Gortash Day 1: Lord/ Street Rat
For @gortash-week's 2026 week
He knows he’s dreaming, but he can’t do anything. His body moves without command, shrinking and trailing down the many alleys of Baldur’s Gate. Familiar alleys, ones he fled to when his parents got too loud, ones he learned much of the underbelly of the Gate from. Ones that he first saw The Dark Urge in, already the Chosen of Bhaal and covered in the blood of sacrificed fools. The white dragonborn stared him down, a lurking and looming shadow that threatened his very being with just a look.
“Run along, little fox,” the assassin growled, allowing him to flee. And even now, in this memory, this dream, he does. His legs pump as he runs and runs and runs and runs. Over stone, over steel, over disgustingly familiar tile and marble. Abruptly, his legs give out and he crawls, sponge in hand and bucket at his side. Washing at the floor, he peers around the column, spying Tav, small and oh so pretty, at the side of her noble parents. Her soft brown eyes raise to meet his, causing her to gasp and avert her eyes.
“A pretty bride. Not for me,” Rapheal had declared with an amused chuckle, the contract that promised a pretty bride for a street rat, an unwanted wretch, unfurling beside the demon. The contract gave him a reason to escape the House. Time and dream blurs, until this is no longer a memory, but a true fantasy. Tav, pretty and sweet and soft, crying out in bliss as Durge licks at her lower lips, his red eyes staring at him in an all too familiar hunger.
“Wake up.”
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Enver blinks, staring blankly at his canopy. On his left, Durge purrs in his own sleep, claws careful to not scratch Enver’s skin. On his right, Tav cuddles into his chest, her soft brown hair still upsettingly short from the little adventure she and Durge had completed barely two months ago. Enver closes his eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth of his lovers, before starting the shuffling he’s had to do ever since the fall of the Netherbrain into the harbor. The struggle to escape his lovers’ grasp. Luckily, it seems that today is one of the days he doesn’t wake either lover, allowing him to get dressed while watching as they seek out each other in the bed. Durge practically wraps himself around Tav, as she cuddles their dragonborn partner with a happy sigh.
“Cute,” Enver allows himself to coo mockingly, smirking when Durge cracks an eye open enough to aim a middle finger right at him. Tav makes a soft noise, pressing herself even closer to Durge, which allows Enver to watch as Durge’s pupil widen and round in adoration. Huffing, Enver finishes clothing himself and spares a moment to brush a kiss over bother of his partners’ faces.
“I’ll be in meetings all morning,” he quietly tells them, “However, we shall have lunch together.”
“Love you,” Tav mumbles softly, her eyelashes fluttering softly as a small tendril of her shadows reaches out to lovingly curl around Enver’s hand.
“Don’t let them be dicks,” Durge orders, tilting his head just enough to stare Enver in his eye, “We still need them to put more money into the rebuilding of the Lower City housing.”
“Of course,” Enver agrees, reluctantly leaving the side of the bed, “Although, I am going to be an arsehole myself. Some of them don’t recall kicking me when I was forced on the streets some nights. I recall.”
“Get their asses,” Durge yawns with an unenthusiastic fist pump, something Enver knows he picked up while traveling with Karlach. Enver snorts, but finally leaves the room.
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Arriving at the meeting room, Enver sits at the head of the table, his mouth fighting to stay neutral as a good number of nobles slink in, sweating. While his own coffers are fairly depleted due to being used to rebuild, Tav had instructed him on just where to put his money to look above reproach while still manipulating the entire population. A nice chunk went to several nobles, with a reminder that he may ask for either a favor or interest in the future.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he drawls as Ulder reluctantly sits at his side, “Thank you all for joining our meeting. Now, we need to discuss how to rebuild the Lower City now that the Upper City is more than stable.”
“Why should we?” Lady Ambrose sniffs, even as she fidgets with her hands nervously, “They are merely peasants, not people of importance.”
“Lady Ambrose,” Ulder warns, “They are people all the same.”
“And they are the majority of the work force,” Enver points out blithely, “Should word get out that the patriars aren’t helping, I wouldn’t be surprised if most of them leave without even declaring that they quit.” Many nobles balk at the reminder that they must rely on the lower classes for their income. Enver sees Ulder twitch, likely annoyed that they have to plead to pragmatism rather than goodwill to all. But, Enver doesn’t particularly care either way, as he had to argue with both Durge and Tav yesterday about taking the day off of helping the Lower City, missing his partners far more than he will confess to in public.
“Well, what are we to do?” Lord Irlentree asks, “I’ve already sent out most of my fleet to gather materials and other necessities, but many peasants don’t have the money to pay for the items.”
“Sell at a lower price,” Enver answers, slipping the Lord a sheet Tav had written up with possible temporary prices that wouldn’t net a loss, but not obtain as much of a profit as usual, “These are temporary prices that should allow for many peasants to be able to make their purchases. Some necessities might need to be sold as a loss that can be covered with some coin from coffers, but these are the best numbers that were thought up to allow you to still do business.” The Lord hums and nods, looking over the numbers himself while a few other nobles crane their heads curiously.
“Most of the major buildings have been either rebuilt or properly reinforced,” Lady Vanthampur declares, crossing her rather burly arms, “Thanks to your coffer, we’ve been able to provide the majority of citizens with housing, with those in the minority either being too stubborn to ask for help or were of the lucky few whose homes were not nearly as destroyed.”
“Excellent,” Enver nods, pleased as Ulder relaxes by his side. He turns back to the other nobles, staring them down, “Now, both Irlentree and Vanthampur are helping the Lower City rather nicely. What of the rest of you? My coin is either put into the city, or returned to me with interest.” The chaos that occurred after the reminder puts a smirk on Enver’s face, amused at the desperation of the nobles as Ulder slips over the notes about the Flaming Fist patrols and a request to push Lord Rillyn about both Enver and Ulder’s coins.
