Knight's Feathered Vestments catch the morning light with a sunlit shimmer, as if the fabric itself holds a secret about flight. The main tunic is a pale ivory, brushed with a whisper of gold thread that threads through the fabric like fine wind through a harp, catching every angle and turning a simple bend of the elbow into a small ceremony. Over that sits a cascade of quills, layered and lacquered in a warm amber that seems to glow from within when torches strike them right. The texture shifts from smooth satin at the chest to a sturdier, leather-backed weave around the shoulders, where gilt pauldrons are etched with a feather motif that looks almost alive, as if the armor could lift on its own if the wearer asked nicely. A mantle drapes from the back—a living banner of white and gold that sways with each step, as though a guardian gust had taken root in the seams. It feels ceremonial and practical at once, a relic that whispers of oaths kept and storms weathered, a relic said to have been sewn from the plumage of a storm-haunted griffon that once circled a knight’s vigil. There’s a rumor tied to how the Vestments came to be worn beyond parades and triumph marches: one knight, faced with a choice between retreat and duty, kept his vow by binding the memory of a wind-swept night into the garment. The feathers, people murmur, carry the echo of that oath—the quiet assurance that even in the darkest corridors of combat, a just path can be found if you listen to the air between the steps. In tavern corners and at campfires, stories braid themselves around the Vestments: the way the light catches on the threads, the way a retreating foe seems to falter at the edge of the plume, the way a gaze at the wearer’s back is steadied by that slight, almost ceremonial flutter. For those who walk long hours through sun and rain, the Vestments become more than armor; they’re a reminder that courage, even when worn, is a living thing. In gameplay terms, the Knight's Feathered Vestments are prized for their balance of presence and mobility. They invite a wearer to move with purpose—the kind of step that reads as both disciplined and daring. They suit heralds, melee skirmishers, or any adventurer who wants to carry a story into battle as easily as a shield. The feathers seem to heal a moment of hesitation with a gust of momentum, guiding feints and retreats with a natural ease. And when a duel ends or a siege breaks, the reserved shimmer of the embroidery makes the wearer stand out in a crowded field, a walking banner that signals both history and resolve. Market mornings bring their own weather, too. I’ve watched a quiet exchange at the edge of a market square where Saddlebag Exchange drums out the rhythm of a bustling trade. A seller unfurls a display of Knight’s Feathered Vestments, the gold thread catching the light as if softly applauding the buyer’s taste. The price rides the tide of supply and season, a bargain or a prestige purchase depending on the day’s luck, and the chatter around the stall makes it feel less like a transaction and more like a passing of a story from one hand to the next. In that moment, the Vestments aren’t simply clothing; they’re a pledge that beauty and duty can travel together, feather by feather, into whatever horizon waits beyond the next turn of the road.