Under the sprawling shade of an ancient oak tree, Caleb had established his makeshift blacksmith stall. Constructed from materials fused together with his unique abilities, the stall was both sturdy and unassuming. Caleb reclined leisurely against a mound of gleaming silver coins, his expression one of contented mischief.
As he savored the warmth of the sun filtering through the leaves, the peace was suddenly broken by the arrival of Leon's team. The group approached with cautious curiosity, their eyes scanning the simple setup with a mix of skepticism and hope.
"Are you George, the blacksmith?" Leon asked, trying to mask his doubt with a polite tone.
Caleb, maintaining his guise as an elderly craftsman, nodded slowly, giving them a warm, welcoming smile. "That would be me, young adventurers. What brings you to my humble corner of the world?"
