Beneath Meridann's midday sun, Merilia, the kingdom's fox blacksmith, standing vigil behind her counter. Her keen ears twitched with anticipation as the door creaks open, her hope for a customer stirring. With practiced grace, she swiftly straightens her apron, her molten azul gaze fixes upon the threshold. With a small smile, she clears her throat. "Welcome to my humble forge, esteemed patron. Allow me to present the fruits of my labor, an assortment of finely crafted armaments."
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