They burst through the door, and promptly catch fire.

Fun!

Stalas tilts his head slightly. One of the stone golems tromps through the door in the wake of the flaming revenants.

The golem fails to catch fire, or be attacked in any way.

The door opens onto a sort of balcony overlooking a warehouse floor, with stairs down off to one side. The warehouse holds more of those elf crates seen in the shop, now with added live elves.

The magister is in the center of the floor, encircled by his remaining guards and holding a knife to throat of a grey-haired elf.

"Stop there," he calls. "The rest of you, come out where I can see you, or the elf dies."

"If you insist," says Stalas-the-golem. He follows Kador, and Hesta follows him.

Metella files into the room after Hesta.

And Clare after Metella.

And then finally Eliana.

"There you all are. Eliana, I expected better of you."

"I can read the changing wind, magister, even if you cannot."

"Hmph. Well then. You have destroyed my cover, decimated my men. What is it that you want?"

"I want you to let all your captives go unharmed, give us proof of Teyrn Loghain's involvement in this little escapade, and then go away and not come back," says Stalas, very reasonably.

"Now, that doesn't sound very appealing. I've invested a significant amount of time and energy into this project and if I return home with nothing to show for it, well."

"You'll be returning home alive, which is more than you'll get if you don't let all your captives go unharmed," says Stalas.

"That's not actually preferable."

"Is it not? One wonders why you get into these business ventures in the first place. I suppose I could be convinced to pay you for the proof; the other condition is non-negotiable."

"A hundred and fifty sovereigns."

"Enough to set up a new household. He's going to be in a significant amount of trouble when he returns to Minrathous."

"And she comes with me."

"She goes where she likes. I remind you once again that you are not leaving this city with any prisoners. Does fifty sovereigns sound like enough to make life worth living?"

"Just kill him he's not worth this-"

"Fifty sovereigns to walk away having lost the slaves, my men, and the Archon's pet project?" He shakes his head. "No."

"You're a remarkably inconvenient person," says Stalas. "I don't normally have to pay my enemies not to kill themselves."

And then the knife in the magister's hand leaps away.

He makes an abortive fumble after it, curses, then shoves the elf away from him. He shakes his hands free and raises them, chanting some sort of ritual.

His guards tighten their ranks, two with bows nock arrows and fire up at the group on the platform.