(What happened to the cloaked guy then?)

He's still there. You just haven't asked anything. He sees that the door is presumably locked and doesn't try to open it, indicating that he can't pick locks

Ember looks from the lock, to the Cloaked man, and repeats the action.

"Sooo, you don't have a key for it either?". she asks him. "I have a fireball, if that helps."

"He might not have been expecting us to win. Or alternatively, he is probably weaker than his father due to less experience. He knows if we can beat his father, we can beat him, so he could be waiting for us to be unawares."

The Cloaked Figure listens intently, providing no comment on Artan's speculation.

The CF instead turns to Ember "While that may become neccesary, I would say not too use such powerful magic on a simple door. Instead, Beshlog, could you perhaps try to chop it down? It would still be loud, but at least as not as loud as a massive explosion"

Beshlog smiles.

"My pleasure," he says, twirling his axe.

(Do I need to make attack rolls against the door to hack through its HP, or an Athletics check throw it open with a single blow?) 

Either, depending on how you want to do it. DC is 15

Beshlog throws his shoulder into the door, knocking it off its hinges (Athletics: 21)

"Woo-Hoo!  Go Beshlog!" (Ember gives thumbs up sign)

The door crashes open, falling to the ground with a loud thunk. All is silent. As you peer through the door, you look into what appears to be an opulent bed-room. 

A birch chest sits at the foot of the large bed, the over-quilt emerald green. Torches blaze in sconces in the walls.

One wall is floor to ceiling books, of all different sizes and colors, ratty and brand new, fancy penmanship and quick scribbles on spines.

On the other wall sits a simple desk, like other wood furnishings, made one again of birch wood, and a simple wooden stool, also made of birch, is set before the parchment covered workstation.

Perched on the stool is a figure with fair skin and long silver hair. You can't quite tell if they are male or female, as their back is facing you, and they seem not to have noticed your arrival, even with the great thump of the falling door. They simply hum to themselves as they pore over pages and pages of notes and letters

Ember hums along.

Performance. 18

I love how Ember goes from "I don't trust you! I shall burn you to the ground!" to "la-de-da-de-da what a nice day" in a matter of seconds

Ember hums along, and soon carries away her little performance, going up in down in pitch. The Old Person at the desk doesn't seem to mind though, they simply match Ember note for note.

Ember stops.

The Old Person continues to hum, though they go back to their original melody, and continues to work, ignoring you.

Beshlog sighs... this is going nowhere.

"Excuse me..." he says to the Old Person. "So... sorry about your door, but I guess we need to talk to you. I am Beshlog Stonebreaker."

The Old Person turns around, and the wizened visage of an old man greets you with a warm smile "Ahh, Beshlog, nice to meet you again. I hope your endeavors in life have gone well? But of course they have, for someone as talented as yourself. The door is fine, I can just..." he waves his hand, and the door repairs itself, floating back onto the hinges, as if nothing had happened.

The door is still slightly ajar, allowing the whole group to enter the room fully. The Old Man continues "Now that that is completed, tell me, what brings you to an old man such as me in a time like this? Shouldn't you be calming the townsfolk in their panic? Quite a ruckus they're causing" and he gestures out a window, which looks down upon the town.

As you watch, you see people peering out of their houses, looking accusingly, presumably for you. Patrols of men carrying pitchforks, clubs, and old family swords, as well as smoking torches, walk the streets, hunting.

"What do you think has gotten them in such a tizzy?"

"I'm guessing the "grey men" or infection that turns people into them, like this guy's father..." (gestures at Cloaked Guy) "are stirring them up to try & burn the "witches" that were supposedly chosen to save the world, but may have just been chosen to be the "mystery meat" at the cannibal Cafe in the inn.  Of course we are NOT the "chosen ones" because whenever they, whoever they are, tell someone they're the chosen heroes, the people they tell turn gray & try to kill them.  As if it were a curse activated by the admission."

Artan looks at Beshlog, "Again? So you know this man? You aren't going to turn grey and try kill us too I hope." he turns to the Old Person, "I have had enough of games. I have had enough of betrayal. So answer me plainly and truthfully, were you aware that your doorkeeper was killing people, and did you tell him to try and kill us?"

Ember casts Zone of Truth

The Old Guy looks quite bewildered, and when he next speaks, Ember detects no lies from him "That is...well, that explains quite a lot? Witches, you say? Let me guess, they saw you do the tiniest bit of magic, and now want to burn you at the stake?" he sighs "As for this 'grey man', do you mean Rufeus? No, I did not send Rufeus to kill you, why would I?

"Wait, you're the Heroes of the Realm? Oh! This makes a lot more sense now! The Master would be delighted to see you! You should find him now" He turns to address the Cloaked Figure "You know the way, Salastor?" The Cloaked Figure nods, and The Old Guy turns back to the party "Good. Now, before you leave, I suggest you look in that chest over there. You may find its contents useful" He gestures to the chest at the foot of the bed.