When is it Enough

Chapter 2 - More Vivid Demons

Ravka was in a constant state of upheaval in the aftermath of the Darkling's rebellion. Internally, factions formed. The Cult of the Sun Saint was the loudest of these, but groups that still supported the Darkling's ideas and opposed King Nicholai's rule began small riots in Os Alta, Kribirsk, and Os Kervo. Os Kervo itself was in almost outright rebellion, straining against the king's renewed control over its ports. All of Ravka was starving. Two early frosts in a row had depleted what little grain reserves they'd managed to build up. The land tended to be rocky and fickle at best, and many farms struggled to sustain a full harvest in any given year. Infrastructure to distribute food coming in from the ports throughout the country was non-existent. War is never kind to the land it is waged on. It devours resources, destroys the land, and steals good hands that once tilled the earth.

Outside pressure had mounted, too. Trade negotiations had broken down with the Kerch, and both the Fjerdans and the Shu pressed their advantages while the young king tried to rebuild his country. The Fjerdans sought land. The Shu sought Grisha.

Thus, Ravkans migrated throughout the country. Those who made it out of Novokribirsk, who fled the riots in Os Alta, who ran from Fjerdans at the northern border, whose lives had been casually flattened under the weight of war and desperation; these unsuspecting citizens yearned for stability. Rumors spread fast among these internally displaced marauders of places that were safe and had resources- places in which they might settle and start again. Keramzin was one such place. Other than the destruction of the duke's estate, Keramzin had largely been untouched by any outside force for a long time. The central town was safe, far from any borders, and the town was relatively secure in their food supply. Safety and food are things refugees are not accustomed to, so they turned their hungry eyes to the little town.

Alina's orphanage sat atop a hill that overlooked the ruins of the old duke's estate. After seven years, it was now thoroughly rotted and overgrown, as if the vines and dirt were reclaiming the structure for their own. A well-worn path led south from the orphanage, down the hill, around the ruins, skirting the edges of the thick woods which flanked the ruins, and into the main town. The staff who daily commuted along path claimed the ruins were haunted. They could hear footsteps, they said, wandering the old grounds at night. Figures were occasionally spotted, only to disappear like smoke, they claimed. One groundskeeper quit after he swore he had heard the voices of the executed teachers whispering to him.

It was on this stretch of land that Alina first saw them.

The refugees came from everywhere. Some were old. Some were young. Most had nothing but the clothes on their backs. The lucky ones had bundles of cloth or a few coins or kruge they could use in the market. They were all hungry, cold, and desperate. The land they started building their tents and lean-tos on technically belonged to Alina and Mal, but they both agreed that it was best to let the refugees stay. After all, they ran an orphanage, and what were refugees if not orphans of another kind?

Two tents swelled to two dozen swelled to two hundred in no time. Other groups began to join the camp. Brightly colored Suli caravans occasionally stopped to perform for what coin could be had. Bands of immigrants crossing the Sikurzoi to escape Shu Han camped alongside similarly displaced Ravkans.

And then there were the pilgrims. Faithful came to worship at the birthplace of the Sun Summoner Sankta Alina. They built altars and burned incense. The Cult of the Sun Saint, now headed by the Apparat, rapidly encroached on Keramzin. The Soldat Sol could be seen, their faces emblazoned with their sunburst tattoos, enforcing brutal rule of law in the camps.

Meanwhile, members of the faithful erected their grand Cathedral to Sankta Alina on the land between the old estate and the town limits. It was close enough to the orphanage that Alina was frequently woken by the early morning chants of "Sankta, Sankta, Sankta". The structure flew dozens of banners stitched with golden sunbursts from its windows and balconies. The interior could seat the population of Keramzin four times over. The iconostas featured a highly dramatized tableau of the martyrdom of its namesake. Real gold glittered from the upwardly stretched palm of Sankta Alina as she used her dying breath to close the fold, and real silver glinted off the sword she thrust through the heart of the Darkling. The massive structure had taken nearly five years to complete and was made entirely out of white polished stone eerily familiar to that which composed the White Cathedral.