One banner. One belief. One enemy of every other.
The Covenant rose from the ashes of the old empire and refused to let the world forget what discipline looks like. Their banners hang from every fortress that still stands. Their courts run on iron law and quiet executions.
The Veil keeps the books no other order will hold. They speak with the dead, walk the threshold of the old gods, and whisper to things that should not answer. Their towers are silent until they are not.
Hunters, exiles, deserters, and free peoples who would rather die in the brush than kneel in a hall. The March moves with the seasons, leaves no roads, and remembers every betrayal.