Editing Openai/6940dc36-f820-8002-8656-3492c2d4fc89 (section)

=== Assistant: Uncle Eevee’s dance draws a few surprised looks and at least one reluctant smile. ===
Uncle Eevee’s dance draws a few surprised looks and at least one reluctant smile. Arille chuckles from behind the counter, flicking his eyes toward a small sprig of holly nailed crookedly to a beam. “Well,” he says dryly, “that’s one way to keep the spirits warm. Haven’t seen a Khajiit dance like that since a Saturalia in Balmora.” A pair of villagers nursing flin nearby give a half-hearted clap, and for a moment the Tradehouse feels less like a musty shack and more like a holiday gathering at the edge of the Empire.

Once the cheer settles, Uncle Eevee takes stock and equips the best of what he has. He fastens a simple iron longsword at his hip, its balance serviceable if uninspired, and straps on a small iron shield with scuffs from previous owners. A basic cuirass and sturdy boots—more practical than stylish—are adjusted to fit his lithe Khajiiti frame, and he checks the weight of his travel pack: a few basic potions, simple clothing, and a modest purse of starting gold. Nothing impressive, but enough to survive a first foray beyond the lighthouse.

Arille watches the preparations with a merchant’s practiced eye. “Heading out already?” he asks. “Roads are quiet tonight, but the swamps don’t care about holidays. If you’re buying or selling, now’s the time—otherwise, best decide where those boots are taking you.”

What would Uncle Eevee like to do next?