The strategy room door groaned as it shut, muting the city noise beyond. Inside, heavy air clung to the walls, thick with the smell of old parchment, sweat, and tension. Caterina set a small, scorched device down on the oak table with a click of metal against wood. Everyone's gaze fixed on it.
Lucanis stood straight-backed at her side, arms folded; the old ache between his shoulders sharper than usual. Across from him, Illario leaned forward to peer at the thing, mouth curled in a half-smirk that didn't touch his eyes. Teia was already pacing a slow circle around the table, studying.
Viago gave a low whistle. "I'll say this for them," he drawled. "They have style."
The device was intricate, a tiny mechanism of brass and glass, blackened at the edges by the black lotus smoke it had released. Arcane traces shimmered faintly along its seams, but no recognisable runes marked its surface.
"A strange fusion," Teia murmured. "Magic used somehow, yes - but the design itself is mechanical. Not an enchantment."
Caterina nodded, tapping one sharp nail against the table in thought. "Ingenious. And dangerous."
Lucanis tilted his head, examining it without touching. "Engineered," he said quietly. "Not improvised. Whoever built this knew exactly what they were doing."
Illario threw himself into a chair with a sigh. "Another charming note to add to the pile. They're precise. They're inventive. And they have a sense of humour about it."
He jabbed a finger at one of the reports laid out beside the device, the list of bizarre pranks left behind at struck safe houses. Ranging from inventive, even mildly amusing if one was in the right mood for it, to mocking and juvenile.
Caterina's mouth tightened. "They mock us because they have not yet tasted real consequence."
Lucanis kept his expression smooth, though a flicker of unease curled in his gut. This was no rival faction clawing for territory. This was something else. Personal. Deliberate. Whoever was behind it knew the Crows' habits, and well enough to dance around them with unsettling ease.
"The black lotus they used was ours," Teia said, confirming what they already suspected. "Stolen from the Rialto shipment last month."
Lucanis grunted. "Which means they planned this long before the first hit."
Caterina drew a fresh map across the table, one marked not only with their safehouses but now with lesser-known chemists, back-alley mages, and certain black-market engineers. Quiet places where devices like this might be commissioned or supplies sold.
"We sweep the merchants first," she said. "Then the engineers. Anyone producing work like this will have left a trail."
Teia tapped another note. "We've already identified a handful of suspects - no hard ties, but enough to start leaning."
Caterina's gaze swept the room. "No blood yet. We find them. We watch them."
Viago cracked his knuckles, looking disappointed but resigned. This was no longer just about reputation. It was about restoring the natural order - Crow dominance - before this spectre gnawed it hollow from within.
Caterina turned back to the strange, burned device on the table, lips pressing into a hard line.
"Whoever they are," she said coldly, "they are not untouchable."
-
The workshop stank of hot iron and grease, the smell thick enough to coat Lucanis's tongue. He leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, while Illario did what he did best - make people sweat.
The engineer, a wiry man with a tangle of soot-streaked hair and a nervous twitch to his hands, wrung a rag between his palms.
"I told you," he stammered. "No one's been buying strange orders. I would have noticed."
Illario smiled. "And yet someone's been making off with your stock."
The man swallowed hard. "Not- not stealing, exactly."
Lucanis straightened, pushing off the wall with quiet menace. "Explain."
The engineer wiped his brow, smearing soot across his forehead. "Things go missing. Small things. Gears, plates, alchemy glass, coils... but when I find out something's gone, there's coin left behind. Always exactly the right amount. Sometimes even a little extra."
Illario arched a brow, exchanging a glance with Lucanis. "Polite thieves," he said dryly.
Lucanis's jaw tightened. "Polite or not, it means they're careful. No names. No faces. No traceable purchases."
"And not just here," the engineer added hurriedly. "I heard Bastian down on Cavallo Street mention similar too. And Ferrin by the docks."
Illario clicked his tongue in feigned sympathy. "Seems you're not as special as you thought."
The man flushed, but Lucanis cut in before he could retort. "We'll need a list."
The engineer blinked. "Of what?"
"Everything that's gone missing. Item by item," Lucanis said. "And anything you think they could build with it."
The man hesitated, but one sharp look from Lucanis had him fumbling for a battered ledger, pages smudged and torn. He scrawled a list in a clumsy hand, muttering under his breath.
Illario took it when he finished, skimming it quickly. "A lot of mechanical parts," he murmured. "Fine work, small scale."
Lucanis read over his shoulder. "And alchemy materials."
Illario tapped a finger on the margin. "Not enough for explosives. Not enough for traps, either. Whatever they're making... it's intricate."
Lucanis said nothing, but the muscles in his jaw flexed. These weren't just saboteurs swinging hammers and setting fires. This was something deliberate, layered. Something they'd put real thought into. He folded the list and tucked it inside his jacket.
"Stay available," he told the engineer flatly. "If anything else walks off your shelves, you'll tell us first."
The man nodded so fast it was almost a bow. As they stepped back out into the narrow alley, the midday heat pressing down like a weight, Illario let out a slow breath.
"I'll give them this," he said, half-admiring, half-disgusted. "They're good."
Lucanis nodded once. "But not good enough to stay invisible forever."
They had a trail now, faint but real. They would follow it until there was nowhere left for their quarry to hide.
-
The second shop was even worse than the first - a cramped corner of a warehouse that smelled like burnt copper and old leather. Tools hung from the rafters, swinging gently in the thick, humid air.
Lucanis stepped over a broken crate and cast a sharp glance around. No sign of struggle. No sign of theft. Just the strange stillness of a place too used to looking the other way.
The engineer here - an older dwarf with a crooked nose and a wide, easy smile - leaned against his workbench, polishing a gear without much interest as they explained themselves.
"Yeah," he said with a shrug when Lucanis showed him the stolen-parts list. "Been happenin' here too. Not that I mind. Always find the right coin on the counter after. Sometimes more than what I'd ask, to be honest."
Lucanis frowned slightly. "You don't care that someone's walking off with your inventory?"
The dwarf chuckled, flashing a gap-toothed grin. "Nah. Customer service without the customer. Best deal I ever made."
Illario looked vaguely appalled. "You don't find it strange?"
"I find talkin' strange. This way, we both get what we want, and nobody has to waste time hagglin' over nothin'." He waved his hand as if brushing off the whole affair.
Lucanis exchanged a glance with Illario, who gave the smallest shake of his head. No help from this one in tracking them.
Lucanis drew the folded device from his coat, the strange dispersal mechanism they'd recovered from the smoke bombs. He set it carefully on the workbench.
"Have you seen anything like this before?" he asked.
The dwarf whistled low under his breath, setting aside the gear he'd been polishing. He turned the device over in his hands, prodding gently at the seams with a finger.
"Not exactly," he said slowly. "It's clever, though. Real clever. Mechanical, sure, but..." He paused, tilting it toward the light, watching the faint shimmer of the dormant magical activation. "There's magic worked into it. But not like a rune. No glyphs. No formal enchantment circles." He tapped it thoughtfully. "More like... well, whoever did this figured out how to weave magic into the moving parts. Subtle-like. Not something we see much. Not here anyway."
Lucanis kept his expression carefully neutral, though inside, frustration simmered. If they had access to this kind of hybrid work, it meant whoever was behind the sabotage wasn't just cunning - they were inventive. A rare, dangerous combination.
"And if they're stealing more parts?" Illario asked, leaning casually against the bench. "What could they make?"
The dwarf barked a laugh. "What couldn't they make? List that long..." He spread his hands. "Little machines, big machines. Things that deliver smoke or gas. Things that move on their own, maybe. Traps. Distractions. I dunno. Could be anything dependin' what else they scrounge up."
"Useful," Illario muttered, annoyed.
"Best I can tell you," the dwarf said, unapologetic. "You want me to scream 'heresy' about folks leavin' coin behind, you'll be waitin' a long time."
Lucanis picked the device back up, tucking it into an inner pocket. "Keep your ears open," he said simply. "If anything stranger than usual happens, let us know."
The dwarf gave a lazy salute. "Sure. Long as it don't cost me."
Outside, the sun was beginning to dip low, the streets thick with dust and golden light. Illario walked a few paces in silence before muttering, "They're stockpiling. Could be for another hit. Could be building something to take us apart."
Lucanis's mouth was a grim line. "Whatever it is, they're getting ready."
And it was up to them to find out before it was too late.
-
Lucanis and Illario wove through the foot traffic of the market with practised ease, their conversation falling into a companionable silence after a long day of questioning engineers who had yielded too little, too late.
Lucanis was running through the list of stolen parts again in his mind, trying to fit pieces into an unseen puzzle, when a sound - light, bright, achingly familiar - slipped through the noise.
He slowed without thinking, his head turning toward the source. There, near a small fountain tucked between vendor stalls, was Evie.
She was perched casually on the low stone wall, her lute in her lap, her voice lifting above the market din with careless grace. She sang with her eyes half-closed, one booted foot tapping the rhythm against the stone. The melody was simple, but something in it wound its way into the chest and caught there, stubborn and sweet.
Lucanis found himself smiling before he could stop it, a small, helpless thing, more reflex than thought. It had been far too long since he'd heard her sing. Longer since he'd seen her do it without a trace of fear or hesitation.
For a moment, he simply stood there, the world narrowing to the sound of her voice and the way the sunlight caught in the pale strands of her hair.
Illario came to a halt beside him, then followed his gaze, and let out a snort of laughter so loud a few passersby turned to look.
"Maker's breath," Illario said, clapping him on the shoulder with exaggerated sympathy. "Look at you. She's not even doing anything and you're tied in knots."
Lucanis shot him a sideways glare, but it lacked any real heat.
Illario just grinned wider. "Your troublesome little soulmate is going to be the death of you, cousin. And she doesn't even know it." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Or maybe she does. Even better."
Lucanis shook his head, biting back a sigh. "She's just singing."
"Mmhmm," Illario said, the agreement dripping with mockery. "She's just singing. And you're just a Crow who's about five seconds away from forgetting we have work to do."
Lucanis forced himself to look away, the smile fading into something steadier, more controlled. "We do have work to do," he said firmly.
But as they turned and continued weaving through the crowd, Lucanis couldn't quite stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder one last time, just to hear the last few notes linger in the air.
Just to reassure himself she was still there.
The walk back to the estate was uneventful, but Lucanis barely registered it. His mind kept snagging on the sound of her voice, the way her foot had tapped against the stone, the casual ease of her smile when she sang.
By the time they stepped through the iron gates and into the cool marble halls, Illario was grinning like a cat who had gotten into the cream.
Caterina, Viago, and Teia were already gathered in the side parlour, maps and lists spread out across the long oak table. The air was thick with quiet frustration, another day of effort and too little to show for it.
Lucanis offered the list of stolen parts they'd gathered. "It's not much. They're taking small components. Tools, metals, things easily concealed. Always leaving coin behind."
Teia quirked a brow. "Polite thieves. How charming."
Lucanis ignored her and kept speaking. "We had another engineer look at the device they left behind. He hadn't seen anything like it. It's mechanical, but magically triggered. Not runes, more raw magic. Rare and effective."
Caterina nodded, fingertips tapping a slow rhythm against her crossed arms. "Continue. Every piece matters."
Lucanis opened his mouth, and then caught Illario's smirk from across the table.
Illario leaned back in his chair, stretching out lazily. "Before we get too deep into logistics," he said, voice all mock innocence, "I feel it's important to note that Lucanis had a... spiritual experience on the way here."
Lucanis gave him a look sharp enough to cut.
"Spiritual?" Viago repeated, blinking. "Did someone try to stab you?"
Teia snorted. "No, he saw his soulmate, no doubt."
That earned more than a few raised brows. Viago looked positively fascinated. "The singer girl?"
"The very same," Illario said with a theatrical sigh. "He stopped dead in the middle of the market. Smiling like a lovesick boy. It was tragic."
Lucanis muttered something under his breath and busied himself with the maps, but the damage was already done.
"Still denying the bond," Viago said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I will never understand it. If it were me-"
"You would have abducted her to a mountain villa by now," Teia said dryly, flipping a page over. "We know."
Viago shrugged, unashamed.
Teia turned to Lucanis, a sly smile tugging at her mouth. "You know," she said lightly, "her work's been appearing more often at the gallery. Some of it's even fetching decent coin."
Lucanis glanced up sharply at that, something flickering across his face before he smoothed it away.
Illario caught it, of course. "Maker's breath, it's worse than I thought," he said, feigning pity. "Soon you'll be buying her paintings and hanging them in the estate."
Even Caterina allowed herself a soft huff of amusement, though she swiftly pulled them all back on track. "Enough. This is not a tavern gossip session."
The lightness in the room thinned, folding itself back into the grim focus that had carried them this far.
Caterina gestured to the list. "The parts they're gathering could serve dozens of purposes. A trap. A larger dispersal device. Sabotage of something more vital than a safe house."
Lucanis straightened, grateful for the return to serious matters. "We need to find out where they're gathering everything. And soon. They're building toward something."
Caterina nodded. "And we will."
Lucanis inclined his head.
But even as the meeting continued, and plans began to form, a small part of him stayed elsewhere, still lingering in the marketplace, where a girl with a well loved lute sang as if she had no care in the world.