The Gardner King

In the flourishing kingdom of Verdania, renowned for its rich landscapes and vibrant festivals, the most anticipated event of the year was the Festival of the Crown. The Festival was a display of Verdania’s wealth and the king’s supposed glory. Nobles strutted in their finest attire, and the golden crown—the symbol of the king’s authority—rested atop a towering pedestal.

Yet, beneath the splendour, discontent brewed.

“Where is the king?” villagers whispered.
“Does he even care for us anymore?”

At the centre of the Festival stood Lord Braxus, a noble whose ambition matched his wealth. With a voice that carried through the square, he proclaimed, “People of Verdania, our king has abandoned us! While we work and suffer, he hides in the shadows, neglecting his duties. Is this the ruler we deserve?”

The crowd murmured uneasily, Braxus’s words planting seeds of doubt. “If a king cannot lead, perhaps it is time for new leadership,” he concluded, his eyes glinting with calculated intent.

Among the crowd was Ella, a curious young villager eager to witness her first Festival of the Crown. But Braxus’s words left her troubled. “What makes a true king?” she wondered.

Unable to shake her curiosity, Ella wandered away from the Festival, finding herself in the lush Royal Gardens behind the palace. There, among rows of blooming flowers, she noticed a man in a plain tunic kneeling in the dirt. His hands were rough, his face lined with years of work.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted, looking up with a kind smile. “Have you come to enjoy the gardens?”

“I suppose,” Ella replied hesitantly. “But… shouldn’t you be at the Festival? The people are saying the king has abandoned us.”

The gardener paused, brushing soil from his hands. “And what do you think? Does a king’s worth come from standing in the spotlight or from the work done in quiet service?”

Before Ella could answer, loud footsteps echoed through the garden. Lord Braxus appeared, flanked by guards. He sneered as his eyes landed on the gardener.

“Well, well,” Braxus said, feigning surprise. “The elusive King of Verdania, hiding in the dirt like a common labourer. How fitting!”

With a wave of his hand, Braxus ordered his guards, “Seize him! Let the people see the kind of ruler they follow.”

Dragged before the festival crowd, the gardener—now revealed as the king—stood quietly as Braxus gestured mockingly at him.

“Behold your mighty king!” Braxus declared. “A man who would rather dig in the dirt than lead his people. Is this the leader Verdania deserves?”

The crowd shifted uncertainly. Sensing their hesitation, Braxus lifted the golden crown from its pedestal, placing it on his own head. “This is what true kingship looks like: power, presence, strength!”

For a moment, silence hung over the square. Then, an elderly woman stepped forward, her voice firm despite her trembling hands. “That man may not wear silks, but he mended my roof with his own hands after the storm.”

A young man joined her. “When the drought left our well dry, he worked with us to dig a new one. He didn’t just send orders—he laboured beside us.”

A child called out, “He brought food to my family when we were starving. He said we were never forgotten.”

One by one, voices rose, each sharing how the gardener-king had quietly served them.

Braxus’s smug smile faltered as the crowd’s chants grew louder: “The gardener is our king! The gardener is our king!”

Enraged, Braxus shouted, “Guards, silence them!” But the guards hesitated. One stepped forward, removing his helmet. “No, Lord Braxus. We serve a king who serves us—not for power, but for love.”

Overwhelmed, Braxus fled, the crown slipping from his grasp.

The gardener-king picked up the crown, studying it for a moment before setting it gently on the ground. His voice was calm but carried across the square.

“A crown does not make a king,” he said. “Verdania’s strength lies not in wealth or power but in the bonds of fellowship we share. Let us serve one another as we have been served.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, not for the crown or the throne, but for the king who had walked among them, mending their lives with quiet acts of love.

Ella returned to her village with a new purpose. Inspired by the gardener-king’s example, she began organising efforts to rebuild homes, plant gardens, and support her neighbours.

And though the gardener-king continued his quiet work in Verdania’s gardens, his kingdom flourished—not through displays of power, but through the strength of fellowship and service that united his people.

The Gardener King
(shorter version)

In the kingdom of Verdania, the annual Festival of the Crown celebrates the king’s authority. However, discontent brews as Lord Braxus, a power-hungry noble, declares that the king has abandoned his people and seizes the opportunity to claim the crown.

Meanwhile, a young girl named Ella wanders into the royal gardens, where she meets a humble gardener. He speaks of quiet service being more valuable than grand displays, but their conversation is interrupted as guards drag the gardener to the festival.

Revealed as the king, the gardener endures humiliation as Braxus mocks his simple ways and crowns himself. The crowd wavers in doubt until villagers step forward, sharing stories of how the gardener-king personally helped them—mending roofs, digging wells, and providing food during hard times.

The crowd’s admiration grows, and their chants of support for the gardener-king overwhelm Braxus, who flees in disgrace. The king picks up the crown but refuses to wear it, declaring that true leadership lies in service and fellowship, not power or wealth.

Inspired by his example, the people of Verdania unite to care for one another, and the kingdom thrives—not through riches but through the bonds of love and service.

Read the full story here.