It all started with the voices. I remember the darkness, the cold, and the inhumanly low, unintelligible voices echoing in my mind. I was unable to understand their asynchronous speech, nor could I see or feel anyone, surrounded only by darkness and noise.
Gradually, their sound began to gather into a single choral pronunciation of one word:
"Aren… Aren… AREN… AREN!"
The volume intensified with each repetition until, finally, all the voices merged into a single, multi-layered scream.
Suddenly, a brief silence fell, which was sharply replaced by a blinding flash of light. A moment later, I felt myself choking, drowning in seawater, until I finally felt the wind enveloping my face. At that same instant, I reflexively began coughing up all the water, feeling the air gradually begin to enter my lungs. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I could barely make out that I was on an unknown shore.
The sun's rays, breaking through thin clouds, seemed unnaturally bright, making my eyes water after the recent stay in darkness.
Lying on my back, I was completely exhausted, able only to lift my head with great effort and inspect myself, seeing that im wearing only black, wet, and torn pants, and my fingers dug into the wet sand while the cold water still licked my feet.
I was terribly frightened, confused, and remembered nothing except what had happened just now.
Suddenly, against the background of the seagulls' cries, I heard an unfamiliar female voice rapidly approaching me to the sound of feet running across the wet sand. The female voice became clearer and clearer. The heavy breathing of a running person mixed with the splashes of water underfoot.
The stranger, out of breath, fell to her knees beside me, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and relief.
"Hey! Can you hear me? Oh Gods, I thought it was just a piece of driftwood washed ashore"
She cautiously touched my shoulder but immediately recoiled, noticing the black weave of runes snaking across my neck and disappearing beneath my shoulder blades. A shadow of superstitious fear, characteristic of the inhabitants of these lands when encountering incomprehensible magic, flashed in her green eyes. However, compassion prevailed and she reached out again, helping me lift my torso.
Her name is Elara Greenfield. A resident of a small village nearby.
"Looks like you've swallowed a lot of water. I need to turn you on your side, don't move."
Elara quickly realized what first aid she needed to provide, turning my body on its side to clear my airways. My vision was blurring, and Elara's voice echoed in my mind until, eventually, everything went completely dark and I lost consciousness.
---
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was a wooden ceiling. Then my attention shifted to the distant sounds of birds and the village street drifting in through a slightly ajar window. Turning my head slightly, I saw a small table cluttered with various objects I didn't recognize, which were actually parts from various broken or disassembled devices and mechanisms.
Looking around, I slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position and looked down at my arm, examining the strange marks that covered my entire body. After a few moments, I winced in fright as I heard the sound of hurried running behind the closed door of the room and an energetic, youthful voice.
"Coming, coming! I left it in my room, wait!"
The door burst open, and a young boy flew into the room. He quickly grabbed a gear from the table and came to a dead stop just before running back out. Standing with his back to me right in the doorway, he slowly turned his head toward me.
"No way..."
The boy was clearly stunned, staring at me with eyes wide with surprise.
"Leo! I told you to take your outdoor shoes off before coming into the house!"
The now-familiar female voice called out from the other room.
"E-Elara… you have to see this," - the boy replied anxiously, his eyes never leaving mine.
"What is it?"
Elara walked up behind Leo and, looking up, saw me sitting on the bed with eyes just as worried and confused as theirs. Staring at me with equal astonishment, she froze behind the boy, whose name, as it turned out, was Leo.
With a sigh of relief, Elara spoke:
"You're alive... Praise the Mother Goddess, you're finally awake."
She gently pushed Leo aside and entered the room. A hint of concern lingered on her face, even as she felt relief at seeing me conscious.
"You've been asleep for nearly a day and a night. Bernard, the local blacksmith, helped me carry you here. You are safe; this is our home in Waldruhm…"
Elara took a careful step closer, her hand rising slightly to her chest in agitation.
"Tell me… what is your name? And where are you from?.."
My blurred consciousness tried to organize the flood of information and focus on Elara's words. Although I remembered practically nothing, for a reason unknown to me at the time, I understood what she was saying, as the meaning of every word flashed instantly in my mind.
"Aka… I…"
I struggled to formulate speech, like a child learning to talk. As soon as I decided to answer her question, the information about the words I needed began to materialize in my memory, triggering a sharp headache that made me clutch my head.
Elara leaned forward immediately, seeing me wince in pain. Her face reflected genuine alarm.
"Hey, easy. You don't have to answer me right now if you're in pain."
She turned to Leo, who was still standing in the doorway watching my struggle.
"Leo, bring herbal infusion number four and some clean water. Fast. And don't forget a cool towel."
The boy nodded and vanished toward the kitchen like a whirlwind, pausing for only a split second to glance at my arms, covered in unknown runes.
Meanwhile, a storm raged in my mind: images of letters, the sounds of words, and the names of objects around me - "table," "window," "wall," "what's your name," "where from" - flashed like bright sparks, gaining meaning but demanding an exorbitant price in the form of pulsating pain in my temples.
Elara cautiously moved even closer and sat on the edge of the bed, slowly reaching out and placing her hand on my shoulder.
"Try to breathe deeper. Focus only on my voice… You are in the Greenfield house, on the outskirts of the Waldruhm plains. Whatever happened to you, you are safe now."
She looked at me with even greater concern, suspecting what was happening to me.
"Just like them... you probably can't remember anything yet either..."
She muttered quietly, speaking her thoughts aloud. Finally, as I began to feel the thoughts and knowledge in my head starting to order themselves, the noise in my mind began to subside. It became easier for me to listen to Elara and understand what she was saying.
A few moments later, Leo returned with the decoction. I, in turn, watched them silently and distrustfully, still not fully understanding what was happening. The boy froze by the bed, holding a glass of water and a clay mug emitting a sharp aroma of mixed meadow and forest herbs. For me, these scents were the first clear anchors in reality, separating this world from the viscous darkness I had escaped.
Elara sensed my distrust. She slowly moved back, showing empty palms - a universal gesture signifying the absence of weapons or ill intentions. She nodded quietly to Leo and looked at me again:
"Take it, it will help. This infusion will help clear and refresh your mind."
Leo, despite my heavy gaze, took a step forward and held out the mug. The boy was clearly struggling with the desire to learn more about my tattoos, which seemed even more incredible to him up close.
Leo addressed me in a quiet whisper, with a hint of apprehension and burning curiosity:
"Do you... remember anything? How you ended up on the shore or how you fell into the water?
Silence finally settled in my head. Words no longer caused pain, smoothly gaining meaning alongside their speech. Slowly taking the mug, I glanced twice at Elara and Leo as they watched me intently. This definitely caused me slight discomfort, but at the same time, I felt no threat from them.
Despite the sharp smell, I took one sip and, grimacing, immediately handed the mug back to Leo. He at once offered me the glass of water, which I instinctively grabbed from his hands and drank immediately. A bitter, herbal aftertaste still lingered in my mouth, making me wince, at which Leo couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
"I understand you, nobody likes this decoction, but it always helps and is as reliable as an Aisengard clock" — Leo said, placing the mug on the table.
The boy's childish laughter along with Elara's light and warm smile only added even more to the feeling of awkwardness, but a moment later my attention was caught by something, or rather someone, behind Elara's back.
Behind her, holding onto the doorframe, a little girl was peeking out carefully, looking right at me. My frozen gaze made Elara turn around. A pale little face with large eyes full of childish curiosity was looking right at me.
This was Mia - the youngest of the Greenfields. She was clutching the hem of her simple little dress in her hands and was barely breathing, examining the "guest" her older brother and sister had been whispering about all morning. Elara reached out a hand toward her, inviting her into the room with a softened and even warmer voice.
"Mia, honey, don't be afraid. Come in. This person... he just slept for a very long time."
The girl didn't budge, continuing to closely study my tattoos. For her, having grown up among the golden fields and quiet sounds of the village, my appearance was clearly unusual. At that same moment, Leo, standing behind Elara, was silently beckoning Mia with a gesture of his hand.
Mia took a tiny step forward, still not letting go of the doorpost. Recalling that morning, it is still surprising to me that in her eyes I mostly saw not fear or shyness, but pure childish curiosity. Then Elara turned back to me and asked carefully, tilting her head slightly and looking me straight in the eyes:
"Do you feel better?"
Pondering her words for a couple of seconds, I nodded carefully, thereby making it clear that the decoction known to everyone in the area was as effective as ever, and also that I understood her speech. Elara sighed quietly with relief, shifting her gaze from me to Leo with a warm smile.
"Leo, please go to Grandma Martha and tell her that the bread preps are already done, help her light the oven, and take Mia with you."
It would seem that a very energetic and excited boy, who clearly would not want to leave this room right now, should object to his sister, but not at all - his smile immediately changed to a slightly serious, but at the same time caring and understanding expression. Nodding with a clear "Mm-hmm," he immediately went toward the exit of the room, while simultaneously extending a hand that Mia instantly took, after which the children promptly left the room.
The silence that fell after the children left felt almost tangible, broken only by the distant creaking of the massive blades of the massive mills, called "Wind Raiders" here. Elara continued to look toward the door for some time, while remaining close enough for me to feel the light scent of field herbs and flour coming from her clothes, which was unknown to me at that moment. Her presence was calm and warm, which only strengthened my sense of safety.
"I'm sorry... the children, especially in our village, are very energetic and curious."
She slowly turned to face me, looking directly into my black eyes.
"Are you able to remember anything yet?... I'm sorry for asking so many questions, but you know, often even the bravest warriors returning from a real hell... are so broken that they cannot remember anything except their name and the nightmares that they have every night... and..."
Elara took the mug of decoction and lightly traced the wall of the glass with her thumb, continuing her speech while looking at the liquid inside the vessel.
"This decoction often helps them calm their mind a little, reminding them that everything is already behind them... but it is by asking more leading questions that there is a chance to speed up this process and help a person remember what they forgot not long ago..."
She looked up at me and clarified with slight concern:
"You must have forgotten your past not so long ago? Maybe you are a sailor who has a family, but the sea did not spare you and your crew, and in the end, the tragedy and proximity to death caused a strong shock from which you temporarily lost your memory?"
I listened to Elara attentively and warily, and her last words made me think deeply, which caused me to lower my gaze, lost in thought, while still feeling an unpleasant discomfort in my head from the fact that knowledge was still being formed or restored in my consciousness.
Elara, in turn, quietly watched my reaction to her words.
"I'm sorry... I see that every effort is difficult for you. Your eyes... there is so much in them that I cannot understand. You do not look like those who live here."
Meanwhile, my consciousness continued its agonizing work. The words "sailor," "family," and "tragedy" evoked in my memory not pictures of the past, but only dry definitions from the linguistic archive that was being restored in my head. An attempt to reach for images of family or home caused only a sharp flash of pain behind the eyes.
Noticing how I squinted from the pain, she touched my palm for a moment but immediately withdrew her hand.
"Do not torture yourself. If you are not a sailor... it does not matter. Right now, what matters is that you are here, and you are alive."
She stood up, her gaze lingering for a moment on my tattoos, which seemed even deeper and more complex in the morning light. The girl smiled warmly again, slowly heading toward the exit.
"I'm going to help in the kitchen. If you need anything, just call... oh yes, my name is Elara. Elara Greenfield."
---
After she left the room, I stared at the open door for a few more seconds, repeating her name in my head, then slowly turned my gaze toward the window, focusing on the sounds coming from outside. I slowly lowered my legs from the bed, sitting on the edge, and stood up, feeling a strange sensation from standing upright for the first time, rising above the level of the bed.
Starting with hesitant steps, I immediately began to walk more confidently, adapting as quickly as if my body instinctively knew how to walk and maintain balance.
Approaching the window, the bright sun at first blinded my eyes, causing me to instinctively cover my eyes with my hand, but then, gradually, my eyes finally got used to the light and I was able to see the amazing landscape of the fields, plains and groves of Waldruhm. In addition, the massive windmills sparked both wonder and an internal interest in what they were, how they worked, and what they were for.
Below, under the window, I heard a muffled conversation and the clank of metal. Noticing that the window was slightly ajar, I cautiously reached out and pushed the window sash. The Waldruhm wind enveloped my face with a slight chill, fluttering the black strands of my hair.
This new, unusual feeling was so pleasant that I unconsciously closed my eyes, lifting my head and taking a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the recently risen sun. In that moment, I felt not only physical relief but also a strange response deep within my being. My lungs, which had recently been clogged with seawater, were now greedily absorbing oxygen, and my heart began to beat more steadily and confidently.
My body felt as if it were still waking up from a long hibernation, responding to the warmth of the outside world. Below, under the window, muffled voices were heard. Elara came out onto the porch, and her voice reached me, mingling with the rustle of foliage.
"He woke up... But he doesn't remember anything, Bernard. Absolutely nothing... Not even his own name."
In response to Elara's words, I heard a deep and rumbling male voice.
"Be careful anyway. We still don't know why he is here and what trouble he might bring to us... And I think the idea of bringing him into your house was wrong."
I froze by the window, absorbing these new words: Trouble, House, Idea. They were still just sound shells, but an instinctive sense of something bad, embedded somewhere in my consciousness, made me tense up.
Turning toward the exit from the room, I slowly approached the doorway and peeked out slightly, seeing a large living room. I looked around, making sure no one was there, slowly stepped forward, and began to wander through the living room, looking at every piece of furniture, studying it.
My steps on the wooden floor of the living room were quiet but confident. In the center stood a heavy table made of rough wood. My fingers touched its surface; I knew it was wood, I knew it was old.
On one of the walls, I saw a shelf. On it was dry yellow grass woven into a circle, and a clay bowl. My gaze moved to white sheets with black lines, on which I saw images of gear wheels and long blades, similar to those I had seen in the window. In the corner of one of the sheets was a strange intertwining of lines that evoked no associations.
Suddenly, the heavy sound of metal outside was replaced by a creak, and turning sharply, I saw a figure in the doorway. A tall, blond man with a beard, clutching a leather bag and frozen on the threshold. That was when I first met Bernard, the local blacksmith who had helped Elara drag me into this house.
"Elara... You didn't say he was already wandering around the house."
The man was huge. His shoulders almost touched the doorframes, and his hands, stained with black soot, were covered in scars. He looked at me not with the kindness I had seen in Elara, but with a wariness that created a heavy atmosphere filling the living room.
Elara immediately ran over, stopping behind Bernard and looking at me with slight agitation; she decided to introduce the man unknown to me right away.
"A... this is Bernard! Our blacksmith! Please don't be frightened by his menacing lo-..." — before she could finish, she was interrupted by a grumpy snort from Bernard, who began to walk deeper into the living room, not taking his eyes off me.
Throwing a leather bag onto the table on his way, he approached me so closely that I involuntarily took a few steps back. Without moving his head, he inspected my tattoos from bottom to top, stopping again at my eyes, as if looking into my soul.
"Do you have a name?" — Bernard asked demandingly.
Feeling the tension in the air and clear discomfort from what was happening, I nervously turned my gaze to Elara, who was still standing in her place, clutching both hands together at her chest from worry. A moment later, I felt a heavy and firm grip on my head as Bernard forcibly turned my head back to himself.
"You are having a dialogue with me right now, not her. And when I say dialogue, it means you also open your mouth and answer the questions I ask you" — Bernard stated with clear sternness.
Feeling very nervous from the obvious stress, a chain of thoughts suddenly structured itself in my head, so clear that I unconsciously began to say the words aloud.
"Question... question... answer... name... answer - name..."
I thought so deeply that this chain of thoughts turned out to be more important in my consciousness than the tense situation in which I was stuck, causing me to gradually lower my gaze, still muttering the same words under my breath. Bernard raised his eyebrows in slight surprise and confusion, watching this scene.
"Name... my name... my... name... Aren..." — I look up and, with wide-open eyes from slight joy, say my answer again:
"Aren! My name is Aren".
Bernard slowly unclenched his fingers, and the weight of his palm disappeared, leaving the smell of scale on my hair. He stepped back half a step, continuing to bore into me with a gaze in which suspiciousness was now mixed with somber curiosity. My insight , clear and conscious , momentarily diffused the heavy air in the room. The blacksmith thoughtfully crossed his arms over his chest, sighing slightly.
"Aren, then. Well, at least you aren't lowing like cattle at a slaughterhouse."
He turned to Elara, who noticeably relaxed her shoulders upon hearing my voice. Then she stepped closer, with clear hope in her eyes.
"Aren... A beautiful name. Did you remember it yourself? This is a good sign, Bernard! You see, he understands us. He isn't such a threat after all".
Bernard grumpily pointed a finger at my tattoos.
"Not a threat? Elara, if this guy remembered his name and understands speech, it doesn't mean he doesn't pose a threat. And these patterns on his body are not drawn just for the sake of it. It's either a brand or... something worse".
He walked to the table and slapped his palm on the leather bag he had brought.
"But perhaps now, we will find out the truth" — Bernard stated, turning his head toward me.
He reached into the bag and pulled out an old and worn book.
"An old collection that contains some notes from seekers who managed to visit the Mizu Shogunate even before the Isengard incident. There are descriptions of only a few out of hundreds of runes here, but I hope this will be enough to find out at least something."
Bernard opened the book and began flipping through the pages, trying to find the section with the necessary information. At Bernard's words, I looked at my hands again, peering at the runes. Then, slowly approaching the table, I froze under Bernard's sharp gaze as he carefully examined my runic tattoos, constantly checking against the records in the book. The feeling was awkward, but I still continued to stand in place. Elara also joined the blacksmith, staring at the images of the runes in the book.
Bernard frowned more and more, his thick finger tracing the yellowed pages, which depicted the angular, sharp symbols of the Mizu Shogunate. But the more he compared them with the living lines and symbols on my skin, the more obvious the failure became.
After more than 20 minutes, neither Bernard nor Elara were able to find even hints of any resemblance to what was depicted on my body. The blacksmith slammed the book shut in irritation, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
"Empty. All for nothing. These records speak of elemental runes - fire, water, wind. But absolutely nothing about what is depicted on him. There is no symmetry in them. They look as if..." — he paused, choosing his word.
"As if they were made up on the fly"
Elara, in turn, sighed heavily, stepping away from the table and rubbing her neck.
"Maybe the book is too old? Or those who wrote it simply didn't see everything?"
Bernard sighed and threw the book back into the leather bag, putting it over his shoulder.
"Elara, these are the records of the best seekers. If there isn't even a hint of such signs here, it means your Aren is either a carrier of something that seekers weren't that interested in, and they are always interested, believe me, or he simply lost a bet being a sailor, for which the poor fellow was covered in tattoos from head to toe, and fortunately for him, these drawings do not look as terrible as the kind of perversions they usually cover losers with" — Bernard asserted with obvious irritation, saying all this to Elara's face, and then went out to the exit on the landing leading to the first floor.
Elara anxiously tried to catch up with him, arguing with him along the way.
"That's just the point, that nobody would cover themselves with tattoos of this kind just because of strange circumstances like a lost bet! This is clearly done..." — before she could finish, Elara stops behind Bernard, who had stopped in the doorway with his back to her.
Then he turned to her sharply with even greater irritation.
"Well then, our friend loved strange symbols so much that he covered himself with them at some master's place and after events unknown to us, his memory was knocked out so much that he doesn't even remember this! I've had enough, Elara. It's time for me to go. Dara will kill me if I don't make it to the capital with her today!" — Bernard said, having gone down the stairs and headed toward the exit of the house.
Having looked at the doorway of the landing for a few seconds, Elara turns to me, sighing, then smiled slightly, resting her hands on her hips.
"Well, at least we know that this is not connected with the Shogunate... well, rather, we don't know yet..."
I look at her, understanding every word, except for the strange names, from which I manage to catch the essence, but many questions remain from the details.
"Shogiynath?" — I asked, stumbling slightly.
Elara flinched at the sound of my voice. She came closer, her face softened, and a light of pedagogical patience lit up in her eyes, the kind usually shown to children or those who are relearning to walk.
"Sho-gu-nate. It's..." — she hesitated, trying to find words that would be understandable to a person with an empty memory.
"It's a very distant place. There is a lot of water, fog, and people who believe that every sign on paper or skin has its own power. We thought you sailed from there because of your... drawings."
She went to the window through and pointed her hand somewhere far beyond the horizon.
"But Bernard is right about one thing - if there are no such signs in his books, it means you are an even bigger mystery to us than we thought. And Bernard... don't be angry with him. He has an important day today. He is taking Dara, his close friend, to Ockhaven - that's the big city behind the walls. There is a holiday or a big market there today, I've already gotten confused in their city affairs".
She turned to me, and her gaze lingered on my shoulders. I stood straight, and now that the room was empty, my strong figure seemed even more alien in this fragile village house.
"You need to get dressed, Aren. I prepared my father's things... they are old, but strong. It's not right for a guest to walk around in just scraps of pants, especially if we decide to go out to people".
When Elara handed me the stack of things, surprisingly, I immediately understood what exactly I should do, or rather, almost understood. Unexpectedly for Elara, I was about to take off my pants right in front of her, clearly having no idea what etiquette was.
Elara shrieked, turning away sharply and covering her face with her palms. My fingers, which had already touched the belt of the scraps of pants, froze. In my mind, this action was a logical continuation of the process of changing clothes, but the girl's violent reaction frightened me slightly with its unexpectedness.
Elara's voice broke on a high note, she almost pressed her forehead against the doorframe.
"Stop! Aren! Oh Gods... You... you can't do it like that! Just... just wait until I go out!"
She quickly slipped into the corridor, leaving the door open only by a narrow crack. I heard her intermittent breathing and how she was hurriedly adjusting her apron, trying to cope with the embarrassment. Despite how much information was coming in and forming in my consciousness, I still did not know or understand that to her I was not just a foundling, but a man whose presence in the house already disturbed the usual way of life of the Greenfield family.
Elara quietly addressed me from behind the door, still agitated:
"It's called... privacy. Men and women... they don't do that in front of each other if they aren't... anyway, just get dressed yourself. The shirt should fit; my father was as broad-shouldered as you".
Left alone in the room, my gaze fell on the stack of things. On top lay a shirt made of coarse, unbleached linen, smelling of a chest and dried lavender. Under it were pants made of thick brown fabric, belted with a leather strap. Taking each item, intuition coupled with self-forming knowledge in my head helped me understand what, where, and how to put on, just by looking at each item unfolded.
When I finally dressed, the sensations of the fabric evoked unfamiliar but understandable feelings in me. The girl, standing behind the door and considering further plans for today, heard my voice from behind the door.
"I... finished" — I said, not being completely sure that I had correctly chosen and pronounced the words.
Elara opened the door and looked at me, her gaze sliding from bottom to top; she froze in the doorway, and for a moment silence reigned in the room. Her gaze, initially frightened and embarrassed, now became thoughtful and a bit sad. The shirt of coarse linen tightly fitted my shoulders, and its sleeves barely hid the black weave of runes on my wrists.
She took a step closer, carefully adjusting the collar, trying not to touch my skin where the symbols disappearing under the fabric were still clearly visible. Her embarrassment was gradually replaced by the practicality of the mistress of the house, but the question still read in her eyes: who am I really?
"Your speech is returning quickly, that is a good sign. Now..." — she hesitated for a moment, looking at my bare feet.
"We need to find you some shoes and figure out what to do next before the villagers start asking questions".
She turned to the window, behind which the distant laughter of children and the noise of working mills were heard. Hearing new words, my consciousness adjusted as usual and formed a meaning for each of them, but a couple of them drew my special attention.
"Questions... villagers...village..." — I began to stare thoughtfully at one point while a logical chain was building in my head.
"Questions... question... answer... speak... tell... listen... understand... knowledge" — muttering under my breath, I was very focused, although I looked quite strange from the outside. Suddenly, I looked up at Elara, addressing her with hope and greater confidence.
"Tell me... about the village. I want to listen... have knowledge".
She froze, surprised by how quickly my mind was building connections between sounds and meanings. Smiling warmly, she approached the window, gesturing for me to look at the sprawling lands.
"Of course, Aren. Our village is called "Golden Flow". We are on the edge of the Waldruhm Kingdom. Everything is simple here: we grow bread, watch the mills, and take care of each other".
She pointed to the colossal blades of the Wind Raiders working in the distance.
"A village is people. Everyone knows each other here. Bernard is our best blacksmith, Grandmother Martha bakes the best bread in the kingdom. In our village, everyone values honesty and kindness, and if your intentions are good, then you can always count on local support in return".
She fell silent, staring into the horizon where the golden ears of grain swayed in the wind like a living sea.
Listening to her carefully, an unpleasant feeling did not leave me, which was hard for me to describe or understand at that moment. The knowledge gained about this place gave me nothing more than just names and dry definitions of the words that sounded from the girl's mouth.
Noticing my heavy and upset face, she began to guess that despite the rapid recovery of speech memory, her words were doing little to help me restore the memory of who I am and why I am here. Thinking for a moment, Elara's empathy and kindness, as well as intuition, made her straighten up decisively and, with a smile on her face, take everything into her own hands to help a person who had encountered such an unusual problem.
"Well, since you have already remembered how to speak and you understand our speech, it means everything is not so bad, and all we need is just time!" — with a positivity unexpected to me, Elara took off her apron and threw it on a chair, turning back to me once again.
"Fortunately for you, Waldruhm is one of the most peaceful kingdoms in Prime, and therefore here you can feel safe. You can live with us until you fully restore your memory, and I will help you with this".
Elara was simultaneously gathering some items into a small bag and taking out a deep woven basket.
"By the way, I'm sure Leo will also be glad to help you, considering how much he knows about our world and the technologies of every state of Prime. And now, try to put on these boots; a friend of mine left them for me to mend, and I think he won't mind if you wear them now while we go to get suitable footwear for you".
She placed a pair of leather boots before me that already looked worn, but at the same time quite well-maintained and neat. Probably, they looked like that after Elara had worked on them.
Putting them on, I stood up and inspected each foot.
"Well? Can you last in them for the next half hour?"
Elara is looking attentively, having crossed her arms at her chest.
"Hm... big..." — I answered thoughtfully, feeling the excessive free space in the area of the toe and heels.
Elara laughed slightly, taking the basket in her hands.
"Well, that was expected. Einer is quite tall, although not as... sturdy as you, so his feet are expectedly larger."
Elara's light laughter evoked a sense of warmth and peace in me, making it much easier even in the moment when I felt absolutely lost or even abandoned in this world unknown to me.