Two days later, at three in the afternoon.
A plain black carriage rolled to a stop before the heavily guarded side gate of Buckingham Palace.
Arthur stepped down.
Today he wore a luxurious, custom-tailored suit of deep black velvet—cut impeccably to enhance his tall figure. A pair of immaculate white gloves covered his hands; a black top hat rested lightly in his grip. His blond hair was combed with meticulous precision. He truly looked like a young nobleman of distinguished lineage—steady, refined, radiating an undeniable air of confidence.
Unlike the awkward "performance" he had put on during his first visit to Kensington Gardens, the past weeks had transformed him. Experience, success, and composure had reshaped him from an ordinary young man into a rising member of the new social elite—inside and out.
A middle-aged butler in royal livery was already waiting at the door. When his eyes fell upon Arthur, there was a flicker of surprise—Arthur's poise exceeded his expectations.
"Arthur Lionheart, is it?" the butler asked respectfully. "His Majesty the King and the Prime Minister are expecting you. Please follow me."
The Prime Minister?
Arthur's heart gave a small, sharp jolt.
So this was not a mere casual afternoon tea.
It was a formal interview—perhaps even an examination.
Led by the butler, Arthur walked through splendid corridors and opulent halls lined with priceless oil paintings. Beneath his feet stretched a Persian carpet so soft it felt like sinking into it with every step. The very air seemed saturated with the scent of power.
Eventually, they stopped before a small, sunlit reception room. The butler opened the door and motioned for Arthur to enter.
Arthur took a steadying breath and stepped inside.
The atmosphere was far less tense than he had imagined. Warm sunlight streamed in through wide French windows, and the air was fragrant with the aroma of black tea and delicate pastries.
There were only three people in the room.
At the head of the table sat an elderly, slightly stout man with a weary expression—King William IV himself. Though he looked much like a kindly grandfather, the occasional sharp glint in his eyes betrayed the authority of a monarch.
To the King's left sat a handsome man in his forties—Lord Melbourne, the Prime Minister Arthur had seen countless times in the newspaper. He held a teacup delicately as he studied Arthur with a mixture of curiosity and quiet scrutiny.
And on the opposite side sat someone whose very presence warmed Arthur's heart—
Princess Victoria.
She was there today as well, dressed in a light violet gown like a silent woodland flower. When Arthur entered, her clear blue eyes immediately softened with encouragement and reassurance.
Seeing her here, Arthur instantly understood.
This meeting was the King's deliberate design.
He was not only testing Arthur—he was evaluating the man who might one day influence the future Queen.
"Good afternoon, Your Majesty, My Lord Prime Minister, Your Royal Highness," Arthur said, stepping forward. His posture was neither servile nor presumptuous. He performed a flawless bow, hand to chest. His aristocratic accent and composed manner drew quiet nods of approval from both the King and the Prime Minister.
"Please, be seated, Mr. Lionheart," the King said gently. "No need for formality; this is merely a simple afternoon tea. I happen to be quite interested in that little contraption you designed—the 'sewing machine.'"
"It is an honor to receive Your Majesty's attention," Arthur replied, taking his seat with perfect composure.
A servant poured tea and arranged pastries before him.
For about fifteen minutes, the conversation remained pleasantly informal. The King asked casual questions about the sewing machine—its mechanism, cost, efficiency.
Arthur answered smoothly, explaining its commercial value and its potential to reshape the textile industry, using language clear and accessible. His responses were orderly, logical, and compelling. The three distinguished figures listened attentively.
Victoria watched with pride radiant in her eyes.
This was the man she believed in.
The man she favored.
After the relaxed exchange, Lord Melbourne—silent until then—set down his teacup with a soft, deliberate click.
His voice was calm and magnetic, but his question cut sharply—like a surgeon's scalpel.
"Mr. Lionheart, I admit your sewing machine is remarkable. Yet, to my knowledge, similar machines have appeared across Europe over the years, and none have caused such a stir—let alone spawned an entire industry. Tell me, in your view, what is the key to your success? Is it merely the superiority of your design?"
It was a complicated question—one that reached far beyond engineering into business models and societal structures.
Arthur knew: the true test had arrived.
He set down his teacup, met the Prime Minister's gaze, and replied calmly:
"My Lord, you are correct. While innovation is significant, the success of an invention depends even more on two essential factors."
"Oh? And what might those be?" Melbourne leaned forward slightly, intrigued.
"First," Arthur said slowly, "the method of production. I call it standardized manufacturing."
"Standardized manufacturing?" King and Prime Minister exchanged puzzled looks.
"Yes," Arthur continued. "In traditional craftsmanship, each machine is unique—parts don't match, repairs are difficult, costs are high. But in my workshop, every component—screws, gears, casings—is produced to identical dimensions and specifications. If one part breaks, it can be instantly replaced with another."
"Furthermore, workers no longer assemble the entire machine from start to finish. I divided the assembly into a dozen small steps; each worker is responsible for only one simple task. This drastically reduces the required skill level and exponentially increases production efficiency.
That is how my sewing machine can be mass-produced quickly and cheaply."
A sharp intake of breath.
Lord Melbourne's eyes widened.
A man of foresight and intellect, he immediately grasped the staggering implications of standardization and assembly-line production.
This wasn't just a manufacturing technique.
It was a revolutionary paradigm—one capable of overturning centuries of craftsmanship and reshaping national industry itself.
Applied to firearms… artillery… even warships…
The military power of the British Empire would soar to unimaginable heights.
His gaze toward Arthur changed completely—from cautious and curious to stunned, even awed.
King William IV, though not as analytically inclined as Melbourne, also sensed the magnitude of the idea; a bright, rare spark lit his tired eyes.
Arthur continued.
"The second essential factor," he said, "is what I call intellectual property protection."
"The reason I dared invest capital, build a workshop, and release my invention to the public is because I know my patent is protected by Imperial law. Anyone who counterfeits my work will be punished. This protection is the greatest encouragement for me—and for thousands of inventors—to create and innovate."
He lifted his gaze to the King and the Prime Minister.
"Therefore, I believe that if the Empire wishes to maintain its leadership—if it wants more and better 'sewing machines' to emerge—then it must establish and strengthen a more effective Patent Protection Act, one that truly safeguards the interests of inventors."
"Only by allowing those who create wealth to enjoy that wealth in safety can this nation remain vibrant—and truly become an empire upon which the sun never sets."
When he finished, silence filled the room.
Princess Victoria's cheeks were flushed; she gazed at Arthur with shining eyes, admiration overflowing like a river in spring.
The King and Prime Minister were left utterly speechless—stunned by the depth and brilliance of Arthur's vision.
They had meant to test the young man's composure.
They had not expected him to deliver a sweeping lecture on Industrial Revolution 2.0 and national innovation strategy.
"Standardized manufacturing"… "Patent protection law"…
Two phrases that struck like hammers upon their hearts.
After a long moment, King William IV exhaled deeply. He looked at Arthur with a complex expression.
"Young man… you astonish me. In all my years, I have never heard insights so… incisive."
He turned to Lord Melbourne.
"Melbourne, did you hear that? Those pompous fellows in Parliament should listen carefully to this boy's words! Especially that matter of patent law—I believe we must put it on the agenda at once."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Melbourne nodded solemnly. His gaze toward Arthur now held genuine respect.
"Arthur, you are truly a genius. The British Empire needs more minds like yours."
Arthur had not merely passed the test.
He had achieved something far greater.
He knew that from this moment onward, he would no longer be a quiet "mind behind the scenes," sheltered under the princess's wing.
He had earned his place—
a seat at the highest table of power in the Empire.