Established by Conar’s vassal Dunedin in the earliest days of the Wars of Liberation, the Order of the Chosen Wanderers is a cadre of knights who live exclusively in a hidden fortress somewhere in the Marble Swords. Hewing to a strict code of training, prayer and brotherhood, Wanderers issue forth by means of the mystic light-bridge to succor the unfortunate of the Lands.
The origin of the Chosen Wanderers is undisputed by Sages and crowns of the current day, but details are shrouded in legend and most insist the order has long since died out. Much attention is focused on the Percentalion, source of most disorder in the northern Lands of Hope; conditions there make it unlikely the deeds of a Wanderer could be witnessed by many, much less verified for the records. But commoners insist the Order still exists, and some few claim to have been helped by a knight of the Wanderers at a time when matters seemed their most desperate. Tales tell of long watches in a high tower, endowed with the ability to see across the Lands and answer the light-bridge when the bell tolls danger. A Wanderer thus summoned will fight to the death for people in peril, and sometimes escort those rescued in this fashion for a time. Some tell of wounded persons brought to the castle for recuperation before returning to the Lands; from rumors of such witnesses the legend of the Order perseverated. But none in the current day still seek to join.
The Wanderer’s Charter
According to legend each knight must be chosen to join the order and become a Wanderer, though the means whereby this happens is not clear. All Wanderers, in addition to great courage, skill and knightly heritage, are said to have the power to reveal lies or the presence of Despair, and some may be able to work other miracles. Each takes an oath upon passing the test of choosing; this is the code the knights live by.
I hold first no country’s love, nor carry my last name
For I have chosen to wander, desiring duty above fame
When the bell tolls for me, I tarry not for sleep or food
‘Tis mine alone the task, to ride forth and fight for good
If I can stand, I can stand my watch.
Before defeat, my life—only victory or blood can dispel shame
Before my horse’s death, my life—let my saddled corpse speak for me
Before an innocent life, mine and my steed’s—for without their succor, there is no Order.
Let my wounds show in front, may no enemy have the chance to strike from behind me.
Beyond the bell, equity to the peers, squire’s deference to the brothers, chivalry to the powerless, and asperity to my private gain.
For I have chosen to wander, the chime is my refrain