You don’t have the most exciting life, nor the most fulfilling work. While technically being one of fairykind grants you certain abilities, you’ve never been one to run off seeking adventures. You don’t want to wind up like old Mr. Stiltskin after all, consigned to a straw filled room in the dungeon, working the spinning wheel’s treadle with his one remaining foot. A lesson to you all on the dangers of going off your gourd and out into the world.
You are Jack B. Nimble Rumbledour, Fairyland’s Royal Bean Counter. A humble title perhaps, but one you bear with pride after several centuries working your way up from Assistant Royal Bean Counter. You start off every morning with porridge and a pint of ale, put on your red cap and beloved yellow boots, polish all your shiny brass buckles, and then proceed with dignity and pride to the secluded back room of the castle where you heft yourself up onto a high stool and spend the day counting the King’s magic beans.
Until one day, disaster strikes.
You count only 99,999 beans, instead of 100,000.
This cannot be! There must be some mistake!
There’s nothing else for it. You start over again from the beginning, counting every bean. But it turns out the same, 99,999 again. For a third time you start the count, dabbing at your forehead with a handkerchief, the beans swimming before your eyes and the candle burning down to a stub.
“Again! Curse it, who has taken the last bean?!” you exclaim, pounding angry little fists on the table.
“Is something wrong?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Who’s there?” you ask, peering at the darkened doorway with a suspicious squint.
“It’s me, Madge. I was worried about you, Jack, I didn’t see you at dinner.”
Ah, Madge. She’s a sweetheart. One of the serving girls from the kitchen. Secretly a princess, hiding from her evil stepmother, in actuality. But then, that’s most of them. You are pretty fond of her in particular, though. And there’s no one else you could imagine confiding in when it comes to this terrible misfortune.
“Something terrible has happened! One of the King’s magic beans is missing! He’ll surely cut off my head in the morning unless I find it!”
Madge wrings her hands, knowing how much the King loves his beans. “But Jack, His Majesty is away on a hunting trip; he won’t return for three days. Maybe you’ve still got time to find it?”
“By the Holy Star, that is good news. At least I’ve got a chance! Wish me luck, Madge!”
You bundle up into your never before used traveling cloak, and she shoves into your hands the bundle of sandwiches she made for you when you missed dinner. Sauerkraut and liverwurst on rye bread, your favorite! Standing on the edge of your chair on tippy toes to plant a kiss on her cheek for good luck (she bends down so you can reach) she then helps you to the floor and you whisk your way out the door in search of the missing magic bean.
Or if you can’t find it, you can at least go into exile before the King returns.
But where to start?
