In a land drowned in corruption, radio static, blood-soaked sands, and the whispers of the Annunaki, there stands—against all logic, against all fate—a brotherhood of gleaming armor and steadfast oaths. They call themselves The Knightly Order, though in Evil Land their enemies mockingly call them “the Last Candle,” for their light is frail and flickering, always in danger of being snuffed out. Yet that light endures.
The Order is not merely a military force. It is a living creed, a tradition of guardianship passed from master to apprentice, knight to squire, storyteller to child. Where the Qin Dynasty seeks to conquer, where the Guilds connive for power, where the Sorcerer-Kings corrupt, and where scavengers scrape at bones, the Order insists that something higher is worth protecting: dignity, honor, mercy, and hope.
Legends place the founding of the Order in the Ashen Age, when the land was still fresh with the wounds of the Annunaki wars. A nameless knight, scarred and nearly broken, wandered the wastes and found a cathedral half-buried in sand and ruin. Within its broken nave, he heard neither gods nor demons but the echoes of his own vow: “If there is no one left to guard the innocent, then I shall be that one.”
From that solitary oath grew the Order. In time, other wanderers, mercenaries, and broken souls rallied around the vow. They rebuilt the cathedral stone by stone, forging not just a sanctuary but a school of knighthood. Their creed was not to worship, nor to conquer, but to resist. They would be a wall against the tide.
The Order is highly hierarchical but tempered by ritual equality. Its structure is divided as follows:
The High Marshal of Dawn – the supreme commander, elected by council, bearing the ceremonial Sword of the Last Light. The current High Marshal is Ser Roderic Alvein, an aging but unyielding man whose presence alone steels courage in others.
The Council of Radiants – seven elder knights who embody virtues of the Order: Courage, Temperance, Justice, Mercy, Resolve, Faith, and Truth. Each oversees one aspect of the Order’s functions.
Knight-Companions – sworn knights who serve as the backbone of the Order, armored, mounted, and trained in tactics both martial and moral.
Squires and Acolytes – trainees who learn not only swordplay but philosophy, history, and the painful truth that the world will never thank them.
The Lay Brotherhood – common folk who serve the Order as cooks, builders, healers, and chroniclers. The Order is as much theirs as the knights’.
The Knightly Order’s philosophy is summed up in a phrase repeated across their banners:
“Against the night, we bear the flame.”
Their creed binds them to certain absolutes:
Defend the innocent. The weak are always the first to suffer in Evil Land.
Resist corruption. A knight must reject temptations of power, even when it promises victory.
Hold the line. Retreat is acceptable only if it protects others. Cowardice is unforgivable.
Mercy in judgment. Even enemies may be spared if they renounce their wickedness.
Die standing. A knight does not beg for survival. Their lives are gifts, to be spent for others.
The Order is hated and feared by many, admired by few, but known by all.
The Qin Dynasty sees them as rebels against inevitable dominion. Qin generals despise the Order’s influence on local tribes, who often rally to knights rather than imperial banners.
The Guild of Thieves hates them as meddling hypocrites who disrupt smuggling rings.
The Guild of Merchants respects them begrudgingly, for wherever knights patrol, trade routes briefly stabilize.
The Sorcerer-Kings burn with malice against the Order. The knights are immune to their honeyed promises of power.
Common Folk see the knights as both saviors and burdens. Knights defend villages, but their presence also draws the wrath of warlords and monsters.
Ser Roderic Alvein, High Marshal of Dawn – weary but indomitable, known for surviving the “Nine Sieges of Glassspire.”
Dame Ysoria Veilheart, Radiant of Mercy – a woman who carries the scars of healing a thousand battlefields, yet still believes in forgiveness.
Brother Kael of the Ashen Cloak – not a knight, but a chronicler and radio voice who broadcasts the Order’s ideals to far-off listeners, countering propaganda.
Ser Halvorn the Unyielding – a knight whose armor is fused to his body from magical corruption, yet he refuses to rest.
Dame Cyrelle the Bright-Blade – a duelist and tactician whose strategies saved a dozen tribal coalitions from Qin annexation.
Unlike the Qin or the Guilds, the Knightly Order has no empire, no massive economy. Their wealth is measured in loyalty and labor. They survive through:
Tithes of gratitude from villages they defend.
Craftsmanship – the Order trains smiths and artisans whose works are prized.
Knightly Holdings – small castles and fortresses rebuilt on ruins, used as bastions and granaries.
The Order’s Coin – minted not of gold but of steel, symbolizing labor and defense; merchants accept it as a badge of honor.
They often struggle with shortages. Food is their greatest vulnerability, as Evil Land’s soil grows corrupt.
Knights know they cannot match their foes in numbers or sorcery. Their tactics are shaped by this eternal disadvantage:
Shieldwalls of Light – tightly disciplined lines of armored knights, bearing mirrored shields that reflect sorcerous flame and Qin musket volleys.
Guerrilla Chivalry – ambushes in ruins and narrow passes, where heavy cavalry can smash foes and retreat before retaliation.
Sanctuary Circles – magical wards powered by relic-cards (see Evil Land’s card-based magic system), forming temporary bastions against corruption.
Radio Sermons – psychological warfare, spreading messages of hope to weaken enemy morale.
What defines the Order most is not their victories but their unending defiance. Evil Land is not a world to be saved, but resisted. For every monster slain, another rises. For every fortress defended, another crumbles. For every child saved, a dozen are lost.
And yet, they persist. That is their miracle.
The knights’ greatest enemy is not Qin armies, not Guild conspiracies, not Annunaki ruins—it is despair. They know, deep down, that they will lose, that Evil Land devours all. But in the Order’s creed, defeat is meaningless. What matters is that for one more hour, one more day, one more generation, someone still resists.
Children of the wastes grow up hearing tales of knights who ride into battle against tanks with only steel and faith, who guard villages against horrors at the cost of their own lives, who stand between the people and the endless dark.
The Knightly Order is not perfect. They are stubborn, sometimes arrogant, and sometimes demand too much from those they protect. But in Evil Land, where corruption seeps into every stone and dream, their imperfection is still humanity’s last shield.
And so long as a single knight raises a shield, Evil Land itself has not won.
Would you like me to also write a counter-faction—a corrupted mirror of the Knightly Order, knights who broke their vows and now serve Evil Land’s entropy? That might sharpen their role even further.