Iron greaves marked by singes and blisters, imprinted by scorching fingers.

Once donned by Vyke, a knight sworn to the Roundtable Hold.

Among the Tarnished, none stood closer to the Elden Lord's throne than Vyke. Yet, without warning, he ventured far beneath the capital, consumed by the flames of frenzy.

Was it a choice for his beloved maiden, or did another compelling force entice him with whispers of suggestion?