Chivalry's Corpse and Carrion

In my universe, the oath of a knight does not come lightly.

A knight remains many things; a man, a warrior, a guardian, a servant, a symbol. As such, there remains a code to remaining a knight; do as commanded, and present well in the doing; harm not defenseless women, bother not children at play, abuse not a lord’s kindness, and so on. The rank is exalted across much of the world, and high regard does not come cheaply–it must be maintained through heroic deed and calm authority, through being a good man when not upon the battlefield where all men are rendered monsters.

Yet to be a good man in such times is a loaded request! When mercy punishes more than it heals and armies stand a prerequisite for righteousness, how many can properly sight their aim toward that goal? Surely few can serve the truest good, and fewer still among the knighthood.

For how can a knight remain a good man when sent to do evil? He must do as his lord commands, even when it stands at odds with his own soul. If he tramples his morals, he tramples his morals. If instead he betrays his lord, still his morals are trampled. I seal the circular question with this–to be a good man in such times is a loaded request.

And when is it not? Doing wrong can be effortless, natural, instinctive, no matter the place or time. Doing right can be demanding, challenging, sacrificial, and thereby eternally proves its own merit.

Good men, then, are not often found down the easiest path taken. Find them with blood on their face and a round-shouldered posture, with haunted eyes and a tired shake to their hands. Find them toiling hard-jawed in thankless labor, and find in them the fruit of all we might offer.

Better yet to find them, reader, and fall into stride.

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