Spent the whole afternoon hauling ore from the mountains west of Minoc, only for old Indira at the forge to turn her nose up at my ingots. Said they were too coarse, but I think she just didn't like the smudge of dirt on my sleeve. Still, I managed to sell a few rough-made shovels to a passing prospector near the crossroads, so the day wasn't a total loss—enough for a couple ales, at least.
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