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An unfamiliar pair of men pushed through the crowd and gently put their hands on the woman, pulling her away from him. They didn't say anything, perhaps because they didn't speak Mohssian, but they did give him nods of acknowledgment.

Hector just stood there for a minute longer, watching them go.

Wow, he thought. He had no idea who that woman was, and he felt like she might've been giving him a bit too much credit; but all the same, he was unbelievably glad to have played a part in helping her.

He was abruptly reminded of why he was doing all of this, why he wanted Warrenhold to become a bastion of safety in the first place. He hadn't forgotten, of course, but still. Seeing all these people like this... battered and in need...

It was an odd mixture of emotions. Sorrow and frustration. He hoped he could do more for them. With every fiber of his being, he intended to keep them safe, at the very least.

He was starting to draw even more attention, just standing here like a weirdo, so he moved on.

Garovel led him out into the main plaza, around which stood all of Warrenhold's eight great towers.

The reaper pointed out Lord Abbas, who was overlooking the underground lake on the far side of the plaza.

The man wasn't in his armor, but he did seem to be tinkering with something in his hands. He wasn't alone, either. A sizable crowd was gathered around him, most of whom Hector did not recognize. A few Rainlords were sprinkled in there as well, however.

They all turned to look his direction as he approached.

Abbas' reaper--Worwal, as Hector recalled--was the first to speak up. 'The Lord Darksteel of Warrenhold. This is a magnificent fortress you have here.'