"After all that, I'm not really tired. I think I will stay up and watch while you get some rest."
The group covers the bodies as well as they can, finally falling into fitful slumber with that grotesque work done. Randall keeps watch, but the rest of the night passes uneventfully, and early the next morning the doors open silently to admit floating platters of food and drink which come to rest on the tables, before the doors close once more.
The rest of the group awakens to find breakfast laid out and (more than likely) Randall and a pudgy hedgehog helping themselves.
Breakfast consists of fresh biscuits with mounds of fruit and fruit compote, a large bowl of creamy corn grits (with lots of butter), and a wide silver platter of egg and onion fritters.
"So we gotta get a hold of the Queen and let her know what happened", Njord says spraying bits of boiled egg. "Otherwise this is gunna get messy real quick."
Brushing some egg from his sleeve, Randall offers, "It's already messy. I can ask for an audience, but like as not, we will have to pass a message to her through someone - someone we trust or someone we can give a coded message."
"Maybe we can use that place. She said it was safe there", Njord suggests before slurping up more of the grits.
Confused, "Use it for what? To hide the bodies? How will we get them there unseen?"
"What of that maid?" Xiddik asks, her head tilting. "She is loyal, no?"
"Aye, she seems so. If we can find her."
As the group is finishing breakfast, there's a loud knock on the door. "Open in the name of the Queen!" comes Lord Villastir's familiar voice.
"The fun never ends. I miss the Goblin." Jametor says, looking up from his spellbook.
"You and me both, Jametor," Asht'el grumbles, rising from the table.
He moves to the door and calls out in a pleasant voice, "Come in! We've saved a few crumbs of breakfast for you."
Following the ifrit to the door, Randall adds, "Thank goodness you've arrived! We were attacked and didn't know who to tell!"
The door swings open to reveal Lord Villastir, flanked by what must be an entire squadron of the Queen's elite guard.
"Save your lies," sneers the elf. "I am here to place you under arrest for the attempted murder of Queen Telandia. You are to be transferred to more secure quarters, where you will await trial. Do not resist."
"Are these being charged as well?" Jametor says as he gestures to the dead in the room.
"By all means we'll go with you, our good names will be cleared, even those with less than good names will be cleared." Jametor says with a grin as he gestures to himself.
"But Lord Villastir, please tell me you didn't just bring an entire squadron and keep them in an enclosed space without some protection from a fireball or 12." he says as he rises, holding his staff in a peaceful offering of surrender.
Njord brushes the crumbs from his chest and then puts his hands up in surrender. ”We’re comin’ peacefully. There’s no need to get mean.”
Hands on his hips, Randall says, some concern in his voice, "I trust the queen is unhurt. None of us left this room all night - we were too busy defending ourselves from these assassins. By the way, one got away, so you might want to be on the lookout for someone sporting fresh burns..."
Villastir ignores Jametor's proffered staff, nodding once at Njord's comment. "Good. I would not wish to... 'get mean'."
Once the group has gathered their things, the elite guards split into a vanguard and rearguard, with Villastir leading the way. Twenty minutes or so later, the guards lead the way through a pair of double doors to a large antechamber decorated to the left and right by statues of enormous wasps, and then come to a shimmering golden curtain. Turning to the soldiers, Villastir motions them to one side and gestures for the party to proceed through the curtain.
Xiddik comes quietly, reasoning that this must be the way they'll be transported to the dungeon. She wonders idly if her teammates will be able to handle the new location.
"What's through that curtain?" Asht'el asks mildly. "Any reason you're not going through first?"
"I've got a bad feeling 'bout this", Njord mutters with a frown at Asht's query.
Xiddik studies the face of Villastir closely.
Randall stops before entering and looks at the elven noble, "I am not familiar with your culture. How and when will we get a chance to prove our innocence?"
"You will be perfectly safe," replies the tall elf. "The Queen will convene your hearing when she is fully recovered from her ordeal and her diviners have completed their work."
"Fine, the treatment you've given to the people who've literally saved the world is abhorrent. Once again, I wonder if my separation from the elven culture wasn't for the best." Jametor says curtly before he stomps through the veil.
"We'll be hearing shortly, then," Xiddik says, stepping forward as well. "And when—" She steps through.
"If they be truthful in their efforts, we will be happy to aid in bringing her attackers to justice. I'm sure your capable forces can handle it without us, but the offer remains."
He turns toward Firiel and extends an elbow to escort her through the veil.
Seeing his companions step through the shimmering veil, Ash'tel shrugs and says to Njord, "I've followed them into crazier stuff, let's see where this goes." He steps through the golden curtain, wondering what Xiddik was about to say.
Beyond the golden curtain, the group finds themselves in a large, well-appointed area full of books, musical instruments, and other forms of entertainment. Luxurious tapestries hang suspended from slim marble pillars, many of which are tied back to give the room an airy, open feeling. Light filters in from an opening in the ceiling, and softly glowing lanterns hang from several of the pillars. The center of the room is a wide common area, decorated with potted plants and a large pool and fountain burbling in the exact center of the room. Entrances to four smaller chambers mostly closed by thick green curtains surround the larger central area.
"Well, this is my kind of prison." Jametor says as he heads for the books.
Njord scratches at his beard as he considers the scene. "Well this isn't so bad - assuming they've got somethin' to eat around here."
"Hello?" comes a female voice from one of the four side chambers. "Who's there?"
Randall, ever cautious, slips into the closest hiding place, drawing the lady halfing as he goes.
Xiddik's tail twitches suspiciously. She peers up towards the light. "This is no dungeon."
"Prisoners apparently", Njord answers with a hearty laugh. "And who are you? Prisoner like us or a warden?"
From one of the corner rooms emerges a young, slender woman apparently of half-elven descent. She smiles at Njord, though there's a hint of resignation in her soft green eyes. Instead of speaking, she approaches the big man and puts a hand lightly on his shoulder, as if expecting it to pass right through. When it doesn't, her eyes widen and she bursts into tears. "You're real," she whispers. "You're real."
Randall remains in hiding, but looks over at Firiel, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.
Fíriel shakes her head and shrugs helplessly. What are you thinking? she signs to Randall.