Game: Grab yourself a seat, friend.

You notice the dusty wardrobe in the corner is completely free of any nicks or scratches. You also find a trapdoor under where the mimic used to be that it seemed to be guarding.

Solus, it doesn't appear to be trapped or locked.

Ramiel, you notice a blindingly intense aura of abjuration emanating from it.

The trapdoor opens up to a small set of stairs that lead down.

The stairs lead down into a laboratory of some sorts, the cool air cackles with an energy that leaves hair standing on end and metals buzzing. A jungle of alchemical equipment sprawls over the tables on the southern end. Glass containers of various shapes and sizes hold bubbling and hissing chemicals that cast a green glowing mist about the lab.

A high-strung elf in a long white coat impatiently strides from table to table, his head jerking quickly to examine the bubbling liquids as he twitches his nose while sniffing their contents. His hands busily work at a mortar and pestle, the awkward jerking movements spilling half its contents on the floor, while he fusses to himself over temperatures and ingredient ratios.

He looks to engrossed in his work to take notice to your entrance.