“I did not seek it out,” Hanno said.

“Didn’t fight it either, the way I hear it,” I noted.

He breathed out a laugh.

“No,” Hanno frankly admitted. “I did not. I could do more, so I did. I will not put on a crown, but neither will I refuse the authority when I can use it to do good.”

It was my time to pause, taken aback. The once White Knight had spent the last few years making a point out of staying out of anything resembling politics unless dragged into them.

...

“Our differences can and will be resolved peacefully,” Hanno said. “But they exist for a reason. I do not believe that Cordelia Hasenbach should lead us against Keter, and even less that she should shape the nature of Good in the coming era.”

“That sounds,” I mildly said, “rather like a judgement.”

A pause.

“Yes,” the Sword of Judgement said. “It is. My own.”

Not the same song I had thought, like a fool, finding only the shallowest part of that. It was hardly the same fucking singer, by the sound of it. No wonder he’d lost his Name, he’d essentially discarded the central tenet of the beliefs that’d turned him into the White Knight.

- Book 7, Chapter 33: Claimant (Repeat)