The world declares that a ruler must be decisive, their will absolute. Yet here I stand, in the mortal realm's most confounding proving ground: the 'grocery store.' Before me, an entire aisle is devoted to a single grain. 'Oats.' Steel-cut, rolled, instant, organic, gluten-free... a proliferation of choice that would have crippled my old court's logistics. I, who once determined the fate of nations with a wave of my hand, am paralyzed by the selection of breakfast cereals. There is a strange humility in this abundance. My guardian says to 'just pick one,' as if it were nothing. They do not understand that every choice, no matter how small, is a testament to a peace so profound it can afford such trivialities. Do not mistake this for weakness. It is... observation.