The morning sun beat down on the cemetery, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill radiating from Conrad Thornton's eyes as he stepped into view. His face was contorted with barely contained rage, his expensive suit immaculate despite the dusty surroundings.
"Knight!" he bellowed, the name exploding from his lips like a curse.
I recognized him immediately - not Tristin but Conrad Thornton, the middle brother and a Second-rank Inner Strength Greatmaster. His reputation preceded him - more pragmatic than Tristin but twice as volatile when provoked.
"You dare lay hands on a Thornton?" Conrad's voice carried across the silent graves.
Behind him, Miles whimpered from where he sat, clutching his shattered knee. His face was pale and streaked with tears, but I noticed him tugging at his brother's sleeve.
"Conrad, please," Miles pleaded weakly. "Just give him what he wants and let's go."
Conrad shook off his brother's hand. "Silence! You've brought enough shame to our family already."
