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"Let's get this over with...if we take them out fast enough we'll get some time to rest. I doubt there is three gangs running after this tram."

"...Maybe once this is all over we can organize a friendly sparring session. Seems some members of the team are interested in pounding on the others." Xerxe said naively.

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."

Xerxe was not, it seemed, immune to the limitations of human endurance. He promptly took a window seat with a nice breeze, threw his cloak over himself like a blanket, and slumped into a soldiers uneasy half sleep-snatching a paragraph of rest, between chapters full of battle. Given the laxity of his body, he had been far more tired than his previous state would have been indicated-he had been pushing himself further and faster tonight, diving into danger without a thought for personal risk.

"..."

"Well, congratulations on your promotion, Lastelle." Xerxe said evenly. "...Let's just update your pegacard stats right now..." He said, pulling out a fancy, feather quill pen and a fat ledger.

"Perhaps this is why the Annas fought us." Xerxe mused, staring down the street at the wreckage of the battle-jumbles of frizzy red hair, fallen coin ledgers, and drifting merchant receipts. "These seals are extremely valuable. The Church mothers kept them in the deepest coffers and only gave them to the most Holiest of warriors...the Annas must have thought we were here to steal them...well, thieves only reckon others by their own measure. A thief is one most afraid of being robbed."

Xerxe considered that if the group had actually known they had the seals, his friends would almost certainly have attacked anyway. Adventurers never let a chance at promotion go to waste.

"...I have long coveted strength gained of my own free will, the strength to inspire people in my beliefs. But I think other hands may have a better use for these for now. My training can only lead me in a predictably offensive direction. Which is not necessarily first in line. And I can no longer lay claim the Holiness in the eyes of Goddesses..." He didn't sound particularly upset about that.

Action: H7 and Divine Enemy

As Lagata ran past him, Xerxe was already preparing to shield her if the Anna Cavalry charged her. Which he could do by throwing himself at more enemy targets.

"Defend...and attack!"