[color=silver][center][h2][color=#915027]𝔏𝔢𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔯 𝔊𝔲ð𝔪𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰𝔰𝔬𝔫[/color][/h2]
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With the festivities over, the guests were ushered into rooms for a good night's rest - [i]and [/i]an early awakening, Leifur hoped. He'd be up before dawn as usual, and if the others weren't able to do the same, he'd head out without them. In fact, he would've [i]preferred [/i]to head out without a certain someone - who, as fate would have it, was sorted into the same room as him. No doubt as punishment for all the bad deeds Leifur had committed over the years. Karma did tend to be a bitch. 

The rooms were simple but fancy, the bedding alone worth far more than it had any right to be. But then, if the king truly had ten million gil to offer away so easily, Leifur supposed a few beds wouldn't be what drove him to bankruptcy. A waste all the same; he would've been fine sleeping on the floor if necessary.

The most beautiful sight in the room awaited him at the foot of one bed, resting against its frame. The familiar weight of Eldgos in his hands felt like home, and Leifur still couldn't believe he'd agreed to give the weapon up in the first place. Now, as he emptied his pockets from leftover fruit and bread he'd scavenged from the banquet, he kept the gunblade tucked near like a beloved child. 

As Leifur glanced out the window into an unfamiliar scenery, he suddenly noticed the silence. Zeidgram had yet to utter a word, not even to the woman that shared the room with them. Leifur glanced her way. She seemed reasonable enough, from what little he'd gathered. She'd spent most of the dinner silent, and seemed to share his disdain for the third person in the room. So, yes, reasonable enough.

Unfortunately, as soon as Leifur had noticed the silence, it was shattered by a literal bang. Leifur was up, gunblade held at ready even before he could hear a thump from the hallway. The clown said something, probably, but his words were an insignificant buzz. He didn't matter - the ones who entered the room with a violent shove did. Soldiers, trained, familiar.

[i]Valheimian. [/i]

[color=#915027]"So they saved us the trouble..."[/color]

The room was small, cramped, and already spells were being flung. Guns were pointed at them from the narrow doorway, but Leifur didn't wait to be aimed at. He dashed forth, using the man Zeidgram had stunned as cover. With a thrust, he drove his gunblade right through the man's unmoving chest, the barrel of the gun emerging from his back, and pulled the trigger. Another gunman, who'd been standing behind the first, was shot at point blank range and crumpled to the ground. The impaled one didn't, still being held in place by the blade that claimed him. Leifur remained behind his makeshift shield as his sensitive ears took in the sounds of fighting from all around them. They weren't the only ones ambushed in the night. This was a bloodbath.
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