Prologue — The Accord Before the Gate (Turnkeeper Cut)
 
 
Plain notice: Field briefing before stipulated re-entry
Relief applied: Rules in daylight; tools in hand; war as reform
Cost: Work, proof, and a chorus of bells
 
They met in the long barn where the Counter-Chime slept against the west fence. No lace, no hymn—just crates of parity kits (ugly-mouthed bells, pocket doorstones, maps that refused to be pretty, and checklists written in plain). The Warden (whom Emerald called Witch) stood at a chalkboard. Wren leaned on a post, collar quiet. The Lion, unblinded, watched weather through the door while the Munk guilds—ledgerists, seamwrights, straw scouts, bellfounders—tightened straps.
 
“Stories make heroes,” the Warden said. “We’re making rules. First we name theirs.”
 
She chalked a title:
 
THE REAL RULES OF OZ (the Devil’s Charity)
 
Optics outrank outcomes. If it looks fair, it counts as fair.
Mercy invoices. Comfort is billable; rest is rented by the breath.
Time is syrup. Awe licenses delay.
Help is a monopoly. Unlicensed aid is ‘unsafe’ unless it pays for a sash.
Blame travels west. Fault is a fable with a witch in it.
Maps move. Goalposts slide and call it calibration.
Worthiness is performance. Bleed beautifully for a ribbon.
Record decorates. Live feeds edit; memory is marketing.
Money hums the melody. Donors tune the law.
Every cut wears a bow. Penalties renamed ‘lesson,’ ‘civility,’ ‘instructional mercy.’
 
 
Chalk dust settled. The rules sounded old because they’d always been true.
 
“Now ours,” she said, flipping the slate.
 
RULES OF WAR FOR THE WEAK
(so power can’t reseat itself after the cheering fades)
 
A) Seize seams, not stages.
B) Starve the machine, not the people.
C) Record first; move second. Every act bell-logged.
D) Hold doors, not turf—routes free the weak.
E) Escalate only with posted cause; sunset every emergency.
F) Never win with spectacle. Win with structure: Tools or Counsel.
G) When the wall cracks, fill it with rules, or power pours back in.
 
She set down the chalk. Murmurs moved the rafters.
 
Wren unrolled a linen strip—Articles A–K—brief and brutal: posting-before-biting; reciprocity of time; mutual-aid rights; Confidence Covenant everywhere; Meadow reform; Boss Caps; navigator rights; Hourglass in public custody; no “miracle” in lieu of remedy.
 
“We don’t storm,” Wren said. “We re-enter—on terms.”
 
On the table lay a draft stamped CONSENT OF ENTRY ACCORD. The stipulations were simple and hard:
 
Raw record only—no overlays, no delay; Memory Bells govern.
No secret refresh—maps post before bite; citywide bell when rules move.
Parity kits to every entrant; Guides optional, not mandatory.
Help rights protected—mutual aid is not a crime.
Boss Caps posted—time/gilt/shock visible, capped, appealable.
Confidence Covenant—citywide—variance auto-refunds and suspends fees.
Standing as doors—lack of credential opens a navigator, not a wall.
Meadow reform—no White Sleep; rest without invoice.
Custody contest—if entrants finish while adopting the Articles, Emerald codifies Tools or Counsel and returns the slippers and hourglass to Westreach.
Safe conduct—no charges for bell-ringing or mutual aid.
Rotation statute + office of the Turnkeeper—term limits, staggered seating, sortition for the Plain Bench; a neutral keeper to ring, rotate, record.
 
 
A young Munk raised a hand. “Why not take the tower while they sleep?”
 
“Because war crowns the loudest,” the Warden said. “Power shields itself in chaos and sits back down when the smoke clears. If we care for the weak, we fight like clerks—not soldiers.”
 
She turned to the Lion. “And when they sign the statute, who keeps the turn?”
 
The Lion shook his mane, half-smile, no bow. “Not a throne,” he said. “A bell.”
 
He held up a plain bell-clapper on a cord.
 
“I’ll keep the hour public, turn the chairs on time, and wake the bells when maps move or power lingers. No scepter. No say on winners. Just the turn.”
 
The barn eased as if a gear had found its tooth.
 
“Good,” the Warden said. “We don’t replace the Wizard. We retire him and enforce rotation.”
 
She pointed to the guild banners.
 
THE MUNCHKIN ARMY (guild formation)
 
Bell Companies — ringers/recorders; every seam you cross, you ring.
Ledger Corps — live posting; variance trackers; fee suspensions.
Seamwrights — doorstone teams; teach maintenance to remember being doors.
Straw Scouts — dial-hare runners with kernels and routes.
Plain-Tongue Choir — counter-narrative: what happened, not what sold.
Counter-Chime Batteries — lawful noise aimed at the Hat’s rim.
 
 
“Remember the doctrine,” the Warden said, chalk tapping the board. “Seams, not stages. Doors, not turf. Records first. When Dorothy declares a Harmony Hour, she posts cause, rings the bell, and the sunset clock starts. If it runs long, the Turnkeeper pulls the Counter-Chime—everything stops until daylight catches up.”
 
Straps tightened. Red thread was knotted round wrists. Doorstones warmed in palms.
 
Wren lifted her bell; inside, the kernel hummed like a grain with a job.
 
“We go to the hill,” she said. “We shake hands with Dorothy and the Wizard. We run their Labyrinth with a sea of pro se behind us and make the machine tell the truth about itself. If they lose, they don’t lose a throne—they lose the levers. If they try to keep them, the bells won’t let them.”