Inside a side room of Kensington Palace, away from the main buildings.
The atmosphere was so oppressive it felt solid.
Outside, the sun shone brightly, birds sang, and flowers bloomed, but none of these beauties could penetrate the richly decorated yet unusually cold room.
The Duchess of Kent, mother of Princess Victoria, a plump and arrogant middle-aged woman, sat gracefully on a velvet sofa, stirring her tea with slow movements. Every gesture was filled with aristocratic composure, but her furrowed brow and icy gaze betrayed her deep displeasure.
In front of her stood a tall, sinister-looking man. He wore a finely tailored black suit, his hair was neatly combed, and his aquiline nose and thin lips made him look like a predator ready to strike at any moment.
He was Sir Conroy, the Duchess's financial controller and private advisor, and the notorious architect of the "Kensington system" used to control Princess Victoria.
"So, you mean," the Duchess's voice was cold as ice, "that my daughter, the future Queen of the British Empire, was nearly run over by a carriage in broad daylight today. And her Royal Guard, those supposedly elite soldiers, could do nothing but watch?"
Her words were slow, but each one struck like a heavy hammer on the hearts of everyone in the room.
Captain Cornwall, captain of the guard, knelt on the cold marble floor, head bowed and body trembling uncontrollably.
"Yes, Your Grace. It was… it was my incompetence. Please, punish me!"
"Punish you?" the Duchess sneered, setting her teacup down heavily with a sharp sound. "What good would punishing you do? Could it save my daughter? All the nobles of London will laugh at me! They will say I am incapable even of protecting my daughter, so how can I help her govern this country as Regent in the future?"
The more she spoke, the more agitated she became, and her voice grew sharper. For her, her daughter's safety was important, but even more crucial was the loss of control and the blow to her authority that the incident represented.
A faint glimmer of sadness passed through Sir Conroy's eyes as he stood there. He stepped forward and spoke calmly, "Your Grace, I beg you to calm your anger. Fortunately, Princess Victoria is safe and sound, and that is the most important thing. What we must focus on now is another matter."
He turned to Captain Cornwall with eyes as sharp as knives: "Captain, did you say that in the end an unknown commoner saved Princess Victoria?"
"Yes… yes, sir," stammered Captain Cornwall, "he was a very young-looking boy. He… he suddenly rushed out of the crowd and, in an incredible way, managed to control Princess Victoria's carriage, preventing a tragedy."
"Incredible?" Sir Conroy picked up the phrase eagerly. "Elaborate."
Captain Cornwall tried to recall the scene, describing in as much detail as possible how Arthur had leapt onto the carriage and, alone, stopped the frightened horses with sheer strength.
After listening, Sir Conroy fell silent.
A flash of suspicion and calculation appeared in his sunken eyes.
Too coincidental.
Everything was too coincidental.
A runaway delivery carriage, incompetent guards, and a mysterious young man appearing out of nowhere at exactly the right moment, endowed with extraordinary strength… it didn't seem like an accident, but rather a meticulously planned performance.
How could an ordinary boy, dressed in rags, possess such courage and strength? Faced with a royal carriage and terrified horses, he not only showed no fear but made extremely accurate judgments and acted efficiently. It simply defied logic.
"Where is this young man?" asked Sir Conroy.
Captain Cornwall lowered his head even further, his voice weak as a mosquito buzz: "I… I chased him, but… I lost him. There are too many alleys in that area, and after disappearing into the crowd, he left quickly."
"Useless!" cursed Sir Conroy without ceremony. "A living person has just disappeared under your nose? You have dishonored the Royal Guard!"
He turned and bowed to the Duchess of Kent, saying, "Your Grace, I believe there is something suspicious about this matter. The identity of this young man who appeared suddenly is highly questionable. His appearance could very well be the beginning of a conspiracy."
The Duchess frowned. "A conspiracy? By William and his people? Or by those in Parliament who oppose us?"
"Both are possible." Sir Conroy's gaze grew colder. "They may be trying to use this method to place one of their own close to Princess Victoria. First, they will gain her favor and trust through a 'lifesaving favor,' and then gradually influence her, ultimately pulling her out of our control."
Sir Conroy was fully aware that, with Princess Victoria approaching adulthood and succession to the throne, the small independent realm they had established at Kensington Palace faced challenges from every direction. The King, Parliament, and even Victoria herself wanted to break free from their control.
"This absolutely cannot happen!" said the Duchess of Kent, slamming her hand on the table sharply.
Victoria was the only guarantee of her future power and she would never allow anyone to lay hands on her.
"Cornwall!" Sir Conroy turned and ordered the kneeling captain of the guard: "I don't care what methods you use, dig a meter deep if necessary, but find this young man for me! Investigate his past and who is behind him! Remember, I want him alive; I will interrogate him personally!"
"Yes, sir!" Captain Cornwall, as if granted a great favor, responded quickly and withdrew.
Silence returned to the room.
Sir Conroy approached the window, looked at the small building in the distance where Princess Victoria resided, and squinted.
"And on Princess Victoria's side," he said without turning, "we must strengthen her supervision. From today onwards, she may not go out freely without your permission. All her attendants must undergo new checks. We cannot give that mysterious young man another chance to approach her."
"Do as you say," the Duchess said tiredly, waving her hand.
She trusted Conroy's judgment. For the past ten years, it had been thanks to this man's schemes and iron fist that she had tightly controlled the future queen.
A city-wide hunt for Arthur began quietly, without his knowledge. All clandestine forces and official London police received a secret directive: find a tall, blond, blue-eyed, handsome, mysterious young man who had saved Princess Victoria's carriage near Hyde Park.
However, they were destined to come back empty-handed.
Because at that moment, Arthur was no longer the small beggar who could be easily manipulated.
He was hiding in a small attic provided by the Fat Boss, planning his new life. There he studied intensely, observing commerce, logistics, markets, and the rules of wealth.
"If I ever want access to Princess Victoria as an equal, I must first gain real power: economic, social, and influential. Only then can I earn respect and become indispensable," he thought to himself.
Patiently, Arthur began organizing his new identity: a tall, charming, educated, mysterious, and cultured young man, endowed with charisma. A future entrepreneur who would become powerful, wealthy, and influential, capable of moving confidently and shrewdly through society, ready to reappear in the world of nobility and one day stand before Princess Victoria as an equal.