If You Want Things Done Right, You Must Do It Yourself

Right after coming to an agreement with Vassago, Thirteen left the warehouse and headed to the plaza.

But he didn't leave alone.

Coiled around his neck was Tiona, and sitting on his left shoulder was Vassago, looking like a dumb bird that was forced to smell the smelliest fart for an entire hour.

After reaching the plaza, the seven-year-old headed toward the Smithing District, where the best Blacksmiths of Gronar City gathered.

He entered each of the shops that he saw and inspected their wares, checking the quality and craftsmanship of the weapons and armor that were displayed for sale.

After nearly three hours of window shopping, he finally found a Smithy that met the bare minimum of the quality and standard that he was looking for.

"My Master sent me to have a custom-made order," Thirteen said. "Can you handle bulk orders?"

The clerk who was manning the shop shook his head apologetically.