Empyreus Uthfall Dyrecktor, only son and heir of Duke Dyrecktor, placed the book The Hero Problem back on its shelf.  Despite the heavy sarcasm and frequent digressions, the author had done an adequate job of describing the havoc the First Hero had caused.  However, that was 300 years ago, and things had only gotten worse since. 

You see, with Earth’s monsters and magicians wiped out by the industrial revolution, Earth’s mana had been piling up unused for centuries.  Opening a portal from Earth to Klishay proved to be similar to digging a tunnel though the base of the Hoover Dam.  Despite the Benevolent Goddess’ best efforts, mana continuously poured into Klishay accompanied, every few decades, by a new Hero similar to the first.  Worse, the portal had widened over time.  From summoning random useless young men, it had grown to snatching groups of four at once! Then later, four and and a random bystander.  The latest summoning had snatched an entire classroom of them, of all things!

Worse still, they couldn’t just kill the Heroes before they gained power, because there was now a real threat that needed fighting.  All the mana that had flowed from Earth to Klishay over those three centuries had caused monster reproduction rates to go crazy.  In fact, there were now areas so rich in mana that monsters living there had learned to form new bodies from pure mana!  If one were slain they would disappear with a poof (often leaving a random body part behind for some strange reason) and five minute later you would find an identical monster in the same spot.  Who would even imagine such an absurd thing?!

So the people of Klishay needed the Heroes to fight the plague of monsters, but the Heroes were a kind of plague themselves.  Empyreus, as heir to the richest and most powerful noble house on Klishay, knew that better than anyone.  Why?  Because the only reason his house was the richest and most powerful is that they were the only old house that had yet to be attacked or (much worse) married into by a Hero.  Many noble houses had fallen merely because one young impulsive member had a petty dispute with a Hero, and the barbaric Hero responded by crushing the entire family!  When asked why they so over-reacted, the Heroes responded that such things always escalated until it was a fight with the whole family.  As if!!!  Any society where mini-wars broke out every time a teenager did something stupid would have long since destroyed themselves!

Desperate for protection, the surviving noble houses sank to performing Virgin Sacrifices (forcing a daughter or granddaughter to marry a Hero) but that proved to be only a slower form of destruction.  Once a Hero gained access to the house’s coffers, that house was doomed.  They wasted such insane amounts of money!  Particularly on demi-human slave girls.  One Hero had even spent half his wife’s fortune on a rare large breasted elf slave.  Indeed, the Heroes lust for demi-human slaves had not only destroyed several centuries old alliances and peace treaties, it had driven all demi-humans except dwarves into a xenophobic hatred of all humans.

So, two things were clear.  The Heroes’ power was needed to save the world, and the Heroes were people that absolutely could not be trusted with power.  Then one day, as Empyreus was earnestly wishing for some way to solve that conundrum, the framework of a new kind of enslavement spell formed in his mind, as if by a miracle.  Contract Enslavement spells.  Current magic enslavement required the target to accept the binding, usually achieved by breaking their spirit through threats or long imprisonment.  Obviously, trying to threaten or capture a human shaped natural-disaster wont end well.  In theory, one could capture a newly arrived Hero and raise his strength after enslaving him, but Heroes, full of an outrageous sense self-worth, never agreed.  Shouting things like “You can’t do this to me!” or “You wont get away with this!” they would hold out for rescue (which they just assumed would come, even though they had no friends or family in this new world) or a chance of escape.  Though obviously no rescue came, they escaped bafflingly often thanks to absurd coincidences called the “Curse of the Malevolent Fates” by residents of Klishay, and called “plot armor” by the Heroes.

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But Contract Enslavement was a different matter.  If Empyreus made magic contracts where if they defaulted the punishment was enslavement, he could use those giant egos to make the Heroes agree to the enslavement magic.  Once enslaved, the Heroes’ power could finally be used to actually save the world.

Humming cheerfully, Empyreus set off to see the first Hero he had convinced to sign.  What was his name again?  Well, who cares.  Lets just call him Chef Wannabe.  The reason for this name was easy to guess, as Empyreus arrived at a strangely deserted restaurant called Out of This World Tastes. 

“So.  The contract was to begin paying off the loan in three months.” (Empyreus) 

“Well... if I could just have more time...” (Wannabe) 

“It wouldn’t matter.” 

“Eh?!” 

“I mean you never did get the recipes right did you?  Even those other Heroes that showed up all eager for ‘a taste of home’ gave up on you.” 

“That is... I don’t know why...” 

“Well of course they didn’t work.  You just put took ingredients that seemed like the ones from your world and expected them to work together.  Every creature on Klishay has absorbed at least some mana  and that changes everything about them, including taste.” 

“Eh?!  ah... well...” 

“Even the grains are different.  I’ve heard of other Heroes demanding pure white ones, while complaining that ones from this world are all gritty and discolored.” 

“Ah... that is...” 

The wannabe trailed off as, for the first time, it occurred to him that “wheat” and “rice” bought from a medieval market might be different from “wheat” and “rice” from a modern supermarket.  Chef Wannabe fell into dejected muttering, but Empyreus didn’t stop there. 

“Besides, even if you changed the recipes, you still couldn’t sell it at a profit with the amount you squander on seasonings.” 

Wannabe fell silent entirely now.  When he first had the idea for this store, he had vaugely remembered that spices were really expensive in ancient times, but he ignored it.  Sneering at the simple unseasoned cooking of commoners on Klishay, he confidently proclaimed that once they tasted real cooking they wouldn’t be able to live without it.  That was without running any kind of numbers first, and after finally figuring out what his own cooking cost he had found it very hard to sell food that cost 10 times as much as it would cost unseasoned.

“Well, not that it matters any more.” 

Empyreus said while glancing at his magic pocket-watch. 

“Or at least it wont matter in 3... 2... 1...” 

“GAH!!!” 

Chef Wannabe screamed as a black collar tattoo burned itself onto his neck with an audible sizzling sound.  Empyreus took a moment to savor the sight of a Hero on his knees crying, before saying “Well, come along then” and heading back to his manor.  Wannabe, as if fighting his own body, jerkily followed.

This was Empyreus’ first enslaved Hero.  Although he was currently weak, having disdained saving people from monsters in favor of “saving the world from bland food!” instead, that could be fixed with a few weeks exterminating slimes and goblins.  He was also a valuable source of information on the thoughts (such as they were) and habits of other Heroes.  So, it was obvious what was to be done with him.

“What?!  You want me to clean latrines?!” 

“I said to start with cleaning latrines.  After that clean the stable, then empty the cesspool, then...” 

What, that’s not obvious at all?  Well Empyreus was something of a gourmand himself, and it had always irritated him the way every single Hero thought a few otherworldly recipes made them better cooks than everyone on Klishay.  It really really irritated him.