That night, the Queen summoned him alone.
"You could be a Duke. A Minister. Name your price."
He shook his head. "I don't want a throne. I want access. Resources. Scale."
She offered a compromise: exclusive patents, noble protections, and control.
He countered:
"Fund the machines. Let villages use them freely. Share profits. No land inheritance. My title dies with me."
She blinked.
"No heirs?"
"No dynasty," he said. "Only impact."
For the first time, she smiled.
It was not joy.
It was recognition.