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"Indeed, I've been helping narrow down where they might have hidden the other treasures..."

Semyon spoke easily with his employer, until the arrival of more called duty to pull Atticus away. A pity -the Incubus spoke well- but he returned almost instantly, briefly introducing the recognizable Henry.

"...And to you as well." His words echoed politely in response to the siren, trading grips with the man's hand, turning away a moment after the Siren did the same. He was alone for more than just a moment now, and it gave the Wight time to observe the others. They arrived one-by-one, in degrees of surety and... eccentricity.

[i]A coat[/i]. He should have packed an extra one, or two. There was always the possibility a comrade would find need for it. Already that was apparent, and Atticus displayed the foresight commanded of a leader in producing one for the gown-clad gentleman. Others seemed considerably better prepared, however, so Semyon did not need to berate himself to much over his lack of planning.

Nor did he have as much time to observe as he first believed, as a dark-skinned man approached and introduced himself. If centuries of undeath hadn't dulled his movements down to only the barest motions efficiency allowed, Semyon would have arched an eyebrow in surprise at the man's title... and his last whispered words. 

"Добрый вечер Sethan, Son of Ra, it is an honor to meet you." He accompanied the words with a low bow, mouth managing to quirk a slight smile in response to Sethan's comment on the state of their hearts. Surely there were those here who knew what Semyon was, but it had never been something he bothered to make a point of.

He was hard to kill, no need to go into further detail.

"Friend of mine thought he'd found something. Hidden cave smugglers might have used, maybe a thousand years ago. He was hoping to salvage some silk, find old texts. Just prove people had been there." He gave a shrug, eyes catching the towering form of... what appeared to be a golem, among their comrades... 

Another set of eyes fell on him, then, the gaze tugging subtly at his essence. Semyon felt the urge to seek out the watcher, to discover their intent, but held it back. His comrades were varied, and likely another knew him or knew of him. If so, they could speak later. Now, however, he was still conversing with a king.

"Instead, we found gold. Statues and coins, more than that one could carry. Evidence there could be more caches too. Scattered across Siberia." He paused for a moment, thinking both that there was nothing more to say, but that something [i]should[/i] be said. This man was a king. His love of wealth apparent from the gold adorning his figure, a simple explanation alone would not suffice. Something more must be said. Something... something...

Wait. He had spoken Russian in greeting. Roughly, as someone learning the language.

"You are interested in Russia yourself? Forgive me for presuming a king's interest, but... I can share what I've found after this job. And whoever finds the gold, gets to decide how much they're due."

Mikhail was going to regret making that concession.

But he would outlive the embarrassment, as he had all the others. Semyon's main concern now was hoping he had said enough to satisfy Sethan, Son of Ra. Talking to a king you did not know was difficult, even if he was serving as comrade for now. But he had given the best answer he could give, and so would have to content himself with the outcome. Whatever happened, good or ill, for the rest of this mission, he would outlive it.

Unlike Mikhail, however, he did prefer to avoid the ill.

(("Добрый вечер" = "Good evening"... roughly...))