The void left by Charles Wellesley, the most beloved Prime Minister in the history of the British Empire, was greater than expected.
It was inevitable.
He had held office for more than forty years.
Few leaders, even presidents or prime ministers, remain in power for more than a decade.
Twenty years alone would be a historic tenure.
He had served more than twice that.
With the additional loss of Benjamin Disraeli, the Conservative Party faced a clear power vacuum.
Many rising figures competed for leadership.
But the outcome was already decided.
Robert Gascoyne-Cecil, Speaker of the Canadian Parliament, returned to London and secured overwhelming support.
As a loyal supporter of Killian, he was the natural choice.
The party needed someone closely tied to the imperial family.
Yet Salisbury did not feel at ease.
His supporters celebrated.
He remained tense.
"My term begins next week. What am I supposed to do?"
He had believed himself prepared.
He was wrong.
To follow a leader who had guided the Empire's golden age for decades was an impossible burden.
Any mistake would invite comparison.
The position was both coveted and feared.
A poisoned chalice.
He could have remained in Canada.
But the party demanded his return.
As he sat quietly drinking, a familiar voice spoke.
"Why is our new Prime Minister alone?"
He turned to see Wellesley.
"I thought you would be resting."
"I should be here. Though I am no longer Prime Minister."
Salisbury stood and bowed.
Even now, he could not treat Wellesley as an equal.
"You are still the symbol of this party."
Many still equated the office itself with Wellesley.
He recalled a story.
"When news of my appointment spread, students asked if you had died."
Even the young believed the position permanent.
That was the weight he now carried.
Wellesley lit a cigarette.
"Do not look so troubled."
"You understand why I am."
"Good. That is why you will succeed."
"…Should you not tell me not to worry?"
"No. Your caution is your strength."
He continued.
"Act boldly, but remain careful. Many can be bold. Few remain cautious."
Salisbury listened intently.
"Is there anything else I should remember?"
"Yes. You are His Majesty's strongest supporter. If you face difficulty, seek him."
He then revealed documents.
"Do you know what these are?"
"…Predictions?"
"His Majesty's work."
Future forecasts.
Industrial projections.
Far more than the public knew.
Salisbury was stunned.
"His Majesty's greatness…"
"You must complete what he began."
The burden became clear.
Prevent a world war in Europe.
Contain the United States.
Maintain dominance.
"I understand now."
Wellesley nodded.
"Remember. The most unlikely events happen fastest."
It was advice born of experience.
Salisbury bowed deeply.
Soon after, a new milestone arrived.
A broadcast transmitted across London.
[On Christmas Eve, His Majesty will read from the Bible…]
Radio had arrived earlier than expected.
Time moved quickly.
On January 14, 1895, Wellesley passed away peacefully.
He was laid to rest in Westminster.
Killian spent the day alone, drinking and remembering.
Victoria and the children gave him space.
They understood.
Others followed.
William Ewart Gladstone also withdrew due to declining health.
Time spared no one.
At Wellesley's funeral, another revelation shocked London.
His wealth was modest.
Far less than expected.
Despite his power, he had accumulated little.
His family held more wealth than he did.
He had avoided corruption entirely.
Killian understood why.
"To protect me."
Wellesley had remained clean so that Killian could act freely.
"I will take care of your family."
Afterward, Killian withdrew completely.
His duties ended.
His life now belonged to those he loved.
On January 13, 1900, news spread across the Empire.
Killian's health had begun to fail.
The entire nation fell into sorrow.