We eXist...

[The Speaker]

As Cerce yells at the cloaked figure among the chaos, the tip of a blade is suddenly pressed lightly at the angry man's back, cutting him off mid-sentence, and all noise in the city comes to a halt. If Cerce moves, the blade will only penetrate further. The bar invader's mouth moves once again, and the same voice pours out.

"Who do I think I am, you ask? Allow me to introduce myself. You can call me The Speaker. This..." He gestures behind Cerce to the cloaked man holding the blade, "Is The Walker. He..." He points to a nearby rooftop where another cloaked man is running into the night, "Is The Watchman. And who are you, might I ask? You talk rather extravagantly for one so weak. Oh, and what is this?" His own blade now slightly lifts the crown atop Cerce's head. "It seems we have a king! Cerce Tentones, presiding king of... Cerantia, is it? Hm. Barely can even be called a kingdom. Nothing to take pride in, at least. Still, we'll look forward to accepting some of your citizens into our order." The Speaker looks about him, and the blade at Cerce's neck digs a little deeper. "Where is your army, O King? Oh, don't worry. You're right. We won't kill you. Not yet, at least. We still have use for you... Well, before we depart, we'll give you a little something to remember us by."

In a flash, the blade at the back of Cerce's neck makes two slashes, leaving a red X at the top of his spine. Then, the figure who calls himself The Speaker and The Walker disappear after The Watchman, leaving Mavenholm in a state of confusion.