They reach the platform. The devil that turns the wheel that hauls it does not demand payment. 

Up they go, into the smoky sulfurous skies of Dis, into Avernus. 

On the way up, Aspexia Rugatonn receives a Sending from the Palace.

She's so tired of Snack Service at this point, she can't even be bothered to react emotionally.

Instead she just waits until the moment they're out of Dis, into the first layer of Hell, without delaying until their platform reaches the fortress proper; and then Plane Shifts them all to somewhere within 5-500 miles of Egorian.

355 miles North-Northwest, in the archduchy of Ravounel. This area is forested. 

She doesn't particularly care, they will not be here longer than moments.  "So long as we were not already back, we - that is, Sevar and myself - were summoned to a formal event at the Palace, if our condition permits it.  I replied that we'd think about it.  You, Sevar, are apparently already dressed for it.  It's to begin shortly, and while I doubt the Queen would begrudge you a quarter-hour to recover, I expect she'd also be pleased if you arrived on time, were you in good condition on arrival."  Aspexia Rugatonn taps Sevar with another Lesser Restoration as she speaks.

"I'm not even going to be able to sleep when I'm dead, am I. If it pleases the Queen, we can go now."

Aspexia Rugatonn invokes an item-based Teleport to the designated landing platform, right outside the appropriate area of the Palace's Forbiddance.

Security doesn't recognize this beautiful woman, at first, but the girl with pink hair and the Most High beside her are a sufficient hint for him to put the rumors together.

"Lady Sevar?" he says, awestruck at both her appearance and the magic radiating from the crown she wears.  She looks exactly like the rumors say.

Oh shoot does she know this person? Does she own an option on his soul and not even recognize him, that's so embarrassing - she really doesn't recognize him at all, though -

"Yes."

He bows to her, relaying a Telepathic request for orders as he does.

He straightens.  "I'm to escort you to the Queen at once, Lady."

"First give over to me those headbands you no longer need, and your bracer of Infernal culture.  Pilar, with me."

Aspexia stalks wearily off to find a nicer dress while all this is going on.

If greater-Carissa foresaw all this greater-Carissa is definitely working with Nethys, she realizes dimly as she is escorted to the Queen. - she'll think about that tomorrow. After she's gotten some sleep.

"Carissa.  I shall inquire of how your negotiations went once we have a moment; it's evident enough from your new headgear that you received more than beauty."

"The Nidal war is over; Pangolais surrendered.  Much of the nobility of Cheliax has assembled to celebrate, this night, and it would be a convenient time to present you, if Hell wasn't too hard on you.  Was it?"

"Truth be told, I rather took a liking to it.

- congratulations. On winning the war."

"I couldn't have done it without the convenient pretext and Otolmens stealing all their diamonds and Zon-Kuthon being sealed and Zon-Kuthon's clerics losing their higher-level spells, all of which are no doubt Project Lawful's fault in one way or another."

"Would you like to be presented as Lady Sevar straight out?  Or shall I introduce you to them at first as my beautiful lover who's just recently been to the big city for the first time, and let the more foolish wolves sniff at you and scorn you before we spring your real identity on them?"

"I've visited Egorian before recently! I was eight! My father had a business Teleport with extra space in it and he said he'd take me so long as I understood if I made a peep the whole trip he'd cut my tongue out. It was lovely."

"The bigger city, Carissa.  - you are tired, aren't you."

"Exhausted. I can keep up any game you want if you tell me the script but left to my own devices I will only smile mysteriously and occasionally almost slip and call you 'Abrogail'."

"We could present you as the naive lover, and any slips you make will obviously be part of your disguise once revealed.  Or you could be Lady Sevar and scorn the company of all save the few who've been to Hell themselves, who'll understand the exhaustion.  Do choose quickly, the gathering is almost set to begin."

"Naive lover, and we can see if anyone figures out how much of that isn't lying."

"Do you need an illusion or can that crown shift itself?"

"It's very well behaved." +2 Splendour headband, like so.

"Excellent."  Abrogail takes Carissa by the arm, and sweeps off with her towards the celebration of victory over Nidal that is about to begin.

It's time for the BEST* NIGHT EVER!

(*) according to some imaginable utility functions which may not be shared by literally any of the participants in this event including Snack Service

The greatest ballroom in the Imperial palace has been pressed into this event; it's not quite fair to say that it's more of an arena with a dance floor, because you can't fit that inside a realistic palace, but the design of it takes something from an arena.  There's three levels to the surrounding structure, from which you could look down on the dance floor and the platform that identifies the room's head, balconies and boxes with one-way windows that look outward, reachable by a confusing and deniable maze of halls and stairs.  Whoso made this room recognized and intended that at least half the people in it were going to sneak off and conspire together, and half of those wouldn't want to be identifiable as having left or returned in each other's company.

Today only the room's center has been left clear for dancing, the rest of the room occupied with some of the most impressive exhibits of the Nidal war.  The spiked head of a Phylacator, a profoundly dangerous kyton that required every 8th-circle of Cheliax plus Gorthoklek to slay without any casualties among important people.  A handkerchief carefully soiled with the blood of a Black Triune now fled.  A beautiful and muscular shackleborn tiefling male, once second-in-command of a brigade, now with his fingers cut off, chained with spiked chains piercing his skin, for sale to the highest bidder this night.

Most of Nidal's most portable and value-dense treasures, precious metals and gemstones and magic items and scrolls, are long since Teleported out of the country by rats fleeing their sinking ship; but somebody managed to leave behind a Helm of Brilliance, meant perhaps for internal defense against Kuthite rebels.  It is exhibited here, lying proof that immediate wealth was gained of Nidal and not just an eventual tax base.

People widen their eyes in surprise remain unreadable and expressionless as Abrogail Thrune enters the ballroom, escorting a woman not quite as beautiful as herself but as beautiful as almost anyone else in Cheliax, with none of the visible marks that would betray the work of alchemists to the trained eye; she's either a rare natural beauty or the work of a surpassingly skilled fleshcrafter.

Those who can cast Detect Magic do so, noting if they pass those Spellcraft checks that the new entrant wears a +2 headband of Splendour and a Ring of Eloquence and a Ring of Sustenance, and bears some manner of enchanted pin with a transmutation effect currently running.  A few in the ballroom have means to check the strength of her alignment aura, and find she apparently has none, which might or might not be true at all.

The beauty looks like she's numb with fear... or, possibly, somewhat tired and checked out, but it's probably that numb one.  Nobody could possibly be tired enough to check out of being escorted by Abrogail Thrune into a room full of the most dangerous people in Cheliax.