Silver Creek crimes against children are so easy to get away with.

Bat lashed out angrily at his condescension. Artaax felt his own anger rising, but not due to any offense at what she spat at him, but out of sheer frustration that was she being so freaking difficult. In his mind, there was no question about what path she ought to follow. There were consequences for choosing the road she seemed so determined to remain upon, and they were dire. Nothing the Redhawks had to offer could possibly be worth what she risked. Even without those consequenneces, like seriously, who the fuck would choose the Redhawks over Drageda?

"Stop this now," he commanded, his deep, soft voice rising as the occasion warranted, "You don't even know what you're saying. You're just a stupid kid throwing a temper tantrum. You need to come home with me. Now. Otherwise I can't promise what will happen to you if you cross paths with Drageda ever again. We do not forgive natrona," Artaax glared at her, but his gaze softened momentarily as he added in a quieter, more hesitant and weirdly uncertain-of-itself voice, "Those we don't forgive don't live, Rorqual."

Part of it was sheer bravado, bordering a little on desperation. Looking through the masks and the facades, it could've been said that he spoke out of his desperate desire to keep his family together and safe. He might not actually admit to liking any of his younger siblings, but it hurt him somewhere deep inside to be so wholly rejected by them. But in keeping your eyes on the surface, this was a simple matter of pride. Artaax had said he would bring Bat home, and he was god damn going to.

I'll give ya five dollars if you can guess on what level Artaax actually viewed himself.