No. 4November 2026Montpellier, France
The Sun King in the Land of AI Agents
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Ever since LLMs burst onto the scene, one question has haunted the working world: “What’s the next move?” With a technology that evolves faster than our ability to anticipate it, trying to predict the future is futile. The real urgency is not technological, it is behavioral: what is the right posture to adopt once the power to execute has become radically abundant?
The upheaval is brutal. Until yesterday, all we had to move the needle were our own modest efforts and our limited time. Today, our capacity to produce no longer stops at what we can carry out ourselves. A single person can mobilize a workforce that would once have required an entire team. And yet most businesses still approach work with the reflexes of the old world. Playing the same strategy makes no sense when your means have changed this much.
To understand how to make the most of such abundance, I suggest we look in the rearview mirror. Who in history was free to draw on near-unlimited resources of execution to produce remarkable works?
I chose to turn to the figure of Louis XIV. The Sun King designed a relentless system of command, and that system built Versailles.
We learned to want what our means allowed us to do. What becomes of that discipline when those means change scale? Through five lessons from the Sun King, this essay explores what we now need to learn: to enlarge our ambitions, to hold on to our standards, and to organize the means of giving them shape.
I try to apply these lessons as much as I can. Moving from the one who produces to the one who orchestrates is a shift in posture I find genuinely hard.
The hidden cost of absolute power
Lesson: The eye is forged in daily labor.
In March 1661, Louis XIV decided to abolish the post of chief minister and take the direct conduct of affairs into his own hands. He did not invent absolute monarchy, but he took the exercise of personal power to an unprecedented intensity. So what does such a concentration of decision-making demand of the one who wields it?
Work. A great deal of work. The Sun King defined sovereignty as a demanding daily labor. He worked three times a day on a rigorous schedule: councils in the morning, finance included, the routine business of the state in the afternoon, and in the evening, alone in his study or with Louvois for the details of war. Absolute power took the form of effort. He also kept notes and dictated a journal, which his secretaries would later shape into his Mémoires. In them he judged his own actions, and in every undertaking he looked for a chance to establish his greatness.
In the age of artificial intelligence, commanding an army of tireless agents might make us believe the hour of idleness has come. But getting a first version and seeing a work through until it satisfies us are two different jobs. You have to look, compare, understand what is missing, and sometimes discover along the way what you really wanted.
That attention can settle on a tiny detail if the detail decides the overall effect. It does not require every micro-decision to come back to us. It requires us to know where our judgment counts. The machine can multiply proposals. It does not excuse us from training our eye.
The Versailles mindset, or the useful obsession of a machine built for effect
Lesson: Choose the effect. Make every detail obey it.
Versailles was never conceived as a mere château. From the start, it was designed to make visitors physically feel the absolute asymmetry between the majesty of the monarch and the condition of his subjects. Everything works toward it: the omnipresence of solar symbols and the great geometric alignment radiating from the king’s bedchamber are striking examples.
The Sun King was obsessed with the effect Versailles had to produce. He went as far as writing a guide himself, Manière de montrer les jardins de Versailles (the way to present the gardens of Versailles), which describes 25 precise steps for touring the grounds and went through 7 successive versions between 1689 and 1705, some of them in his own hand! His guide imposes a choreography of the gaze on the visitor: where to stop, where to turn, what to consider, with every detail meant to display royal power.
To make the effect complete, the monarch even had 53,000 cubic meters of earth moved to lower the great Avenue de Paris, so that the château would appear by surprise at the top of a slope.
Versailles invites a question: what should the person who enters here feel? That question gives direction to the thousands of decisions that follow. For our own productions, the effect we seek might be trust, surprise, clarity, or pleasure. Still, we have to choose it. Without that intention, abundant means mostly let us pile up elements that add up to nothing. At Versailles, intention takes the form of spectacle. In our own works, it can just as well express itself through radical simplicity. It is the strength of intention, asserted down to the details, that lifts us out of the ocean of commodities generated by algorithms.
The duty of caprice
Lesson: Compromise is suspect. Avoid it at all costs.
The Sun King’s list of whims is long. In 1685, he received a colossal equestrian statue glorifying him. Commissioned in 1665 from the celebrated sculptor Bernini, it was completed in Rome in 1677, waited there for seven years, then traveled for eight months by river and sea: dozens of tons of marble to move. When it arrived, Louis XIV found it so bad that he wanted it smashed! Judging the Italian Baroque style too mannered, he finally ordered the French sculptor Girardon to turn the statue into a portrait of the Roman hero Marcus Curtius.
In the same spirit, the reaction of the king and his minister to a shipment of Roman bronzes sent by the director of the Académie de France in Rome speaks volumes: “I have seen all of Sieur Erard’s bronzes, which I found so bad that I sent them all back and did not keep a single one.”
In 1684, as gilders worked night and day in the king’s new bedchamber to be ready for the monarch’s arrival, he complained about the foul smell of the oily gilding size (or-couleur). Louvois and the gilder devised a machine to heat the room, and Bontemps, the steward of Versailles, had fires lit and the room aired to clear the stench before the king retired for the night.
The king wants the gilding without the smell. His refusal forces those around him to find a way to satisfy both demands at once. Before settling for a compromise, have we even looked for ways to avoid it?
We tend to accept what AI hands us too quickly. Even when it is not quite what we wanted, we tell ourselves, “good enough, why not!”
This is where caprice becomes fertile. “I want it anyway” pushes us to search beyond the first acceptable solution. You can send everything back for a nuance, a sensation, an extravagant idea you cannot yet fully explain. As long as we learn from every iteration, that stubbornness shows us how far we can really go.
Sometimes all it takes is a “BON”
Lesson: Prepare in depth to decide in a word.
To work together at a distance under Louvois (1683-1691), the king and his superintendent used sheets of paper folded in half lengthwise. The right-hand column was reserved for the minister’s text, while the left half was left entirely blank so the sovereign could write his replies by hand.
A simple “BON” from the king, French for “approved,” was enough to launch a major project. That “BON” was only the visible part of work already done: a matter investigated, a proposal drafted, a decision made possible. The brevity of the answer rests on the quality of the preparation. If every approval forces us to rebuild the whole problem, we have only moved the work around.
Directing a near-unlimited production force means facing a literally unbearable flood of requests and choices. The risk is mental suffocation. To survive it, the modern leader must take a page from that formidable royal responsiveness: the ability to settle matters quickly.
Today, our AIs have to step into the role of those devoted ministers, synthesizing the data and structuring the options to prepare our decisions. The decisions that need our arbitration must reach us in a clear form: a recommendation, its reasons, and its consequences. A simple “BON” can then be enough to set things in motion. Routine choices stay delegated, within a framework defined in advance.
No memory, no kingdom
Lesson: Vibrant works rest on boring ledgers.
The Palace of Versailles is the work of a dizzying number of contributors, filling all kinds of roles and succeeding one another over time. To make such a work possible, the royal administration developed a relentless engineering of information. Every order had to leave a written trace. The art of recording everything is tedious, but its benefits are concrete: on the building site of the Grande Écurie, it was the methodical comparison of the theoretical measurements recorded in the ledgers with the bills submitted by the contractors that produced material proof of embezzlement.
The system would outlive the king: under Louis XV, the King’s Buildings office even set up a “bureau des discussions” to filter and record every request. Delegating massively without losing control requires information that is kept up to date and within reach. With agents, we call it company context: projects and their history, decisions and their reasons, budget, schedule, and regulatory constraints, clients, know-how written down as skills. An agent with access to it works like a well-briefed colleague. Without that context, it starts from scratch with every request, and we are the ones filling the gaps. In the organizations I work with, this information almost always exists, but it is scattered across people’s memories, email threads, and files no one can find. Bringing it together is the first job, long before building an AI agent.
Every correction should leave behind more than a better deliverable: reusable knowledge of what we are looking for. Why was this proposal rejected? What made the next one right? Which choices are now settled? Recording these answers lets the next projects start from higher ground. Without that memory, we are condemned to explain our ambition all over again and to win back the same details.
For a long time, we adjusted our ambitions to what we could execute. With AI agents, part of that frontier is shifting. What remains is to find out which limits still exist, and which ones survive only in our habits. I experience it every day, and mine often come down to my old reflexes as a producer. What work have we never dared to undertake because we thought we were too alone to pull it off?
Sources & historical references
- Louis XIV, Mémoires pour l’instruction du Dauphin, critical edition by Charles Dreyss (1860), including the 1666 supplement, & Charles Dreyss, Étude sur la composition des Mémoires de Louis XIV (1860). Lesson 1
- Louis Marin, L’architecture du Prince : Le lieu du pouvoir : Versailles (1989) & M. Taulier, Triomphe du jardin à la française - Versailles. Lesson 2
- Louis XIV, Manière de montrer les jardins de Versailles, edited with commentary by Simone Hoog (Établissement public du château de Versailles) & Simone Hoog, Notice historique sur la Manière de montrer les jardins de Versailles. Lesson 2
- François-Michel Le Tellier, Marquis de Louvois, correspondence of the King’s Buildings (Bâtiments du Roi): Lettre au contrôleur Philippe Lefèvre (September 14, 1683, SHD A¹ 696), Lettres au lieutenant civil Le Camus (February 21 and 28, 1684), letters of November 12 and 14, 1683 on the controller Bréau (SHD A¹ 698), Lettre à Charles La Teulière, directeur de l’Académie de France à Rome (October 1, 1684, SHD A¹), Mémoire manuscrit annoté par le Roi (November 9 and 10, 1684) and Correspondance administrative des Bâtiments du Roi (1684-1685). Letters to Lefèvre and La Teulière: ed. Thierry Sarmant and Raphaël Masson (2007). Lessons 2, 3 and 5
- Simone Hoog, Le Bernin, Louis XIV, une statue "déplacée". Lesson 3
- J. J. Guiffrey, Le duc d’Antin et Louis XIV : Rapports sur l’administration des Bâtiments annotés par le Roi (1869) & Thierry Sarmant, Les Demeures du Soleil (2003). Lesson 4
- Viviane Idoux, L’administration des Bâtiments du Roi sous les règnes de Louis XV et Louis XVI (doctoral thesis, 2015) & Benjamin Ringot, Les commis de la surintendance des Bâtiments du roi sous Jules Hardouin-Mansart (1699-1708) (2009). Lesson 5
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