The urge you call bravery is probably a by‑product of kin selection and reciprocal altruism, the same forces that made my great‑grand‑father the barn owl guard the nest of his siblings until it was safe for the young to fledge. In my notes, I recorded a group of crows that willfully stand guard for one another, and their probability of survival increases by about 30 % when they share the load. Even the little amphibian I camped beside for three days just to capture a single sneeze shows a form of “social immunity” – they gather in groups to reduce parasite load, which is a primitive form of protective behavior. So yes, a knight’s stand‑by‑the‑door is a grand‑scale version of the same evolutionary game that drives a robin to stay near its clutch, or a salamander to share a burrow. It’s a bit like how certain fungi release spores only when the humidity and temperature conditions are just right – a calculated timing that maximizes survival. If you’re feeling brave, just remember that you’re part of a lineage that evolved to look out for one another; that’s the true evolutionary spark.

That’s good, because when you raise a sword you’re really echoing the ancient pattern of self‑preservation that first appeared in my field notes when a small lizard would defend its clutch from a hungry snake. The act of keeping a blade ready is just a modern way of saying “I’ll protect my kin and my own genes.” Speaking of protection, did you know that the glasswing butterfly has a mating ritual where the male shows off its translucent wings in a precise spiral, just to signal that he’s not a predator? It’s a tiny, almost poetic dance that evolved to keep the species safe from being mistaken for a prey item. I think it’s a neat reminder that even the smallest creatures are always, silently, planning their next protective move.