He was getting on in years, his legs were bad; he couldn't dodge fast or run.
The only thing he could do was stuff his little daughter into the jar in the cellar, put the lid on tight, then sit on top of it himself.
"Don't make a sound, be good… don't make a sound."
His daughter was quietly sobbing inside; he could only press the lid down with trembling hands, afraid the noise outside would scare her out of her wits.
The things Lord Raymond had been drumming into them all these years buzzed in his head…
The Northern People were beasts, child‑eating monsters who would break down doors at night, drag babies from their cradles, and drink blood like wine.
He had never believed it, but tonight he did.
After the last few screams outside faded, the street sank into an almost deathly silence.
Old Hans's heart sank to the bottom.
"It's over… the demons have entered the city. May the Dragon Ancestor bless us, when they kill me… my darling girl mustn't make a sound."
