Artos followed the group into the dusty tomb, refusing to believe it to be anything but a tomb. The air was cold and dusty, but it was a step up from the heavy sunshine up above. What lay in the catacombs below weren't important to him in the slightest. The learned of his group would be interested and Artos would certainly encourage them to take their time, be thorough, and get them to the objective quickly. While the rest took their time and chit chatted as they walked, he glanced into every shadow with his sword in hand, the other hand still holding the ice arrows. 

Artos was fascinated by the time it would have taken to carve this place from the stone and wondered just why anybody would go to such lengths. Surely if they wanted something to never be found it could just be locked in an iron chest and thrown into the sea. Yet despite the logic, it occured to him again that those from the continents didn't seem the practical type. They wanted to know beyond doubt that what they wanted locked away would stay locked where it could be monitored. That in itself was respectable. 
Perhaps, he wondered, they would not see a fight at all and simply enjoy the feel of this forgotten place.