The Empire is a Garden

"So, my dear son. What is your opinion about the succession of the Empirical family?" The black haired man asked, turning to a shorter (albeit only by an inch or two) man, said guy having similarly long black hair and icy blue eyes.
"To me, the Empire is like a Garden, my Lord. It depends on the Gardener to care for it." The younger would respond, glancing at some roses in a vase that his father kept on the mahogany desk.
"I believe you should test the two princes in order to determine who we should support" He would add, advising his father to do nothing rash.

"It is as you say my dear child, I shall choose the next Gardener to inherit the throne." The mysterious man would reply.