"Nothing worth mentioning. Dust and decayed furniture," Leon admitted quietly, keeping a sigh from escaping his lips. Two more kills. Two potential targets left. He had never been the type to complain about a lack of activity when said activity could end up cutting his throat with a lucky strike, but his pride was still stung from Elthel and he wouldn't have minded the brief workout of aggression. He felt Mask's blessing fade, the divine power his prayers had purchased fading as time pressed on.

The room ahead would be the prize room, he suspected. Gunalar didn't strike him during their brief interaction as the type to keep documents, maps, or secret passphrases laying around, but he did seem the type to store his personal treasure where it could be easily checked on and hidden from greedy eyes. Then again, maybe the fates will smile on all of them and a large book titled 'the secret identity of Shagarm and their critical weakness' will be laying on a desk inside, right next to the secret location of a dead dragon's treasure hoard.

Leon let a smile pass over his face at the ridiculous thought. Stranger things had been known to happen in history though. 

Knowing Iliskra was the quieter of the two of them, he simply readied his shield to cover her and let her handle the door. If there was an immediately violent reaction, he would do his best to protect her from it and buy her time to flank or otherwise deal with whatever was on the other side of the door.