Chapter Text
Caterina nodded, not only pleased but impressed with his plan to fulfill his contract on Calivan so far as he could tell. They didn’t often have these sessions before he went out to work, but this contract was worth enough — and contained enough potential dangers — that Caterina had requested one.
Well, she had called it a request. “Demand” might have been more accurate.
It would not be straightforward. Lucanis’ contracts, now that he was the so-called Demon of Vyrantium (a name he vacillated in his approval of and that Illario seemed to hate), rarely were. The Venatori were a well-connected group, a power base in their own right, and not only mages but blood mages. They were also quite paranoid, something his reputation had not helped to dispel; they were prepared for attacks against them.
Slipping past their many layers of security, and moving without being caught by their webs of information sharing, was difficult.
But not impossible. He would know.
The most important part of the plan to ensure success was entering the city undetected. He was too well known, at this point, to use his own name and have any hope that his quarry wouldn’t be fully aware of his arrival.
So Lucanis Dellamorte was not entering Minrathous.
“Paolo Mercanti is your name now,” Illario said, handing Lucanis a small stack of papers. Lucanis flipped through them. Merchant licenses, to sell in Orlais, Ferelden, Rivain, Tevinter…
The sort of paperwork one would expect of a traveling Antivan of means who was not a Crow or noble.
“The captain of the Conte Biacamano will be expecting you at dawn, Señor Mercanti.”
Lucanis nodded his thanks and Illario took the seat next to him. He carefully folded the false paperwork, expertly forged by the House, and tucked it inside his inner jacket pocket. Illario shifted beside him, as though the chair was uncomfortable, before leaning back in it as though to cover up his fidgeting. He wondered if his cousin had somewhere else he preferred to be, at the moment. Illario had, after all, a life. He reminded Lucanis at least twice each week.
With his false identity now assured, with the help of House Dellamorte’s forgers’ and Illario’s oversight, Lucanis took a deep breath. The preparation was all complete. Caterina herself had heard and approved of his plans.
“Are we certain it is not better to send me, as well?” Illario asked, not for the first time. Caterina shook her head.
“It is hard enough these days to get Lucanis into Tevinter cities, mijo. To get you both in is buying trouble. Besides,” the slight smile she gave Lucanis reached her eyes, and smirked confidently in response, “Lucanis can take care of it.”
Her trust in their competence had never been given freely, but earned, and Lucanis couldn’t quite hide the pride he felt in having received it. “Thank you, Abuela.”
She stood, her weight on her cane heavier than usual as she came around to pat Lucanis’ cheek. “You are a Dellamorte. And a Dellamorte never breaks a contract. Travel safely, mijo.”
The docks at dawn were chilled and damp and Lucanis — Paolo, now — pulled his coat tighter around himself as he stepped on the wet wood. He had freshly shaved for his excursion, had his hair carefully trimmed down to near his skull. The more he could avoid visual association with the Demon who’d ended Forfex and his abominable business the better.
“The captain is Silvio Marinelli. I told him I had been asked to secure safe passage for a Señor Mercanti at the behest of the Montiliyets,” Illario recounted, sotto voce, glancing around them nervously. What specific danger he might be concerned about before Lucanis had come anywhere near a Venatori presence be didn’t know, but he appreciated Illario’s unusual caution. “You have meetings in Tevinter relating to possible contracts to import wine.”
“And if he asks to see what wine I’ve brought?” It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility; an opportunity to sample an expensive vintage rarely came around for a passenger ship.
“Tell him it was shipped separately,” Illario hissed. A muscle in his cousins jaw jumped as though anxious or irritated. “I cannot do everything for you.”
“Alright.” Lucanis didn’t see a need to provoke Illario further, and any response beyond acquiescence could be read as a provocation. Illario’s mood had been unpredictable, swinging between jovial recollections of their youths and inexplicable anger, as of late. Right now it appeared to be the latter, and Lucanis would not damage his cover by fighting. “I’ll find an answer.”
“I just gave you one,” Illario muttered. But, inexplicably, he pulled Lucanis in and hugged him tightly. “Go then. I will take care of Caterina and House Dellamorte.”
Lucanis clapped him on the shoulder companionably. “I’m certain. I will see you when the contract is fulfilled.”
He found his way to the ship, finding the captain gruff but uninquisitive. Lucanis silently thanked the Maker for small blessings.
He stood at the railing as they set sail, watching as Treviso slowly disappeared into the mist. This would not be an easy contract. Perhaps he would even take a small break once he returned; enjoy his favorite cafe and the temperate summer climate. Illario had told him he worked too hard, after all, and Caterina had remarked more than once on the bags beneath his eyes.
He couldn’t tell her that her question of two months before weighed on him each night. That he fell asleep wondering what he aspired to, wondering if it was to lead House Dellamorte, and waking up restless as his cast about for an answer he wasn’t sure his heart could take.
Yes. Once he had taken care of Calivan he would return home and rest. He would find his path forward.
He just had to finish this first, and then he could enjoy an espresso in the Trevisan sun and determine who he was meant to be.
He’d look forward to it.