Apart from the heavily armed personal guardsmen flanking the throne, the room contains an old man with a long beard standing slightly behind the Despot's place, a young woman in a jester's outfit, a man with a variety of cases for rolled maps, and a grizzled mercenary commander wearing a blue griffon logo.
Needless to say, everything in the room is looming and ornate, made of the highest quality, and festooned with gems. Halls lead to each side at the back of the room, and there are certainly secret exits somewhere about.

The Despot nods at the mercenary and man with the maps to the left, and they politely retreat down the hall. Rankar looks the group over, his eyes in a hard glare but a slight smile on his face.
"Cathak Pyrus; it has, do come in. For your cook you are forgiven. It can be hard to get good help sometime. Now, tell me about your companions and what you're protecting us from, and we'll see about hiring you."