"As you say, sir." There is little to do now but extend an arm, giving both prince and advisor the right of way. Viktor slings his ax back across his back and follows close behind G'raha and his retainer.

With everyone's attention momentarily elsewhere, he does his due diligence, measuring the size of the Allagan delegation, judging whether they have the space on their persons or in their wagons to store weapons -- not that such a guess matters all that much when you're observing a civilization that once ruled the skies, made clones, and defied death.

He decides, thanks mostly to the complete silence of his Echo, that this whole business is politician-level dangerous. Not my circus, not my monkeys trouble. The sort of thing that the Syndicate breaks their fast on.

So, it's just as the prince said: his safety is the only thing Viktor need concern himself with. He prays he can keep his own head on straight long enough to see this mission through. But, by the Twelve is the prince distracting.