Chapter Text
Ever since being hailed as Archduke, made worse since the joint effort of conquering the Netherbrain, Enver Gortash seldom had the chance to get into the city of Baldur’s Gate- at least, not undetected.
Gone were the days of slipping through the shadows and charming his way past guarded doors, utilizing extensive knowledge of the City’s underpaths and tunnels. Instead, more and more of his resources were poured into delegation, placing him in the unfortunate position of trusting his followers to carry out their leader’s every instruction- a discomforting notion, but one there was little choice about. So was the sacrifice one has to make, on the path to growing power.
But this- this was a visit he had been planning for months, the culmination of years of planning.
Crossing the streets of the Lower City in the dead of night was all Enver had been left with, armed with only a potion of darkvision to light the way- daylight posing far too many risks. With nary a streak of moonlight to reveal his identity, conforming to the shadows and feeling the uneven stone of backalleys was more a comforting experience than he had anticipated.
Fortunately, spending years as a beggar in his youth coupled with the time later spent as an Undercity Arms Dealer allowed for a familiarisation with the backstreets and shortcuts of Baldur’s Gate that he could still recall as well as the back of his own hand.
The Devil’s Fee stood as tall and imposing as memory recalled, with the surrounding area barren of life- lesser men knew to stay clear of its intimidating reputation, deterred by mere whispers of the establishment’s business.
The doors all but fall open under his gauntleted hand.
The entry is no different than his last visit- the same trophies line the walls, designed to intimidate and posture, suggestions placed to sooth the beginnings of a bargain towards the proprietor’s favour before whisperings of a deal could even be spoken. But Enver is all too familiar with such practices, they had rolled off him once upon a time with hardly a brush of amusement- little had changed in the time since. Shoulders braced with a steeling breath, he walked on.
Helsik stands proud behind the counter- for a moment, Enver chances to wonder if the warlock ever moves from her post- but as expected, she straightens even further with his arrival, greeting him with a ducking bow, “Lord Gortash, an honour to welcome thee back to the Devil’s Fee.”
He cannot say the sentiment is returned.
All warlocks were much of a spineless muchness as far as he was concerned, especially those in service to devils- but this made them simple to deal with, which is all he needed to concern himself with. However distasteful, it was in his interests to keep Helsik in his favour- one never knew when they’d need access to the Hells or vitally, information.
They shared an infrequent correspondence, but one consistent enough to ensure Helsik knew in whose City she did her business.
Yet more assuring it was to see she hadn’t forgotten.
“A pleasure to return, I hope business has remained fruitful as ever for you my dear.” The empty pleasantry rolls of his tone with hardly a thought, but it satisfies all the same.
“It has, although I suspect the success of the Devil’s Fee is reflected only by the success of its home’s leader- your power and position grows ever stronger, the Fee is assured to be in business with one of such might.” The temptation to roll his eyes at the flattery comes with a flush of irritation, Helsik continues with her ceaseless pandering and charm without paying notice, “Indeed, for your choice in ally, my Lord. When I heard you intended to visit tonight I confess to have hoped to have seen the Devil Slayer with you, business has been evermore successful in the Hells since they indulged in our services. An honour to be of service to you both.”
Confusion strikes him immediately, it’s a war not to allow such weakness to show on his expression. Coupled with the Warlock’s high praise, it’s the kind of dissonance the patron of a devil might prey upon. Enver’s mind races to fill gaps it had not even been aware were missing.
Suddenly, he feels quite on the backfoot.
And Enver Gortash hated being on the backfoot.
Offering a disinterested hum he allows his eyes to momentarily stray from Helsik, as his mind seeks to close the gap.
There were a great number of alliances that one could be referring to that the Archduke of Baldur’s Gate had formed in recent months, all gracing the Gazette in varying lengths on varying pages- but none of those would interest an individual of such infernal inclination as Helsik.
Against the rest only one alliance stood in sharp contrast, which had been very well advertised in the time following its birth.
It would not surprise him to find they’d chased the plot of the Absolute back to this building, there were nothing short of thorough in ways that continued to delight and benefit him, yet still it didn’t fit the picture Helsik painted.
‘Devil Slayer’ she had named….
Summoning his pride, his thoughts race as a plan fits into place- leaning on the conditionality it was Tav that Helsik is referring to, it wouldn’t do to appear less informed than the proprietor, who seemed fawning enough…
“The Devil’s Fee stands stronger than ever, your success is our success,” The shallow croon is acrid on his tongue,,”I hope you don’t mean to insinuate disappointment that I grace your halls alone, Helsik? Few matters are pressing enough to the attention of both myself and my partner."
He sees the fractional cringe, all but revels in it even as the warlock schools her expression, pandering and desperate and practically dripping with poison charm. Desperation practically rolled off from her, as those who were meek always did in the presence of power they had not the skill to grow for themselves, “Your presence is an honour Lord Gortash, no disappointment I assure you, for an Archduke to make time to visit our damned grounds and seek work from myself- nothing but the highest of regards.” She may as well have bowed for all the sickening pandering her words echoed, “For an Archduke to remain reclusive in his Kingdom is quite one thing, let alone with his people’s hero at his side.”
He crushes the satisfaction under foot, that which Helsik handed over too easily.
Confirmation, this ‘Devil Slayer’ Helsik spoke of, who seemed of such renown, was indeed Tav.
Tav, of whom’s present location he had no idea. Despite the ongoing strength of their alliance, their responsibilities differed, so too did how they spent their free time- or what little of it they possessed.
For a moment he stands in the halls of the Devil’s Fee, allowing his mind to wonder as to what mysteries his ally indulges in with their free time.
Satisfaction and even pride are a warm cloak over shoulder- it is his ally that Helsik speaks of so admiringly. Tav’s accomplishments are his, as his are theirs- and here the warlock stood, appealing herself to both the Archduke and the City’s Hero through only one half of the pair- so easily had they become a unit in the eyes of the people of the Gate.
But then…’Devil Slayer’- curiosity and frustration raged a bitter war in his mind. There was no surprise that Tav held such an accomplishment, their battle prowess and mind for strategy contested even his own, but for such an accomplishment to have escaped his notice was nothing shy of an insult.
With eyes and ears littered across this city, he’d kept tabs on Tav’s every move since the moment they had set foot upon the Gate as leader of the Prism Bearers, spent hours crawling through footage from his scrying eyes to learn as much as he could about his at-time adversary prior to their first meeting….yet somehow, this had escaped his notice.
In a mere exchanging of sentences, all initial plans for business in the halls of Mammon’s warlock fell to the backburner, a new priority born in its ashes.
Enver’s mind races to compartmentalise, to focus on what cards he does hold- a number suddenly far too few, an emptier hand than he’d have thought. A humiliation, that this measly warlock may know more than him.
“I confess, we speak so little of Hell- much more important things, you understand I’m sure.” Tone deceptively light, one hand mindlessly rubs at a well-polished golden adornment to his cloak, not sparing the proprietor so much as a glance, “When a hero has an entire city vying for their attention, becoming singular can be ever a challenge- I’d think no lesser of the Devil’s Fee for falling in such grandiosity. Forming business relations is a challenge even for the greatest of minds.”
To his satisfaction, the fluster is quick and apparent on Helsik’s features- not at all obscured by her harried assurances, “N-not at all, Lord Gortash! I assure you that the Devil Slayer holds the Devil’s Fee in high regard, our business connection is steadfast and reliable- one that shall serve us all well moving forward. Indeed, we have not exchanged much contact- but given that our arrangement was mere days before the ending of those Mindflayers…the Devil’s Fee is understanding if our most- one of our most- revered patrons has been busy.”
Empty and false as those promises may be, they serve at least one useful purpose- an answer. Whomever this devil is that Tav had killed, wherever in the Hells they had traversed to- it had been during the time of the Absolutist Plot.
It had occurred in his City, under his watch, yet had evaded his notice entirely.
Tav was an elusive sort when they chose to be, he would grant himself so much grace- now was not the time to ruminate on his past foresights. He’d corrected so many of them where Tav was concerned, he could correct a few more.
With a fractional flicker of one eyebrow, a slight lean away from the counter he observes as Helsik’s panic grows, interpreting his contemplative silence for one of doubt, “In fact, upon their victory they bestowed upon myself- and the Devil’s Fee, an artifact of great power. A trophy of our partnership, their appreciation for the service we provide here at the Devil’s Fee.”
An embellishment of the truth, Enver does not doubt. He’s come to know Tav well, complex as they were he knew for a fact they would never gift a powerful artefact from the Hells to another unless they had something to gain, or for good reason.
Payment, he suspected- recalling Helsik’s eye-watering fees and the Devil she served. It would be just like them to talk their way into alternative payment- Tav’s silver tongue was one of the many reasons their alliance with Enver was so effective, and why they posed such a threat to politicians and other notable figures, much as they complain about Ever insisting on their attendance his motivations were not limited to displaying a united front.
Keeping his stance and expression unchanging, Helsik jumps at the queue, harriedly reaching for a nearby pedestal- a new decoration, one he had failed to notice upon entry. Perhaps due to its very close proximity to Helsik’s counter. He realises she is reaching for the mysterious gift Tav had granted- but then his eyes land on the item in Helsik’s hands and a note of recognition sparks in his mind, fingertips going numb.
A set of gauntlets, but not just any gauntlets. Enver knows those gauntlets.
He had seen them polished and shining on a set of warded anti-theft plates. They’d glinted in the lighting of an overly-decorated, lavishly-filled library that had been rife with books Enver would steal away to read in seldom moments of peace, speaking stolen moments of his youth curled up with forbidden texts with only those gauntlets as witness. Sacred memories of the little reprieve he had ever known in those years.
Enver had cared not for the Gauntlets of Giant Hill Strength when around him was such a litany of knowledge, but he had respected the craftsmanship of the trappings they sat upon. Delicate machinery and spells not easily bested.
But he had known those gauntlets.
He knew who had owned them, in whose home they had been displayed.
The Devil that Tav had stolen from- and he doubts their thefts had stopped with the gauntlets.
Then….
He wonders…
Helsik’s words cross his mind, ‘Devil Slayer’.
The world stops, beneath his feet the ground is hot- too hot, but he feels so cold, a sweeping chill grasps to his spine climbing northward.
No.
….surely not….
….But if anyone could, if anyone would possess the sheer gall, the skill and power- would it not be them?
Ignorant to his inner turmoil, Helsik runs an adoring hand over the gauntlets, her voice now bordering on reverence, “The Devil’s Fee holds a deep admiration for the Hero of Baldur’s Gate and for our powerful Archduke, we are ever pleased to be of service, honoured to be your gate to the Infernal.” -
It takes everything in Enver to hold his slowly fraying nerves together, gripping his strength in his own gauntleted fist and find his voice again, trying to find some semblance of control when he is feeling everything but-
“How might we help thee today? Your recent correspondence spoke of a visit to House of Hope-” A plan that threatens to fall to ash in his hands, confirmation comes again as Helsik continues, “To surprise your ally, perhaps? The residence remains open to its conqueror, such courtesies extend to allies such as yourself, Archduke. I assure you the House of Hope is empty- all inhabitants and servants wiped from existence, the Hells are in awe of the Devil Slayer’s achievements- none have ventured to explore the House of Hope for themselves. The conqueror's claim stands firm.”
He doesn’t even have the chance to revel in such an opportunity, the information was becoming too much, yet Helsik pressed on.
Months of careful planning, delicate negotiations that had paved the way for what was supposed to be a night of it all coming together- he’s strike the bargain with the Fee’s proprietor, who would be inclined to give him a discounted rate due to his past successes, if not then against the threat of being evicted from the City. He’d leave with the key to open a portal to the House of Hope in his hands, and vengeance in his heart.
None of this was going to plan.
“Our past agreements do remain, of course- but if I may be so bold your Grace, perhaps there is a chance for a new bargain to be struck? In light of your new partnership, we could build a new agreement that benefits us all. Considerable discounts and the Devil’s Fee at your very call- enticing, no?”
With a practiced subtlety, Enver pushes through the murk of his mind, almost grateful for Helsik’s prattlings and desperate offers for they gave him a moment to think, collect himself.
“-Naturally, exclusivity to our fine establishment would be a part of the deal-”
So desperate to come out on top, it was a drive he could utilize. The knowledge was a lever, pulling him out from the shock.
“-Secrecy for your dealings within Faerun we can honour, but in the Hells the Devil’s Fee can advertise being in your custom freely- your names shall bring us all great business- one of the great Thieves of Mephistopholes, and the Slayer of the Cambion Raphael. Sound like a fair deal?”
The verbal confirmation washes over him.
Slayer of the Cambion Raphael.
Raphael is dead.
Raphael is dead.
And Tav- his ally, once great-adversary-he-turned-ally-and-partner- had been the one to kill him.
Laughter threatens to spill from him, loud and mad and free. Relief poisons his chest- like the unspooling of a thread he had not known was there at all. Silently the weight is lifted, a long-awaited liberation.
Yet remains the bitter absence of answers.
The warlock offered little that was truly tangible, and he dared not ask any further. For his earlier scramblings of the mind, her words had washed over him all the same- there was much yet still to be gained, that he could not afford to spoil.
His original intentions were all for naught, unknowingly ruined by Tav before their alliance had even been born- but the Archduke would not be leaving the Devil’s Fee empty handed tonight.
Helsik awaited his answer, with only minimal anticipatory shuffling.
A curious proposal, one he- they- could certainly work with. But not yet. The warlock’s words were admission enough of the threat he and Tav posed, the bargain of the Devil’s Fee would be one he’d need to give thought to. But not now, not so soon.
The assured blanket of confidence falls again over his shoulders with the knowledge he was not as much on the backfoot as originally anticipated. Rather the opposite, opportunities made themselves known, inspired by the ceaseless charms of the proprietor and the trophy she worshipped from Tav- indeed, his power had become no less tonight.
An all-too-pleased smile makes itself known on his face, a well of satisfaction pools as he makes the warlock wait, “It is a generous offer Helsik, you’ve given us much to think about. Of course, I shan’t strike any bargains without consulting my partner, but we shall be in touch.”
There’s the slight spark of dissatisfaction that he’s come to recognise in even the most composed of bargainers, even as Helsik pretends to be understanding, and welcomes him to return again.
Enver returns to the deadened night of the City and makes his way back to Wyrm’s Rock, mind racing.