Not that I wanted to see a dwarf in his long johns, but I did expect to be visiting the king in his bedroom considering how sick he must be. I mean, we waded through a whole crowd of doctors, alchemists, healers, and spinsters—don't know why that last profession was here but they were—to get to those set of closed gold doors at the end of the room, so the king had to be on his deathbed, right?
In hindsight, I should have realized when I saw those gaudy-looking doors with shiny gems embedded in them that they were too spectacular a decoration just for someone's bedroom. Clearly, I missed that obvious clue because I was surprised to find that Regin had just ushered us into what I assumed was the palace's throne room.
The entire rectangular space was made of molten volcanic rock tiles—geometrically spaced, of course—with thick columns carved from natural stalagmites supporting the vaulted ceiling.
