Xerxe grumpily rose from his nap, though his visage remained as impassive as ever. It was more of an ambient grumpiness.
His voice was meditative and mostly calm, betraying only a slowly smoldering anger. It made him somewhat poetic.
"Hmm...another one seeking justice. It's an honorable goal, though the seeker oft lead astray, he must persist to the bitter end...you are right at least, had it be our boss, perhaps we would not be so patient asking questions.
...
I'll add for my part of this mystery that Owyn Pendergast-the blue fellow over there-can testify he and possibly his fellow footsyballers were compulsed by Dark Magic to attack us tonight. It was no drunken brawl. He was a man coming out of an evil trance.
And I'm still wondering, in a city where everyone has good reason to judge us guilty and assault on sight to reap the glory, why would you hide your hand and send mind controlled pawns to fight us? If it was strategic in nature, why not follow up with an immediate attack? I believe the benefit gained was from the fight itself. I suspect several groups may have been influenced in the same manner for the same reason, though only enough to keep us busy. Every fight we must defend ourselves further adds to the assumption of our guilt by the rest of the city...every fight slows us down. And why would they slow us down?
Because we're the one group in the city that is a threat to their plans, by the virtue of being able to undo their treachery."