by Chris Colfer
The clansmen couldn’t contain their excitement. Until now, they could never have imagined a world in which the sovereign of the Righteous Brotherhood and the sovereign of the Southern Kingdom would be one and the same. If they proceeded wisely, such an outcome could solidify the Righteous Philosophy for generations to come.
“What about the magical community?” a clansman asked. “They’re more powerful and popular than ever before. Surely they’ll revolt against the new king or bewitch him just as easily as the old king.”
“Then we must terminate them before the next king takes the throne,” the High Commander said.
“But how?” the clansman asked.
“The same way our Brotherhood nearly obliterated the magical community six hundred years ago. And believe me, brothers, our ancestors were armed with much more than a philosophy.”
The High Commander climbed down from the stone platform and then hoisted the platform up like a gigantic hatch. To the Brotherhood’s surprise, what he exposed was a massive arsenal of cannons, swords, crossbows, spears, and chains. There were enough weapons to mobilize an army of a thousand men, but these weapons were unlike any the clansmen had ever seen. Instead of being made from iron or steel, all the blades, arrowheads, chains, and cannonballs were made from a red stone that glowed and flickered, as if fire were trapped inside. The crimson light flooded the colorless courtyard and mesmerized the clansmen.
“It’s time for the Righteous Brotherhood to come out of the shadows!” the High Commander declared. “We must honor the oath we made to our fathers and strike before our enemies have a chance to prepare. Together, with our new Righteous King, we will preserve the natural order, restore our Righteous Philosophy, and exterminate the magical community once and for all!”
The High Commander removed a loaded crossbow from the arsenal and fired three arrows at the portrait of Brystal Evergreen—one into her head and two into her heart.
“And just like any colony of pests, first we must kill its queen.”
CHAPTER ONE
DAM DAMAGE
Besides a successful logging industry—and a handful of royal scandals—the Western Kingdom was best known for the iconic Western Dam in the capital city of Fort Longsworth. The landmark was over a thousand feet tall and made from over five million stone blocks, and it protected Fort Longsworth from being flooded by the Great Western Lake.
The dam was two centuries old and had taken seventy years to build, and when the construction was finally finished in the summer of 452, a national holiday was created to celebrate the historic achievement.
Dam Day was beloved by all the citizens in the Western Kingdom and a highlight of their year. People were given the day off from work, children were given the day off from school, and they all gathered together to play games, eat food, and raise a glass to the dam towering over the capital city.
Unfortunately, this year’s Dam Day was expected to be a disappointment. After a series of unexpected earthquakes, the ground beneath the Western Dam had shifted and caused a large crack to spread across the structure. Water sprayed through the narrow opening and misted Fort Longsworth like a constant rain. The damage only worsened as time went on—the crack grew longer and wider, so water drenched the city more and more each day.
Immediate maintenance was required, but the kingdom’s frugal sovereign, King Warworth, was reluctant to give the orders. Besides being a costly and timely endeavor, the repair would be a dangerous task, and the entire city of Fort Longsworth would have to be evacuated in the process. The king spent many sleepless nights scratching his bald head and twirling his bushy mustache, trying to think of an alternative solution.
Luckily for him (and his very, very wet citizens), new resources were at his disposal, and using them would cost him only a little of his pride. At first, the king rejected the idea, but as he watched the endless mist turn Fort Longworth’s streets into small rivers, he realized he didn’t have a choice. So King Warworth requested his finest parchment and his finest quill and wrote a letter asking for the one thing he hated asking for the most—help:
Dear Fairy Godmother,
Last year, you earned the world’s gratitude after your courageous deeds in the Northern Kingdom. I, along with my subjects, can never thank you enough for sending the terrible Snow Queen into seclusion and saving the planet from the Great Blizzard of 651. Since then, you have continued to fascinate and inspire the world with profound acts of generosity. From building orphanages and shelters to feeding the hungry and healing the sick, you and the Fairy Council have touched our hearts with your compassion and charity.
Today, I write to you with hopes that you’ll consider sharing that compassion with the Western Kingdom. Recently, the Western Dam in Fort Longsworth suffered damages that must be addressed immediately. A traditional repair would take the better half of a decade and force thousands of citizens out of their homes. However, if you were willing to provide us with a magical remedy, my people would be spared from such grievances. If such a gesture is possible, the fairies would earn the Western Kingdom’s eternal appreciation and give us more reason to celebrate on our beloved Dam Day.
It is no secret that the Western Kingdom, like our neighboring nations, has had a complicated history with the magical community. We cannot erase the discrimination and injustices of the past, but with your kindness, we could mark a new beginning for Western relations with magic.
I pray you’ll forgive us and help us in our hour of need.
With humility,
His Excellency,
King Warworth of the Western Kingdom
The king was exhausted after all the groveling. He carefully folded the letter, stamped it with his official seal, and gave it to his fastest messenger.
The following morning, the messenger arrived at the border of the Fairy Territory, but he couldn’t find a way inside. An enormous hedge grew along the perimeter and protected the territory like a leafy wall. The hedge was too tall to climb and too thick to crawl through, so the messenger searched the border and eventually found an entrance.
He was surprised to find a large group of other messengers lined up at the entrance, and judging by their elegant wardrobes, they were all delivering messages from prominent households. Even more surprising, the entrance was guarded by a terrifying knight who sat atop a massive three-headed horse. The knight was twice the size of a regular man, and antlers grew out of his helmet. Although the knight watched the messengers in complete silence, he didn’t have to say anything to make one thing perfectly clear—nothing was getting past him.
Two mail bins were on the ground in front of the knight, one labeled REQUESTS and the other PRAISE. One at a time, the fearful messengers approached the knight, placed their messages into the appropriate box, and then hurried away as fast as they could. King Warworth’s messenger waited for his turn and, with a trembling hand, dropped the king’s letter into the box marked REQUESTS, then he raced back to the Western Kingdom.
Just a few hours after his letter was delivered, King Warworth received a response. While the king was enjoying dinner in the Western Castle, a unicorn suddenly burst into the dining room with a golden envelope in its mouth. The magical steed was followed by two dozen guards who had failed to stop it from entering the castle. The guards chased the unicorn in circles around the dining room, and on their fifth lap around the table, the unicorn dropped the golden envelope in the king’s bowl of soup.
The unicorn left the dining room just as quickly as it had arrived. As the guards hurried after the beast, King Warworth dried the envelope with his napkin, opened it with his butter knife, and read the message inside:
Dear King Warworth,
I passed your request on to the Fairy Godmother, and she sends her deepest sympathies for your dam troubles. She, along with myself and the rest of the Fairy Council, has agreed to help you. We will arrive in Fort Longsworth at noon on Dam Day to fix the damage.
Please let us know of any changes, conflicts,
or additional information prior to our visit. Thank you and have a magical day.
Sincerely,
Emerelda Stone,
Director of Correspondence to the Fairy
Godmother
PS—We apologize for meeting you on your national holiday. The Fairy Council is very busy with requests at the moment.
King Warworth was overjoyed by the good news and saw it as a personal victory. He decided to make the Fairy Council’s visit a momentous occasion and ordered his staff to spread word of their upcoming engagement. Soggy banners were flown and damp flags were raised across the moist capital. A row of risers was placed at the foot of the Western Dam, and a stage was built so the king could present the council with a token of his appreciation afterward.
Such arrangements hadn’t been made since King Warworth’s coronation—but public interest in the Fairy Council was gravely underestimated.
On the eve of Dam Day, hundreds of thousands of citizens from all corners of the kingdom traveled to Fort Longsworth. By dawn, the risers were overflowing, and crowds formed in every part of the city with a view of the dam. Families stood on the roofs of their homes, shopkeepers stood on the roofs of their shops, and monks straddled the spires of their churches for a glimpse of the festivities. The spewing dam soaked all the spectators throughout the city; they shivered in the morning air, but their hearts were kept warm by the promise of magic.
The Western Kingdom had never hosted such a tremendous celebration. It was being called “the event of the decade,” “a celebration of the century,” and “a Dam Day for the history books.”
But even with those expectations, no one could have predicted just how memorable the day would be.…
On the morning of Dam Day, Fort Longsworth was so busy it took King Warworth three hours to travel the short distance between the Western Castle and the Western Dam. His carriage squeezed through the crowded streets and arrived at the dam with only minutes to spare. Once the king was seated in a private section of the risers, an energetic presenter took to the stage and greeted the hundreds of thousands of people surrounding the landmark.
“Hellooooooo, Western Kingdom!” he called out. “It is my great honor to welcome you to what will surely be remembered as the best Dam Day of our lifetime!”
The presenter’s boisterous voice echoed through the congested city, and all the citizens cheered. Their enthusiastic roar was so strong it almost knocked the presenter off his feet.
“In just a few minutes, the Fairy Council will arrive in Fort Longsworth to repair the damages on the Western Dam. Such an endeavor would normally take several years to complete, but with the help of a little magic, the dam will be fixed instantaneously before our eyes! Of course, none of this would be happening without the swift negotiations led by our bold and brilliant King Warworth—go ahead, Your Excellency, give the crowd a wave!”
The sovereign stood and waved to his adoring citizens. Their polite praise eventually died down, but King Warworth remained on his feet, basking in his own glory.
“Now prepare yourselves,” the presenter went on. “At any moment, you’ll be treated to a spectacle that’s guaranteed to stimulate all your senses! But how will the Fairy Council repair the Western Dam, you ask? Perhaps they’ll mend it with the fire of a thousand torches! Perhaps they’ll seal it with a sheet of glittering diamonds! Or perhaps they’ll stitch it together with strands of invincible ivy! We won’t know until it happens! But punctuality must be part of their process, because here they come now!”
In the distance, traveling above the surface of the Great Western Lake, were six colorful young people who approached the city like a moving rainbow.
The group was led by an eleven-year-old girl with a beehive of bright orange hair and a dress made from dripping patches of honeycomb. She was carried through the air by a swarm of live bumblebees. The swarm dropped her off on top of the Western Dam and then took refuge inside her hair. She was followed by another eleven-year-old girl, who surfed across the Great Western Lake on a lone wave. The surfer wore a sapphire bathing suit, and instead of hair, a stream of water flowed down her body and evaporated at her feet. As her wave reached the edge of the dam, the surfer hopped out of the lake and landed beside the girl in the honeycomb dress.
“One is sassy with a stinger, and the other is the only person wetter than Fort Longsworth—please put your hands together for Tangerina Turkin and Skylene Lavenders!” the presenter said.
All of Fort Longsworth burst into applause for the first members of the Fairy Council.
Tangerina and Skylene couldn’t believe their eyes—they had never seen such a massive gathering.
“Is there some sort of sale happening?” Skylene asked her friend.
“No, I think they’re here to see us,” Tangerina said.
The crowds cheered even louder as the next two members of the Fairy Council arrived. A thirteen-year-old girl with beautiful brown skin and curly black hair sailed across the Great Western Lake in a bejeweled sailboat. She wore a robe made from beaded emeralds, diamond-studded sandals, and a shimmering tiara. The girl docked her sailboat at the edge of the lake and joined Tangerina and Skylene on top of the Western Dam. She was followed by a twelve-year-old boy who shot through the sky like a rocket. The boy wore a shiny gold suit, flames covered his head and shoulders, and he was propelled through the air by two fiery blasts expelling from his feet. The blasts faded as he reached the Western Dam and landed beside the girl covered in emeralds.
“She’s beautiful and tough as diamonds, and he’s never afraid to play with fire—it’s Emerelda Stone and Xanthous Hayfield!” the presenter announced.
Just like Tangerina and Skylene, Emerelda and Xanthous were amazed by the sea of people surrounding the dam. The flames on Xanthous’s head and shoulders flickered with anxiety and he hid behind Emerelda.
“Look at all the protesters!” the boy cried. “Should we leave?”
“They seem a little happy for protesters,” Skylene said.
“That’s because they’re not,” Tangerina said. “Read their signs!”
The Fairy Council had grown accustomed to seeing groups of protesters whenever they made a public appearance. Usually, the demonstrators chanted degrading things at them and held signs with messages like GOD HATES FAIRIES, MAGIC EQUALS MAYHEM, and THE END IS NEAR. However, their visit to Fort Longsworth hadn’t attracted the sort of protest they were used to. On the contrary, as the fairies looked around the crowd, they saw only positive messages like THANK GOD FOR FAIRIES, MAGIC IS BEAUTIFUL, and DON’T BE TRAGIC, THEY’RE JUST MAGIC.
“Oh,” Xanthous said, and his nerves calmed down. “Sorry, I keep forgetting people actually like us now. Old habits die hard.”
Emerelda grunted and folded her arms. “King Warworth should have mentioned there’d be an audience,” she grumbled. “I should have known better—monarchs make a meal out of everything.”
The sound of squawking filled the air as a rowdy flock of geese carried the fifth member of the Fairy Council to the Western Dam. She was a chubby fourteen-year-old who wore a bowler hat, a black jumpsuit, a pair of oversize boots, and a bottle-cap necklace. The geese dropped her next to the other fairies and she landed with a thump on her behind.
“Ouch!” she yelled at the birds. “You call that a landing? Meteors have softer impacts!”
“You don’t want to ruffle her feathers—say hello to Lucy Goose!” the presenter announced.
“That’s pronounced GOO-SAY!” she shouted as she climbed to her feet. “Next time do some research before you—” Lucy’s mouth fell open, and she lost her train of thought when she spotted all the observers. “Holy full house! Look at the size of that crowd! It’s even bigger than the one that watched us build the bridge in the Eastern Kingdom!”
“I’d say the entire Western Kingdom is here,” Emerelda said. “Maybe more.”
Lucy grinned from ear to ear as she took in the gathering. A group of children caught her eye and she became ver
y excited. Each child was snuggling a doll that resembled a member of the Fairy Council.
“We’ve been merchandised!” Lucy declared. “Gosh, it’s a real shame we do this stuff out of the goodness of our hearts. We’d make a fortune if we charged admission.”
A hush fell over Fort Longsworth in anticipation of the sixth and final member of the Fairy Council. Just when the citizens started to worry she wasn’t coming, a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl with bright blue eyes and light brown hair descended from the clouds in a large bubble. She wore a sparkling blue pantsuit with matching gloves and a train at the waist, and white flowers were placed in her long braid. The bubble landed gently on the Western Dam beside the other fairies, and the girl popped it with her crystal wand.
“Snow Queens beware—you’re no match for our next guest!” the presenter said. “She is compassion personified and considered a goddess among men—please give a warm Western Kingdom welcome to the one and only Faaaaairy Goooooodmother!”
The citizens cheered so loudly the Western Dam vibrated under the Fairy Council’s feet. People near the front of the dam started chanting and soon the entire city joined in.
“Fairy Godmother! Fairy Godmother! Fairy Godmother! Fairy Godmother!”
Brystal Evergreen was overwhelmed by the passionate greeting. She had never seen so many people in one place before, and every single person was clapping, jumping, or crying tears of joy for her. They held paintings of her face and posters with her name written on them. Little girls (and a couple of grown men) were dressed up as her and twirled fake wands in their hands.
The Western Kingdom’s admiration was an incredible honor, but for reasons Brystal couldn’t explain, all the excitement made her uncomfortable. It didn’t matter how enthusiastically the people cheered for her, Brystal felt undeserving of their recognition. And despite their vibrant welcome, she couldn’t fight the urge to leave. Nevertheless, Brystal had a job to do. So she forced herself to smile and gave the crowd a modest wave.