Chapter 2: Aurore

Mem's ceiling looked the same in the morning as it did last night.

A sigh echoed through the room.

The nameless man wasn’t sure what he’d expected to greet him when he woke up. His memories to be magically restored? For this to all be some bizarre dream?

No, this wasn’t a dream. This was real life. His memories weren’t going to return so conveniently.

If there was one thing a good night’s sleep had done, it was that he was filled with energy. The fatigue from the day before was gone, and he could finally stand up without passing out.

I wonder if Mem is awake already… it was pretty late in the morning judging by the position of the sun, so he figured he should see his host. She’d have told him if she didn’t want him wandering around, right?

Mem’s house was smaller than he’d thought. It was two stories, but they were cramped. The second floor was practically just a narrow hallway to the bedroom. The stairs creaked as he descended, signaling his presence if she was still inside.

She was. The ground floor was an open room, a combination of kitchen, dining room, and living space. Mem was in the kitchen part right now, stirring a pot over an iron stove and humming to herself.

…She’s cooking again… Memories of last night’s stew sent a chill down his spine.

“Ah! You’re awake!” Mem looked up from her sickening brew with a bright smile. “Good morning! Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Still no luck with my memory, though.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. Well, I made porridge for breakfast, so if you’d like-“

“No, I’ve imposed enough on you,” he said, quickly shaking his head. “I couldn’t, really.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, her lips turning down in a pout.

He had never been more sure of anything.

“…Well, alright then,” she sighed, taking the pot off the stove. “I’m not going to shove it down your throat. And if you’re feeling well enough that you’re not even hungry, I suppose we don’t need to call the doctor over.

…Shouldn’t it be the other way? Not having an appetite should mean I haven’t gotten my strength back yet? Mem’s thinking was confusing at times.

“Well, it’s a new day, so let’s think about your next steps,” Mem said, setting down her “porridge” of questionable integrity. She tapped her spoon thoughtfully against her chin.

His heart tensed. This had been what he was waiting for. “…Actually… after you excused yourself last night… I did a lot of thinking about that...”

“Oh?” She perked up. “And what did you decide?”

It was hard for him to say. He was a stranger in a strange land, and he didn’t even know who he was.

“When I thought about my position… not even knowing who I am… not knowing anything about me besides that armor… and yet, you opened your home to me, and took care of me when I needed it most. If it wasn’t for you, Remember, I probably would have died out there. But I can’t keep taking advantage of your generosity. I’m well enough to travel, so I’ll be heading out. I just wanted to thank you one last time before-“

“Wait, wait, wait, what are you talking about?” She stared at him like he’d said the dumbest thing in the world. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

“What… my… next steps, right?”

She blinked.

“…Oh, no, no, no,” she sighed, shaking her head. “When I said ‘next steps’ I meant figuring out a name.”

It took him a second to process that.

“A… name?”

“Yeah. We don’t remember your real name, and I can’t keep calling you ‘you’. So what’s it gonna be?”

“Uh…”

He knew he would have to decide what to call himself at some point, but he had more pressing matters on his mind before now.

“We can’t just call you something random though, it would have to be pretty cool, that the other people in town will like… something like ‘Dreadmothy’ or ‘Marcinagus’, yeah that’s it…” Mem was already lost in thought.

“Wait, you… you’re talking like I’m going to be staying here! I wasn’t-“

“What? You’re going to leave?” Her eyes widened like that was the first time she’d ever considered the idea.

“I-I mean… I can’t just live here, you know.” The house was barely big enough for her, no way could he do that.

She gasped. “Wait… oh, my, no, you couldn’t possibly be thinking to stay with me!” Her voice was humorous, but he wasn’t laughing. She shook her head. “Staying in the home of a beautiful maiden like myself… how scandalous! What would I tell the other girls?!”

“…Are you done?”

She smirked.

“Look, I didn’t mean to say you should move in. But I do think you should settle down here in Mercy.”

He didn’t know the first thing about this town, and she was suggesting he live here? “Well…”

“You realize you didn’t have a single copper on you when I picked you up, right? Only your armor and that sword. And your solution was… go off and do what again?”

“…Urk.” She made a good point.

“Here in Mercy we take care of each other,” she proudly stated. “…Look. You don’t have anywhere else to go, right? So why don’t you stay? Even for a just little while! Take a walk around town, introduce yourself to everyone, I promise, you’ll love it here!”

Mem leaned over the table, her shiny blue eyes pleading with him to stay.

He sighed. This woman was persistent, that was for sure. And he honestly couldn’t find much of a reason to object.

Where else was he supposed to go?

“…Okay. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to… take a look around.”

“Perfect!” Mem chirped, sliding back into her seat and returning to her porridge. “Now, back to your new name, what do you think of Ragoomart?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Wha? You don’t like it?” She gasped, looking legitimately shocked that he wasn’t a fan of her ridiculous name.

“No.”

“How about Thenistollus?”

He cradled his face in his hand.

“Please, I’m begging you, stop coming up with names.”

“Well, we’ll have to pick something. We can’t just mosey around town and go ‘hello there, this is my friend Mr. Amnesia Man, he’ll be staying here for a while’, you know.”

“…You make a good point. …What are we going to tell them, though? The other townspeople, I mean. After all, I am… Celian.”

Mem’s playful look turned serious. “We’re far from the border, but Celians have traveled to Mercy before,” she assured him. “In fact, our local blacksmith is Celian.”

That was curious. It eased some of the tension in his gut. He sighed in relief. “Well, I guess that’s alright, then.”

“Oh, but… leave the armor.” Her face darkened again. “It’s one thing to be Celian, but, ah… a Celian Knight, I’m not sure if they’ll react so positively to that. …Don’t get me wrong! They’re great people, it’s just…”

“I should make the best first impression I can. Yeah. I get it,” he nodded.

She sighed in relief. “Good. With that settled… let’s just keep it simple, shall we? Say you’re a refugee from Celia and you left because you disagreed with the war, so you’re looking for somewhere peaceful to settle down. And on the way here, you lost your memories. That’s basically the truth, right?”

“But how would I know why I left Celia if I lost my memories? Isn’t that exactly my issue now?”

“Ah, details, details, don’t worry about that stuff!” She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.

Those sound like pretty important details…

“Oh, and… you’ll probably need to change your clothes,” she added, crinkling her nose with a scowl. “You, uh… you reek of sweat.”

He turned red with embarrassment.

“I, well…”

“It gets hot at night, trust me, I get it. Still, you need to change.” She got up from the table and went to get a washcloth for her bowl. “And when we get into town, we should probably go to the bathhouse first thing.”

…

“Juliunt.”

“No.”

“Vistemoyo.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Okay, you’ve got to like Dargle.”

“Uh, no, I don’t.”

“COME ON!”

The two of them were walking down the dirt road that banked the wide river running through Mercy. The town was still a speck in the distance. Did it really count as “living in town” if you were this far away?

Mem had changed into a short white dress and dark boots, and she’d tied up her hair into a ponytail. A leather bag hung at her waist. Compared to his drab clothing she looked quite nice, in his opinion.

If only her good taste in clothes carried over to her naming sense.

As they got closer to town, they passed by another farm.

“Yikes. Who lives there?”

The farmhouse was large, maybe twice or three times the size of Mem’s. There was even a barn on the premises. But both buildings showed clear signs of advanced age and decay, as if they had been left to rot.

But the field was even worse. Weeds and debris had overtaken it, and it looked like there was no hope of harvest in the foreseeable future; maybe ever. What sort of person would live in a place like that?

A dark shadow crossed Mem’s face.

“…No one lives there,” she muttered, the cheer gone from her voice.

He didn’t press it. As they passed the signpost naming the farm, he noted that it had been scratched out.

They continued the walk in awkward silence for a while. He began to wonder if he’d made a mistake asking her that.

Then Mem said out of nowhere, “what about Aurore?”

He looked curiously at her. “Aurore?”

She turned towards him, her lips pursed in a tight smile.

“In Albion, Saint Aurore was known as the patron saint of those with lost memory,” she explained softly. “I thought… it would be fitting. I know a Celian name would be better, but…”

“No, it… it’s fine,” he said. He tried the name out on his lips. “Aurore…”

He couldn’t say he loved it. But he didn’t hate it either. It felt different. Unusual.

It felt like a name he could grow to call his own.