Old Ford's thoughts gradually drifted back to the tragic incident that occurred twelve years ago at Rose Manor.
On the night of October 32, New Calendar Year 94, the cries of a newborn rang out in Rose Manor, followed by waves of joyful blessings. A new life had joined the Hebrew family. The child, bearing the name Arthur Hebrew, officially became part of the Hebrew lineage as Joe had decided beforehand.
Albert, wearing white silk gloves, gently poked the baby's belly. Amid Elena's protests, he amused himself by playing with the charming little child cradled in his arms. Joe helped his pale yet elated wife, Jane Hebrew, get up from the down-feather bed, allowing her to see their child with her own eyes. "Walter, go to the nursery and close the windows, then check the temperature of the crib," Joe instructed the 52-year-old steward of Rose Manor, Walter Lorltav, his face filled with joy. He then waved for Jane's maid to fetch a soft robe for her to change into in the en-suite bathroom.
After some freshening up, Jane's condition improved slightly, which allowed Joe to enjoy the happiness of the occasion even more. After sending away his squabbling parents, Joe had Jane supported by her maid while he carried Arthur to the nursery that had been lovingly prepared in advance.
As they passed by a row of windows in the corridor, Joe proudly pointed with his chin toward a swing in the garden's center. "See that, Arthur? That's a toy your dad made just for you. Someday, you'll play there with your mom. Her health isn't great, so you'll need to take good care of her, alright?" Joe playfully swung Arthur toward the window as if pretending to throw him out.
However, Joe failed to notice the strange, disquieting shadow lurking near the swing outside.
"Joe, don't scare Arthur like that," Jane said weakly, making Joe turn around. "Nonsense, look how happy he is…" Joe said, lifting the crying Arthur high and spinning him around twice more.
Outside, the swing began to sway on its own, and faint footsteps on the garden grass grew louder as they approached the front door.
A man in a black robe emerged from the shadows. From beneath his robe, a writhing tentacle extended, its clawed tip spreading out as it pressed against the manor's door. The tentacle secreted a corrosive liquid that produced acidic smoke, melting the door into a gaping hole. This man, or rather Garthas, the synthetic beast responsible for the Green Village massacre, revealed his grotesque beastly face by removing his hood. With a sinister grin, he surveyed the dimly lit Rose Manor.
"So, this is the legendary Hebrew family," he sneered.
Initially, it seemed that Garthas was alone, but as his voice faded, four other black-robed figures emerged from the shadows of the garden. They pushed past Garthas, entering through the acid-scorched doorway.
Garthas's expression darkened briefly, but he quickly concealed it behind a sly grin as he followed the group inside.
The leader of the group, a short figure barely reaching Garthas's waist, surveyed the ornate decor of the grand hall with apparent satisfaction. Most of the servants were upstairs, preoccupied with the arrival of the newborn, leaving the intruders to brazenly stride through the hall.
"You've got ten minutes. After that, I'll set this place on fire, and we'll leave," the short leader said, pointing to the bearskin rug as he settled into a guest chair. He glanced at the hall's clock, which showed 8:24 p.m.
The other four, including Garthas, chanted praises to their deity in various languages before dispersing to search the manor for every member of the Hebrew family.
Screams soon echoed through the manor as bloodshed followed in their wake. The metallic scent of blood filled the air. Growing impatient, the short leader propped his chin on his hand, glancing at the time. A blood-soaked maid appeared at the top of the staircase, screaming as she fled toward the front door. Without hesitation, the short leader raised two fingers, muttered an incantation, and flicked his wrist. A spike of earth erupted from the floor, piercing through the maid's mouth and suspending her grotesquely in midair.
"Four minutes left," he said coldly.
Joe heard the screams from the nursery, along with the sound of doors being violently torn open. Walter Lorltav clutched the lapel of his steward's uniform tightly. "Mr. Hebrew, please stay here with Mrs. Jane. I'll go see what's happening," he said with a bow before turning to leave, closing the nursery door behind him.
Jane sat on the nursery bed holding Arthur, anxiously trying to soothe the crying baby. "Joe, what's going on?" she asked.
"I don't know, my dear," Joe replied worriedly, listening to the approaching chaos outside, which included angry shouts and the sounds of fighting.
Two minutes later, the nursery door burst open. Something slammed into the windowpane, making Jane scream in horror. It was Walter Lorltav's corpse, mutilated and half-decomposed from the stomach down, with only scraps of flesh and tendons holding the remains together.
"Are you Mr. Hebrew?" a voice asked.
Entering the nursery with Walter's body was none other than Garthas, the synthetic beast. Adopting a mockingly tender expression, he said, "Oh, I do love human babies. Tearing them apart always stimulates my pleasure nerves." Joe grabbed a toy parasol from Arthur's crib and pointed it at Garthas.
"Get out, you stupid beastman!" Joe shouted.
"Oh, that's not very nice. I was going to grant you a peaceful death, but now I'll have to torture you slowly," Garthas said, feigning offense.
"Cut the nonsense, you fool," a woman's voice interrupted. A kick sent Garthas tumbling aside. The black-robed woman strode in. "So, you're the current head of the Hebrew family, Joe Hebrew," she said coldly.
The encounter was far from over, but Joe's focus shifted as he heard a familiar voice calling from outside: Old Ford of the Enforcers. "Stay away from the window!" he shouted.
Joe quickly recognized the voice—it was his old friend, Captain Ford of the Enforcers. This was unexpected; the northern district was typically under the jurisdiction of the arbitrators. Why was Old Ford here at this moment?
There was no time to ponder. The black-robed woman raised her bloodied dagger and advanced on Joe, Jane, and Arthur. "Stay away from the window, Joe!" Ford's voice came again, urgent and commanding.
In the blink of an eye, Ford himself swung into the shattered nursery window, gripping a thick rope. Glass shards flew toward the black-robed woman, forcing her to shield her face. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Ford released the rope and used his momentum to deliver a powerful kick to her arm, sending her sprawling to the floor.
"Hurry! Take the child and jump out the window! The arbitrators are below to catch you!" Ford shouted, even as Garthas lunged at him, tentacle extended. The beastman struck Ford in the abdomen, knocking him back with a forceful blow, and prepared to unleash his corrosive acid. But Ford twisted his body, charging toward Garthas instead. His right hand lashed out in a fierce hook, striking Garthas squarely on the cheek.
There was no time for Joe to hesitate. The black-robed woman recovered quickly, her dagger now aimed directly at him. With gritted teeth, Jane summoned all her strength, clutching Arthur tightly as she shoved Joe toward the broken window. The dagger grazed the top of Joe's head as they tumbled through the glass.
Jane's scream mingled with the infant's wails as they fell. Below them, the manor's garden was surrounded by the armed forces of the arbitrators—hawks, bears, and dogs of the three squads, forming a tight perimeter.
The black-robed leader in the hall glanced one last time toward the garden, where flames were beginning to engulf the manor. He muttered a single word:
"Time's up."