A Shield of Glazed Clay

I withdrew from the wedged walnut shell as the night deepened across the timber table. Nearing the edge, a shallow ceramic saucer of rough stoneware caught my advance. Within its concave basin rested a single smooth river stone, dark and slick with fine wax. I planted my boots firmly on the pine plank, grounded the spiked ferrule of my staff, and extended my left gauntlet to press against the rim of the saucer. The heavy stoneware did not slide or tilt. Settling my armored stance beside this stout clay bulwark, I took post for the late watch.