is essential, then yes."
Killian dealt.
Five cards.
A perfect royal flush.
Wellesley stared.
How was it possible?
But it was Killian.
Nothing surprised him anymore.
"Politics felt the same," Wellesley said quietly.
"Chaos, yet you always drew the best result."
"You were part of that."
"Many were."
He paused.
"You brought Disraeli as well."
"I saw potential."
Wellesley smiled.
"Then did you see mine?"
"…Not exactly."
"…What?"
"I intended to make you great. You exceeded expectations."
He laughed.
"Then I am your greatest miscalculation."
"Not the only one."
"Let me have that."
They smiled.
Fifty years had passed.
From that first meeting to now.
"Do you know why I brought you here?"
"You intend to step down."
"…You are too perceptive."
He gathered the cards.
"This year, I retire. It is time to rest."
"Then do so."
Wellesley signed the card case and handed it over.
"These are the same cards from that day."
"A charm of sorts."
"Now I no longer need it."
Killian accepted it.
"Thank you."
"No, I should thank you."
They exchanged a final nod.
On December 31 of that year, Charles Wellesley stepped down.
He ended his long political career to thunderous applause.
Leaving behind a record that would endure for centuries.