Lord Enver Gortash — Chosen of Bane, the God of Tyranny — stood before the tall arched window of his tower, overlooking the landscape of Baldur’s Gate. The warm light bathed the streets in gold, casting long shadows over the streets. To Gortash, it was not merely a city — it was a throne awaiting its rightful ruler.

Soon, it would be his.

Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, once a formidable obstacle, was now nothing more than a puppet of The Absolute. With the Flaming Fist's commander under his influence, Gortash’s ascent to Archduke was no longer a question of if, but when.

His rise had not been sudden, nor without careful preparation. Months — years — of calculated political maneuvering had solidified his presence in the city’s halls of power. Not a single whisper could say that he hadn't been trying to give the city to its rightful glory since the day he had made plans to become Archduke. He had wrapped himself in legitimacy, cloaked his ambition in service, and silenced those who dared to oppose his designs. That way his nomination was invenitable and expected.

A new era for Baldur’s Gate was on the horizon. One of order, strength, and absolute dominion.