Houndkeeper Vambraces of the Cavalier cling to the forearms like a quiet oath, burnished bronze plates catching the sunlight in a way that makes even a crowded market feel suddenly hushed. The leather underneath is a weathered, saddle-soft brown, the grain riding the bends of skin as if it’s learned every crease you’ve earned in the field. On the outer facing, a hound’s head is carved with meticulous care, eyes inlaid with a dark enamel that seems to track you as you move. The sigils along the forearm—paw prints marching in a disciplined line and a looping thread of runes—glow faintly when you draw near a scent of bark, rain, and distant campfires. A single horsehair tassel sways from a stout buckle, catching on fern or fabric as you walk, a reminder that these vambraces were born for travel, pursuit, and the trust between hunter and hound. The lore around them runs deep as the riveted seams. They’re said to have been forged under the watchful gaze of the Houndkeeper, a legendary keeper of kennels who trained packs that moved like whispered weather across plains and ruined streets alike. The Cavalier designation hints at a lineage of riders who could coax a creature’s fastest stride with nothing but a word and a nod—a partnership that did not simply win fights, but dictated the pace of campaigns. When you slip them on, the world seems to tilt toward a more deliberate kind of momentum: every step carries the memory of a leash taut with trust, every breath aligns with the cadence of a well-trained pack. In practical terms, the vambraces feel like a natural extension of a hunter’s body. They aren’t merely armor; they’re a signal flare for a certain playstyle. With the Cavalier’s breath in their metal, a Ranger who favors the bond with their hounds finds moves that feel instinctive—the way your mount’s hooves drum the ground into rhythm when you urge it forward, the way a search-and-rescue sprint is punctuated by a dog’s keen nose and a hunter’s precise aim. The vambraces don’t turn you into a miracle worker, but they nudge you toward the world’s long trails and closer ties with beasts that have learned to trust a hand on the bridle as surely as a spear on the shield. Market lore has a life of its own in such tales, and the Saddlebag Exchange is a place where that life is weighed, priced, and traded with a storyteller’s care. I watched a brace exchange hands there one late afternoon, the brass catching firelight while a caravan’s coin clinked and clattered like rain on a tin roof. The seller spoke softly about the value of a bond forged between rider and hound, and the buyer listened as if the vambraces could read the weather of a journey. In that glow, the price wasn’t just numbers; it was a commitment to a shared path, to a hunt that’s less about the quarry and more about the trust that carries you from dusk to campfire glow. Wearing the Houndkeeper Vambraces of the Cavalier, you feel the world compress to a single, honest pursuit: to move with purpose, to lead a pack with quiet confidence, and to let the road teach you what the road already knows—the hunt is less about conquest and more about companionship, history, and the careful, ferried light of a well-kept vow.