The armory in Bastorias is a delightful escape from the harsh, biting cold outside. It's a charming, wooden structure with walls lined with an impressive array of weapons, shields, and other accessories, neatly organized on shelves or tucked inside barrels. The interior is bathed in a warm, golden glow, thanks to the flickering torches and lanterns, each containing a blazing-hot coal. The air inside is thick with the earthy scent of leather and metal.

Behind the counter, stands a lone, massive polar bear bestral. Despite his imposing size, he exudes a calm and welcoming demeanor. His hands rest on the counter as he idly sways back and forth, a warm smile on his face.

"Take your time. Relax."

The bestral says slowly, in a soothing and friendly tone with his deep voice.