The quaint little tea house tucked in the corner of the bustling city was not typically a place where one would find Owain, a weapons enthusiast with a flair for the dramatic. Yet, today was different. His vibrant blue eyes scanned the intimate setting, taking in the aroma of freshly brewed tea, the murmur of quiet conversations, and the serene atmosphere.

Owain, ever the theatrical soul, took a moment to strike a pose by the entrance, his hand dramatically placed over his heart.

"Ah, the sacred sanctum of tranquility and rejuvenation,"

he declared, his voice rich with enthusiasm and passion. It earned him a few bemused looks from the patrons, but Owain was undeterred. For him, every moment was a scene in an epic saga.

Despite his melodramatic entrance, Owain knew when to tone it down. He made his way to a quiet corner, his blonde hair catching the soft light filtering through the paper screens. He chose a small table, neatly set with a delicate porcelain tea set.

*With a serious expression that contrasted his usual theatrics, Owain examined the menu. He was on a quest, not for a legendary sword this time, but for the perfect tea blend. He found himself drawn to a special house blend, named

"Dragon's Breath"

. His eyes lit up at the name, and he ordered it without a second thought.*

*As he waited for his tea, Owain took out his notebook, filled with names and descriptions of weapons he had dreamt up. His hand moved with practiced ease, scribbling down new names inspired by the setting.

"Tea Ceremonial Sabre,"

"Cup of Calm Dagger,"

"Golden Infusion Glaive"

. He was in his element, his imagination running wild.*