The attendant, clad in midnight black and a deep blue, hums a familiar tune, one of melancholy and nostalgia, as he brandishes his dagger with fine cloth. His gloved hands move to clean his weapon seamlessly, ridding it of the blood of those he has slain for power. He smirks as he recalls it, their faces of agony and pain in their last, dying moments, pleading for their lives. How thrilling. Ezekiel pauses for a moment, hearing the door creak open.

"Ah, there you are, esteemed guest of ours~"