Knights of the Realm are the kingdom made flesh: oath-sworn nobles who hold manor and mill from their duke in exchange for service in war. They fight in the lance formation, a wedge of horse and steel that concentrates the charge into a single splintering point, and no heavy cavalry in the Old World is more devastating at the gallop — or more serenely certain of it.
Each knight rides beneath his own device, with generations of ancestors watching from the heraldry on his shield, and that weight of lineage is precisely the point. A Knight of the Realm charges home because his grandfather did, because his tenants are watching, and because the Chivalric Code offers exactly one acceptable direction: forward.