The simple fact that it's impossible to give away a sealed and signed copy of PoE—that hardly anyone is willing merely to receive it and allow it to occupy 0.2 m³ of space in their home—is truly the best result I could have hoped for.
As such, its fate may end up being to occupy its own anti-shrine, let's say a rectangular patch of bare floor in a corner of the garage marked off neatly with black electrical tape, the box centered within that perimeter, and with a small laminated placard off to one side that reads: "You will never be able to utilize this space for anything worthwhile."
"What is this jewel that gives your keep its name?" He asked him as they sat talking over their emptied gold plates and gold goblets in the cavernous, candlelit dining-hall.
"You have not heard of it? It is a famous thing."
"No. I know only that the Lords of the Codex have famous treasuries."
"Ah, this jewel outshines them all. Come, would you like to see it?"
He smiled, with a look of mockery and daring, as if a little afraid of what he did, and led the young man from the hall, out through the narrow corridors of the base of the tower, and down stairs underground to a locked door he had not seen before.
This he unlocked with a silver key, looking up at the Newfag with that same smile as he did so, as if he dared him to come on with him. Beyond the door was a short passage and a second door, which he unlocked with a gold key, and beyond that again a third door, which he unlocked with one of the Great N-Words of Unbinding. Within the last door, his candle showed them a small room like a dungeon-cell: floor, walls, ceiling all of big-boxes, unfurnished, blank.
"Do you see it?" Blaine asked.
As the Newfag looked around the room his wizard's eye caught one box of those that made the floor. It was scuffed and dank as the rest, a heavy, ungainly big-box: yet he felt the power of it as if it spoke to him aloud. And his breath caught in his throat, and a sickness came over him for a moment. This was the foundingbox of the collection. This was the central place, and it was cold, bitter cold; nothing could ever warm that little room. This was a very ancient thing: an old and terrible spirit was prisoned in that box of cardboard. He did not answer Blaine yes or no, but stood still, and presently, with a quick curious glance at him, he pointed out the box. "That is Pillars of Eternity. Do you wonder that we keep so precious a jewel locked away in our deepest boardroom?"