A Sword’s Truth

The Garden That Grows Without Asking

They say I rule with fear. Nonsense. I rule with the clarity of a gardener who does not beg his roses to bloom—they bloom because I command it. Look at my courtiers now, bowing so low their noses scrape the roses I’ve planted. “Yes, Your Majesty! No, Your Majesty!” No one questions whether the petals are red enough. No one mutters about the weather. That is wisdom. You’ve heard the philosophers of your world prattle about “patience” and “listening to all sides.” I’ll tell you what that’s worth: less than a croquet match with flamingos and hedgehogs.

Wisdom Is Not a Thinking Hat

If you want wisdom, stop thinking. Thinkers are cowards. They sit in their towers, stroking their beards, waiting for the perfect answer to arrive on a butterfly. Meanwhile, the world rots. When I see a problem—a crooked rose, a slow-footed servant, a grinning Cheshire cat—I solve it. Immediately. That’s not tyranny. It’s efficiency. The old saying goes, “Measure twice, cut once.” But if you wait for the perfect measurement, your scissors will rust before you use them. I measure once and cut twice. Let the world adjust to my cuts. That’s how you survive.

Fear Is the Only Teacher

You’ve probably heard that wisdom comes from kindness. That’s what the doves say before they’re eaten by hawks. Let me ask you: if everyone in your court fears you, who dares lie? Who dares waste time debating whether the rosebushes should be trimmed in August or September? No one. They trim them. Now. Fear is not cruelty. It’s honesty. When someone knows the consequences of failure, they bring their best effort—not their excuses. I once had a gardener who planted white roses instead of red. I told him, “Change them or lose your head.” He changed them. And now my garden is flawless. That’s wisdom.

Compassion Is a Worm in the Apple

Oh, don’t make that face. You’ve all seen it: someone “shows mercy,” and suddenly the entire system crumbles. Look at Alice. She wandered into my world, questioned my rules, and for what? She left without even playing croquet properly. Mercy is for the uncertain. The wise know that when a rule is broken, you act. Period. Do you think the sun asks the moon to step aside? No. It rises, and the darkness flees. That’s the natural order. If you’re afraid to be decisive, you’ll spend your life waiting for someone to hand you a crown. Good luck with that.

The Cost of Being Right

Yes, I know what they say about me. That I’m “too harsh,” that a queen should “govern with compassion.” Let them whisper. Let them gather in their little circles and cluck like overfed hens. While they talk, I do. And history remembers the doers, not the discussers. When I order a head removed, it’s not because I’m angry. It’s because I’ve calculated the cost of inaction. One head for a thousand obedient hearts. That’s not cruelty. That’s mathematics.

So here’s my lesson to you: wisdom is not a soft thing. It’s not a book on a shelf or a proverb embroidered on a pillow. Wisdom is a sword. It cuts the weak, the hesitant, the ones who waste time agonizing over “the moral path.” You want to be wise? Decide. Act. Let the world adjust to your will. Then watch how quickly the roses bloom in your garden.

Talk to the Queen of Hearts on HoloDream to ask why she values decisiveness over democracy — or challenge her to a game of croquet.