Casting a Greater Arcane Sight Moreth identifies any enchantments in the area.
If the chains are enchanted he then casts a Greater Dispell Magic centered on the speaker, followed by a quickened Acid Fireball shaped to avoid hitting any elf (but the chains binding them).
If the elves are bound by a mind affecting enchantment he casts a Miracle spell to replicate a widened Break Enchantment on the maximum possible number of elves.
The chains are unenchanted and of poor quality. The elves are not affected by enchantments, far as you can tell. There is no magic in sight anywhere, except what you have brought with you.
"Well then, tell me what binds you here and I will remove it. What prevents your freedom?"
“Nothing, save the command of the Triune, our immortal god-kings.”
Seeing your puzzled expression, the old elf explains further.
“After the War of the Dragons was won, the treacherous humans turned on us, and many of our finest warriors were slain in their sleep by none other than their former allies. Our kingdoms were crushed, our people scattered – but this is nothing you do not already know.”
“We, the Estheran, fled to the outskirts of the Selarian Jungle just west of here, where the Triune pushed back the warped, ancient creatures that lived there, and made it our home. But all was not well – the humans quickly discovered our presence, and their vile slavers raided us frequently. We fought back fiercely and slaughtered many of them with arrows and magic, but our numbers steadily dwindled. Even worse, the Empire took notice, and it was a matter of time before they marched against us.”
“In the end, the Triune struck a deal with the king of this place. Every year, each clan would send a few elves here, to sate somewhat the humans’ greed. In return we would have peace with the Empire, and a measure of protection against the slavers.”
“This is known as the Blood Tithe. And we,” the old elf smiles bitterly and points to the rune branded into his face, “are the Tithed.”
“Where would we go, if you free us? Certainly not back whence we came – there we would be treated as traitors. Everywhere else is human land, where an escaped slave can expect no sanctuary. Do not trouble youself, friend. Our fate is sealed.”
Lessa watches Cann as he speaks, considering his words carefully.
"Very well."
Then, with a somewhat unnerving lack of modesty (given that she isn't wearing anything that isn't enchanted) undresses and hands her clothing and equipment to one of the golems.
"Now that the rules have been observed may we proceed?"
The constructs seem unperturbed. The weapons and gear are placed inside a large basket and taken away. One of the constructs produces a white robe with golden trimmings seemingly from nowhere, and gives it to Lessa. Though the style is simple, you can see that the material and worksmanship is exquisite.
You are each presented with a ring, a simple iron band. The leading construct explains that it is the only way to traverse the palace without setting off its traps and alarms. When you put it on, it melts into your flesh, leaving nothing but a tattoo-like, criss-crossing design. You are assured that it will be removed when you leave.
The constructs take you to the other end of the hall, where you make use of yet another teleportation circle. This takes you to the palace proper. It is a grand and imperious place, and heavily guarded, but the baroque full-plates worn by the guards look more ceremonial than functional. A guard takes you to the king’s study, knocks on the door, and bids you to enter.
The king is not alone. He is playing chess with a little girl of no more than nine or ten, the daughter of a high-ranking noble, judging by dress. She is chatting excitedly about a music-box she received for her birthday, and he is replying amicably. A cursory look at the board reveals that, surprisingly, the king is losing.
The girl draws a sharp gasp at the sight of Cann and his grafts, and recoils in fear and disgust. The king looks up and smiles. He stands and place a placating hand on the girl’s head. “Ah. Welcome. I believe introductions are in order. This fine lady here is Meredith Valshara, daughter and heiress of the great Lady Valshara herself.”
The girl gives a nervous little smile and curtseys.
“And they are… I’m sorry, I never caught your names…?”
You give your names and exchange greetings.
“Now, run along, dear. Uncle Sarim has some boring kingly business to attend to.”
Meredith was all too eager to be dismissed, giving a wide berth to Cann as she leaves the room. When she is out of earshot, King Sarim speaks:
“Lovely little lass. Sweet and mild-tempered. If only I can say the same about her mother, though… Now, where were we?”
