"No! I swear it was an accident! I didn't mean to do it!"

Two guards drag the thrashing man about, releasing him before the throne. He immediately gets on his knees, begging to the Founder.

"Please! This is all one big misunderstanding! There's absolutely no way I would want to lose my dirt block! A-and it was mine, surely that isn't a crime?"

The Founder sighs, nodding at the guards. "Milo, you should know that all blocks are precious treasures that we must protect. Particularly dirt. The Eversource cannot even produce that material."  

The two guards hoist Milo to his feet, locking him there in place. The blond man struggles in their grasp, but is locked in place. With pleading eyes he stares at the Founder.

"Which means you did in fact commit a crime, the highest one: Egregious Wasting of Resources." Milo pales, trembling in the hold of the two guards. "And for that, you are sentenced five years in the dungeon with a rotten flesh brought to you every other day."

The young man fights the guards, desperately trying to break free. "NO! Please! I don't de-"

The doors slam shut, only his muffled cries quietly slipping into the throne room. The Founder sighs and stands, very tired after today. Not that she lets anyone see that though, her green makeup successfully covering the dark bags she's earned.

For a moment, the Founder stops being the strict leader and allows herself to be a person again, Isa. Isa sighs again, rubbing her temples. Wishing there was a way to make this easier, yet at the same time can't bring herself to give her burdens to someone else.

Isa closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When her eyes open, she is the Founder again. A strong woman that is unfazed by anything, doing everything she can to keep a small city floating in the sky alive.

And while night descends and her citizens prepare for bed, the Founder readies her mind for the next part of her work. It was time to collect resources for the next day. Loyal and very trustworthy guards would collect the wheat. While she goes to the Eversource to collect from it.

The Eversource... the very title saddens the Founder. Just as she doesn't want to be the Founder, she wishes the Eversource didn't have to be the Eversource. That it could just be her friend, not her business partner.

The Founder shakes her head, the depressing thoughts aren't going to help her at all. This is her life, and despite what others might say, that will not change. Not unless she appoints a new Founder.

Pulling a lever out of her golden robes, the Founder places it at the end of a redstone circuit. And when she flicks it the wall comes down, and minecarts come out.

She gets into the last one, starting the ride down to the belly of the island. When she was younger, the simple ride down was so much fun! Speeding down and her weight shifting when the tracks straighten or turn, it was always one of her favorite parts of the day.

But now her eyelids droop tiredly as the minecart speeds down, yawning at the turns. The Founder climbs out, flexing her joints for what her task as she walks past her many chests.

"Is my Eversource awake?"

A chicken pops its head out, clucking excitedly. Its feet too small for the body, the chicken face planting and sliding over to the Founder.

She just grins and grabs the chicken, rocking it against her chest. Isa takes the moment to relax, to just hug her best friend. To just quietly hum to her chicken as a small smile rest on her face.

The chicken soon falls asleep, and Isa gently carries him to his nest in the corner of his little area. Still humming as Isa sooths her feathers. She stands back up to admire her friend, before turning away and back to the chests.

The Founder has many documents listing the amount of each item she has, although she knows them by heart. Since she has a new prisoner, more rotten flesh is needed. And there has petition for new beds, since many citizens have been waking up sore on their very old ones.

So the Founder goes and retrieves the zombie and sheep eggs. She'll do the harder one first, the sheep. With her fighting skills, zombies pose no threat to her. But there's always that terrible feeling when she kills an innocent animal, knowing that her chicken is very similar to them.

She sighs another time that night and goes to her work room to do the deed. The Founder grabs the shears off the wall and gets to work. Throwing an egg, shearing the sheep, and then killing it. Until she has a stack of wool and enough meat to feed all the guards the next day.

Up next are the zombies, and while usually she does one at a time, the Founder really wants to go bed. So she spawns in two and cuts them down, not feeling a fifth of the sadness she did with the sheep. Over and over again she works, until she has about a stack of the rotten flesh.

The Founder yawned, and she isn't even past her bedtime. She generally falls asleep in another two hours, but now the Founder would curl up on the floor if she could. But that would be really bad for her back.

Dumping the loot in a chest, which guards will come in and sort in the morning, and putting the shears back where they go, the Founder finally goes to her bedroom. Too tired to even stop for a glass of water.

She flops down on her bed and closes her eyes, expecting to fall asleep in seconds. But a minute ticks by, and then a few more, and more and more. The Founder still awake even though her mind is so groggy it's a miracle she is awake.

But the Founder doesn't have the luxury of resting. If she's awake, she'll work. She doesn't have time to just lay around and do nothing. Technically the reports for the next day won't be in yet, but she can always go and mine cobble.

Against her body's wishes, she drags herself out of bed. Yawning and shuffling her feet to the throne room. If she was more awake she would be very frustrated about this, but her sleepy mind really didn't care at all.

So she trudges into the throne room, wishing she could be back in bed yet knowing that she wouldn't actually sleep and just waste time. Without a doubt she would hate herself if she wasted time.

But it was only when she was standing above her cobblestone generator did the Founder notice she didn't have a pickaxe on her. So the last few minutes of walking around the castle were completely useless.

The Founder groans and tilts her head back, cursing herself for being so stupid. She was about to head back in and try to sleep again when the night sky held her attention, the beautiful twinkling lights forcing her eyes to stare at them.

Isa slowly sits down, not looking away for a moment. The sky has always fascinated her. The void was cold and bleak, something terrible. But the sky was different, the sky was good. It had the sun that grew the plants, it sent peaceful rain, and of course it had wonderful stars shinning so brightly at night.

Although Isa has never been able to come to a satisfying conclusion about them. They're too far away to study and she can't see enough to figure them out. So all Isa can do is just blissfully gaze at them.

It's strange though. Those far away lights relax her, and yet before she looks away Isa always gets so depressed by them. Because even if those stars could actually be travelled to, she never would be able to.

The sky that surrounds them, the void underfoot, it traps them. Binds them to this city. The city has a dungeon yes, but the whole island is a prison itself.

There is just never enough space for anything. There has been a steady rise in population, and while that does make Isa happy, the sad truth is that there isn't enough room for more people.

More people requires more housing, which requires blocks. More people means more stomachs to feed, which means more room for growing. There is only a limited amount of dirt, and sooner or later the city will hit its max population.

No matter how much Isa may wish for that to change, it won't. And sooner or later she'll have to put up a new law regarding the population. Even when she wants to do the exact opposite.

The Founder sighs again that night, standing back up and walking back into the throne room. Deciding that she at least has to rest in bed if she wants to have a productive day tomorrow.

Although she takes one longing look back at the night sky. Wishing she had the freedom of the clouds, and the space to do whatever she wanted to.

****

Another third person oneshot! Yay!

Very reflexive, yes. But it's all for practice! Jesse was more of a plot based oneshot and I'll do another one that requires different things. I ain't stopping until I'm good!

As for the oneshot itself, it's fine. I did want it to be a bit more exciting, but this is what you get.

Tomorrow's oneshot is Wither! Buh-Bye!