Blood Elf Monarch

The next day, Tristan had decided to make his return to the Elven Blacksmith. 

Currently, he was walking through the streets of Vanyar City, relishing and enjoying the privileges he was given, courtesy of the things that had happened yesterday.

He was enjoying one of the benefits of winning the Gauntlet, which was the fact that there were no longer elven soldiers stationed and 'guarding' him. 

Tristan was finally free to do whatever he wanted!

In addition, he noticed that the way the elves looked at him had somehow changed as he walked through the bustling streets. There was something different about their attitude around him, and Tristan was sure about this.

This fact became even more apparent when he saw the same thing happen with the five people, Master Laril's disciples, at the blacksmith.

The moment Tristan arrived at the blacksmith, the five immediately stopped what they were doing and approached the former in an eager yet polite manner. They congratulated him on his win with a wide smile, which made Tristan smile wryly at the glaring differences.

"Wow.. being a champion does give a different treatment, doesn't it?" Tristan subconsciously said as he was overwhelmed by their enthusiasm.

Atos, who had unknowingly stood next to him, answered Tristan's rhetoric statement, startling the living hell out of him.

"A champion, yes.. But you are also the soon-to-be royalty of our Vanyar Kingdom. Thus, we definitely can't mess around with you anymore Tristan"

Tristan and the five disciples chatted for a while, talking about literally anything regarding yesterday's event. It wasn't long before Master Laril came and beckoned him to her workshop.

At the moment, Tristan was overjoyed at the thought of what the master might have prepared for him. After all, that was the reason for today's visit - to check on his sword which had been unjustly broken.

Alas, what awaited him when he entered the workshop was a sword that was in a worse condition than the last time he saw it. He was pretty shocked by the pitiful sight of it. If previously the sword only had a small chip and faint cracks on its surface, now it had been broken down into five different pieces of varying size.

Tristan wanted to scream, start a rampage, and bring hell upon the workshop. However, he quickly calmed down and forced a smile while facing Master Laril.

"Master, What happened?." Tristan said while looking at the remnants on the table.

Master Laril looked at the flustered Tristan with a flat expression.

"I have two pieces of news, good and bad. So, do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?"

Tristan was surprised that an elf apparently could ask questions like this. Brushing his surprise aside, His aching heart at the moment couldn't stand more bad news"

"The good news is that I have confirmed that the material of your sword is slightly better, even compared to Valerian steel."

Tristan nodded his head as he could somehow assume this fact.

"The bad news is this particular material needs a very strong forge in order to heat it up, let alone melt it down. Unfortunately, our Vanyar forge can't reach that requirement."

Tristan was dejected when he heard that. He glanced at his 'sword' and looked at Master Laril.

"Then, what do you reckon I should do, Master?"

Master Laril had expected his question. Thus, she immediately answered.

"There are two known forges that could melt this material well. One is the Great Forge owned by the dwarves, the other is the one owned by the dark elves who resided in the dark territory."

If one could say Tristan's mood was bad when he heard that the Vanyar had no method to restore his sword, now his mood just hit rock bottom.

He wondered if he should ask for compensation from the female master in front of him. After all, she was the reason the sword broke in the first place.

As if she could read his mind, Master Laril said, "I feel responsible about this matter, Tristan. I really do. Therefore, I promise that if you are able to reforge the sword, come to me and I will personally put enhancements on it for you."

Master Laril's offer seemed like a decent deal, but that would only happen if he was actually able to do the task. To put it simply, it was basically an empty promise until Tristan managed to reforge the sword, which certainly was not an easy matter.

Even so, he couldn't just blurt that out directly.

"Thank you, Master. But I am afraid that I will not survive that long without having a weapon."

Master Laril nodded her head and led Tristan to the storage room, showing all the weapons they currently have.

"You can take one weapon that catches your fancy, Tristan."

Looking at the shelves of weapons before him, Tristan involuntarily sucked a deep breath. He quickly scanned his gaze over and inspected those which caught his attention.

Moments later, Tristan was seen sighing to himself. The reason for that was because he couldn't find anything similar to his sword. Apparently, this was because the elves didn't really like greatswords. Hence, he chose the largest and longest sword he could find.

[Long blade - tier 3]

[Length, 1.2 meters, Weight 7 kilogram]

[Enhanced - increase sharpness]

The sword was the longer version of elven-styled saber that looked a bit like a Japanese katana on Earth.

Tristan gave the sword several swings and found the experience was quite different but exciting as well. Moreover, it also matched with the Blade Singing skill he had learnt. Thus, he was quite excited to cut a few enemies with it.

However, Tristan decided to not show his excitement and showed a resigned, disappointed look. Thanks to that, he managed to convince Master Laril for a set of Mithril armor.

The Master gives him enough material to make one himself.

Even with the help of the other disciple, It took him two whole days to finish his mithril light armor.

The next day, just one day before the momentous event, the kingdom was crowded with visitors.