Now having access to the funds necessary for replacing his old set of armour, Chuluun set out to find a blacksmith during his trip through Nirvana. He needed to get away from all of those ignorant masses and decided that directing his focus to another one of his personal objectives would suffice as an efficient distraction from those festering maggots. It has occurred to him how deeply rooted and entrenched the rot of incompetence was in his nation. This revelation made him sick to his stomach as he wondered how Samara had conjured the amount of patience she had to lead those hordes of complacent fools to an arguably undeserved paradise among these dunes. Instead of bettering themselves with the time and resources they have and cherishing the luxuries they had been gifted, all the lizard had witnessed was a blatant waste of such things. They even wasted the very air they breathed. This made the sultan desire a group of like minded individuals and useful pawns more than ever. Fellow shepherds to lead the flock. Eventually, the Ysstmar would come across a smithy during his stroll through those congested passages and had walked inside. Once he had entered the workshop, he had found solace in being separated from those bumbling congregations of fodder. Chu had let out a deep sigh of relief as he slowly wound himself down and had taken a gander through the smithy. The acrid scent of cut steel and the sweet smell of molten iron had brought forth nostalgia when he was first issued his equipment as a mere recruit of the BeastKin Union. Places like these are where weapons of war are made, tools built for the sole purpose of taking another life. He remembered the sounds of hammers hitting metal plates and the roars of furnaces as a symphony to his ears. He had also come to appreciate the blacksmiths themselves, how they laboured day by day to fit the soldiers of their country with the equipment they needed to defend their homeland. These feelings were a stark contrast to the utter disappointment and contempt he felt not too long ago. The sultan would soon meander over to the front counter of the workshop and called out to the blacksmith. "Hello? I have a project I would like to commission you." He stood tall with both of his hands held close behind his back, his fiery red/orange eyes glancing around at the shop with intrigue as he patiently waited for the ironworker to attend to their customer. The saurian glanced around at the smithy's interior, laying his eyes on the blacksmith's various equipment and finished projects. However, he would reserve his judgment for when they actually meet. Perhaps such a hard worker will be quite pleasant to speak to? Unlike that mangy, stinky fox he encountered so long ago at those barracks. As he reminisced about his brief time with that fisherman, he had come to relieve himself of what regret remained.