Dawn Treader Valley nobody move, there's blood on the floor

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?