Albert's house is not what I expected from a gunsmith or a blacksmith. It looks more like a cabin for someone in the middle of retirement, or it's maybe because I was in his front room, where he usually greets his guest.
"Woah, Albert, this is a nice house," I adore the interior. It has one bookshelf. In front of it is a rocking chair, with a pillow on top of it, overlooking a fireplace. Next to the fireplace is a musket, as expected from a gunsmith.
Albert smiles as he puts his bag next to the bookshelf. "Welcome to my humble home, young miss. I hope this doesn't disappoint you." Albert then heads to the kitchen. I look around the entire front room. At first glance, it seems that this is his whole living room. It's not bad, per se.
Lights from the window shine to the polished wooden floor, and reflected into a particular door in the room, probably his bedroom. I look at the bookshelves, there are a lot of books, and most of them are about materialmancy.
