'Do not think of what you have lost, do not dwell on your debts. Set your mind on higher things - set your mind on me.'

You stare at the profusely decorated pedestal with a bronze bust depicting a two-horned devil. You aren't exactly sure if it's supposed to be Raphael himself or another devil that you haven't personally met, or just a general image of an inhabitant of Hells. The matching metal plaque underneath, however, most definitely refers to the master of the house.

You remember very little from the items and information you previously looked for inside the House of Hope, as the issues at the time - the complicated choice regarding the Crown of Karsus - took most of your attention and brain power. Now, with almost two full days left to spare, you find yourself wandering on the corridor around the main dining room, peeking inside the Archive, inspecting every corner, taking in every detail of the place. And - gods above along with the lords below - this house truly is a sight to behold. Without the lurking dread in the back of your mind, the threat of being caught by a displeased owner of the house, the tormented debtors dwelling within these walls, you find yourself able to fully appreciate everything surrounding you.

You hear someone approaching you, but you allow your eyes to travel up a green basalt column, decorated with spiraling brass ornaments, ending in a nice ionic design. A sudden air of uneasiness hits you and you have a feeling that it's not Hope but Korrilla who has joined you.

You slowly move your head to the side to look at the entrance to the Archive.

'Learning commandments?' she asks as your eyes meet. The bronze bust of a devil stares at you menacingly with unblinking eyes.

'Sort of,' you respond and point at the plaque. 'I am trying to,' you wave your right hand and look away from her for a moment, trying to look for a word. 'Figure out Raphael. I guess'

'I see,' she responds dryly.

Silence falls upon the two of you and you have a feeling that there is some kind of a tension hanging in the air. You move away from the nearest plaque and take a few steps forward before standing in front of a matching brass figure. The plaque underneath this one says:
'I am the architect of destiny, I am the purveyor of hope. I am the future.'

You pout and look up at the ceiling, watching the green basalt arch connecting with the red granite walls. Korrilla appreciates that you do not keep a direct eye contact with her, as she tries to release the discomfort from her suddenly heavy shoulders. You can almost sense the need for a conversation oozing from her, but you are insightful enough to understand that she cannot be forced into spilling what's on her mind.

As a few more moments pass, you move away from the busts towards one of the wings of the Archive, staying close to the bookshelves that you try to examine. Most of the titles of the books you cannot even read, they are probably written in Infernal. There are some, however, that catch your attention.

You approach a table beside a red leather armchair and bend down towards the floor to reach for a book which was disregarded and forgotten. A few loose pages decorate the floor around your feet and for a second you wonder how unusual it is to see such detail in an otherwise well-kept place. But then, your mind reminds you of the table full of rotting food and you find yourself thinking that maybe the son of Mephistopheles is too, a being of contradictions.

You brush off the dust from the thick cover and flip the book open before noticing that one of the corners of the pages has been folded. Your fingers slide against the paper, and you hold the tome while examining the text.

'And with the downfall of Sarevok' the page begins and you feel your brows furrow in revery at the mention of the familiar name of the infamous Bhaal cult leader.

You reach for the armchair and pull the backrest closer to sit on the cushioned seat, your eyes never leaving the text.

'The demonstration of Iron Throne (...) 48 hour long ritual that concluded by levitating the Iron Throne (...) deepest channel of Grey Harbour, where it was plunged beneath the waves.'

As you read the whole page, you place the open book on the table, suddenly feeling a weird sensation stirring in your gut. Why is this page marked?

You lean back in the armchair, staring straight ahead at the pedestal where the Orphic Hammer once was.

'Oh gods...' you whisper quietly, at the sudden shiver passing through your body.

The months you spent under the influence of The Emperor's tadpole, the stress of possible ceremorphosis as well as all the other dangers you had to overcome were occupying all of your attention. But now, after your mind finally became your own once again, you find yourself capable of attempting to see the bigger picture.

Gortash was held inside House of Hope - a lair of a devil absolutely obsessed with getting his hands on the Crown of Karsus. Gortash, who managed to escape from where he was sold to, found a Bhaal cult in which he met a Bhaalspawn, his previous associate who was murdered by Orin later on.

Could it be that the folded page was Gortash's bookmark? You certainly can't imagine Raphael folding a corner of one of his precious books like that.

If that is the case, doesn't that also mean that whilst Gortash was in prison, he had a chance to look at the infernal engines keeping the House of Hope afloat, which in turn could have inspired him to find out what else the infernal iron was capable of, thus leading him to the idea of the Steel Watch?

A few meters away, you spot another pile. Is this supposed to draw one's attention? Because it certainly works. You quickly approach the other discarded book and flip through the pages, hungrily following the text with your eyes, while returning to the table. The volume explains the master craftsmanship of Gondians and their High House of Wonders, the place you and your team discovered while looking for the source of Steel Watcher's powers.

You freeze in your step, not realizing that you hold your own breath. It is Korrilla who reminds you of her presence and as a consequence, pulls you out of the overwhelming noise of your own thoughts, allowing your lungs to expand again.

'How are you doing this?' she prompts with a sigh.

You turn your head towards her and raise your eyebrows, allowing the wrinkles between them to relax. You sit down at the table.
'Pardon?'

Korrilla eyes and approaches you carefully before taking a seat in front of you.
'Why won't you just give in?'

After you support your chin on a palm, Korrilla takes a more comfortable position, shifting her knees towards the center of the chair.

'If I agree to become his warlock, I am convinced that he will phrase the infernal contract in a way that will prevent my insubordination, or in case of my resistance, my soul is going to be claimed. It will be more than enough for him to want to punish me further and because of that I would be worried about my friends' safety. If I do as he pleases, I also cannot guarantee safety of anyone dear to my heart, you and your sister included.'

'But you would be free of the curse,' Korrilla reminds you.

'It would only be dormant, not fully gone. I don't think Raphael would want it gone.'

'So what is your plan then?'

You look above the woman's left shoulder, staring at a mosaic decorating the center of the floor in the Archive. You admire the masterwork that went into creating the complicated and perfectly symmetrical layout of the marble and granite tiles and the brass ornaments twisting and curling around towards the center, forming a skull of a creature with three mouths and an usual crown of horns.

'In my current state, I am a danger to people around as long as there is no one strong enough to stop me. I should most likely retreat away from the civilization and make sure that I am far from any settlements to not cause any trouble,' you rub your knuckles in thought.

It is a grim perspective. Definitely not what you imagined when entering the portal to Cania. Your eyes dart away from the mosaic and back to the surface of the table, where you subconsciously focus on the pattern of the knars of mahogany table in front of you.

'Working for Raphael isn't half bad,' she says, tilting her head to the side. You catch her eye and see no desire to taunt or offend. 'He was the best master I had,' Korrilla drops the eye contact to quickly glance at the entrance to the Archive. She shifts uneasily in her seat and looks back at you.

'Do you have... other comparison?'

'I do.'

'I'm sorry you had to go through that.'

There is a moment of silence, after which you decide to slowly nod without pushing for more information. Korrilla seems to have returned to her previous state. There is still something hanging in the air, something heavy and laced with guilt that you sense in her presence, but you stand up and wave your right hand towards the busts of the devils.
'Could you show me the rest of the plaques? I didn't have enough time to read everything when I was in here the first time.'

'Sure,' she answers simply and slides off to her feet. She leads you away from the bookshelves and the armchairs, towards the opposite wall of the entrance. On both sides of the display where Orphic Hammer once was, there are two doors leading to a roof-less balcony, overlooking the burning river Styx. Korrilla pushes the door on the left open and leads you towards another set of expensive furniture, placed in front of a big bronze statue. 'Here.'

You place your hands on the heavy wooden table supporting your body weight as you lean in towards the bottom of the figure, trying to read the text. The plaque says:
'Vengeance. The most delectable of poisons.'

Your mind immediately thinks of Raphael's debtors. Is vengeance a common goal amongst them? You wonder for a moment, your mind reminding you of the Infernal Mason, the head of the Mason's Guild who stroke a deal with Raphael in order to slaughter the Dark Justiciar's army. It was most definitely a response to Ketheric Thorm turning his back to the goddess Selune, whom the Infernal Mason stayed a faithful servant of.

But for some reason, your gut whispers to you that this is too simple. Raphael seeks any who are desperate and could be beneficial to him - of course, almost every soul is of some kind of value, especially when one considers that the House of Hope used to be equipped with soul pillars, empowering the master. Even someone of his charm and persuasion would not be able to harvest this many souls if he was to choose only the ones driven by vengeance. This... this feels personal.

Once again, Korrilla brings you back to the ground after you submerge yourself in your own thoughts. She raises a silver chalice filled with bloody-red, aromatic liquid - some high quality Amniam dessert wine.
'Want some?'

'No thank you, I do not drink.'

'At all?'

'Well, I did have some after defeating the elder brain, that's about it,' you clarify, looking at her with a slight smile.

She gazes at you, clearly judgmentally, before shrugging and taking a sip that stains the inside of her full lips. You turn around and notice a telescope placed close to the stone balustrade hugging the balcony. You take a few steps to glance through its lenses and rotate the device horizontally to inspect the dry, sharp rocks and the scorching hot, red liquid of the river Styx. You aren't exactly sure if it's molten lava or some kind of blood, but the sight is repulsive enough for you to straighten your back and take a step backwards.

Meanwhile, Korrilla refills her chalice, feeling the pleasantly warming sensation sliding through her body to the pits of her stomach. She glances at the plaque and a flash of grimace passes through her face before giving in to a neutral expression. You turn around, seeing her swirl the red liquid inside the silver goblet. She raises her chin, looking at you with a sudden challenge gleaming in her eye.

'I liked working for Raphael.'

You blink and frown, not quite sure what that statement was supposed to achieve. You take a few sweet seconds to think before responding.
'I had a feeling you did.'

She takes a quick sip from the chalice, attempting to give herself more courage. When her lips part ways with the brim of the goblet, she pushes them in a thin line, slightly twisting them downwards.
'Is this all you have to say?'

'What would you like to hear?' you ask softly, finally witnessing that your intuition was right about assigning an aura of guilt to her current mood.

'Will you not condemn me for what I just said? After everything you've come to learn about me?' She makes a pause and grips the slim handle of the chalice. 'You know what I've been a witness to and yet you come here after everything that has happened, after you have been beaten, unconscious, on the edge of death. And the second you are healed you decide to just... separate yourself? Decide to seek solitude to protect your friends, protect everyone, protect even me?' her voice falters at the end of the sentence and she hastily masks it with a generous sip of alcohol. 'I would still do it, you know?' she stares at you angrily, but the soft expression in your eyes melts her fury away and a glistening line of tears gradually appears in her eyes. 'He kept me well-fed, dressed... I had a warm bed to sleep in, but her?'

You raise the inner corners of your eyebrows, not daring to interrupt her monologue. Korrilla's iron restraint on her voice tells you that she is well versed in concealing her deeply hidden emotions.

'She would never break, no matter how sweet the deal was. And by the Nine, were they sweet!'

'Did you wish that it was you who received these offers?'

'Of course I did!' she raises her voice and turns around abruptly. You stand still, following her with your eyes, allowing her to put some space in between the two of you for her comfort. After a few tense moments, you hear her whisper. 'It's always been this way, you know. She was a cleric and I was a servant to a dwarven master. He would beat me for anything. Threw me scraps from the table, mocked and disrespected me.' She tilts her head to the side once, trying to release the pressure building up in her throat. 'She was always so strong,' the words are so quiet that you have to try your hardest to separate them from the wind. 'Not even a devil could break her.'

You take a careful step towards Korrilla. She looks down at her own reflection inside the goblet.
'And then you came. Leading your friends, inspiring them to stand tall in Raphael's domain, to risk your own life for strangers. Why did you even save me?'

You descend to your knees some distance behind her back. You take a breath in and exhale with control before responding, your voice soft like a warm embrace of a guardian.
'I didn't want any of the violence to happen in the first place. Raphael gave me no choice, but you did not deserve to die there. Not because of his own pride. Throughout my entire journey I did as much as I could to take as little lives as possible. We are all a part of a whole, we are all connected. I used to think otherwise, but now I know it is not up to me to set a verdict and take a life because my true purpose is to protect.'

'And you would do so even when I tell you that I would still come back to work for Raphael?' She raises her head to stop looking down at the wine.

'I would and I will,' you respond with certainty.

She risks a look above her left shoulder.
'I was too scared to even say something, you know? I didn't want my sister to suffer, but above all I didn't understand why she kept refusing him. I was scared of getting hurt... I,' she looks away for a moment. 'A part of me even enjoyed the suffering, because for once it was her, not me.'

Something in her face tells you that she still expects you to lash out, show your anger, condemn her to give her a reason to validate her guilt or to shield herself with more argumentation. Korrilla's eyes search yours for disapproval, disgust or fury, but instead she finds compassion.

You shift on your knees and look down at your hands, recalling the events of your raid on House of Hope.

'Right before we faced off Raphael,' you inhale. 'I remember saying two things to you, that you were a spectator and I also called you stupid.' You meet her gaze and notice her slightly raised eyebrows. 'Both of which were said while I was under the influence of heavy emotions. I was draining strength from my anger. And I want to apologize. You made some mistakes, but there is a part of you that is guilty, otherwise we would not be talking about this. I will not judge nor condemn, all I ask of you is to take that experience and learn its lesson.'

Korrilla stares at you blankly and after a few moments you extend one of your arms towards her.
'Do you wish to be comforted?'

Her lips twist, as a sudden urge to laugh shakes her shoulders. She huffs once and turns her head away from you, quickly wipes her right cheek with her sleeve and walks to the table to place the goblet with a loud thud.
'Huh! As if we were close enough for such a gesture.'

You can't stop the chuckle at the immediate relief as the veil of sadness is lifted from the air around the two of you. You push yourself back to your feet and find yourself feeling a tad dizzy, but you manage to follow Korrilla back to the Archive.

'You wanted the tour, didn't you? Let's finish it before tomorrow, there is quite a lot I can show you.'

As the hours pass, you realize that Korrilla was nowhere near exaggerating. The study of the plaques piques your interest, giving an insight into the owner of the House:

'Flock to me, all who are burdened, and I will give you hope, for my house is yours, and the door is always open,' - says the bust near the entrance to the dining hall opposite to the Archive.

'Do you know what did Raphael want to do with your sister in the first place?' you ask Korrilla, inspecting the curved horns of a bronze cast of a devil.

The woman moves her chin to point to the second bust placed symmetrically on the right side of the descending staircase, past a massive standing chandelier.
'There can be no hell without hope,' she quotes.

'So it's just... symbolic?' you ask and frown.

'I would say that the symbolism gave my sister additional appeal, but the main goal was to harness her power. She has the mastery of the house, because Raphael wanted to convince her to join him. But after a while, when the carrot didn't work, he settled for a stick,' she finishes sourly.

You nod and look to your left, deeper down the corridor.
'Where is she now?'

'She spends a lot of time inside the portal room. She used to go there often when Raphael was away, it might've given her some sense of comfort.'

You wish you could do something about her current state, but the best thing she could possibly do is leaving this place behind and joining a community of people who care for her - like Halsin's settlement. At some point the house will hit the ground either way.

'Was the palace afloat when the two of you got here for the first time?'

'Yes,' Korrilla says. 'And the infernal engines were hard to sustain just with any soul. It consumed too much of Raphael's time. And he never wastes it. He is patient, but utilizes everything he has.'

You lazily rotate on your heel to approach a statue deeper down the corridor. You stand in front of it, looking at the devil with spread arms; flames escaping from the inside of his palms. The devil's chest is bare and muscular, with a belt decorating its waist. Korrilla chuckles once as she follows you to the base of the statue.

'There used to be a special offering here,' she informs and you look at her, raising your eyebrow questioningly. 'A chamber pot, we called it.'

You look back at the statue and manage to recall a foul stench you smelled when passing through this particular spot on both of the times you were inside the House.
'There was also a debtor in here, wasn't there? What was the offering?'

'You better not ask,' she glances at you from the corner of her eye. 'Nothing pleasant.'

You step forward and read the plaque:
'Hellfire. The great gift of Mephistopheles.'

Suddenly, a sense of clarity washes over you, as your mind lays down the dots and connects them all together; the plaques aren't just commandments for the debtors, nor they aren't there just to represent the severe narcissism of the cambion. Those are also values he stands by.
'Vengeance. The most delectable of poisons.'
'Wrath. The purest of all things that burn.'
'Hellfire. The great gift of Mephistopheles.'

Korrilla nods at you to follow and shows you to the door at the top of a small staircase right behind your back. The steps lead to a balcony overlooking one of the two interior bridges connecting the dining hall with the rest of the house. Apart from yet another mahogany table with a set of two comfortable armchairs, you find a bronze bust which says:
'Guile. The face that masks a thousand lies.'

Something about this particular plaque makes you anxiously run your fingers through your smooth hair. Were you ever granted the free will? Have any of your choices been your own or was it always just an illusion?

You close your eyes for a few long moments, thinking intensely, while Korrilla leans on the railing, glancing at the part of the dining hall she can see from such angle. Her eyes idly follow the folds of long, crimson curtains decorating the ceiling above the giant, hexagonal table, illuminated by a few suspended ever-burning chandeliers.

'Have you dealt with any other cambions or devils, Korrilla?' you ask, still deep in thoughts.

'I only had one patron, but the scale of Raphael's operation allowed me to meet a few. Why?'

'Is he different from the others?'

'I thought you knew that already.'

'I think I do, but I would prefer to either confirm or deny my conclusions,' you stroke your chin and open your eyes to turn towards her.

'What's on your mind, then?'

'Many things, I don't know what to tell you first,' you admit and lean on the railing next to her. You impatiently tap your left toes on the marble tiles a few times, before settling on one question. 'Before we freed Gondians from the Iron Throne, Mizora, Wyll's parton visited us. She said that his father was taken somewhere and that his life is in danger. She said that he can either be saved or not, but it depends on what choice Wyll makes. It turned out that he was not up for any execution, Gortash held him in prison along with the families of Gondians. At the time, we thought that this is our only option, but now that I think about it, Mizora didn't do anything to ensure his safety. The Duke was just there. Waiting to be rescued. She lied to us, but Raphael doesn't lie, does he?'

'He doesn't have to,' Korrilla responds. You look back at the nearest plaque, as if checking if what you read a few minutes ago is still there. 'When you ask another devil to help your family to never be hungry again, you will most likely see them dead. Dead people cannot get hungry, right? But with Raphael? He will grant what is being asked of him. Have you met the theologist debtor?'

'No.'

'It's exactly what his request was. 'Please, Raphael, help out my poor, starving family.' So he did.' Korrilla makes quotation marks with both her hands.

'But why would he? Was the theologist some kind of a cleric?'

'No, just a regular townsfolk.' You frown and rotate your hand in a gesture of non-verbal question. 'Raphael likes indulgence. He will not only make the decisions that benefit him, but the ones that also bring him some kind of enjoyment. And look around you,' she tells you and you do as you are told, looking at the expensive construction materials that create the house floors and walls, the lavish furnishing and the generous amount of art decorating most of the free space. 'Isn't a theologist praising a devil just poetic? Raphael loves art.'

'You are right about the previous thing, how he doesn't have to lie,' you wave your finger approvingly and peel your gaze from a portrait of a tiefling noble, then twist your bottom lip, thinking of your discoveries inside Shar's Gauntlet. 'I remember the book we found that split a soul of Dark Justiciar into hundreds of rats. I was considering helping Yurgir with his deal, but Astarion wanted some information from Raphael, so we had to do as he said. But now, it makes so much more sense. Yurgir was never lied to, his quest to slaughter every Dark Justiciar within the walls of the underground temple was very much real. Raphael just made sure that he would not find the last soldier.'

You exhale and shake your head in disbelief as a scene flashes through your brain. A gleam in Raphael's eyes as he says - 'The unconditional freedom to choose the only option left.' The scene vanishes and you trace your bottom lip with the tip of your finger.

'But for some reason, I thought that the theatrics and whole poetry and everything else might be just a persona he puts up to lure people in,' you confess. 'I never actually thought that this is an expression of his true self.'

'Tav, he wrote a song for your demise!' Korrilla rolls her eyes.

'He what now?'

'We had rehearsals, a ton of them.'

'Was he expecting me to fight him?'

'The second you stepped through the portal and he felt your presence, he knew what you are going to do. But before that happened, he was prepared for anything. Every single outcome. Well, almost every one of them.'

'I do remember hearing organs when he finished his little monologue. You mentioned rehearsals, does he sing? Do you sing? Tell me more about it,' you request, very intrigued.

'I was opening the song and he had a few lines as well.'

'I almost wish I lost so that I could hear it.'

'Maybe there will be another occasion,' she shares and you shoot her a concerned glance.

'Of my demise?'

'Of him singing to you,' she answers with a playful glint in her dark eyes. 'After everything you did to him I was not expecting you to last three days. And yet here you are, safe and sound. Well, more or less at least,' she glances meaningfully at the top of your shoulder where the cursed scar ends.

'I am surprised myself,' you admit quietly. 'And he hasn't really made an effort into being a pain in my ass. Excluding the tavern incident, that is.'

'And he brought you and Halsin with Jaheira here,' she reminds, raising one of her fingers as if to prove a point.

There is a moment of a comfortable silence between the two of you.

'That, I actually fail to understand,' you clasp your hands on the railing.

'Hm?'

'It's not like I want this to happen, but I just fail to understand why he won't reach to use the stick on me. He knows how I function and I know for a fact that I have a tendency to annoy him with my decisions, but he still didn't do anything that serious. He could leave me in prison to rot, checking on me occasionally to make sure I don't die of starvation or dehydration. He could trigger the curse to make me hurt my friends. I'm sure there are many options here.'

'I won't delude neither of us and attempt to reach some conclusion here, because boss operates on a level that is beyond my comprehension. But what I do think is important here, is that you just vanquished him. Not once in his god-knows-how-long career did a single mortal prove him not just of their strength, but also his weakness.'

'But it wasn't just me,' you defend, but she cuts you off.

'Your friends wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. Your githyanki friend would just take the deal and no one would dare to pass the portal.'

You close your half-open mouth and nod after a while.

'I can't possibly imagine what goes on through his brain after such events happened. Especially,' she emphasizes. 'When you are now rendered powerless. Imagine seeing yourself as invincible, outwitting everyone for millennia and then not just getting defeated, but also being rescued. All that by a single human not expecting anything in return, becoming almost defenseless and still tending to his wounds with a compassionate heart? Out of all things, he has to be confused. It's easier to try to justify one's demise if your opponent is still strong. And you manage to keep hold of him just with pure determination,' she sums up. 'I don't wish this fate upon you, but it seems that you might be his next Hope.'

You trace your jaw and hum in thought.
'Maybe in more ways than one,' you add and the two of you go quiet once again.