"WHO DISTURBS THE GREAT AND POWERFUL OZ!" A burst of flames lit up the nearby torches as the Wizard's floating head emerged from the green fog. Several of his subjects from the Emerald City, their faces in awe of the Wizard's powers, slowly bowed.
"Your…your goodness…", one of his subjects said as he raised his head ever so slightly. "We have an issue in the city that needs your prompt and virtuous attention…"
"FEAR THEE NOT, MY LOYAL SERVANTS! THE MIGHTY OZ WILL HEED YOUR PROBLEMS AND WILL SOLVE THEM WITH HASTE!"
"Your goodliness…", another of his subjects nervously chimed in. "Many Munchkin woodcutters have fled the city since your ascendency and the Wicked Witch of the East has not allowed them to return! Because of this, we now have a pressing wood problem in our city and without enough wood, our farmers can't replace their necessary farming equipment and…"
"And this could lead to a food shortage", another said, interrupting the speaker.
"And a hunger crisis", another panickily interjected.
"ENOUGH!" The Wizard's booming voice was heard throughout the Emerald City throne room as his subjects scurried to hide behind any large object they could find. His voice then became quieter and more subdued as they began to re-emerge. "Let the Wizard ponder a solution. Until then, go and disturb the great and powerful Wizard no longer, for he shall answer your prayers…"
This made the Emerald City visitors smile and cheer as the Wizard's face disappeared, for they had full faith that the Wizard would make everything alright.
However, the man behind the curtain was not so sure.
It had been nearly ten months since the Wizard took power from Evanora, and since that time, he had been inundated with request after request from his Emerald City subjects. They asked him to have a plentiful harvest. Then they asked for food prices to drop. Then they asked for more jobs. Then for the rising inflation of the Ozian currency to taper.
Unlike his job at the circus, which seemed simple in comparison, the Wizard had no clue how to fix or handle any of these problems. And now the Emerald City was facing a potential food and wood crisis. While the buildings were indeed made out of emeralds—much to the Wizard's relief—the city relied on the surrounding farmland for its food and the farmers relied on wood when building their farming equipment. If the equipment broke down and the farms could not produce grain, there was a very real chance that the city could experience a famine.
The Wizard rose from his chair and slowly emerged from behind the curtain. His subjects had departed and he began to make his way back to his bedroom to fret over the latest crisis that he didn't know how to handle. Every month that went by felt like the walls were closing in around him, the invisible noose that wrapped around his neck growing ever tighter.
It would only be a matter of time before the Emerald City found out that he was a fraud. A con artist. Why did he ever think that it was a good idea to become ruler of this city? He thought being king would have been an easy job, but it was far from being simple. These last ten months felt like he had aged by at least ten years.
But the one thing that he did do successfully was dismiss people. Lots and lots of people. Much to Glinda's objections, the Wizard had asked for the resignation of every member of the palace who had served under Evanora, from her ministers to her accountants and even her maids. These administrators had been around since the time of King Pastoria, but the Wizard deemed these dismissals as necessary, as a chance for the Emerald City to begin anew and a way to clean house. This was also personal. Faced with a barrage of verbal propaganda from the Munchkin Country and attacks on his character from Evanora, it was also a way for him to get even. And when one high ranking minister refused to resign due to being in his position for decades, the Wizard fired him publicly.
"Wizard?" A young woman approached him as he was walking along the spacious corridors of the palace in a daydream.
He looked up at this well dressed and pale woman. She had long brown hair and wore a robe that indicated Ozian nobility. He gave her a faint smile. "I…I am sorry, but you must have the wrong person…"
"No, Glinda told me all about you. I know who you are. My name is Morra and I'm from Ragbad, a textile manufacturing city in the Quadling Country. My messengers have tried to reach you over these last few months, but none of your couriers or messengers have replied." She started to walk alongside the Wizard.
"You know, you really could be doing more for this country. King Pastoria and every female Ozma ruler before him all had a history of philanthropy, but as far as I can tell, you are not doing anything. If I'm elected as Mayor of Ragbad, I intent to change that…"
The Wizard stopped walking as his depressed gaze met hers. "Raghbad? I thought Quadling Country was mostly farmland…"
"That's what I mean. Based on what Glinda told me, you never leave the Emerald City, much less the palace. You should know who your people are, Wizard, no matter who they are or how they view you. That's the only way you can improve your image outside the confines of the city…"
"And how would you suppose I leave the confines of the palace, when there are witches who seek my death?"
She looked into his tired eyes. "Sometimes, you need to take chances. You need to make that leap. You need to take that risk..."
A messenger then called out to the aspiring politician from the other end of the corridor. "I need to go. I have a meeting with the council. I hope you will visit my city soon…"
The Wizard stood as Morra walked away from him, but he slowly shook his head. Risks, he thought. How could he take risks? Glinda always wanted him to take risks, but he was never a risk taker. Fear had always held him back. Maybe one day he would get over his fear and venture out into the world again. But he would probably only do that with Glinda's guidance and blessing.
Maybe one day that will happen. But for now, the Wizard headed back to his bedroom to fret over situations that he had no control of.