The wet season was on The Old City. The moist air filled the streets, curling into a thick mist shrouding the normally busy city into a strange silence. It was a night for thieves and assassins to creep about the cobbled streets and row slowly in the crisscrossing canals. The sounds of the numerous stray cats caterwauling in the wet night occasionally broke the steady rhythm of the Sapphire Sea. If the streets of the common places in Venara were quiet the well appointed squares and streets of the Palace District were the held breath of a dead man. Only the quiet shuffle of guards in breastplates and pistols sounded around the walled grounds of the many manor homes in the center of The Old City. 

A single figure crouched on the ledge of one of the large towers of the Palace District. A long cloak of black feathers flowed around their shoulders, hanging heavily in the humid air. A gloved hand reached down to the crossed pistol belt at their hips and pulled up a silver crow mask and fixed it over their face. Topped with a wide brimmed hat, the silhouette cut a sinister image atop the spire of Talso. Eyes hidden behind the shadows of the mask and the night searched the manor of the remaining Delorano family. They had held their wake today and entombed the remains of old Leon Delorano. He was placed in the family crypt under the manor itself. The old stone catacombs were a twisting mess of soggy graves and walled off basements in the city that seemed to be sinking. The Crow could see the flickering light of lamps lit in the main dining hall on the third floor of large building. The warm light seeming to defy the circling darkness and mists of the night. The Crow dropped a small copper coin to the ground and reached out to it with their Mark. the coin was pushed down into the roof top and the rebounding force shot The Crow up into the misty air at an angle, arching toward the roof of the Delorano manor. 

Servants rushed around the manor, unsure of what exactly they were supposed to be doing. They had prepared the dinner and set everything in place. None of them could shake the feeling of impending dread. The man who had led them for most their entire lives was now dead. Leon had been a well loved and gentle master. He had not always been the most kind man, but, he had always been fair and often enough treated those who served well like extended members of his own family. He had taken in strays from all over the Old City and the world as a whole. Many of servants chattered about the state his body was recovered in, stabbed an uncountable number of times and then tossed from the rookery of the plantation house. The foreign doctor that Leon had employed had done his best to clean the man up, but, there was only so much one could do. The servants chattered and did their best to stay out of sight and out of mind to the gathered family and Household in the main dining chamber. A wake was supposed to be a time of joy and celebration of life. The mood was far less than jovial though. Many of the important members of the House were solemn and brooding. Leon had done much in his life and now it seemed like the whole world was working to burn them to ashes. The Houses trade had been disrupted and any ships sent out were raided by Houses holding a Writ of Vendetta or by pirates, now running unchecked because of the chaos in Venara. 

The dining room was ornate, covered with fine rugs and hung with portraits of the many family members and Patriarchs of the Delorano family. Central, sitting on a small stand with a few candles framing it, was the portrait of Leon. The portrait was done a few years ago, back before all the chaos had consumed the nobles of Venara. He was with his wife and smiling in the oil painting. Peaceful, happy, now gone. The massive double doors that led to the balcony sat just behind the portrait of Leon, the dining table opposite the doors. The table was a fine oak from the main land. Expensive, covered in a noble feast of spices, fish, fruit, bread, and wine. Hardly any of it was touched. The members of the Household were all in the room. Some sat, some stood, some paced. All in silence. The last will and testament sitting on the center of the table. It had been read and re-read by nearly all of them, even read aloud a few times. It had so little to say about their situation, so little aside from the old Patriarch's thoughts. 

Tension filled the room. The sharks circled, their father and leader was dead. The House passed on to Nalia, still a young woman. The only thing looming seemed to be the oppressive misty night air threatening to consume all of them. The silence hung heavy in the dining room. Eyes of servants and guards flicked from one member of the House to the other, all of them on edge. They hoped whom ever broke this silence would not do so with ill intent. It was enough that so many others wanted them all dead, they could not survive internal strife.