The Unicorn Must Die

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There were four things that Isla-Dove Kepperton absolutely hated about herself.

1. She fret over her appearance way more than necessary.

2. She was clumsy to the extent of occasionally being unsafe.

3. All of her relatives started despising her overnight and she had no idea why.

4. Her memory from sundown to sundawn was erased every single day.

Those four facts defined who she was in her eyes. To the world, she could be the pink-haired girl living in poverty and paying off a debt her parents were in with the kingdoms best seamstress. To Isla-Dove, those facts were her identity.

She hated it.

The world was alive and moving as Isla-Dove nestled a basket against her hip and headed out the door. She called it the Door of Doom. It was the front entrance to Miss Capen's - the head seamstress' - workshop. She enjoyed when she got to step out instead of in. Escaping the variety of wild colored fabrics, messy tabletops with threads, needles, and scissors strewn across the surfaces, and the cruel Miss Capen to, instead, be a part of a sunny world outside closed doors was one of the only things that kept Isla-Dove going. The sun cast its bright rays across her face, caressing her otherwise clammy skin with its warm touch.

Miss Capen's workshop had a constant chill in the air but she always insisted that the windows and curtains be shut anyway. She claimed that her work was "a lot better when done in complete privacy."

Isla-Dove basked in the sunlight for a moment before holding the rough basket tighter in her grip and beginning the long trek up the city streets and toward the towering palace on the hilltop. One thing a lot of folks didn't know was that her job of delivering gowns and dress robes galore to the palace could be quite dangerous. Beggars, or even normal folk, would see the expensive clothing rich in color and stop her to ask for it. Some would even try to steal it straight from her arms. So she had to make sure it was always secured, held snug against her body. Sometimes the pressure left bruises on her torso and stray pieces of wood that would come loose from the threaded basket would leave scratches on her arms, but it was better than getting in trouble with the royal family.

It was better than a beating from Miss Capen.

Isla-Dove walked alongside the canal that flowed at the center of the busy area. Boats rowed past with folk headed to the palace as well - rich folk who were a part of the court. Because the palace was situated on a hill, the canal cut beneath it, where those who could afford it would then unboard and climb a staircase. It beat marching up the uneven hillside pathway. On the other side of the canal were marketplace tents pitched against the buildings, matching the shops on the side Isla-Dove walked. She always wondered why the canal was built at the center of the street rather than given its own private route.

Maybe the royal family liked the way it looked. To Isla-Dove, it was one more accident ready to happen.

Taisu was a rather small kingdom but it held its ground by being the best to trade with and also known for its just and considerate rulers. Anybody who lived in poverty there couldn't blame the royal family. Taxes was well below what other kingdoms ordered, and job availabilities were constant and with excellent pay. Isla-Dove was in her situation because her parents put her there. If she had to nitpick the royal family about one thing, it would be that if there was somebody in poverty, they mostly turned a blind eye to it.

The population of poor folk was rather low. If they put in a little effort to help that small population, there wouldn't be any poverty and the kingdom would rank even higher. But, again, Isla-Dove was in her situation because of her parents. She didn't blame the royals.