The grand hall of Valarys Keep was as opulent as Ubuntu had expected. Tall marble columns lined the room, each adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts and scenes of victory from long-forgotten wars. The floors gleamed under the light of chandeliers that hung above, casting a warm, golden glow over the lavish banquet tables overflowing with exotic food and drink. Nobles from all over the Ishmara Dominion were gathered, their finely tailored clothes glimmering with gemstones and gold threads. Laughter and polite conversation filled the air, but beneath the surface, there was a current of tension.
Ubuntu stood by one of the long tables, looking a little out of place in his leather gear and freshly acquired sabres strapped across his back. He wasn't exactly the banquet type. But, as Amara had reminded him earlier, part of helping the Ishmara Dominion meant playing the political game. The Sovereign's reach wasn't just a matter of swords and soldiers—it was a battle for influence, and that meant showing up at places like this. She had convinced him to come, though it didn't take much persuasion once she'd mentioned food.
He'd been picking at a plate of roasted meat and exotic fruits when his attention was caught by a conversation happening a few feet away. Two nobles—a young man in a finely embroidered tunic and a girl in an elaborate gown—were speaking in hushed tones. Or at least, the girl was speaking. The nobleman was mostly nodding, looking bored as he sipped his wine.
The girl's voice was filled with frustration. "He's always out there, pretending to be the hero, saving villages or doing whatever it is he does, while I'm left to handle everything back home. The finances, the estate, the family politics... all of it falls on me."
Ubuntu smirked as he listened. He casually stepped closer, pretending to inspect a tray of pastries while eavesdropping. The girl's irritation was obvious, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and exhaustion.
"I get no credit for it," she continued, her voice tight with frustration. "No one sees the work I do. He gets all the glory, and I'm just expected to keep everything running smoothly in the background. It's like I'm invisible."
Before the bored nobleman could muster a half-hearted response, Ubuntu cut in, turning to face her with a sympathetic look. "Oh, I get it. Trust me, I get it. Mental load—it's crushing. And honestly, all girls should think like you."
The girl blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the interruption. Ubuntu leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, but loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.
"So, let me get this straight. This guy," he gestured vaguely in the direction of the hero she was complaining about, "he's out there, playing the role of the noble savior in public, while you're left to manage everything behind the scenes? The finances, the estate, the politics? Hmm... you know what we call that where I'm from? That's hidden labor."
The girl stared at him, her eyes widening slightly.
"And if I were running the finance office around here," Ubuntu continued, "I'd have arrested the guy. Seriously, someone's gotta stop this injustice. Here, come on—bring it in." He held his arms out wide in mock sympathy. "I'm a shoulder you can count on."
A few of the nobles nearby chuckled uncomfortably, unsure whether to take him seriously. The girl, to her credit, managed to stifle a laugh, though her frustration remained evident.
"Who are you?" she asked, her tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement.
"Oh, just a guy who's seen his fair share of nonsense," Ubuntu replied with a wink. "Name's Ubuntu. I punch problems, apparently, and today, your mental load counts as one."
Before the girl could respond, a murmur rippled through the banquet hall. The laughter quieted, and the focus of the room shifted as two well-dressed nobles approached, their eyes scanning the crowd with a hint of suspicion. Word had clearly traveled fast.
"Looks like I've got fans," Ubuntu muttered under his breath, watching the nobles carefully as they made their way toward him.
One of the men, a tall, gaunt figure with a pinched face and sharp eyes, stopped a few feet away from Ubuntu, his posture rigid and formal. "Are you the one causing trouble in the lower districts? I've heard rumors about someone interfering with Guild business."
Ah, right. The thugs he had dealt with earlier. News did travel fast in these parts.
Ubuntu smiled, casually popping a grape into his mouth. "Causing trouble? That's such a harsh term. I like to think of it as... helping people see the error of their ways. You know, a little nudge in the right direction."
The noble's eyes narrowed. "You realize the Merchant's Guild is a cornerstone of Ishmara's economy. We keep order, provide loans, set market prices. If people fail to pay, there are consequences."
"Ah, yes," Ubuntu said, his tone now mockingly thoughtful. "Consequences. And what would those be? Ah, right, forcing people to send their kids to work in mines so they can pay off a medical bill? Brilliant system you've got here."
The nobleman bristled, but Ubuntu wasn't finished. He held up a finger, his voice now carrying over the murmur of the banquet hall. "So, let me see if I've got this straight. You've got a group that controls the entire economy, sets the prices, and enforces the rules? I'm guessing 'fair competition' and 'free market' are just cute little concepts for people who don't know how to read between the lines, huh?"
A few more nobles shifted uncomfortably, casting glances at each other as whispers spread through the hall. Ubuntu turned, addressing them more broadly now. "And what about the rest of you? Education for the rich, I'm sure. Forming geniuses in the noble class while the others, what, get to play with rocks in the mud? Sounds like a fair deal to me. Let's not kid ourselves—this isn't magic; it's just plain ol' social inequality. Never read John Rawls? Maybe Aristotle? No?"
The gaunt noble took a step forward, visibly seething. "You're crossing a line, outsider."
Ubuntu grinned, leaning in slightly. "Oh, I'm not crossing anything. I'm already way over it."
Before things could escalate further, a soft but firm voice broke through the tension.
"Enough."
Amara had arrived, stepping into the space between Ubuntu and the fuming nobles. Her presence was commanding, her gaze calm but unyielding. "Ubuntu is a guest of the Ishmara Dominion, and his actions have my support. If there is an issue with Guild practices, I will personally bring it to the king's attention."
The nobleman stiffened, but he couldn't exactly argue with the king's daughter. After a tense pause, he gave a curt nod. "Of course, Lady Amara. We'll… reconsider our methods."
He turned on his heel, leaving the banquet hall with his colleague in tow.
Amara turned to face Ubuntu, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You certainly know how to stir things up."
Ubuntu shrugged, popping another grape into his mouth. "Hey, stirring is what I do best."
Amara shook her head, though she couldn't hide her amusement. "Come with me. We need to talk."
They left the banquet hall and stepped out onto a balcony that overlooked the city of Valarys. The moon had risen high, casting a silver glow over the spires and rooftops below. The sounds of the banquet faded into the distance as Amara leaned against the stone railing, her expression turning serious.
"The situation is worse than I realized," she said quietly. "The Merchant's Guild has always been powerful, but it's clear they're exploiting people more than ever now. The cracks are starting to show."
Ubuntu crossed his arms, leaning against the railing beside her. "You're telling me the whole system's rigged."
Amara nodded. "The Guild controls the economy, and they answer to the Sovereign, directly or indirectly. The Guild's loans and high-interest debts are part of his plan—to destabilize the kingdom by creating unrest from within. And if Valarys falls…"
She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
"If Valarys falls, the rest of the Dominion goes with it," Ubuntu finished for her. "And then there's nothing standing between the Sovereign and… whatever his grand plan is."
Amara looked at him, her eyes searching his face. "This is why I need your help, Ubuntu. I know you didn't ask to be part of this, but you've seen what's happening. The Sovereign is pulling strings everywhere, and we need someone who can fight back—someone who isn't tied to this world's politics."
Ubuntu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I get it. Save the world, punch the bad guys, all that hero stuff. But what's in it for me, exactly?"
Amara's gaze didn't waver. "You want to go home, right? I can help you. The Ishmara Dominion has resources—ancient texts, magic, relics. There are ways to transcend worlds, to find a way back to where you came from."
Ubuntu paused, her words hanging in the air like bait. A way home. It was the only real leverage she had over him, and she knew it. He wasn't interested in saving kingdoms or playing the part of the hero, but if helping Amara meant getting closer to finding a way back to his world… then maybe it was worth sticking around.
"Well," he said after a moment, his usual smirk returning. "You should've led with that."