‘Wow, look at ‘em all,’ said Garovel. ‘I guess it was only a matter of time until people found out that Warrenhold has a new owner.’
‘Shit shit shit shit.’
‘Relax, they haven’t spotted you yet. And hey, at least they’re not too scared to ask you for an interview.’
‘Y’know, you could just go up and talk to them.’
‘C’mon, it’s only a few cameras and potentially millions of people watching your every move.’
‘Alright, alright,’ laughed Garovel. ‘Then just treat the cameras the same way you treat guns.’
‘That... that’s a good idea.’
‘Of course it is. My ideas are always good.’
Hector shifted his grip on the rucksack over his shoulder. He’d brought it with him today in order to hold a change of clothes along with the hat and mustache he’d been wearing earlier. He took a deep breath and started toward the central building’s front entrance.
As soon as they noticed him approaching, the reporters crowded around and stuck microphones up to his helm, asking so many simultaneous questions that he couldn’t hear any single one clearly.
When he clapped iron around their cameras, everyone went abruptly quiet. To their credit, however, that wasn’t enough to deter them for very long.
“Mr. Goffe, why have you come to Gray Rock?”
“He’s a lord now, you idiot. Lord Goffe, what do you have to say to the people who still believe you are a criminal?”
“Can you give us your personal accounting of the events of the Calman High Massacre?”
“Imbecile! Don’t ask him that!”
“Lord Goffe, what is the nature of your relationship with the royal family?”
‘Y’know, you could just tell them to get off your land,’ said Garovel.
Hector considered that, even opened his mouth to do so, but unsurprisingly, he struggled to say anything at all. After a few more moments of listening to their bickering noise, he decided to just push through and go inside. He annihilated the metal around their cameras right before he closed the tall door behind him and barricaded it with a wall of iron. He could still hear their muffled shouts from the other side.