De Haguns Family/Furiae/The Darkness Within Laraibina

Timeframe: With winter coming, a raiding war party has been sponsored to find as much food as possible to support Tol Goldora during the season. And as word spread around Golden Farrow about this expedition, goldorians flocked to serve under its banner, some for a sense of patriotic duty, others for dreams of treasures in far away lands. The Gylden Expeditionary Legion has set sail towards the mysterious islands south of Dwilight. Tales of riches and wonders surround these lands, but not all that glitters is gold.

DE HAGUNS

THE DARKNESS WITHIN LARAIBINA- PART 1/3

As the sunset came in, Furiae left the safety of the landing beach to move deeper into this new land called Laraibina. Scouts she had sent earlier had reported nearby abandoned farmlands, granaries and towns, but would not dare to approach to assess their situation. There was also a large river nearby, which flowed into the sea. Its sweet water would help quench their thirst, but there were no animals spotted to be hunted as game.

She turned her head back one more time and saw the Roar standing proudly in the azure deep waters of the sea, surrounded by other ships of the expeditionary fleet. Near the beach, upon a gentle ground they had set up camp and placed some sailors that would guard the boats until the reconnaissance mission returned. Captain Magnus approached her. “Having second thoughts, m’lady? You could always order the entire fleet to disembark and move as one army.”

“No, I cannot. I am the marshal of this expedition, what would it say of me if I ordered others to take a risk I would not take myself?”, asked the girl, sighing. “Besides, we do not plan to engage anyone or anything. We will just scout the region, observe. Confirm the scout reports. Fast and silent. Then, if we can proceed, the Legion will disembark.”

The captain nodded. A veteran of many battles, he was not quite sure if the young dame was extremely bold or foolish. From his previous experiences with lordlings, there used to be a fine line between one and another.

Night had fallen and they moved deep into the misty fields of Laraibina, following what seemed to be an ancient causeway. A cold winter blew out of the north, a reminder that winter was coming, but there were no leaves to rustle and whisper past them, as the trees were mostly dead. There was just the silence, and the archers moving lightly across the deadlands.

“This land seems cursed…”, said one of the soldiers in a hushed voice. He sensed something was wrong.

“Are you afraid?”, asked Furiae. She looked around and smiled. “I see nothing to be scared of. In fact, I only see nothing. Perhaps you should have stayed in the campsite?”

“M’lady, it is the nothingness that scare me. This land is dead”, he replied. “There are no animals, the trees are dead… everything is silent.”

“Silence is good. Perhaps you should learn a thing or two from these lands and be quiet, instead of speaking nonsense”, said Furiae, her temper getting the best of her.

Deep down, she agreed with the soldier. There was something ominous about this region they called Laraibina. Not a living soul, no game… everything was grimly silent and it disturbed her beyond what she would like to admit.

Furiae had ordered them to scout the region during the night because she assumed it would be easier to pass unnoticed, and should they see any towns or farmlands inhabited, they would spot them from the distance if there were any lights.

Now she regretted this decision. The cold wind was moving and it cut right through her. The darkness of the night swallowed them whole as they walked through the dead forest, and it felt as if they had passed through a portal that led to a twisted version of this world. What would she give to hear a howl’s hoot or a wolf’s howl…

But there was only the silence, which lasted for a long time.

Then a scream.

And another. And another.

All from the tail of her line of archers.

Furiae turned immediately, one hand firmly holding her longbow’s grip, the other retrieving an arrow from the quiver and ready to push the string. The soldiers either took their longbows or unsheathed their shortswords, trying to discern what had happened.

THE DARKNESS WITHIN LARAIBINA- PART 2/3

“Magnus! What is this? What happened?”, cried Furiae, her voice cracking in fear.

“Ambush! Run!”, came a voice from down the line of marching soldiers.

All hell broke loose as the soldiers started to run, while others tried to fend off whatever creature attacked them.

Furiae’s eyes narrowed as she tried to discern what preyed on them in the darkness, but could only see silhouettes. Large fangs, humanoid bodies, retractable mouths from which large and pointy tongues stretched. She aimed at one of the creatures and let her arrow fly, missing it.

Yet the creature noticed the attacker and cocked its head to the side as trying to identify a new prey within the darkness.

Predator and prey. Which was which? Furiae stood in front of the best, meters away, and prepared to fire another arrow.

A hand grabbed Furiae’s arm before she could, and pulled her with a desperate strength.

“Girl! Don’t! We have to move!”, said captain Magnus, as he rushed the dame to follow the retreating archers through the path they had been following in the dead woods.

The creatures did not pursue. There was no need. After all, there was enough food in those dead lands to satisfy them for a week.

THE DARKNESS WITHIN LARAIBINA- PART 3/3

Hours later, from the forty strong archers that had gone deep down in the woods, only thirty arrived at the beach campsite, and ten were severely injured. Amongst the survivors, Furiae looked as if she had aged years in one evening. She was unharmed, but there was blood covering her armor, as another woman, not much older, leaned on her, finding it difficult to walk.

Captain Magnus approached. “M’lady. Are you well? Any injuries?”

Furiae trembled a bit, her eyes distant and sad. She could not believe in what had happened. “Thank you for saving my life” was all she could mutter.

The captain nodded. He too had been taken by surprise, not expecting an ambush. “M’lady, this was unfortunate, but we managed to save most of our soldiers, at least the original company. Most of the dead were goldorians, who were on the rearguard…”

“Am I responsible for the death of this men?”, she asked shyly, and fearful of the answer she could receive. At this moment, Magnus judged that she looked more the seventeen years old girl she was than the dame and marshal she tried to be.

The captain stood silent and just placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. That was not an answer for him to give her. “M’lady, how do you wish to proceed?”

Furiae shook her head, as if she was trying to push away the self-doubt that had downed on her, and her dark raven hair fell over her eyes. With a swift movement of her free hand, she pushed it sideways. “We still have a mission to accomplish. We have done out part, captain. Post guards across the perimeter we have established and secure the beach for landing. Send a messenger in one of the boats to the main fleet. They must disembark.”

The marshal left the injured woman she was carrying gently on the ground, near the fireside, and went towards her own pavilion. It was a modest, large tent. Taking out the armor, she felt numb for a moment. She had seen men die in battle, but not like this. She had danced with death for the first time, and it scared her to know how scared she was.

Falling to her knees due to physical exhaustion, a display of weakness she could never allow the troops to see, Furiae couldn’t bring herself to cry for the fallen and injured. The Furiae that cried had died many years ago. She looked at her bloodied hands and started to wash them in a basin of water, and then took her time washing, while pondering about that very question she had asked Magnus.

Am I responsible for the death of this men? As she searched her soul for the answer to that very question, there was just the numbness, the darkness within, invisible to everyone but herself. She was just glad to be alive, even if it meant that others had to die.

She slept peacefully, without nightmares or dreams, waiting for the disembark of the Expeditionary Legion the next day.

STORME

“Reuban where is my Marshal this morning?”

The Stratarch is an imposing woman, standing as tall as a man and with her heavy gambeson and partial plate she was just as broad. Before Captain Reuban now she stood without her armor, slender in a uniform with a distinctly military cut and Tol Goldoran colours. To him, a young man of twenty he liked to see her this way far more- even though the same untelling stoic look stayed in place, without the armor she was far less...Scary. Her hair was most often shoved under a helm or gathered in a pile lashed with a ribbon, in a braid this morning he could see how long and dark it was. He finds himself staring into green eyes, trying to remember what he had been asked. Finally, he replies “She has not emerged from her tent this morning” Reuben finally reveals, motioning to her large tent standing several metres away.

Svari’s stoic face falls to the slightest of frowns as she considers the tent “Still asleep.” Her voice is quiet, the frown deepens. She stoops to grab her sword from the log she had been sitting on and the sound of metal and leather snaps Reuban out of his contemplation of her.

“I can wake her.” He offers helpfully.

“No.” The stratarch’s voice is low and soft, she is wrapping the leather straps of her sword belt around her hand and arm “She is young, let her rest. Order her unit to start their day, by my command.”

Reuben nods curtly, and steps back as Svari crosses his path and heads toward the tent which houses Furiae. He did not know what to expect now, lingering by Svari’s tent to see what the woman intended to do. Watching her walk all the way over to her Marshal’s tent, and then sit straight on the yellow autumn grass in front of it, sword across her lap he cannot help but smile. While the others in the camp would get to work scouting, looting, maintaining their equipment, their Stratarch would sit and simply guard her Marshal.

DE HAGUNS

What had been a peaceful sleep turned into a rude awakening.

Furiae madly groped the ground in search of her clothes, or at least something that would give her a minimum of decency. Mornings were the worst, and she had overslept, tired as she was from last day’s disastrous expedition deep into the encampment outskirts. And she felt cold.

Sighing, she cleaned her face with the rest of the water in the basin that had been left in her pavilion and took a jug of wine, drinking more than a sip directly from it.

Rising to her feet in a swift, unladylike manner, the dame dressed herself in black woolen pants and a simple, yet slight loose white tunic, the clothes she normally wore behind her light leather armor. Despite her usual self-conscious fashion sense, she was just too tired to care, and a bit groggy from oversleeping. She touched her long raven hair and arranged it into a messy bun which threatened to fall any moment. To add a final touch, she wrapped herself in a long fur cloak which had the silver dragon of the Haguns sewn into it.

What emerged from the tent could easily pass for any young peasant girl, save for that cloak, which distinctly revealed her nobility. The last sun rays of autumn touched her face gently, and still not used to leaving the darkness of her tent, the girl turned her face the other way, scowling as she yawned.

Then her eyes widened as she saw the older woman sitting silent in front of her tent. She had seen the Marshal yawning!

Furiae’s face reddened in shame and anger. “Who are… how dare you peek on me, in front of my tent?!”, she started, as her eyes narrowed, trying to identify that bold woman. Furiae took a good look at her uniform, before it dawned on her. The colors, the cut. Could that be? “Stratarch Svari Storme?”, she asked, puzzled. “I… I did not mean…”. She stopped mid-sentence, examining Storme in a curious way, as she had not met her before.

STORME

A stirring behind Svari’s back causes her to turn in time to see the youthful yawning face of her young Marshal. The usual stoic expression stays in place even as Furiae’s face tinged red with anger and her voice barks indignantly. Does she really not know who I am? Svari wondered as the smaller girl's eyes narrowed, and sized her up completely.

Svari hears her name and nods affirmatively, still not having stood from the grass she turns away again- staring off across the busy camp before them. Men worked to prepare themselves for the day among the smoke of a dozen cooking fires, the sounds of horses and steel being honed echoed their way up the hill the morning long… The Stratarch had wondered how long they would take to rouse the exhausted teenager in her employ. Finally, the calm sullen voice of the Stratarch comes in a smooth rebuke, “Only I would find a lazy Marshal. You’ve slept half the morning away.”

The wine skin always at her side runs empty with her next swig and she tosses it aside carelessly. “Do not swallow your tongue just yet” She had not spared the girl a second glance, but put her ugly longsword aside for her benefit. A linen wrap is picked up from the grass beside her and offered to the young Marshal “I only jest. come and sit with me.” She did not have the look of someone who made jests, but motions to the grass beside her. Inside the linen Furiae will find a parcel of meat, spices and dried fruit in the form of a little pie.

“I brought wine, but drank it” Svari admits, sourly.

DE HAGUNS

The young girl’s face reddened even more as the stratarch called her lazy, leaving Furiae speechless. She did not know what to answer, as she tried to decipher the woman that sat nonchalantly on the ground. Even after Svari tried to brush her commentary as a jest, Furiae still stood a bit sullen, her pride wounded. After all, isn’t it said that ‘many a true word is spoken in jest’?

Suspicious by nature, careful by circumstances, Furiae approached Svari slowly, taking the linen wrap from her hands and peeking at it. Just as her anger took the best of her earlier, now her mood swinged once again and her face brightened suddenly as she saw the food inside it. “Is this for me? Thank you, my lady. Do not fret about the wine, I have more inside my tent…”, and before she could finish, the girl went inside the pavilion and came out in the blink of an eye carrying a small clay jug that was half finished from earlier. She also carried a small, old and rough rug.

The young marshal walked towards the stratarch and unceremoniously let the small rug fall on the ground besides her, and handed the jug to Svari. “I have already drunk my share when I woke up. Please, have it.” Furiae wouldn’t sit on the raw ground, as she neatly arranged the rug and then sat beside Lady Storme. Taking a small bite of the meat, she eyed the longsword and then the older woman once again, and finally her own arms, thinking how she would never be able to wield such a weapon.

“I am sorry, I did not mean for you to find me like this. It is… unfortunate. The scouting yesterday was rougher than I had anticipated.”, said Furiae, as she looked at her men and the other soldiers preparing themselves. Some were sharpening blades, others strengthening their bows limbs, and a few reciting their morning prayers. Those that had lived to tell the tale. “My scouts have reported that there are abandoned farmlands, towns and granaries nearby. We went in that direction to assess the region for dangers, but got ambushed by… something.”

STORME

A proper noble, Svari realizes with the offering of wine and a dainty cover to keep her behind dry. She takes the offered jug and waits as the younger girl sits beside her and with the word that she had worry of sharing, drinks deeply right from the side of the jug. A dribble from the large vessel is caught on her sleeve- she is entirely oblivious to Furiae’s stare- and she puts the jug at her side, clutching the handle tight.

“You are seventeen, right?” Svari asks, though already knows the answer. Seemingly ignoring Furiae’s report she continues “I was surprised when you volunteered, that’s young for a Marshal”. She speaks casually, surveying the camp before them rather than the girl beside her. Her expression tells nothing as always, but the clinking of her finger against the rim of the jug does. Suddenly, Svari sit straight, turning to look at Furiae at last “It’s no wonder you’re tired, this has been a big job for everyone but... You’ve impressed me, ehm, actually.” Svari lodges the jug between her knees and pulls a crinkled missive from somewhere in her tunic, handing it to the younger girl. It is a letter to the Autarchs council, reporting her performance as impressive and noting her eagerness to land alone in Laraibina.

“I take care of my Marshals, so don’t apologize for getting the rest I think you earned.” she drunks deeply from the jug.

DE HAGUNS

“I…”, started the girl, in an eager mood to answer as she was engaged by the Marshal. She had been anticipating that her age would eventually come into question, and so it had.

Hungry as Furiae was – the girl-marshal had not eaten her nightly meal the last day, preferring to go directly to sleep -, she did not stop for one moment nabbing at the meat pieces, which she ate with the spices. The dried fruit pie she would save for letter. An army, may it be its soldiers or its marshal, march on its stomach.

Not for a moment did she stop eyeing Svari with her big, inquisitive eyes. If one thing could be said of the Haguns girl, was that she was a lively creature, even when quiet. Furiae’s attentive eyes darted to the jug as Svari toyed with it, making it sing a curious tone. Was it anxiety, anticipation, or just a tic?

She listened to the stratarch intently, and swallowed every word as if it she tasting the sweetest wine that she could ever get. Compliments were music to her ears, something she had loved to hear from childhood.

“Stratarch, I volunteered because if I have learned something from my life… it is that the future belongs to the bold.”, pointed out the girl, as she smiled slyly, looking towards the camp and breaking her eye contact with the Lady Storme. “I learnt early in life, and I know I am young, that people will try to keep you where you are supposed to be, even if you can be so much more, even if you want so much more. I come from Perdan...”, she stopped, pondering If she should reveal more about her past. Not today. “But I realized I wanted more. Why should I settle for what others wanted me to do, if I wanted a different life for myself? If I did not take the first step, if I did not take the risk, I would always live as a slave to fear. And worst of all, live to regret the missed possibilities, the things that could have been if I had not afraid in the first place. This is how I chose to live. Free of fear and of regret.”

She was surprised as Svari delivered her the letter, and opened it carefully. After reading its content, her face became more serious. Hesitation betrayed her thoughts, and she once again remembered the ambush deeper into Laraibina after the first landing, and the screams as the men were attacked. Am I responsible for the death of these men? Am I responsible for the death of these men? Does my path lies across their graves? Does my path lies across their graves?

Furiae tried to exorcize these invasive thoughts, and she shook her head slightly, frowning her brow. She was alive, it was all that mattered. “Sorry, I just felt an odd feeling”, she excused herself, and then smile gently as she turned back to Svari. “Thank you for this letter, but it is too flattering. I could never ask any other to take a risk I couldn’t take, as the marshal of this force. A leader has to set the example, so others will follow.”

Furiae had always been certain of one thing, she would only follow a leader that she trusted and respected. And so far the stratarch was winning her favor.

STORME

Svari listens closely to the younger girl, she speaks of ambition and good intentions; Perdan which she is quick to distract from, and even her fears. She could tell that Furiae had loved her compliments, but denies them in the end and wins the first smile from her Stratarch, who wipes it away with another sip of wine. “The future belongs to the bold” she breathes, letting the information about her young Marshal sink in.

“I left home when I was your age, too. I didn’t want to do what others told me either. I was a cook, for a time. When the ruler asked for a Marshal, I stepped up; like you… When they asked for a general I stepped up; a margrave, a Duchess; I was there. In this world loyalty is a ladder and one I used blindly. All my life I have served Kings. Until recently all my life they’ve betrayed me.

Do you know what I learned?” Another drink, already the jug was running low from the Stratarch’s thirst.

“Loyalty is only a ladder if it goes two ways. For you and for the nobles you lead. I found that with Lucius, our Autarch and I see it in you too. It gives me great relief to know that you appreciate your role, at your age such wisdom is rare.” she thinks back to herself at that age, throwing hundreds of lives away to make inches of progress every day and never thinking twice about the waste of it all for a ruler who wouldn't have flinched if she had died as well. “Just nice to see. I’ve always heard you Perdanese are….Well raised.

My ilk, less so. "

DE HAGUNS

Furiae folded the letter neatly and returned to the stratarch, as she heard her tell her tale. Then, the girl nodded. “It is hard to imagine you as young as me. You are… so tall”, she said, and laughed. “I look like a child next to you, and I don’t like that at all! I think I have this matter under control already, but I think some of my men still think I am just a ‘ladyling’… as I told you, the future belongs to the bold. If I had not asserted myself from the very beginning of my life and followed my own path, now I would be just a puppet to satisfy others, to advance their own agendas”, she pointed out.

The girl-marshal looked at Svari once again, pondering about what she had said about loyalty. “I will never follow a leader I do not believe or trust… or at least I hope I will not. You can only discover if someone is truly deserving of trust in times of need. See my men… or what is left of them?”, she said, pointing to the soldiers. “When I was in need, they helped me. At a cost, of course, they were mercenaries. But they could have… taken advantage of me, alone as I was. No, they kept their word and protected me as I travelled from the East Continent to Dwilight. And now they serve under my banner.”

Furiae closed her eyes and looked downwards, her eyes on the ground, her face distant. Am I responsible for the death of this men? The guilty from last night that she had been trying to suppress came back, once again. And yet she suppressed it, for they had died for a grand cause. They had taken the risk of travelling, did they not? The future belongs to the bold, but it is not without risk. She had placed herself in harm’s way as well and danced with death. And yet she lived. That was all that mattered. She shouldn’t feel guilty for this, thought Haguns. Damned be those intrusive thoughts that harassed her!

Still looking down, she went on. “Perdan, Perdan… Perdan was where I was born, but it was not my… home.”, she replied, her lips quirking in amusement. “For a while, perhaps. I was raised as a ward by a noble family, a good family. It’s the only thing I miss ever since I left. My House, though noble, was not… gentle or caring. I was sent as a ward by another noble family. They were my true parents, they raised me.”

She saw a small rock across her in the ground and playfully kicked it, causing it to roll not far away. “From where I come, the Mines, the land is rough, but I was mostly sheltered. How do you know about Perdan or perdanese being well raised? Do you know someone, or met another perdanese in your life?”

STORME

The troubles of a young Marshal are clear on the face of this younger girl, and Svari resisted reaching out to pat her back; knowing someone so proper would likely resent it. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders” Svari compliments .

“I wish I had such sense when I was your age. I had a good unit too, but they were all dead but one even before I left Beluaterra ..As for Perdan…” She looks down into the jug while she considers something, and reveals with a shrug “Isn’t your Duchess a Storme?” Flashing an uncommon smile as she says it.

“In truth, I have never met Aila- she is a younger cousin. I hear she is beautiful but awful. Perfectly well mannered but the rudest person many have ever met. All I know for sure is that she has done everything I have failed at- and she hates me.” The word hate is a heavy one, but svari laughs it out.

“I sent a retainer to her, the one remaining man. From him I hear lots about Perdan in letters. They seem a different breed. You’re proving it. Now,” The taller woman stands at last from the grass, revealing now that she had drained Furiae’s wine jug as she lets it thud to the ground beside her boots and offered a hand up to her young Marshal. “Let us get these boats ready to board. The better we do, the less we will have to leave behind us.”

DE HAGUNS

The relationship was obvious as the surname implied, but Furiae had not connected the dots yet. She laughed heartily for not realizing this and then corrected Svari. “Now I see… She is not my duchess… not anymore. Solomon is.”, she felt more comfortable to let go of formalities, dropping the royal title as she mentioned her liege. “I never met the Duchess of Perdan, but heard tales of her…. eccentricities.”

Turning to the stratarch, the girl-marshal smirked. “I also have a cousin back in Perdan, the so called scion of House de Haguns. We are the same age and he was born just a few months before me. He comes from the rich, main branch of the House, while I was born within the cadet branch.”

“He tries to sell himself as this honorable, righteous, chivalrous noble. If he is or if he is not, I do not know… all my life I have measured up myself against him”, she confessed. “He had all the opportunities I wish I had. A bright future ahead of him, while I was… just the cousin to be sold in marriage.”

“He is a knight of a vassal of your cousin, it seems. And knowing both their reputations, I believe that should they meet, they would not get along so well”, she pointed out, with a hint of satisfaction.

Furiae took Svari’s hand and rose. She adjusted her clothes and resumed her demeanor as the marshal of the Expeditionary Legion. “Understood, Stratarch Storme. Leave it to me. I will personally organize the embark of the troops.”

With that, Furiae saluted the general and left to prepare the departure.