RP:Fait Accompli Part 2

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

Summary: Kas and Inks do a terrible job at making a first impression with the House Asharam Leader, but count a neutral outcome as a success.

Great Hall of Vailkrin

Kasyr's answer to Inks uncertainty as to whether her presence would be tolerated was simple enough- given that when the first few hors d'ouevres were presented to the room, he'd made certain that there were three places set up, and a few extra plates- just in case Derrick had his own favoured vassals. All of which were neatly set at one end of the table, because the swordsman had no intention of pitching his voice to talk from one end of the table to the other. For one thing, it defeated the whole discretion thing- which, last he checked, was still a fundamentally important element of his dealings, save in those rare instances he intentionally tipped his hand.

But that was all window dressing. The important thing, is that her presence also means he can go go through some practice rounds of chess with Inks while she explains the details of her recent business acquisition. And lose miserably, because unlike cards- where his empathy can provide a healthy degree of intuition towards an opponents hand- experience factors in a great deal here, turning their matches into a sort of bastardized sequence 'speed chess' matches. And Derrick had centuries over the pair of them combined. As he gently tries to nudge the chess board from between them and replace it with a deck of cards, he finds himself asking, "I meant to ask, you said you'd bought out Raoul & Gunter. Are they working for you now, retired, quoi-ce-soit?" What's more important is the slight logistics involved, and whether this was also meant as a nudge, "If you're needing some sort of Writ stating you make the stuff I wear, I can probably get one made, eventually. When everything is sorted." Was it some weird form of nepotism if she actually did do the work to get there? " ... Did he care? Lord Derrick certainly didn't, given he'd managed to discreetly open the door and introduce himself to the room with an uncanny lack of noise. A disquiet that even extends to the revenant, given that it even taes his empathy a moment to pick up on the mans presence- as though seeing a sentence for the first time, after skimming a page.

And it's an effect that doesn't seem to be lost on the Ashramite Patron, given the faint lift of an eyebrow. And yet, the effect is muted, for there's nothing to be seen in the mans' brown eyes. A stillness that is equally mirrored by his pose, which seems to hold sway over even the lengthy grey overcoat he's sporting. It's only after the exchange has extended for a few more moments that Derrick fnally begins to peel away the black riding gloves he'd been wearing, and moves to take one of the seats opposite the Azakhaer pair. "Kasyr." No title. That's ominous. "Do you understand the mess you've made of everything?" Already off to a great start. Made worse by the lack of any real anger- the tone closer to a scholar deigning to condescend and share his great works with a laymen. A measured cadence so the dull audience could keep up. It's only when Derrick leans back, allowing some strands of jet black hair to obscure the judgement in his gaze, that the first hint of anything -human- comes from the man. And even then, it's only in the palpable dissapointment contained in his sigh, "Is there a plan? Or are you simply reacting."

She's a little shocked that that she's included on this meeting and makes no effort to hide that fact. It's just her and Kasyr right now, so keeping her expression neutral or disinterested didn't feel necessary. That and she wasn't really working, so... Inks decides to stroll on in after him and figure out what in the world to do with herself between now and whenever Lord Derrick arrives. She's godawful at chess, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try a fast game or ten against her sire to kill time. Especially since it gave her an opportunity to gush about her new storefront. “I think they'll be working for me, yeah. They're both pretty talented. ...Nothing like Maya and Ikara, but there's a reason the two of them have their own shops.” And they both belong to House Ventra, she thinks? She liked that house, which Kas could likely guess, so spending time with any artisan from their group was something worthwhile to her. “I'd argue Gunter is better with jewelry than I am,” Inks admits. “Raul is...Well,” she grimaces at not only what felt like the twentieth loss of chess in that round of speedgaming, but how Raul has taken her buyout of their business and the building along with it. “He isn't happy with the arrangement, but his work isn't great. He knows it too.” The thought of Kasyr or anybody in power, really, making some endorsement for her clothing was flattering. Extremely so, and it would be a boon for her business, but her line of thinking follows a similar track to his. Is something like that nepotism if she's actually exceptional at her work? Folk in Vailkrin did know of her to some degree prior to her siring, after that patch job on their sky years ago, but that wasn't making and selling clothes. “Well, I better start making you more than just replacement jackets if you're going to do that,” Inks offers, even if her tone is teasing. It's going to happen. She'd put together a wardrobe for the revenant without hesitation if she could.

In the midst of another game where she's clearly about to lose yet again, Inks notices Kasyr's demeanor shift enough to clue her into the arrival of Lord Derrick, and her head turns while she straightens up out of her slouch over the chessboard. He's got the expressionless look Inks made some effort to maintain down in a way that she couldn't replicate without probably a century's worth of practice, and a tone that has even her feeling pity for Kasyr for how scolding it sounded. Her eyes leap from her sire to Lord Derrick in some effort to read the room. This is not good. But how high or low on the scale of 'not good'? Well, given her less than formal invite to get him over here and her less than refined appearance that already had her feeling utterly out of place here, she decides to lean into that a little. Having never interacted with one of the other houses while in Kasyr's presence, she isn't entirely sure if her speaking before him was breaking some protocol, but she does it anyway. “Lord Derrick,” begins the seamstress, half expecting to be cut off mid sentence by either of the lords she's in the company of. She'll keep talking anyway. Dry humor, results oriented. Patient, Kasyr said. Hopefully that patience extended to her and how out of the loop she felt here. Well, we'll just skip over the dry humor. Inks' sense of humor is dreadful. “Forgive my ignorance, but what is Kasyr supposed to be planning for?” Results oriented, Inks. “...And how can I help?” More hands on deck led to faster results. Sometimes.

Kasyr may have taken some consolation out of the fact that they were trading losses, but at the same time- it might just underline how much of a bad idea it had been to bring the board to the table. Less grand strategy, and more quick and dirty tactics as they wiled through conversation. Even the sticking point of figuring out the logistics of an endorsement had a certain silver lining- which put it in stark contrast to what had been leveled at him by the Asharam lord within moments. And perhaps, out of all the arguments lain at his feet in recent times, this one was the hardest to evade. Which made him slightly grateful for the brief distraction inks provides with her question, given Derrick seems willing to enlighten her, "Vailkrins stability." Kasyr...may have been hoping for a slightly more elaborate response than that. "A task left grossly unattended to." And Inks is not, in fact, spared from her own admonishments, "Something more constructive than a street brawl, perhaps?"

The swordsman is still trying to figure out an adequate starting point, especially as continued silence only seems to compound their apparently mutual sins. He's still coming up dry when he finally says, "I've been working on it." And the questioning eyebrow raise he gets in return for that comment doesn't help, but at this point, he's commited to continuing, "I -cannot- undo the damage left by Dragana, during my absence. " Nor the mistake of his temporary favor, "But, I am striving resolve to resolve the aftermath." He casts his gaze towards one of the windows in their meeting room, to the bleak forest it overlooked, and the desmesne that once resided within it.

A gesture that is not lost on the Ashramite, but which does little to elicit any warmth in his tone, " And how long do you intend to stay, this time?" That question may dig a little deeper, the swordsmans quiet abdication having ended with an abrupt and near complete end to his communications with those who'd once counted among his allies. Even those who were, or might have been, friends. "I'm staying." comes the automatic response, far too curt for either of their likings. But it's made worse when the Kensai finally blurts out the deepest offense he'd made to Derricks pride, "I was never going to be your vassal." That, at least, invokes a fracture in his otherwise impeccable facade. The perceived carelesssness, the abruptness. "It would have served the city. But you choose instead to- " There's a seagull somewhere nearby waiting to caw, but it never comes- the silence between them holding sway.

Inks takes that admonishment with little more than a half smile and an apologetic look for now. Proper apologies can wait while decides to spin this encounter into some opportunity for herself to learn a thing or two about the state Vailkrin is in, and how she might be able to help. While the Asharam Lord and Kasyr talk, she's swept chess pieces off of the board and set to work rearranging the black pieces in a manner that's clearly supposed to be representative of Vailkrin and the houses; Houses she's more familiar with indicated with potentially obvious pieces, like Trintus as one of the pair of black knights alongside Ladaeth, Azakhaer as a rook, Asharam for now as a bishop even if she thought they might fit better as the queen based on what their house seemed to be capable of with their spies. She sets the king in the middle to symbolize Vailkrin. It probably doesn't make sense without her voicing just what she's doing, but she assumes both men are intelligent enough to pick up that she's giving herself a visual to work with to fill in gaps for herself.

So, results. While the kensai turns his attention to the window, she has her eyes on Lord Derrick while nudging pieces around. At Kasyr's response that he's saying, she softly chimes in, “I'm helping – Though...” She gaze shifts from the board to Lord Derrick, not particularly concerned about what Kasyr meant about not being his vassal, but the silence between them after that is heavy, and not something she wants to prod at. Unfortunately the seamstress doesn't learn if she doesn't prod. Since he seems willing to talk, and she's leaning heavily on Kasyr's description of the Asharam Lord as being patient and results oriented, she'll go on, break that uncomfortable silence, and keep on prodding. “So...To fix - “ maybe fix isn't the right word. “Um...Correct?” She motions to the board. “All of this, what do you suggest he does?” Is she trying to negotiate with a lord? Not really, at least Inks doesn't think she is. She doesn't want Vailkrin's throne, but she offers herself in this instance too. “What can -I- do? Constructively, of course,” a lighthearted jab that hopefully Lord Derrick took as lighthearted. She tries a little smile just to be safe.

To say, that Derrick was frustrated with this proceeding would be an understatement, though it certainly paled in comparison to the time it took to get ahold of the swordsman. That said, he could at least appreciate that one of the party members could stay on task. ...Relatively. She was fussing with the chessboard with purpose, but, he had little inclination to be involved in the game. "I need to know what's coming next." His attention drifts between the seamstress, and the Kensai, "Before you endanger members of my house." The seamstresses invitation had been blatant enough that he didn't need to question whether the Kensai had told her one of his houses' secret. A secret that has the Kensai replaying the events at the manor with a grimace. That he wasn't the main contributor hardly mattered, either. He'd done nothing to stop it. "I want a lasting peace. One that can survive your . . . spontaneity. That point said, Derricks' attention flickers back to the seamstress, "Does your store have room for another employee?"

Kasyr may have been struck partially mute by the justified admonishments directed his way, but the 'question' has the swordsman irked. The familiar sense of being maneuvered is inescapable, and the fact that it's now extending beyond him chafes. "I am attempting diplomacy." That...did that earn a chuckle? It was, but empty of mirth. The swordsman sets his jaw, and tries again, "And, despite the recent hiccup, I am -endeavouring to be careful. Made complicated by the fact that I'm being perpetually scried on." That, of all things, is what earns the swordsman something more akin to - a silent fury-, and elicits an awkward hiss of an exhale from the Kensai, as he offers a, "Here is fine." Currently. And it certainly wasn't at the heart of his avoidance. "But, it does necessitate certain degrees of . . . spontaneity." Derrick might not look it, but the Kensai can feel a profound frustration well within the man- before it's abruptly stifled. "Vakmatharas help this city." Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jerk. Kasyr's not even sure how to respond to that, either- so he simply offers Inks a dscreet questioning look, and a brief gesture at her mess with the chessboard. Given the effort she'd placed into it, it had to be something, given their current company.

“I'd like to know that too,” she murmurs in agreement with Lord Derrick, which may or may not annoy Kasyr. But it's true. Inks is willing to admit and look like she's a bit out of the loop here. She doesn't know the extent of House Azakhaer and Asharam's...alliance? Arrangement? Whatever this is – happened to be, but if the end goal is stability, then keeping Derrick's people out of harm's way is important. At least, as much as they can. Was Derrick's question an opportunity to drop a spy in her business or some sort of olive branch to take some steps toward a lasting peace? Probably both. This doesn't give her any sort of discomfort, so she merely nods. Even if she said no, she wouldn't be surprised if her shop was cased or broken into for somebody to snoop around anyway. As long as they don't steal anything. “Sure.” If they're spies, Inks has to assume Derrick's people or he has some idea of what she does for a living. “Does whoever you have in mind know their way around a needle and thread?”

The seamstress almost resumes playing with the chess pieces while listening to the pair talk. The phrase 'scried on' gives her pause. Color drains from her face at that casual revelation, and her head abruptly jerks to blatantly stare at the revenant. Is he out of his mind, not providing that detail while she's been staying in his castle? “...” Now Inks is looking at Lord Derrick, silently praying that he's also very much not happy with this news, albeit for different reasons than her own. The other lord may be containing his frustration, but Inks doesn't hide her bewilderment. “Here is -safe-? What about everywhere else-” She tries not to fume, but it's difficult. His questioning look is met with a face trying to force itself into some semblance of calm, but it's failing. Right, the chessboard. “I'm just...thinking.” Internally she's screaming. “If we,” she assumes Kasyr wants the same or similar to Lord Derrick when it comes to Vailkrin, “If we want lasting peace, we need to work with the other houses. Right?” She's struggling to look at Kasyr and not glower at that moment, instead training her gaze on Lord Derrick for some confirmation that she's at least thinking the right things here and not floundering like an idiot. “...This is going to require some transparency from all of us,” a look shot back at Kasyr again, “and a bit of secrecy.” To prevent problematic interlopers from peeking in. The seamstress looks to Lord Derrick yet again in hopes that his patience doesn't wane any time soon and she can keep asking questions, though her next query potentially toes the line between an innocent question for help and probing too much into his and his house's work. Better to ask and get a no than not ask at all.

“Kasyr mentioned to me that you and members of your house have spies...” She pauses, partly to try to discern some expression from him on whether she's crossed a line or for him to fill in the space with some admonishment for whatever her question may be. “With Kasyr's scrying problem, could you or anyone in your house give me some guidance on how to prevent the same from happening to me?” Inks isn't a worthy target to spy on as far as she's concerned, but if she's being assertive here to try to help her house and the other houses in Vailkrin find some sort of peace, there's the risk her actions might put her in some crosshairs. “If we're working together,” she assumes they're going to be working together and hopes that she's correct, lest she sound more foolish than she thinks she is here, “We'll need to conceal things....Though you probably already knew that. I'm out of my element here, Lord Derrick,” Inks admits with a wry smile at both him and Kasyr. “But I want to help.”

Kasyrs' response may have been measured to lord Derrick, but there's another sidelong look at Inks addition to the conversation. It actually takes a concerted effort to resist the urge to puff his cheeks out in retort. Worse was the fact that he couldn't whisper anything, given the assumed hearing of the elder vampire across the table, which leaves the swordsman one option. One elbow finds it's way onto the table, so his fingers can catch his forehead as though he were deep in thought (Or massaging out a headache)- before he tilts his head and tries his best to clearly mouth, 'You threw me'. Just like she'd thrown him under the carriage here. That said, while she belongs to his house, the particular business with the shop was her own- especially in the face of her earlier offer.

That said, his indulgent indignation comes to an end at about the point he becomes -acutely- aware of just how poorly the seamstress was taking the news that- "Oh." Right. She..probably wasn't going to get that curious sense of being watched, or a keen awareness of the sense of pressure when it lifted. Maybe he -should- have voiced that sooner. ..The fact that it was so constant some days that it felt normal was probably -not- reassuring- and thus has him carefully observing the seamstress as he tried to find the correct words to address both her and Asharam. Here's a start, "Well, the bedrooms, for one- because at least they can't scry in and find the best opportunity to slit your throat." Which, should be an adequate relief, right? Only- Ah. There's a certain moment of clarity that hits the Kensai's face- and which seems to even spark a degree of interest from Lord Derrick, whose only interjection asofar has been a helpful statement of, "Tactful. Reassuring, even."

Kasyr ignores this, and does his best to meet the glower leveled at him, alongside the desire for transparency. "Don't worrry. It only started back up recently. I might have, uh, mostly- killed them, Madamoiselle. To buy time." And possibly some form of catharsis, if he had to look really deeply inside himself. Derrick -might- have gotten a twinge of a smile there, echoing the word 'mostly'. Nor was the Kensai surprised when there was no further questions insofar as the individual. It only confirmed that the trick -hadn't- fallen beneath the notice of the house, likely due to the very abrupt absence of both himself and the changeling.

Instead, Lord Asharams attention is redirected towards the seamstress, who seems keen on taking the role that the Kensai had once refused. Even if her bluntness does elicit a wince, " If you are amenable to training one of my associates to a degree of skill acceptable to work at your shop, an exchange of skills would be appropriate." Which could have almost come across as helpful, were it not for the ensuing statement, "That said, there are certain elements that I cannot... teach." There's an emphasis on that word that sits uncomfortable with the Kensai, and not for the first time during their meeting- there's a distinct sense of ..an absence. A beat skipped. Which soon passes.

Inks doesn't mean to throw Kasyr under the carriage necessarily, but after the surprise notification that she might potentially be under the watch of who ever has taken up the ridiculous task of spying on him while she pays visits to that castle, the seamstress is understandably upset. She misses what he mouths whether it's for her or not with her eyes on Lord Derrick, but the notion that this room and apparently only bedrooms are safe has her mirroring the revenant's action of a sidelong glance. “...You've got to be kidding me.” She'd ask for who in the world would even bother to stick their nose where it didn't belong, but it's Vailkrin and they're sitting directly across from the head of a house full of folk who stuck their nose where it likely didn't belong and the hypocrisy and the potentially offensive tone of her words if she spoke them isn't lost on her. Lord Derrick's statement does have her feeling some sense of relief, however. He thinks it's ridiculous too. “Can't you...ward the castle?” As if it were that easy, given its size and the complexity of such magic. “Or get help to do it?” Again, Inks is keen to lend a hand. Though something tells her that completely sealing off the castle from prying eyes might draw some ire from Lord Derrick and his people. For all she knew they scried on the castle too.

“...You didn't check to ensure that they're dead and won't continue to be a problem?” She doesn't hide her incredulity initially, but soon it's her turn to bury her head into a hand to hide some of that likely palpable frustration. Wasn't that breaking his own house rules about not drawing unnecessary attention to their house? Or did that only apply to prey? Was she about to scold her own sire in front of another head of a house? “Kas....” Thankfully Lord Derrick starts talking again, and she lifts her head. That frustrated expression on Inks' face gradually turns to something a bit more positive. Hopeful. “Absolutely, I can do that.” Her lack of stealthy behavior is potentially known by Lord Derrick and any member of his house that might keep tabs on her, but she adds, “Most, if not all sorts of stealth are a little lost on me...” The notion that there are bits that he can't teach has her leaping to the assumption that his house has secrets that are strictly Asharam-members only, and she merely nods. “Understood. I'm grateful for whatever you and yours have to offer.”

Something dawns on the seamstress after this brief exchange. Why is she the one somewhat taking the lead on Azakhaer's side in this meeting? This...this isn't how this was supposed to go. She'd made the joke in passing long ago about being de-facto leader of House Azakhaer when Kasyr reverted back to being a human for a time, but she never, as far as she knew, actually behaved as if she were in charge. Unless you count that brief visit with the two of them and Odhranos to the Underdark, but she didn't. This has her regarding Kasyr with a puzzled expression, uncertain if she should keep 'leading' the conversation like she worries she might be, or recede into the background like she initially intended to. But if the two house heads are going to do little more than trade vague blows at each other that mostly went over her head and have lapses of silence in between that made even her feel a little uncomfortable, Inks might as well keep the conversation going. Can't properly help without having some details in mind, right? “So... Can either of you,” was asking for directions from a lord that wasn't your sire offensive? Potentially. She's going to ask anyway, though her eyes look warily toward Kasyr before resettling on Asharam yet again. “Give me some direction here that might benefit all of us in the long run? Trading lessons in different skills is great, but,” she makes a vague motion at the silly arrangement of chess pieces on the board she fiddled with moments before. “I'm a little lost on how that will bring about peace for Vailkrin as a whole.” She likely looked it from either Kasyr's or Lord Derrick's perspective, perhaps both, just a little bit out of her element here. But hopefully both can see she's eager to help without her repeating herself yet again. “Lasting peace is the big picture, but I'll need steps to help get us there.” Kasyr more than her. This was his castle, his throne, and crown. She's just a fledgling here, even if she is an elder now.

Kasyr wishes it was as simple as Inks suggestion, but there's a particular tidbit that she's forgetting. "Large scale wards tend to need maintaince. More importantly, they need to remain intact- et this castle has a bit of being-" He rolls his wrist in the air, first at the castle at large, before drifting back towards the view of the forest, "razed."Which is going to turn out to be an -awfully- prescient. "If you -want- to attend to new ones et check the existing ones. for peace of mind. . ." As for her scolding, some colder part of him agrees with her disbelief, and the only thing he can offer is, "It was a deliberate act of mercy." Misguided. Erroneous. Ill-fated, to the last. The swordsman cants his head off towards Derrick, unsure of what to expect- and absolutely revolted by what looked like the whisper of a smirk. How much -did- he know. The Kensai doesn't even want to think about it. "It's a delicate situation." Which will only get worse. His reticence to talk on the manner, at least here, likely didn't help either. And while he was assuming Lord Asharam had a decent idea of the broad strokes, Inks had nudged him for transparency. ..And was staring at him quizzically. "Quintessa. Whose been pulling together her own house, et trying to gain traction with things like the tournament. Bread et Circus to distract- to entice the masses." What does he even say here. The truth, he supposes- and one that might even be a useful clarification for Lord Derrick, "She's compromised. A fallen god's lackey. Et one that might be using the position to excuse her mistakes."

The Kensai isn't sure what to add to that- factors of her forced compliance ringing slightly hollow in the face of changelings mercurial temperment. She'd sent Karasu after him- balanced the possibility of her death against spite, and decided she'd sooner spit in the face of the respite he'd provided her. The cover for her momentary betrayal. The kensai doesn't even bother masking the disgust on his face, simply leaning back into his seat and taking in whatever expression Inks may harbour in that moment- alongside Derricks more acute disapproval. "Her being alive -should- have been useful. I misjudged her."

It's a -relief- when the Ashramites' attention settles back on the seamstress- offering a nod to their agreement. Her request is handled in stride as well, "There are freelancers in the city. Cursemongers, even- that might be able to provide you something if someone looks in." In fact, the Ashramites even able to provide a card for that individuals office- if the seamstress had an inclination towards devious mummies. Kasyr's response is less immediate in nature, "There's a pair of people that come to mind on my end. I'll ask them." Later, if it can be helped. Quintessa wasting time looking in on him was almost a relief. And there was still one last trick he wanted to try. Which simply left- Derrick chimes in before Kasyr can figure out how to respond to the seamstresses most pressing query, "Damage control." Helpful. The implication that they were a complication to be managed, currently, was not lost on the Kensai- "Mahara vouches for us. I have an existing pact with Alnwick." And a lead that now needs pursuing. " If I can find an heir for the undead quarter, et incentivize more of the houses- would you be willing to lend me your aid again." Beyond what felt like a condescension. "I actually have some houses in mind for you in particular, Stitch."

“I could try,” she offers, but even as Inks does so she knows that'll be an incredibly tall order for her. But it'd give some peace of mind while she helps out, definitely. Otherwise the seamstress can properly move into the small apartment above her shop in the city. She makes some effort to maintain a neutral expression as Kasyr explains his reasoning for not offing the spy, but his revelation of just who it was prying in has her pulling a grimace. How...complicated. And gross. She knew little of her sire and the changeling's relationship and didn't feel it necessary to know at all. Lord Asharam's very subtle shift in expression implied enough. “No wonder I've failed in finding someone your type,” the seamstress murmurs. Figuring Kasyr will have the changeling and her ilk under some control or dead or stopped entirely, whatever the case may be, Inks doesn't address much of that problem further. Though she is perturbed at the thought of potentially being spied on.

The relief is mutual, though maybe for different reasons. She wanted to gloss over the spy problem and the culprit and focus on something else, like combating that behavior. “I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Lord Derrick.” She falls silent again, and it's only in that instance that she's noticed how her arms have defensively crossed as some subconscious way to feel shielded. Violations of privacy left her feeling more uncomfortable than she's willing to admit. Her arms lower so her hands can fold neatly in her lap while Inks continues to listen, only bothering to speak up again when her nickname is heard. “Oh?” Her eyes linger on the silly chessboard visual she created for herself. Inks mingled with a few houses, an she hoped Kasyr had those particular houses in mind. Instead of blurting those names, she motions toward her sire. “Go on... And what do you need me to do.”

Kasyr wishes, not for the first time, that he could tune out his empathy better- if only because of just how abruptly he picks up on the shift in Inks demeanour. How a tentative reassurance that came with the possibility of reclaimed space shifted to revulsion, uncertainty- a discomfort that seeps down into his guts, and sees him shifting his attention off the the ceiling of the room. He doesn't even bother hiding the discomfort he feels, his ears already doing a fantastic job of betraying that with the rather sharp way they fold back. "Later."

Derrick, for his part, is blessedly silent during this moment, and even deigns to pretend not to notice the murmurs. Really the only thing he feels obliged to engage with, is the Kensais request, "If you can show some semblance of sense- and avoid following in the footsteps of the houses you once sponsored," Goddamnit. " We can discuss that. For now- You can take consolation that I'm not standing in your way." Overtly. There was still a card being held back- and despite the peculiarities of getting a read on the man- there's a glimpse. A sense that something wasn't being said.

Kasyr's patience is shot, however, and the fact that Inks might find some partial distraction in the task, and alleviate the sickness in his gut is a blessing he isn't going to overlook. It's not like he felt the need to keep anything safe from Asharam. He's beginning to think it wouldn't matter. "I need you to talk with the heads of Ventra, and Torrador. Torrador once squired one of their vampires to this house- and I imagine they may still have some vested curiosity. Ventra-" Where to start. They did business, but resources could also-"I'm still not keen on working with Nasar, even still." Even despite their hostility to Tessa, "Perhaps we can offer to help them deal with their business rivals." But would that be adequate? What other resources did he even have. Then it clicks. Not for those houses, but another ...Research. "And we may be able to tackle Markan. I have a number of papers I need to get rid of from the warriors guild. Documentation they -may- find useful."

She didn't like picking at her nails, but the seamstress needed to do something else rather than mess around with some chess pieces while continuing to listen. Whatever Kasyr's feeling from her feelings is something Inks has never put much thought in, but she does frown at the flattening of the revenant's calico ears. Did she even know he could sense things like that? In this setting, she's relatively easy to read to practically anyone since she isn't in her typical 'work mode' demeanor. “Later?” Was that for her or Derrick? Either way, she tries to mask some of her distaste for being watched a little and puts on some half-assed version of one of her practiced smiles. “I'm sure she's thoroughly entertained by the sheer amount of fun we're having here...” Murmured sarcastically. Of course Inks meant torturing poor Kasyr with her unending talk about work, clients that drove her up the wall but paid well, her mother and father's antics. That and trying to strong arm him into some blind date with some new poor woman she met that potentially didn't stand a chance with him. She wouldn't be surprised if her sire gave one of his orders for her to shut her mouth if she went on some unnecessarily passionate rant about how delightful silk is to spin, dye, and weave, but...she adds it to the list of things to gush about sometime, and that practiced smile shifts to something more genuine and amused.

Now that the discussion has shifted to other houses, Inks leans forward with clear interest. This is an area she actually can help out with, to a degree. She didn't mingle with members of other houses out of some desire to play politics, but out of genuine interest in their trades. Specifically... The seamstress's eyes light up at mere mention of their names, because those are the two she would be quick to mention if Kasyr didn't say anything first. Torrador and Ventra. “Lady Ventra tolerates me,” she offers. Inks is pretty sure Lady Ventra thinks that she's useful for her business dealings, but expendable. Buying out Raul and Gunter's recently might be a positive tip in her favor if she keeps them on her payroll...right? Were they affiliated with Ventra? What about Ikara and Maya... She guessed Ventra. The seamstress purses her lips. “Torrador...” It's complicated. Friendly, but, kept at arms' length? Tension she doesn't see the point in having, but she grins and bears it. Politics. She grimaces.. “I ship them silk from back home, clothes, baubles,” she shrugs. The stuff she makes can be used as bargaining chips sometimes even if that thought left a bit of a sour taste in her mouth, that she tries to sweeten by reminding herself that it made her work -useful-, potentially in this instance too. A thought crosses the seamstress's mind about a potential flaw in Ventra's house.

“Do they stick primarily to Vailkrin with their businesses? Because they're missing out on the rest of Lithrydel and beyond,” and that could be Inks' in with Meliana. Trade opportunities, a higher and steadier flow of income. She had to put that fleet docked in Cenril to use somehow. Then there was the issue with Maya and Ikara's shops still being in ruin, and that didn't sit well with Inks at all. She wanted to get them fixed up. Not because it might be useful in this instance, but they were friends of hers. Whether it's out of her pocket or House Azakhaer's coffers, she didn't particularly care, but she's uncertain if Kasyr might want to bankroll the construction of two clothier's shops. “How about I put some things into motion to get Maya and Ikara back on their feet? Ventra should appreciate that.”

Kasyr makes a mental note to bring a notepad with himself next time. At least then he could pretend to be taking relevant notes about the important points that were being made, and hypothetically sneak in some small bits of clarification for the many, many awkward moments that were occuring. Still, the fact that she latches onto things so enthusiastically is- it's a weight of his chest. "I wouldn't necessarily say they -try- to, but there es certainly a sense of stigma that accompanies products that come from here. Simple, gods-fearing folk don't exactly -warm- up at the idea of things associated with here." This is going to become so much funnier in hindsight. "The establishment -of- a proper government would enable endorsements, and easier access to things like the introduction of wares to other living nobles too, non?" Something the Seamstress already had a rather firm familiarity with. "There's funds for it. There's actually-" Would Derrick know this part? It was plausible, but Ginger, bless her Swamp-Pixie-Turned-Pomeranian heart, had been a rather notable schemer. "There are funds set aside for proper damage in Vailkrin. Et I can certainly arrange for favourable supply costs et labour access."

Kasyr does not particularily like the way Lord Asharam leans forward in that moment, and is getting the distinct impression that he may have just offered the man something he hadn't intended to. Or, more likely, something related to the veiled allusions to investigations being made. Fantastic. "I believe this should be everything, however. ... Unless" There'd been something he'd been asked to do by Trintus, through several discrete letters- and it flickers to the forefront of his mind again, especially now that Derrick had made it abundantly clear he was still as savvy as ever. "Would you be able to help me locate the Trintus heir?" The man's face is as impassive as ever, but for the faintest moment, there's something there, a weird satisfaction that flows so neatly into that odd feeling from before. Derricks already starting to reply, when the Kensai corrects himself, "Sorry. Would you show me -where- he is?" Oh. That got a response. A momentary unsettlement, a thread of tension to pull on, irritation- and then all of it's smoothed out, and the man may as well be an unbroken pond once more. There's actually something akin to a hint of amusement when he draws back to look over two the last two Azakhaers, "Get your house in order. Then we can talk."

The Kensai can't really argue that point, and so he does the only thing he can think to do, "Then I suppose, we ought to get started." He needed time to sort all this out, "...Stitch. Do you think we could help Ventra get showings in other cities. I'd say we have some clout and allies whom we could count on for that." So, So funny in hindsight. In any case, the swordsman isn't quite sure what else to add here, and so he begins to gather himself, though he pauses long enough to make a small gesture to the untouched appetizers, "Feel free to avail yourself of the hospitality if you wish, Lord Asharam. Hopefully, the next time will be a more pleasent reunion."

“Well, that definitely isn't something that I think I can fix,” she frowns. Marketing, oddly, isn't something the seamstress put much stock in so she lacked skill there. Her work spoke for itself and she got work via word of mouth. Typically. Who didn't want something made from a woman that once sewed together the sky? Though, Inks chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “Actually. Spider silk -is- valuable, outside of Vailkrin. It's difficult to find in decent quantities and an utter pain to work with so it's...it's just rare to see it some places.” Like Sage, she suspects, or Cenril, given both areas are close by compared to other important towns and regions across Lithrydel. Of course there were other things Vailkrin had that were valuable, but Inks had a tendency to have a one track mind when it came to trade. And even if Inks didn't consider herself much of a noble that could sway other people, she was...kind of? Thanks to Kasyr, and successfully ran her business and trades outside of Vailkrin, so maybe that could be useful here. “In the meantime while you,” she looks pointedly at Kasyr, because she isn't fit to set up a proper government, let alone have much of a hand in it as far as she's concerned, “Figure that out, why couldn't I just offer Ventra an avenue to the outside world? She actually might like the idea...”

Normally when Inks had the rare opportunity of gaining Ventra's attention, she typically was sent walking the other way after some great backhanded compliments that the seamstress couldn't even be angry over. “I could put feelers out?” Inks offers. Before Sacred had her 'hibernating' while it gathered strength, she knew and dressed a handful of Lithrydel's upper crust. Most of those people were gone now, which made this offer more daunting than she might prefer.

She's looks relieved when Kasyr mentions there's money that can be used to take care of Maya and Ikara. “Good.” Though the thought that there's money set aside for this has her wanting to ask if that coin is for general damage, or specifically Coterie damage, given how reckless all of their house could be. Those houses Kasyr threw her through weren't going to fix themselves either. Derrick's lean forward is regarded with a curious look between him and her sire, accompanied by the thought that something isn't being said here. Before she can ask her eyes widen, and the seamstress looks blindsided by Kasyr's words. What's going on with Trintus, now? She had a soft spot for that house, and that earlier thought Inks had that Derrick isn't all that bad is just a little bit soured at the accusation voiced. “Wanna clue me in on this later, Kas?” Or now? But it looks like later might be the best way to go since both lords are just casually brushing past what was said, as if it were nothing at all.

“Yeah. ...And yeah. I can handle that. If I sat down with her I could -probably- get some of what her people have on ships to haul somewhere far off too.” Her family's little fleet of merchant vessels looked small and unassuming, but they're money makers. And Inks saw no issue with sharing the wealth if it helped Vailkrin out. And since it looks like their meeting has come to a close, Inks isn't about to let an opportunity like this pass by. Her attention falls on Lord Derrick for a final time before he takes his leave or Kasyr drags her out first with him. Steps toward lasting peace didn't have to mean a deluge of grand gestures necessarily, did it? Sometimes you gotta start small. “It was nice to meet you, Lord Derrick,” said genuinely, though her facial expression looks a little mixed. He hardly said a thing and she can't tell if she likes him or not. “I can fix you up with a nice jacket sometime if you want. Whenever you send one of yours to work in my shop, send 'em with measurements.”

Kasyr may have slightly rolled his eyes in the face of the pointed look, though he refrains from any sort of pointed look. Unlike Tessa, who was striving to curry favour with acts of Bread & Circus- the unifying force that had buoyed the swordman to the surface had ever and always been on the cusp of disaster. And whilst one was in the making, it still wasn't quite as obvious to the average citizen. Not yet, at least. Though... That could be changed. "It's on the agenda." Which she is probably going to literally write up, at this point, and hold him to. ...Was she his secretary now? "...Yeah. I trust you with that." That said, he doesn't trust himself not to blurt out anything he shouldn't in this moment, or to tip his hand prematurely, especially given he was still trying to figure out what he'd stumbled on. "Like I said before. Later. You might have a note about it." Trintus -did- like to keep up on the investigation, whatever little it revealed. Still while Kasyr is poised to walk out of the room with little more than a wave, he does pause to wait for his fledgeling as she provided the courtesy he lacked. A gesture which is met by a faint smile, "I appreciate the mindfulness, Ms. Oohjmaeyik. And I wish you well on your particular ventures. Though, you may want to act quickly, given your opponent."