Division, Independence, and (2)

"...What did you say? What was that you just said?"

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A giant of the political world, a master orator of the Democratic Party, and a heavyweight who had stood as a presidential candidate representing the Northern Democrats.

Stephen Douglas stood frozen, his jaw dropped in disbelief at the proposal he had just heard.

When Lincoln first sought him out, he had assumed the man was merely there to mock him under the guise of offering consolation. After all, having suffered an unprecedented, historic defeat—securing zero electoral votes despite representing the Democratic Party—it was safe to assume the path to the White House was closed to him forever.

However, Douglas felt more like he wanted to beat Breckinridge and the Southerners to death than he did Lincoln. If not for that man Breckinridge spouting nonsense, Douglas certainly wouldn't have failed to secure a single electoral vote. Even looking at the total popular vote, Douglas was clearly ahead of Breckinridge. That he had suffered such an absurd, crushing defeat was, first, second, and third, entirely the fault of those Southern Democrats.

That was why Douglas had been secretly willing to cooperate if Lincoln intended to screw over the Southern Democrats. But this?

"...Impeachment? You intend to impeach Breckinridge?"

"I don't mean right this second, but if he initiates his actions, we must impeach him. I am asking for your strength."

"No..."

Douglas set down the teacup in his hand. He could feel his fingers trembling slightly.

"Impeachment... Lincoln, are you in your right mind?"

"I am perfectly sane."

"The election is over. You won, and the Democratic Party lost. Yet now, you speak of impeaching Breckinridge, who has only a few months left in his term."

Even if the House passed an impeachment motion, there was no way the Senate would ratify it. He let out a dry, hollow laugh.

"Unless you came here to make a fool of me, you must have gone completely mad, Mr. President-elect..."

"What if he intends to secede from the Union and establish a nation solely for the South? Should we still delay impeachment then?"

At the sound of Lincoln’s cold voice—the first time he had ever heard such a tone—Douglas’s laughter died instantly.

"What? What did you just say?"

"They have even settled on the name 'Confederate States of America.' Breckinridge plans to use his presidential authority during his remaining time to raid Northern armories and arm their rebel forces."

"That’s absurd! Even if Breckinridge has lost his mind..."

Douglas shook his head. But even as he denied it, there was no conviction in his voice. The crazed face of William Yancey shouting "Null and Void" in Charleston. The desperate flailing of Toombs, spouting delusions of a tripartite division of the continent. And the insane path Breckinridge had shown, encompassing it all.

Contradictory emotions churned within him, making it impossible to flatly deny the possibility. Lincoln pierced through his confusion.

"Stephen. Having already won the election, why would I bother trying to impeach a president with only months left in his term?"

"......"

"This is not a delusion; it is reality. A very reliable whistleblower has provided all the information."

Douglas’s face turned deathly pale.

"These... these Dixie bastards have truly gone insane."

Fearing that Lincoln might lump him in with them, he hurriedly waved his hands and added,

"Do not misunderstand, Lincoln. My supporters and I do not desire Southern independence. We are Unionists. We have no intention of committing treason!"

"I know."

If what Lincoln said was true, depending on how the Republican Party played its hand, they could use this as a pretext to completely crush the Democratic Party itself. But Lincoln continued in a soft voice, as if he had no such intention.

"Do you know how much I respected you, Stephen? In Illinois, I dedicated my life to overcoming the massive wall that was you."

That was no lie. No matter what Lincoln did, he had been repeatedly frustrated by the massive wall of Douglas, who held a firm grip on Illinois. Douglas, accustomed to that fact, had thought of Lincoln as a lesser opponent, but he had never expected to lose so miserably on the most important stage of all.

"...What does it matter? If you win 100 times but lose the presidential election, it means nothing."

"That is not your fault."

Perhaps those were the words Douglas had most wanted to hear, and they came from none other than Lincoln.

"If the South had been even slightly more rational, if everything had proceeded according to proper rules and procedures in Charleston that day... no one would know who would be smiling in this seat today."

"......"

Douglas could not bring himself to argue, and as he let out a deep sigh of regret, Lincoln moved to the main point.

"Of course, I am not suggesting we impeach him right this second. But if the South truly begins to secede, and we see Breckinridge using his presidential authority to aid their rebellion, we must impeach him immediately. I need your help, and the help of the Northern Democrats."

"...If it comes to that."

Douglas nodded slowly. Honestly, a sitting president aiding rebels was, in itself, clear treason and grounds for impeachment.

"But while the House is a majority for your Republicans, what do you intend to do about the Senate? The Democrats still hold the majority there."

"That is why I need your strength. You must persuade the remaining Northern Democratic senators."

"I am not sure if they will listen to me."

Lincoln, as if waiting for those words, threw out an irresistible offer.

"Under American law, if a president is impeached, the vice president succeeds him. But since Breckinridge was that very vice president, the office is currently vacant."

"...That is true."

"In such a case, the President pro tempore of the Senate acts as president."

Lincoln looked straight into the eyes of Douglas, who was drinking his tea.

"In a Senate where all the Southern senators have walked out, our Republican Party will push for you, Stephen, to become the President pro tempore of the Senate."

Clatter.

The teacup Douglas was holding hit the saucer with a loud noise. But he was so fixed on Lincoln that he didn't even look at the fallen cup.

That meant... even if only for a few months, he could...

"That is correct. It means that until my term begins next year, you, Douglas, must handle this chaotic political situation."

It meant that Douglas himself could act as president from the White House. He had thought that because of those damn Southerners, he was destined to never be president. Yet, a path had opened—the only way he could sit, even for a brief moment, in that very seat that would forever be denied to him otherwise.

"...Are you serious, Lincoln?"

"I have a responsibility to integrate this divided fatherland. This is not something the Republican Party can do alone. A figure like you, the cooperation of the Northern Democrats, is essential."

Lincoln reached out his hand to him.

"Please help ensure that this country we love does not meet a tragic end because of their madness."

Douglas stared quietly at the man who had extended his hand. A lifelong rival. The man he had repeatedly defeated. He could have been arrogant after turning the tables on such a person, but Lincoln’s eyes were filled not with the arrogance of a victor, but with the sincerity of a leader worried for his country.

Ah, truly, this man... I have no choice but to acknowledge him. He is made of different stuff.

Driven by some emotion, Douglas slowly raised his hand and firmly grasped the hand of his old political rival.

"You will be a great president. I will... prepare things well."

In this moment, Douglas could truly concede his defeat in this election.

The secession of Breckinridge and the South was pushed forward in strict secrecy, but most of the key figures responsible for the South were aware of the fact. Senators, members of the House, governors, and speakers of state legislatures had mostly been informed, and surprisingly, most were sending their fervent support.

Of course, there were those who watched and questioned if this was truly the right path, but in the face of this immense madness, no one dared to even open their mouths.

"...Do you truly believe the Confederate States of America can succeed?"

Nevertheless, Representative Farrer, the Speaker of the Mississippi House and chairman of the horse racing club, cautiously expressed his opinion to me.

"Mr. Speaker, if you say things like that in front of others, you'll be branded a traitor."

"No, no, but think about it. If the Confederate States of America is launched, a serious problem arises, doesn't it?"

"...Is that so?"

As expected, even for a Southern planter, the experience gained from decades of political activity doesn't just disappear. If one has proper insight and judgment, one can see how absurd this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠plan is...

"If the South and North separate, when on earth will the Triple Crown winner of the Union ever appear!"

"...Sigh."

So that was it. No wonder he was expressing his anxiety so openly without any caution.

"Have you said such things in front of others besides me?"

"Of course."

"What did they say?"

"They said that no matter what, isn't the independence and self-reliance of the South more important than a Triple Crown winner..."

Farrer kept grumbling to the end, asking how one could imagine a life without horse racing. Other Southerners would be furious, but anyone who was hesitant about Southern independence for whatever reason could position themselves as a reasonable politician after the war ended. Especially if the future held the South getting crushed without being able to put up a fight.

"Mr. Speaker, I also think it might be necessary to be a little more cautious for the sake of the Union's horse racing industry. But given the situation, what can we do?"

"That is true. At least you understand."

"So, don't oppose it too openly; just don't be actively supportive."

In any case, others would just think the old man obsessed with horse racing was spouting nonsense, so he wouldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠feel any threat to his safety. I had been worried about who to put forward as a figurehead after the war, and to think the optimal person was right here by my side. Old man, you owe me big time.

And to be honest, hearing Representative Farrer’s obsession with the Triple Crown only solidified my conviction. A man who is the Speaker of the Mississippi House is worried about mere horse racing in the face of the grave matter of national treason. This isn't because he's stupid. It’s because he already knows there is no turning back. In the face of this massive current swept up in madness, the only thing someone who has kept their sanity can do is mutter about trivial things like horse racing.

The establishment of the Confederate States of America. We were now truly on the verge of the proclamation.

I left Natchez and returned to the office of Seuret Cotton. The night was deep, but I had no intention of sleeping. On my desk, the final status reports of each department, organized by Leo, were waiting for me.

I poured a glass of cold whiskey and picked up the first document.

The moment the war breaks out and the Northern Navy blockades Southern ports, this will be the only vein through which Seuret Cotton’s cotton can exit and the supplies we need can enter.

The next report caught my eye. The status of the Security Management Headquarters, submitted by Ben and Henry.

These are battle-hardened soldiers who even experienced real combat while suppressing John Pettus’s coup at the Jackson Capitol. A perfect shield to protect Cedar Grove and the Rehab Center, the heart of my operations, no matter what crazy Dixie decides to run wild with a gun.

Finally, I picked up the most important report. The status of "that place," jointly managed by Will and Jonathan.

I closed all the reports and leaned deeply into my chair. The "money" and "logistics" of SS and SM. The "shield" of the Elite Guard. And the 85 "swords" planted throughout the South.

"Hoooo..."

I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart. I am certain I have done everything I could to prepare for the massive, unavoidable war. Now, all preparations are complete. Let’s enjoy this.