With a bit of confidence borrowed from the brothers’ behind him, Vigo started to speak.

“Good sir, we are not homeless, technically, and we are most certainly not smugglers,” the young Abbot said. 
Moving forward with a little more boldness but still looking up to them servant he said with confidence, “I am Father Vigo Galbassi, Abbot of the Abby of the Order the Divine Wisdom.”
“We have come seeking the aid of his Excellency. Raiders and thieves attacked our Abby. Fourty of our brothers were killed along with Duke Vadimovich and some of his servants,” Vigo said loud enough that those in the room could hear but not loud enough to be impolite. 
“The barbarians killed our best and strongest healers, then worked through the ranks,” Vigo expressed with a bit more emotion than he intended.
“It was by Divine Mercy that we were spared,” he concluded then added, “We have walked for the last five days to arrive here.”

The brothers did their best to show proper respect. The mention of food and the thought of hit made the hillfolk stomachs growl. 

His confessor, a monk much older than himself, whispered to him, “Make the quartz on your staff glow.” 
Vigo smiled as the servant surely heard the suggestion as well. 
“Lumanotiar,” Vigo spoke in a commanding voice causing the quarts on his staff and any other quartz item in the room start to glow. 

Vigo was not sure if that would help their situation. It did draw attention to his little party as the bright white quartz glowed and illuminated the room.

At one time the order had some battle mages in their order, with the times, the order turned more towards healing. The chest on the donkey contained what was suppose to magical spells that a battle mage could use, sadly none of the remaining brothers worked any of those arts. It was the learning the ancient scripts and then trying to talk to someone in the modern tongue. It sounds strange and it makes you feel like a fool, and with magic feeling foolish also could mean bad consequences. 

Vigo decided to give a gentile smile.
His thoughts were racing, “Do not think we are assassins. It would have a better display to produce fire or cause something to move. If this does not go well, we may be hauling bodies out like those workers. Why did I let them talk me into being the abbot?” 

“It may be divine intention that we are here as well. The brothers come with their skills and it appears that the staff here is lacking,” Vigo added.
“Brother Afonin,” Vigo spoke then motioned for him to come forward. 
“This dear brother, is an excellent cook.  Brother Agilbert, was our stable master and tended the animals…”
Vigo introduced each of the brothers having them step forward and explained how they could be of service. 

Feeling very confident as his group had made it past the threshold into the room without out being thrown out, till he realized he did not know what he could do to be of service. Speaking in an ancient elven dialect, “Brother, what should I say about myself.”

His confessor spoke in the common tongue, “The Abbot was worried about how he could serve the Emperor. Boasting of one’s own skills can make one a fool.”
He smiled a sweet smile the elder brother spoke, “The Abbot has many skills that are useful and many that he does not even realize. That is why he is the Abbot.” 
After that his confessor stepped back into the line and the brothers did their best to look presentable.