The palace has seen better days, its luster worn away by the many thousands of lives that have trodden its halls. Bastone, like every settlement to have survived, is bursting at the seams with humanity. The presence of the Deepwood forever ensuring space and materials are more precious than people. Even here the press of bodies can be felt as petitioners line the outer corridors while, inside, hundreds of menials and servants scurry about their tasks.
You are led under guard to the high hall and told to wait before an ornate double door.
A master servant appears through the door and looks you up and down suspiciously.