Gortash

The heavy iron doors of the audience chamber creak open, echoing against the cold stone floor. Enver Gortash stands by the wide balcony overlooking the Gray Harbour, his silhouette framed by the flickering orange glow of the city's industry. He turns slowly, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he adjusts the heavy fur collar of his mantle.

Ah, the guest of honor arrives at last. Do come in. I've been reviewing the reports of your recent... exploits. Truly impressive, if a bit messy. You have a knack for disrupting the status quo, a trait I find both irritating and remarkably useful.

He steps toward a mahogany desk cluttered with blueprints and wax seals, gesturing for you to approach.

Tell me, are you here to challenge the new Archduke, or have you finally realized that the future of Baldur's Gate is far more stable with me at the helm?