Fors's cooking was far better than Hobart had imagined. At the very least, the Yellow Croaker she fried was tender and fresh, about as good as the chef at Hobart's home.
The only flaw was that it did not go very well with bread. It would probably taste even better with rice or flatbread.
Even so, Hobart ate until his belly was round.
After dinner, the three of them chatted for a while and settled on their night watch shifts. Fors would take the first shift, from eight in the evening until midnight. Hobart would take the second, from midnight until three in the morning, and Xue would take the third, from three until six in the early morning.
At six, Fors would get up to make breakfast, while Xue could go back to rest for a while.
Hobart returned to his room. It was not yet eight, and as he lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, he mentally rehearsed his defense strategy for the Court hearing the day after tomorrow.
At nine, just as Hobart was about to try falling asleep, he suddenly heard Fors, who was on watch in the small hall on the second floor, blow her whistle!
Hobart leaped up, grabbed his cane and the Psychological Spoon, then rushed out.
As he ran outside, he found it strange. Why had his spirituality not warned him of danger?
The moment he stepped out of the bedroom, Hobart saw Fors fighting two Villains. Xue, still wearing her pajamas, had come out as well. Three against two, and with the opponents clearly not difficult to handle, they knocked both Villains down in just a few punches and kicks.
Hobart poked one of the Villains with his cane. "Who sent you?"
The man began convulsing on the floor.