In a grand green courtyard at the center of the City of Emeralds, the Scarecrow King played croquet with the blade of a scythe. His advisor, a little woman of striking beauty, read off that day’s conspiracies.
“The Stargazers have decreed that the world is flat, and the stars are pinpricks in a giant black curtain,” she said.
“Ridiculous,” mused the scarecrow as the blade smacked a ball through a hoop. “You may proclaim that one false.”
The advisor drew an “F” next to the Stargazer’s conspiracy on her tablet. “The Magicians have decreed that the Witch did nothing wrong, and was executed without due process,” she continued. “They have used their magic to turn the minions against the new Queen of the West.”
The scarecrow shook his head, so that his pin-and-needle brain tinkled. “The Magicians forget the Witch’s reign of terror, but I do not. She once called upon her minions to tear me to pieces, and I had to be stitched back together again. The Magicians will be stopped.”
The advisor scribbled this note next to the Magician’s conspiracy, then said, “The Felinologists have decreed that the King of the Forest has traveled to the City of Emeralds.”
The scarecrow paused his play. “The King of the Forest is my friend. This conspiracy may be true. Send for the Felinologists and have the king brought to me at once.”
The little woman scuttled away and soon returned with the King of the Forest, his mane still fairy-braided with ribbons, his ears twitching with fright at every sound.
“My old friend,” said the scarecrow, petting the lion’s nose. “It has been years since we last met.“
“Your people did not believe me when I told them who I am,” said the lion.
“My people lived for a generation under the Wizard, who forced everyone to wear green-glassed spectacles so they would believe that they lived in a city of emeralds,” said the Scarecrow. “I removed their spectacles and showed them that their city is like any other, and so they made me their king. Now they believe nothing, and my duty as the wisest in the land is to proclaim their conspiracies true or false.”
“Your people are wise for crowning you. The animals of the forest were unwise to choose me as their king, for without the wizard’s brew I am a coward, and the fairies drank my entire supply. Tell me that within the wizard’s old quarters there is some of that brew left over!”
The scarecrow knew that, even if there were some drops left of the wizard’s brew, it was a temporary solution to the lion’s lifelong problem. So he devised a wise plan that would solve two problems in one.
“There is a fountain of wizard’s brew in the West,” the scarecrow lied, pulling the ribbons from the lion’s mane. “Let us go together to visit our friend, the Queen of the West, and collect that brew for you.”
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