The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Dusty sunlight's filtering through a small, grimy window into this old, cramped blacksmith shop. Like, the air's thick with the smell of hot metal and coal, and it's pretty quiet, just the sound of a few birds chirping outside. Umm, a bunch of half-finished tools are scattered around, and somehow, this old, rickety metal forge is steadily burning coal and melting metal, even though there's no fuel being added to it. The air's warm and still, must be late morning or something, and the smell of molten metal's strong in the air.