His true name is….
The Society of Blood is much more benign than its name sounds. Initially created as an award of valor for common foot soldiers, membership. The SOBs decided to make themselves a benevolent, protective order for all veterans. They quickly united informally and, without any bloodshed or even any overt threats, restored order and fairness for veterans through all the lands.
The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... "Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate" reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...