It was time to face the music.
Towards what appeared to be a looming chain of mountains was a swath of drybrush cut apart by a growling river. Quiet; barren, as far as he knew, for no scents of barbarians seemed to linger.
He investigates only briefly before the call for the Greeks is sent out. He was sure @Andromache would be angry with him for having not held his promise to meet with her. But could one really blame him when he is met with unattainable demands and cut-throat eyes every time he speaks with her?
And then there was the matter of the other two. The bodyguards, @Nikolaos and @Euryalos, of which he knew next to nothing. For all he expected going into this, he would be tied with twine and roasted over a spit.
No matter. If they were to double down on Andromache's heinous plan, he found his patience dwindling anyways.

He is not alone for long. Euryalos! At last, at last, the vulture has the chance to speak with him alone. His eyes scan for anyone that could have followed him — for now, none.
His mouth curves in a smirk fit for the slimy politician he is, eyebrow arched; Greek accented heavily with a Roman flare. Come, we will take a walk. We have much to discuss.
He motions for him to follow. Perhaps, if he were lucky, he could make a friend out of him — or something of the sort. Diplomacy was a skill he had yet to flex his proverbial muscles with, but he was a negotiator when it came to willing participants. Unlike Andromache. Andromache tells me you and your companion seek a settlement with the four of us. But there is an issue, he waves a raven paw for emphasis. she seeks the title of queen. And a monarchy is not something I will have any hand in establishing, nor continuing. What are your thoughts?

This was shaping up to be a lot more difficult than he'd previously thought. The man before him now may as well be a slab of raw meat with no brain attached.
Okay, his eyes squeeze shut — deep breaths, count to five very slowly — before he gives the man another curling smile. You are not the type to discuss these sorts of things, are you? Let me guess, mismatched eyes flare wildly. in Myros, you were not in a position of authority. You were simply... ah, a tradesman, a soldier. Neutral. Because you had to be. and now, the vulture leans closer. I could change that. My friend, what is it that you seek? Truly, deep down. Think about it.

Nothing.
Every man alive wants something, even if they do not admit it to themselves.
Nothing? Truly, nothing? Food, water, shelter, respect? his tongue flicks from between his teeth, nose wrinkled. I can see what you think of me, you know. You see this Roman senator coming to you and trying to persuade you to join his ranks when for what is presumably your whole life, you've wanted nothing to do with us. the whites of his eyes, a flash as they widen. You think I'm crazy. A fool, seeking nothing but power. Right? Because that's what we look like to you.
His body slinks into a stand. You do not have to trust me. No one is forcing you to sit here and speak to me right now. But some part of you wants to hear me out, because prejudice is a dangerous game, and you know it. Don't you?

A refusal.
He saw now that this was going nowhere.
I will leave you to it, then. caricature expressions now diminished, dimmed to but a tiny flicker; straight-lipped, eyes now hooded. But do not expect any favors from me.
Greeks.
With a chuff, he turns; disappears, with only pits of sand in the shape of narrow paws as his trace. He must find Andromache, and he knew it, even as his throat clenched with the thought.