Augusta neared Howlester Castle. A looming sadness followed her as she reflected upon her own life and all of her experiences that led her to become the woman she was now. She was going to see her mother and packed for such. Keeping a small pendant to remind her of who she belonged to now. Rain poured from the sky, forming small puddles in her path as she wandered out of her bags.
She then loaded into the carriage, staring up towards a window of the castle, to see a shadowy figure peer down at her. Before she could react, the figure moved away from the window, out of her sight. She had not told anyone that she was in fact leaving, time or date. She had maybe only brought it up, so she had no doubt it was just someone curious about her behavior.
The carriage was led over the bridge, and deep through the woods, over bridges, and across water-saturated wheat fields. Even without the bumpy path, she would be unable to sleep. Hours later, the carriage reached Its destination. Augusta would unload the small bag of belongings she had taken with her onto a boat that swayed mildly from the weather that seemed to become increasingly worse.
The boat's voyage was set towards delivering the woman to Gallovia. After a few nights riddled with little to no sleep, she would be back in Gallovia. Finding comfort in the scent of the forest, Augusta opted to travel on foot for a while, trying to think of something other than what she was there for.
She took up a steed halfway through her journey, riding from Mors Saltaire to her humble village of Galloy. Upon her arrival, she would be greeted by a small swarm of relatives and old friends. There could never exist a more proud mother than Cynefrid. She embraced Augusta, almost crushing the poor young woman in her arms. Before the rest of Augusta's friends and family could pile on for an affectionate reuniting, she backed away.
Placing her hand on her mother's shoulder and gently kissing the shorter woman's forehead, then turning back to situate the reins of the horse and grab her belongings. Augusta's jovial and happy demeanor changed as she finally settled in. She knew she couldn't stay for long, in fact, she knew it was best to leave as soon as possible. She couldn't risk forming an emotional bond with anyone new, knowing she rarely visited her home.
This visit was the first in a handful of years, not since she stayed for a month before William Howlester sent her to the School of Magnamere to train. But this visit had more important reasoning behind it than pleasantries.
Augusta explained to her mother the reasonings as to why she had in return, to which Cynefrid began to sob uncontrollably. Augusta did not join her tears but walked forward to gently comfort the woman, even though she was the one who truly needed the comfort. As her mother reached to wrap her arms around her, she pulled away. Not wanting to feel weakness when she was already in such a vulnerable state.
A light drizzle awoke the small village as Augusta trudged through the muddy streets with her mother. Friends of the small family joined in their silent gathering. They happened upon a mossy field that was poorly lit, despite barely being covered by the forest that surrounded it. In hind sig
A sword was planted into the soil, as well as a small, crudely patched helm. It stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other displays in the field, most of just were bunches of dying flowers and wooden trinkets.
Augusta hung her finely crafted purple shaw over her shoulders. Her uncle grabbed a shovel and began to dig up the plot of land, to reveal a poorly made casket of wood and plant matter. The gathering would stare at it as Cynefrid broke into tears again. Augusta dropped herself into the pit, draping the purple cloth over the casket. With the help of others, she lifted it from the ground, soil and bits of wood crumbled off of it as it was raised from its place in the shallow grave.
The group of mourning people moved the casket back to the village from where they came. Augusta had a large crypt made, as well as a small monument made within a clearing near the village. She had always thought her father deserved a better place to rest his body whilst his soul was among the spirit. As the group marched through streets, a few watched, joining in the silent mourning, the steps of the group and another shown in the thick mud they marched upon.
Finally, for years, 15 years, the man is known as Vilhelm, the father of Augusta would get a more respectful burial, funded by his own daughter. As Augusta removed the thick cover of the cover of the crypt, which had an image of her father as she remembered him, a man of loyalty and strength. She set it down, and helped her uncle and another friend of Vilhelm to help her slowly lower the casket into the crypt, and placed his helmet over it.
Augusta held her mother's hand, whilst she herself shed a tear upon the rotting wood casket.
Vilhelm was in Augusta's life for such little time, but she remembered him as clear as day, even as the crypt held her father, she knew he was looking down at her. She wiped the tear from her cheek, looking up to the sky.
Hours after the warrior was laid to rest, and the light shone upon his new resting place, Augusta left her home village of Galloy. Taking her mother with her, and back to the Archipelago. Now that the pain had been dug up and finally lain to the rest, she could finally be open with her mother about his passing and the life they had before his death.
"I have come to terms that one day I will die. Whether it be in battle, or serving the Howlesters, but never of old age. I will follow in my father's footsteps, and one day you will have to bury me.
Do not let disbelief become your companion, and anger follow in it's wake. For when I am laid to rest, I know I will have people who've loved me far more than I can comprehend."
