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“Do you think it’s proper to be having the Gala now, given the current financial crisis the country is facing?” said Mr. Elias.

Wow. Hector definitely didn’t plan on answering that. He could hear his guide from the palace staff radioing for security.

“No statement?” Mr. Elias scribbled something. “That’s fine. I understand. What do you think about the Queen’s recent decision to reinstitute the death penalty?”

What?

Hector’s guide was intervening personally now, placing himself between Hector and the reporter and trying to usher the man away. Security was already arriving from the far end of the hall.

“Lord Goffe! Do you have a statement?!” Mr. Elias struggled mildly to hold his ground. “Where have you been these past few months?! Did you leave the country?! What have you been doing?! Lord Goffe!”

Hector felt a little bad for the guy as security arrived and pulled him away, all but dragging him.

Geez.

Hector didn’t have much love for reporters, given how intrusive he’d known them to be, but seeing that dude fight so hard just for a story... well, there was something admirable about that, he supposed.

They proceeded on, with Hector’s guide offering copious apologies and Hector assuring him that it wasn’t a big deal.

It was still a long way to the negotiating chamber--such a long way, in fact, that Garovel seemed to grow impatient.

‘Why the hell is this little walk taking so long?’ he said privately. ‘There are plenty of other rooms around here, and they’re all empty. And we don’t even need this guide, anyway. There’s nobody else around, so I can sense where the Carthraces are pretty easily. I could take you right to them in twenty seconds flat.’

‘Actually, uh... I know the answer to that,’ said Hector.

‘Hmm?’ said Garovel.