The sound woke him before the light did. A crack, sharp and unnatural, like thunder dragged through stone, followed by a chorus of ravens shrieking overhead. A shrill, piercing cacophony that didn't belong in a city still clinging to sleep. It wasn't ordinary birdsong. It was louder, unnatural and aggressive.
Lucanis sat up in bed before his mind had caught up with the noise, trained reflexes already sharpening to alertness.
Then the shouts began. Not the panicked wail of civilians, not yet; this was the clipped urgency of guards, of servants rushing through hallways. He was on his feet and moving in a breath, pulling on his tunic, rapier on his hip. By the time he reached the balcony doors, the sky beyond was tinged with black smoke rising in jagged columns.
Not one. Several.
He stepped out onto the balcony, eyes scanning the rooftops, the alleyways, and the skyline of Treviso silhouetted against the bruising dawn. Eight. Then he saw the glyphs, red and burning faintly above certain doorways like bloodstains carved into stone.
Lucanis's chest tightened. He knew those buildings. Nondescript, scattered throughout the merchant districts and lower quarter. Forgettable to most. Not to him. Crow properties. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, already barking orders to the nearest guard to rouse the rest of the household and ready his horse. No need for politics or permission. Caterina would already be awake. She would understand.
He found her by the eastern windows, robes drawn over her nightgown, arms folded, her gaze hard as glass. She didn't look at him when he entered, just gestured toward the skyline with one hand.
"You're awake early," she murmured.
"The city is louder than usual," Lucanis replied, low and grim. "Eight locations. All marked. All ours from what I can see from here."
She nodded once. "This does not look like an amateur's tantrum. This isn't the work of brats with stolen ledgers anymore."
Lucanis's jaw clenched. "They've been bleeding us for months. Little things. Letters intercepted. Contracts lost. Informants pulled. Secrets revealed. But this… this is a statement."
"We don't know who yet," Caterina said. "But we know it's the same hands."
He nodded. "Likely. Or someone who's taken their blueprint and built something worse."
Caterina glanced at him, eyes keen and assessing. "What will you do?"
"Investigate. The nearest site first. I want to see it before the others do."
"Go. And take care." She paused, then added, "And if this is the same little group of saboteurs… we may need to re-evaluate what we're dealing with."
Lucanis dipped his head and turned on his heel, already calculating what to bring, what to look for.
-
The smoke still hung heavy in the air hours later. It bled from cracks in the stone and iron of Treviso like the city itself had been wounded. Black lotus - bitter, clinging, and unignorable. A Crow poison. A calling card of their own, turned on them.
Lucanis stood with the others on the rooftop of a tenement across from one of the ruined safehouses. The sun filtered through the haze, dull and coppery, casting the ruined building in a sickly light. The glowing frowny face leered from the front wall. Bright and red and childishly bold. Almost… disappointed.
He felt Caterina's presence beside him before she spoke. "They're still offended."
Viago squinted into the smoke. "Retaliation, then."
"Not just retaliation," Teia murmured. "Statement. They could've burned them. Instead, they filled them with smoke. Left the birds. Made sure we knew exactly what kind of humiliation it was."
"They hold a grudge," Illario said, arms crossed, tone almost admiring.
Lucanis didn't smile. "They started out clean. Efficient. Silent. Then the pranks. Now this."
"Escalation," Caterina muttered.
"But… what are we dealing with?" Viago asked, gesturing broadly to the suffocating skyline. "Is this a gang of assassins with a flair for the dramatic? Or a handful of overgrown children with too much training and too much time?"
Teia glanced sideways at Lucanis. "You've seen their work. What do you think?"
He didn't answer immediately. His eyes tracked the trail of smoke curling from a second safehouse in the distance. Then a third. From up here, the view was almost surreal, like someone had placed marks on a game board and flipped it to start over.
Finally, he said, "They're unpredictable. Not chaotic, not entirely. But something's… fractured in how they operate. Like they're capable of discipline, but they don't believe in it."
Caterina nodded slowly. "Professionals who stopped taking us seriously."
"Or who never did," Viago offered. "Think of the traps we laid. We tried to bait children. They answered like insulted wolves."
"They're not children," Lucanis said sharply, surprising even himself with the edge in his voice. "They've outmanoeuvred us, hit us where it hurts, and left us chasing frowns on brick walls."
Teia looked toward the smoke again, her expression thoughtful. "There's magic in this. The birds, they're illusions. Confirms the theory one of them is a mage."
Lucanis's stomach tightened. "We've seen no sign of a Circle presence. No Chantry regulation."
"Which means apostate," Caterina said grimly. "And a clever one. The engineering wasn't mundane either. The smoke didn't kill. But no one's getting inside those safehouses for days."
Viago exhaled and leaned against the crumbling wall behind them. "They've had access to our resources, our patterns, our weaknesses. I think they've been watching us longer than we realised."
"They know who we are," Lucanis said. "They've made that clear."
"And yet…" Illario raised an eyebrow. "They leave jokes behind. Frowny faces. What kind of war is this?"
Lucanis didn't know. And that, more than the smoke, more than the poisoned pride, more than the embarrassment, that unsettled him. Because it didn't feel like war. Not exactly.
"One we're not winning," Caterina said quietly.
That was enough to fracture the silence.
Teia clicked her tongue. "We've been chasing shadows and walking into jokes. We need to shift the terrain. Force them to reveal something. Anything."
"They'll laugh," Viago muttered. "They want us reactive. Think of all the time we've spent putting out the small fires - the leaked secrets, the compromised properties and damaged equipment."
"They're turning the city against us," Illario added, tone sharper now. "You heard the whispers already- 'The mighty Crows undone by a frown and a puff of smoke.' If we don't act, we'll lose the fear. We'll lose the respect."
Lucanis's gaze stayed fixed on the safehouse below. "We need to stop letting them choose the field."
Caterina gave him a sidelong look. "Go on."
"We find their network," Lucanis said. "Safehouses, suppliers, anything they've used. They're operating inside our city like they own it, so we make it smaller. Less room to hide."
"They've got reach," Teia said. "Resources. Equipment. This wasn't pulled out of alley trash and street scraps."
"They'll have contacts," Viago agreed. "Someone is feeding them, maybe not knowingly. But someone's working with them."
"Who do we pressure?" Illario asked.
Lucanis turned then, facing them fully. "Everyone. We lean on the black market channels, the mages in hiding, the alchemists, the fence networks. Someone sold them smoke components, or spell triggers, or tools. We ask quiet questions. We find one crack."
"No more tolerance for idiocy disguised as strategy," Caterina said firmly. "I want them silenced. Crushed. I don't care how old they are. I don't care what games they think they're playing." She looked at each of them in turn. "I want to own this city again."
Viago gave a slight nod. "Then we start with the stories. If people are laughing - kill the joke. Find the loudest mouths and close them."
Illario tilted his head. "Silence the witnesses?"
"Only the ones celebrating," Viago said. "Let them feel the cost of their amusement."
A long pause.
Then Teia added, "And while we do that… we watch. Because whoever they are, they'll strike again."
The group had gone quiet again, each lost in calculation and fury as they stared down at the charred ruin, smoke still curling like serpents into the morning air.
It was Caterina who finally broke the silence. Her voice was low, almost thoughtful. "What a waste."
Lucanis turned his head toward her. "What?"
She gestured with a slow sweep of her hand, indicating the entire mess - the blackened rooftops, the lingering magic in the smoke, the damned glowing frowny faces.
"All this," she said. "This talent. Precision, coordination. Magic integrated with engineering. And no one harmed, not even the ones stationed inside. Just thoroughly humiliated. If we'd found them first, shaped that chaos into something useful…"
Viago gave a short laugh, humourless. "You sound impressed."
"I am impressed," she said, unbothered by the judgement. "Do you know how rare it is to see this kind of creativity in a field that usually breeds nothing but bloodthirst and arrogance? These people… they could've been exceptional Crows."
Teia snorted. "Too theatrical. Crows don't leave frowny faces."
"They wouldn't have, once trained." Caterina's gaze was sharp. "Discipline can be taught. But this -" she gestured to the mess, "-you either have it or you don't."
Lucanis crossed his arms. "Doesn't change what has to be done."
Caterina nodded. "Of course not. They've embarrassed us. Hurt our standing. Shaken the foundation of fear we built this city on. When we find them, we'll make an example of them. One that resets the balance. But," she added, more softly, "I will mourn the potential. Just a little."
Illario sighed dramatically. "So much promise. So many wasted punchlines."
Caterina didn't smile. "Their deaths won't be quick."