"This troublesome Knight is becoming more than a nuisance," Dashiell Blackthorne muttered, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass. "First he humiliates my family's name, and now he has the audacity to refuse the War God himself?"
"Indeed, sir." His steward stood at attention, hands clasped behind his back. "Our sources confirm Liam Knight declined Commander Bellweather's offer to become his disciple."
Dashiell's lip curled into a sneer. "The fool. Does he realize what he's throwing away? Or is it arrogance?"
"Perhaps neither," the steward ventured carefully. "Our intelligence suggests he remains loyal to Michael Ashworth."
At the mention of that name, Dashiell slammed his glass down, liquid sloshing over the rim.
"Michael Ashworth," he spat. "Even bedridden, that old man continues to be a thorn in my side."
"The Ashworth family's support makes Knight dangerous," the steward noted. "Without it..."
