The Sprocket Orichalcum Earring rests against the ear like a small, living mechanism. Its face is a disc of polished orichalcum, warm and gold-bright, etched with a ring of delicate gears. Two miniature sprockets, one slightly larger than the other, interlock at the edge, and when the head tilts, they catch the light as if they wanted to tell you a clockwork secret. A fine trace of patina curls along the rim, a whisper of age that speaks of long nights spent under forge-fire glow. The chain is slender, a thread of dulled brass that lets the earring swing with a quiet, practical hinge. It feels substantial, not merely ornamental, and the texture—cool, smooth, almost slightly granular at the gear teeth—makes you aware of the craft behind it. People say the piece carries a memory: the last clockmaker who served a forgotten faction whispered that time itself could be traded in iron and brass, and this earring was his calling card. In the world where such trinkets are worn, the Sprocket Orichalcum Earring is more than a shiny keepsake. It is a statement of engineering fidelity, an emblem that a wearer understands the rhythm of a mechanism—when to apply pressure, when to pause, when to let a bolt click into place. In moments of skirmish or sprint, the gears seem to pulse with your steps, granting a touch of precision to your motions and nudging your toolkit toward the right choice at crucial junctures. For engineers and healers who drift between camps and calamity, it becomes both tool and talisman: a reminder to measure twice, to trust the little levers that make big things move. It doesn’t shout its power, but those who have learned to listen know its heartbeat. The trade routes that thread through cities and camps know its name as much as its sheen. Traders speak of demand in hushed tones, and a handful of worn parchment shop signs with the word “Orichalcum” scrawled across them will point you toward the saddle-gray stalls of Saddlebag Exchange, where a discreet price floats between the coin pouches of risk and reward. One day it fetches a fair, sunlit price; the next, a careful barter fleeces the curious buyer who prizes design over haste. The value isn’t only measured in gold, but in the story it carries—the knowledge that a good engineer’s earring has saved a caravan’s day and a healer’s fellowship from a misstep in the turning of time. Thus the Sprocket Orichalcum Earring keeps turning in its orbit, a small sun for someone who knows how to listen. In a world where every gear carries a past, this one promises a future—part relic, part instrument, all emblem of a craft that endures as long as the clack of the clockwork heart beneath it. Those who wear it in the field find a companion that keeps pace with them, a gearwork that seems to breathe with their steps, enabling patient plans, improvisations, and a rhythm that outlasts a skirmish.