Knight—spoken in a single, moon-cool breath as “nyt”—finds its first glint in Old English cniht, once a word for “youth” or “servant,” before centuries of legend tempered it into the armored ideal of chivalry; yet, beyond the drawbridge and pennant, the name carries a quieter discipline akin to Japan’s bushidō, where steel is guided by stillness. He is a figure standing at the intersection of misty English moors and a lantern-lit Kyoto courtyard, a guardian whose presence is felt rather than flaunted. In its modern journey from surname to given name, Knight has edged steadily up the American rolls—as subtle as a rook slipping across a chessboard—signaling parents’ attraction to its fusion of honor, restraint, and nocturnal allure. For a son, it offers a hushed promise of courage without clamor, duty without boast, like polished armor catching only the pale light of dawn before the world fully wakes.