The next morning, Valarys was buzzing with energy. The streets were once again filled with merchants, nobles, and commoners alike, each going about their day beneath the towering stone buildings and banners of the Ishmara Dominion. But for all the bustle, there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, something lingering beneath the surface that Ubuntu could sense even as he casually made his way through the market district.
With his two new sabres strapped across his back in a crisscross formation, their gleaming hilts visible just over his shoulders, Ubuntu definitely stood out in the crowd. He cut an imposing figure, though his laid-back demeanor and swaggering stride gave him the air of someone who wasn't particularly worried about anything. He might have been a young man, but he carried himself with the confidence of someone who had seen more than his fair share of fights—and walked away from all of them.
The coat he wore, dark brown leather with subtle gold stitching, moved fluidly with him as he navigated the crowded streets. He had modified it slightly so the straps for his sabres fit perfectly beneath the coat, keeping the blades within easy reach. His black trousers and scuffed combat boots were practical, the kind of gear someone wore when they were ready for anything, but didn't mind looking good while doing it.
As he walked, he caught his reflection in a shop window and gave himself an approving nod, adjusting the hilt of one of his sabres slightly so it rested just the way he liked it. "Looking sharp, Ubuntu," he muttered to himself with a grin.
Despite the cheerful morning light, there was something gnawing at the back of his mind. The conversation with Amara from the night before still lingered—about the Sovereign's reach, the threat to the Ishmara Dominion, and, most importantly, her promise to help him find a way home. He wasn't used to being tied down to anything beyond his next meal, but this world had a way of pulling him deeper into its chaos.
He wasn't here to play the hero, but there was something about the situation that rubbed him the wrong way. The Merchant's Guild, the Sovereign's minions, and the tension in the air—it was all starting to feel like a powder keg waiting for the right spark.
As he turned a corner, heading toward one of the larger public squares, a familiar voice called out to him from behind.
"Ubuntu!"
He paused, turning to see Amara weaving her way through the crowd toward him. She was dressed in a simple but elegant outfit, clearly suited for someone of her rank, though she had chosen practicality over extravagance today. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid, and her eyes, sharp as ever, were locked on him.
"Morning, Princess," Ubuntu greeted, leaning casually against a nearby post. "You here to drag me into more trouble, or just checking in?"
Amara raised an eyebrow as she approached. "Maybe both. But we need to talk."
"Don't we always?" he said, pushing off the post and falling into step beside her as she led him toward the center of the square.
As they walked, the crowd around them began to thin slightly, and soon they found themselves in the middle of a large, open space where a group of nobles had gathered. At first glance, it looked like any other meeting of the wealthy elite, but as Ubuntu's eyes scanned the crowd, he noticed something different.
The nobles were standing in small clusters, their voices low and their expressions serious. There was no laughter or idle gossip. Instead, they seemed to be discussing something weightier, their eyes occasionally darting toward the center of the square, where a raised platform stood.
"I thought we were past all the party politics," Ubuntu muttered under his breath, eyeing the platform suspiciously.
"It's not a party," Amara said, her voice quiet but tense. "It's a council gathering. The nobles have been meeting since dawn to discuss how to handle the growing unrest in Valarys. Word of your... encounter with the Merchant's Guild has already spread."
Ubuntu raised an eyebrow. "That fast, huh?"
Amara nodded. "The Guild has considerable power in this city. Your interference has sent shockwaves through their network. The nobles are starting to take notice."
"Great," Ubuntu said, his tone dry. "So now I'm on their radar too."
"You're not the only one," Amara replied, glancing around the square. "The Guild's methods have been questioned for some time, but no one's had the guts to challenge them openly—until now."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly trying to start a revolution. Just didn't like seeing some guy get his face kicked in because he couldn't pay a debt."
"And that's exactly why we need to be careful," Amara said, her voice lowering. "The nobles are divided on how to handle the situation. Some want to push back against the Guild, but others… others think we need to crack down harder on the lower classes to maintain control."
Ubuntu stopped walking, his eyes narrowing slightly as he surveyed the group of nobles gathered on the platform. "Let me guess—those guys up there are the ones thinking that cracking down is the answer?"
Amara's expression was grim. "They're the ones who believe that maintaining order is more important than fairness. If they have their way, the situation is going to get much worse before it gets better."
Ubuntu crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he watched the proceedings unfold. One of the nobles on the platform—a man dressed in deep crimson robes with a thin, angular face—was speaking now, his voice carrying over the crowd.
"...the recent unrest in the lower districts is unacceptable. The Guild provides essential services to the city, and without their influence, the economy would collapse. If we allow dissent to grow unchecked, it will only lead to more chaos."
Ubuntu rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. Chaos. Can't have that, can we?"
Amara shot him a warning look, but before she could say anything, one of the other nobles—a woman dressed in silver and blue, with sharp features and a haughty expression—spoke up.
"And what about the Guild's exploitation of the common folk?" she asked, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "How long are we going to allow them to ruin people's lives? Forcing families to send their children to work in the mines for scraps while the Guild lines its pockets?"
The first noble glared at her. "You speak as if you don't benefit from the Guild's prosperity, Lady Selara. Without their influence, the luxuries you enjoy would disappear."
Selara's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a cold smile. "Perhaps it's time we reconsider what 'luxury' truly means."
Ubuntu leaned toward Amara, his voice low. "I like her. She's got some fight in her."
Amara sighed. "Don't get too comfortable. Selara's not exactly an ally. She's one of the most ambitious nobles in Valarys—if she's speaking out against the Guild, it's because she sees an opportunity to gain power."
"Yeah, well," Ubuntu said, crossing his arms. "I don't care what her reasons are. At least someone's calling these clowns out for what they are."
Amara gave him a sidelong glance. "Just be careful, Ubuntu. These aren't thugs you can take down with a few punches. This is politics. You can't always fight your way through it."
"That's what you think," Ubuntu muttered.
As the debate continued, Ubuntu's attention began to drift. The nobles were talking in circles now, each trying to outmaneuver the other without actually doing anything useful. He hated this kind of thing—too much talk, not enough action. Still, he knew better than to storm the platform and start knocking heads together. Yet.
But as he scanned the crowd, something else caught his eye. Off to the side, near the edge of the square, a group of well-dressed individuals were speaking in hushed tones, their expressions serious. They weren't involved in the council discussion, but it was clear they were watching closely.
"Who are they?" Ubuntu asked, nodding toward the group.
Amara followed his gaze and frowned. "They're part of the Noble Academy. The elite of Ishmara. They control much of the education system here, grooming the next generation of rulers, scholars, and leaders."
Ubuntu snorted. "Ah, the rich kid's school. I love it. So, you guys train geniuses, and everyone else gets to play with rocks? Sounds about right. It's not magic; it's just social inequality. These people ever read John Rawls? Maybe Aristotle?"
Amara gave him a sidelong glance, half-exasperated, half-amused. "You have a unique way of looking at things."
"Yeah, well," Ubuntu said with a shrug, "someone's got to call it out."
As they stood there, a young woman from the group at the Noble Academy broke away and made her way toward them. She was tall and elegant, with piercing green eyes and an air of authority that didn't match her age. Her gown was a deep emerald, trimmed with gold, and her movements were graceful but purposeful.
She stopped in front of them, her gaze briefly flicking to Amara before settling on Ubuntu. "You're the one they've been talking about. The outsider who challenged the Merchant's Guild."
Ubuntu smirked, giving her a lazy salute. "Guilty as charged."
The woman's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe—in her eyes. "My name is Lyra," she said, her voice smooth but cold. "And I'd like to have a word with you."