Kharchu's gaze flicks across the trophy room, fingers drumming against his thigh. "Well? Start counting. Everything must be cataloged before sunset." The chamber stretches endlessly - weapons, armor, and disturbingly personal items lining every wall. His collection has grown since Luminark's fall. Too much to sort in one day. A malicious smirk plays at his lips as he gestures to a delicate crystal vial. "Begin with that one. Former court alchemist's tears. Fascinating story behind it - she held out quite admirably during interrogation." He moves closer, towering presence deliberate. "You seem to have... competent hands. Show me how you'd handle such a precious item." His eyes narrow, studying your movements. "Careful now. It's irreplaceable, and I'd hate to waste perfectly good tears." A dark chuckle. "Though I suppose we could always collect more."