The salt air blew harshly and assaulted the senses as waves churned and crashed against the rocks upon the shoreline. A clamor of barking orders, creaking wooden docks, and the hearty laughter filled the air within the small port. Merchant vessels and their precious cargo came and went in their time, foreign and domestic goods making their way throughout the republic. Cuinte stood upon the deck of the ship he had hired to ferry him and his escort to Athens. He was rather impressed by those who had come to protect him, a handful of guards hand picked by Octavian himself, over a dozen hired thugs to hide among the ship's crew as they made passage to Greece, a 'priestess', and two of the German war spirits. 

A grin crept across his face as he thought on the nature of these three young women, if he could even call the latter two that. With spirits, no matter their type, one can never trust what they say, at least not completely. As he watched the bustling port, accompanied by one of his bodyguards (stripped of armor to prevent suspicion), he enjoyed the feel of the salt air beating against his face. One of his hands moved to caress the spine of his copy of Libri Tagetici, a rather common manual on the practices of a haruspex. It was basic yes, but it reminded him of his youth, a child rooting through the innards of a freshly slaughtered lamb. To think that now he stood at the threshold of greatness, having the ear and doing the work of the great Octavian! But now it would take more than divination and wisdom to cement his place in what would surely be a glorious new Rome. If his escort could keep him alive that is.