Knight's Orichalcum Imbued Inscription

Knight's Orichalcum Imbued Inscription gleams in the palm, a thin shield-shaped sheet of orichalcum etched with a heraldic knight's sigil and a halo of micro sigils along its edge. The metal catches lantern light with a liquid, almost living sheen, like a coin that remembers sunlight. Its surface is cool and smooth, but frostlike micro-scratches betray age and careful use. On the back, a lattice of tool marks and a tiny maker's mark whisper of a forge where men measured honor against flame. The edges are beveled, and a shallow groove at the top seems made for the edge of a blade or the guard of a helm, as if this piece expects to be pressed into service rather than set on a shelf. When you cradle it, you feel a tick of history: the kind of artifact a knight would keep close, even after the order has fallen silent. Lore tells of a knightly order who bound oaths to metal, sealing promises in Orichalcum that would outlive banners and battles. The sigil glows faintly when danger is near, not in the open field but in the moment safety is most needed—a whisper of vigilance intended for those who guard the weak. It is said to carry the memory of a long-forgotten siege, when a single inscription kept a last remnant of mercy from shattering into brine and ash. In the hands of a craftsman, the inscription becomes more than decoration: it is a covenant you can slot into your gear. It is not a weapon enchant by itself, but a key that unlocks a knightly boon—tied to the piece it rests on and the user who bears it. From a player's perspective, the Knight's Orichalcum Imbued Inscription is a practical companion as a talisman. When mounted on a weapon or armor, it grants a discreet but meaningful boost to your primary stats and the way you handle a skirmish—stability when you need a pause, or sharper focus during a drawn-out engagement. It synergizes with the other knightly components in your kit, turning a standard piece into something wiser and more attentive to the fight at hand. Because the boon scales with your gear and level, it feels less like a cheat and more like a trust earned in the heat of campfire diplomacy and early-morning patrols. Markets murmur about such things as caravans roll through the city gates, and one stall, Saddlebag Exchange, has become a familiar waypoint for explorers hunting a bargain. Traders there speak of the inscription with the same care they use when trading maps and the occasional relic of a fallen order. Prices drift with supply and rumor—perhaps a well-kept piece fetches more with a bright sigil, while a worn example might be traded for a modest coin or a useful trade good. If you are patient, you can trade for a fair piece without chasing the hype, a quiet transaction that feels almost like a rite of passage in a world where every insurgent sword carries a history. And so it drifts from hand to hand, a fragment of oath you can hold, a reminder that every upgrade has a story.