Strong Shield

Strong Shield rests on a wooden counter in the lamplight, a broad arc of tempered steel curved like a promise. Its face bears a blue-green patina that deepens toward the rim, and the surface carries gentle dents—memory after memory hammered smooth again. A line of small rivets around the edge catches the glow, and at the center a faded sigil—the Vigil’s sunburst—embraces a dark disk where years of weather and care have left a quiet imprint. The back is lined with worn leather; the grip is wrapped in a threadbare cloth that still feels solid in the hand, and the boss in the middle yields a soft, reassuring thud when tapped. In the stories told around campfires, this shield is more than a tool of defense. When a frontline buckles, the Strong Shield becomes a stubborn hinge on which battles turn. It invites a rhythm: block, pivot, shield-bash, hold the line, and give healers time to work. It is an anchor for a wary group, translating fear into discipline, a barrier against the sudden rush of a spear. A good shield makes the bearer a steady weather-front—calm, inexorable, a wall that lets courage breathe. The shield’s life continues beyond the blade and the breath of the battlefield. You hear its echo in market chatter as coins clink and traders mutter price. At Saddlebag Exchange, a veteran parts with a nod and a rough parchment tag, the ink faded yet legible: Strong Shield, sturdy, small wear. The price hovers in a range—usually a few silver, sometimes more if the patina shines or the leather wrap holds its shape. Prices tell stories as much as strings of numbers: demand rises when a caravan guard needs confidence, falls when newer models flood the market. And every sale passes the shield to a new holder, another page in its ongoing chronicle. To carry the Strong Shield is to shoulder responsibility as well as strength. It’s a reminder that protection is an active choice, not a passive attribute—a decision to stand when others falter. Its lore threads through guild halls and marching columns, a tangible link between guardians of the past and those who defend the present. When the lamps gutter and the road grows quiet, the shield remains, still and sure—a promise that someone will meet the next blow so the line endures.