Spring, 1896.
— Yes, of course. Most heavy metals are dangerous, but lead is especially so. Even in tiny amounts, it can severely impact the human body.
— And it affects children even more, doesn't it? After learning that, I threw away all the lead-related products in my home.
— I feel the same. Honestly, I regret not taking it more seriously. I had no choice for the sake of the story's progress, but, Steve Villiers could have died on the spot, and it wouldn't have been surprising.
— Brain damage, loss of appetite, stomach pain, vomiting, constipation, erratic behavior... These are all symptoms I covered in my paper four years ago! Lead must be regulated!
"What the hell is this nonsense?!"
Slap!
John Fitzherbert Campbell, the third president of Mintons Ltd., threw down the latest issue of World Wide Magazine in a fury.
World Wide Magazine.
It was published by George Newnes' company, the same publisher as The Strand Magazine, but it had a slightly different focus, primarily covering serialized stories.
With the motto "Truth is stranger than fiction," it was a monthly magazine.
The articles it featured typically dealt with entertainment, current events, and economic issues.
In other words, it was classified as media.
But for that media outlet to suddenly publish an interview in which two of the most popular novelists in London were declaring, "Lead, asbestos, cyanide... they're dangerous!"?
And it wasn't something you could just dismiss as the imagination of some novelists.
Because the people they debated with were none other than doctors from the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
Joseph Bell, Arthur Conan Doyle's mentor, and Thomas Oliver, an authority on heavy metal poisoning.
Especially Thomas Oliver, who had written papers on lead poisoning in the past, instantly earning a place at the top of their blacklist.
"What grudge do these people have against us?!"
The "us" he referred to was varied.
In particular, Mintons, which Campbell ran, was a company that produced ceramic ware and pottery using lead-based glaze.
Leigh's Paints was enjoying massive popularity thanks to their lead-based paints, and Rimmel was using lead in their cosmetics.
Beyond that, there were industries involved in packaging, construction, and countless others, all with direct or indirect stakes in lead.
The moment lead's image was tarnished, their stock prices would plummet.
There were very few business owners, big or small, who could withstand such a blow.
'At first, I didn't take it seriously.'
Sure, if everything in fiction were true, the back alleys would be crawling with vampires, werewolves, and doppelgängers. Underground, dwarves would be toiling away, and in the forests, elves and nymphs would dwell.
Of course, there were occasional fools who seemed to take these things literally, considering the complaints from Savile Row tailors and Baker Street groaning under the weight of too many tourists, or the rumors of Newton's grave being disturbed. But those fanboys weren't their main customers, after all.
Their customers were the rational, well-educated, and sensible citizens of London.
The kind who wouldn't stop buying affordable and practical lead products just because of a brief mention in a novel.
But... this interview was a different story.
Not only did two doctors from the Royal Society participate in the debate, but the conversation between the authors and the medical experts greatly boosted its credibility.
A dialogue between writers and doctors, intellectuals and intellectuals—this was bound to shake the public.
And why wouldn't it? These were the "learned people" they always talked about.
This was... a significant blow.
A blow they couldn't just ignore.
'We need to retaliate.'
Campbell thought to himself.
He needed to gather all the people who, like him, would be affected, form a civic group, and send an SOS to the Liberal Party, which had always been sympathetic to their cause.
Of course, thinking about the fact that the ink forming those letters would have to be gilded with gold made his stomach churn. But there was no other choice. The fire had to be put out.
Even though... it was already far too late.
"S-Sir! Sir!!"
"What is it?!"
"It's a disaster!!"
Another disaster? Campbell wondered though the current situation was already disastrous enough. He gritted his teeth when he saw the urgent headline that made his eyes widen.
< Conservatives Propose Lead Regulation Bill! >
"Good God!"
Campbell could only let out a cry of despair.
What is happening to the world?!
***
A few days ago, at the Palace of Westminster.
"How long must our citizens live with lead in their mouths! We must protect the safe future of our children! We need to eliminate lead from all our essentials right now!"
Arthur James Balfour, a senior member of the Conservative Party, shouted at the top of his lungs in the House of Commons. Observing him, another Conservative member tugged at the collar of the member next to him and whispered.
"Say, what's going on?"
"Hmm."
"Why is that man suddenly raising his voice? He wasn't exactly a passionate nationalist, was he?"
"Who knows? Maybe he's realized he needs something to lean on now."
Their assumptions were not far off. Arthur Balfour, the heir to the illustrious Balfour family of Scotland, had once been promised the position of Speaker of the House and a future prime ministership—yet now, he felt extremely anxious.
"Damn it, just like that wretched uncle of mine! My mentor, he said! Raising me, he said!"
Originally, he had entered politics as the nephew and secretary of the former Prime Minister and current Foreign Secretary, Robert Gascoyne-Cecil, the Marquess of Salisbury—a sort of 'adopted son.'
Thus, he had not only been chosen as the successor to be supported under his patronage, but he also had to take on the role of a middle manager in a faction centered around him.
Of course, thanks to that, he had risen through the ranks in the Gascoigne-Cecil cabinet, serving as Secretary of State for Scotland, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Foreign Secretary. But what did it matter now?
Currently, the Marquess of Salisbury had stepped down from the leadership of the Conservative Party due to criticism that the Baring scandal of 1890 had negatively impacted the party in the 1895 general election.
At least Salisbury had managed to crawl into the post of Foreign Secretary, thrown out by the Liberal Campbell-Bannerman government, thus preserving his political life—but that was just for himself.
What about the position of the Gascoigne-Cecil faction within the Conservative Party? Naturally, it had become quite fragile.
Thus, Arthur Balfour, the biggest fish in that faction, needed a new branch to cling to or a hill to lean on.
"For now, I'll plant my feet here."
To be honest, he didn't know if lead was truly that serious an issue. He didn't care.
But the argument had come from none other than the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
In politics, few things are as significant as geography, and from Balfour's standpoint, there was no better hill to climb than this one.
Moreover, this bill had been put forward by none other than that Frederick Alba Miller, who had recently gained considerable influence in social circles.
There was no reason not to seize that lifeline.
"Phew, I've gotten on board somehow, so I should be fine for a while."
Besides.
"Hey, stop making that Highlander accent noise!"
"Shut it! What kind of incitement are you making in this sacred parliament?!"
"Lead kills people?! Regulations kill businesses, you fool!"
Look at them; Balfour twisted his lips at the Liberal Party's rising capitalists, squawking like ducks.
Although he sat in the Commons without a title, being a junior branch of the aristocracy, their squawking about 'not wanting to take losses' was simply laughable to him.
"The more they squawk, the more grateful I am."
After all, the louder their voices grew, the more the Conservative Party could snatch the title of the 'moral party valuing life' from the Liberals.
"If that happens, my position will be solid again."
Thus, Balfour quietly chuckled to himself, raising his voice alongside the ducks in a spirited rebuttal.
At that moment.
"Mr. Balfour, do you have a moment?"
"What is it, Mr. Asquith?"
Amidst the squawking ducks, a swan suddenly stood up.
Arthur Balfour looked at Herbert Henry Asquith with unease.
It was no wonder.
Asquith was the most fearsome presence in this space, incomparable to the raucous financial liberals of the Liberal Party, who merely shouted against the bill.
Because.
"First of all, I must wholeheartedly agree with Mr. Balfour, who has a deep concern for the lives of the common people. If lead is as dangerous as you say, it must surely be banned."
"Mr. Asquith! Are you violating the Liberal Party's free-market principles?!"
"Oh, please listen. Mr. Balfour, if lead is indeed dangerous, to what extent is it dangerous? And how much should we prohibit?"
"To what extent?"
Balfour fell silent for a moment.
Indeed, that man was pressing the most dangerous point.
"The lack of specific scientific discussion."
It was only natural. Who would willingly conduct experiments forcing lead into their mouths?
As expected, the research results could only be lacking.
On the other hand, while lead wine was deemed dangerous, the fact that it still sold well suggested that those consuming it were not immediately affected.
Ultimately, hadn't people managed to get by just fine until now without causing a fuss? That was the underlying logic.
"Well, I've seen the fictional incidents where solid lead paint has been ingested by children from the lower classes and deemed dangerous. That has been confirmed by a report from a respected physiochemical expert at the Royal Society."
"If that's the case—!"
"But hasn't it yet been confirmed that lead is specifically the problem? Perhaps the pigments or resins are the issue. Isn't there a possibility that those are the actual culprits?"
"W-well, that is!"
"If you have such data, I would appreciate it if you could present it. You must realize that the bill you are speaking of could halt the entire British construction and food industry in an instant."
Asquith looked up at Balfour, who was biting his lip with a wry smile.
He could see the Liberal members nearby smirking, but Asquith couldn't genuinely align himself with them.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Balfour."
Honestly, Asquith truly wanted to ban lead.
He knew how crucial livelihood was, and he also believed that some intervention in the free economy was necessary for that.
However, this was, after all, a coliseum where political strife unfolded.
He couldn't simply agree just because it was right.
"If that is to happen, it must come from the hands of the Liberal Party, not the Conservative Party."
Only then could a long-term and sustainable progressive policy emerge from the Liberal Party.
For the sake of political strategy, Asquith wanted Balfour to take a step back for now. He hoped to take his time and guide the proceedings himself.
However.
—What a good discussion.
Suddenly, as if descending from a mechanical device.
Someone spoke.
"How moving."
"Her Majesty the Queen!"
"We pay our respects to Her Majesty the Queen!"
The members of the Commons, who had been flustered, jumped to their feet.
The Queen was here in the Commons herself?
Why?
"W-wait a moment."
"Could it be that...?"
Fortunately, Queen Victoria did not move from the door of the Commons.
It couldn't be helped. By principle, the British monarch was not permitted to enter the Commons.
This was only possible in one circumstance.
'Dissolution of Parliament.'
"Fear not. I merely wish to express my opinion on the discussion."
Of course, no one in this situation would have the audacity to question Queen Victoria's right to be there.
Next year, as she celebrated her 60th anniversary and rose to the zenith of power, who would wish to be crushed beneath her self-proclaimed 'reigning without ruling'?
"I believe lead should be banned."
"B-but Your Majesty. However, the evidence..."
"Hm. I believe experts have already asserted that, but are you an expert in biochemistry?"
"... No."
"Then those who wish to oppose must prepare their counterarguments in advance. My opinion ends here."
After saying that, Queen Victoria slowly turned to leave.
She did not step into the Commons in the end.
However, she left behind a single footprint, silencing everything as she vanished like the wind.
The members understood well what that 'footprint' signified.