Heike had come so close to using the ring to takedown Kyla. Takedown, shock, or bind her, or perhaps even all three. But with noted (and as Herr Elias might say, dangerous) deference to Ferelith, Heike stayed her hand.
Stayed even when--
infuriatingly--Kyla had the gall to pick her up as if she were some child's ragdoll and toss her. It was nothing short of an utter belittling of not only Heike's station as a knight, but both her
and Sir Eberwolf's authority over her; for if Kyla was comfortable enough--daring enough--to put her hands on Heike in such a manner (not even to mention the overt aggression previously shown) then the next infraction would be more daring still. Next time, the knife would not be plunged into the wagon, but instead into Heike's, or Sir Eberwolf's, skull.
Lack of discipline was like a hairline crack in the foundation of a building, Herr Dieter Roth had once said. A perilous imperfection, threatening to weaken the entirety of the structure until it became weak enough to collapse. Heike and Sir Eberwolf could not allow such a thing to happen, for they the two of them were responsible for Kyla and Ferelith, and should a rebellion against their authority occur and render them incapacitated or perhaps even dead, the atrocities Kyla and Ferelith might possibly go on to commit against the innocent of
Arethil would rest solely on their shoulders. And thus Heike and Sir Eberwolf's honor would be tarnished, even in death.
Order, the proper way of things, could not be undermined.
Period.
Though Heike, against the hollering advice from the voices of Herr Elias and Herr Dieter, stayed her correcting hand this time, she knew she would have to bring it down twice as hard should Kyla (or even Ferelith) step out of line again. And despite her love for Ferelith, she could not afford to hold back. Indeed, she could not allow her love to produce a hairline crack in the foundation of her morals, her values, her sense of right and wrong and
order, for if she allowed for this then she would no longer be the Heike that Ferelith so loved. Therefore, preservation of her integrity took precedence over any emotions which would grate against it.
So Heike displayed nothing but hard objection in her expression, even as Kyla had said
Welcome to the family.
Mentally, she prepared herself to do just (and awful) things to Kyla. To Ferelith, perhaps, should it come to it. To kill one or both of them, if necessary, for such was well within her purview.
Order could not be undermined.
* * * * *
Heike calmed by the time they all reached Castle Kinniger. Hot steel cooled, yet it remained steel. Ready to used if necessary.
An impressive sight, the Castle, and no mistake. It left nothing to the imagination as to why it still stood while the vampiric army savaged the remaining countryside of the Duchy. A brief memory of the King's Citadel in Reikhurst, how it used to provide Heike with a sense of security and safety when she was a little girl. An acknowledgement now of how wrong she had been.
Heike had the hood of her coat up, as she did her mask, to shield herself from the noontime sun. A worry, creeping into her mind then, that if they were to fight during the day...under the glare of the sun...that Heike would be at an extreme disadvantage. The same or similar disadvantage, presumably, as the
vampires against whom they would fight.
She said to Eberwolf, "I hope we will be well met then, your Duke and I."
A concerned glance over to Ferelith. Then, back to Eberwolf.
"Does Duke Remmond know about...myself? About Ferelith? That we are what we are?"
Sir Eberwolf Kinniger Ferelith Scathach
