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The town has a population of a little under three thousand people.
It’s quaint and quiet and pretty, the sort of place that most people think only exists in Hallmark movies.
Keramzin is the perfect town for a newly-married couple wanting to get away from their busy, chaotic life in Os Alta.
“What do you think, milaya?” Aleksander asks his sweet little wife when they arrive at the home he’s purchased.
A spacious, three-storey, redbrick home with lots of bedrooms to fill. An office for him so that he can work from home, an art studio for Alina, a well-stocked library, an enthusiastic cook’s dream kitchen, and space for entertaining guests. Plenty of land, to give them privacy and avoid nosy neighbours.
She stares for a moment, as if lost in thought, and he brushes a hand over her cheek, “Alina, milaya?”
His wife turns and smiles at him, leaning into his touch, “it’s wonderful, Sasha. So much roomier than where we were before.”
Alina gasps and moans beneath him, shaking and shuddering through another orgasm.
He loves to watch her face contort in pleasure. He cannot understand men who care only about their own pleasure, not when it is often more intoxicating to watch Alina orgasm than it is for him to find his own release.
She’s had some bad experiences in the past, his wife. Mal Oretsev was the worst, a childhood friend who was selfish and rude and spoke derisively about her art, and who never deserved someone as wonderful as Alina. Aleksander, though, is dedicated to showing his wife just how pleasurable sexual intimacy can be.
This first time in their new home is very special.
Every moment with his Alina is wonderful, of course, but tonight brings the promise of something he’s been longing for – a family.
Alina has been on birth control since they met, and he’s used condoms to be extra careful. He’s known since the moment he first saw Alina that he wanted her to be his wife and mother of his children, but he felt that it was important for them to be stable and settled before they started a family.
Now, they have a home of their own in Keramzin. He can see them raising children here, with plenty of space and a wonderful garden for them to enjoy.
It feels different, without a barrier between them.
She’s always exquisite, of course, but it’s so very intimate now, so much more.
“I’ll give you a baby, milaya,” he groans, kissing her hungrily.
“A baby,” she sighs, eyes glazed over with pleasure.
“That’s right. Our child, milaya. You’re going to make such a wonderful mother.”
“Alya and I have just celebrated our first wedding anniversary,” Aleksander smiles charmingly at the welcoming committee who have arrived at their home with casseroles and cakes.
“Oh, how lovely,” the ladies coo.
“It was a wonderful day,” he wraps an arm around his wife, “my darling Alya was so emotional that she was in tears.”
“I cried buckets when I was married,” one woman says to Alina, patting her knee, “I was so happy it was almost overwhelming.”
“Yes,” Alina nods.
She’s been quiet since their visitors arrived, but his wife can be shy around strangers sometimes. She needs the chance to get to know someone before she truly opens up.
“She’s an artist,” he tells their visitors, always proud of his Alina’s achievements, “in fact, she painted this just two months ago.”
He points to the piece framed above their mantlepiece, depicting the Sikurzoi mountain range.
The ladies all heap well-deserved praise on his wife and she smiles somewhat wistfully as she stares at the painting.
He takes her hand and squeezes it gently, knowing she’s probably wishing for some peace and quiet – their neighbours, he thinks, are a little too friendly, and he’s sure that they’d stay for hours more if he lets them.
Luckily, he has long ago mastered the art of politely forcing people out of his house, and they leave with promises of more casseroles and gardening tips (he told them that they’re planning a full re-design of the garden) and invitations to all the upcoming craft fairs and town meetings and farmer’s markets.
“Well, they’re certainly friendly,” he says to Alina, “I never quite believed small towns could be like they are in the movies, but this one truly seems to be a quintessential small town. Shall we have one of the casseroles for dinner? And then maybe we can practice your Fjerdan.”
“I thought, maybe, we could try Shu instead. I just can’t seem to get my head around Fjerdan.”
“Oh, milaya, you know we decided that you shouldn’t do too much Shu for a few more years. It just brings up bad memories and then you have nightmares.”
“I’m sure I’d be fine, Sasha, really.”
“I don’t think so,” he says firmly, not wishing for her to have a relapse – it’s always awful when she has to go onto medication as it leaves her terribly drowsy and barely able to hold a short conversation.
“Maybe we could read Pride and Prejudice together?” she suggests, “you’ve got such a lovely voice, Sasha, and I adore listening to you read.”
He smiles widely, glad he can do this for her – he hates when she asks for something he’s unable to give her, because it always makes him feel like an absolute wretch.
“Casserole and Pride and Prejudice, then,” he says jovially, “it sounds like the perfect evening, milaya.”
“My favourite,” Alina brushes her fingers across the sunflower petals, a faintly surprised expression on her face, “you remembered.”
“Of course I did, milaya,” he leans down to kiss her softly, “I remember everything about you.”
He knows Oretsev always got her blue irises, convinced that they were her favourite, but Aleksander pays the woman he loves the attention that she deserves. He knows sunflowers are her favourite flowers, and she’ll eat her weight in nán guā bǐng during the autumn, and she knows the lyrics to almost every Taylor Swift song, and she is better at speaking Old Ravkan than reading it but she soldiers on through the Old Ravkan book of fairytales he bought her because she says they feel more magical read in their original language, and how beautiful she looks when she’s sated and exhausted from half a dozen orgasms, and she prefers dogs to cats (he’s thinking that they might go and find a pet at a shelter in the next few months), and she can’t paint without some music on low in the background, and she cries when she bakes moon cakes, and she loves van Gogh paintings, and there’s a sensitive spot on her neck that makes her whimper and moan when he nips at it, and she misses her parents desperately.
“No one else ever remembered this much,” she says, almost confused.
“Well, that’s to be expected, milaya. We’re clearly meant to be.”
“I just don’t understand …”
“Don’t understand what, milaya?” he ask, brushing her hair aside to press a kiss to the spot on her neck that is so deliciously sensitive.
“I … oh ... well, I … Sasha.”
“Come to bed, milaya,” he murmurs, already beginning to slide the straps of her sundress down even though they’re still downstairs.
“It’s the middle of the day, Sasha!”
“When has that ever stopped us before?” he laughs, tugging her towards the stairs, “I’ve got no calls for the rest of the day, so I can keep you stuffed full all afternoon. We’re trying, remember, milaya, and we can’t expect results without proper effort.”
For a moment, she looks like she might protest – funny, really, how she’s far more bothered about propriety than him, given she’s almost twenty years younger – but she melts into his kiss and then takes his hand so he can lead her up to their bedroom.
There are lots of perks to being the boss and working almost entirely from home. The ability for such romantic interludes with his wife is certainly one of the best ones.
One unfortunate thing about small towns is that there are always a few particularly annoying residents.
Here in Keramzin, the most obvious candidate is Ana Kuya, an old woman who likes to know everything about everyone and interrogates them relentlessly whenever they happen to run into her.
Poor Alina is always so uncomfortable, and so Aleksander usually tries to deflect Ana’s attention by asking questions about her own family, a favourite topic of the old woman, who has a dozen grandchildren and clearly thinks they’re all destined for greatness.
“You look familiar,” Ana Kuya frowns at Alina one afternoon, “you haven’t been in Ahmrat Jen General, have you?”
Aleksander nearly rolls his eyes. Trust this woman to latch onto the one Shu soap opera that is shown on television in Ravka and assume that his half-Shu wife has been in it.
Alina shakes her head, eyes wide.
“My wife is an artist,” he reminds Ana Kuya.
“Hmm,” the old woman tilts her head, still frowning, “I could have sworn I’d seen your face on the television before. Then again, I’m sure I don’t recognise that hair of yours – young people these days make such strange fashion choices.”
Aleksander eyes narrow at the insult. He happens to think Alina’s white hair suits her, but it is quite unusual and generally seems to be the main thing that people remember about her.
Alina tugs a strand of hair self-consciously, and Aleksander bites back the urge to respond sharply to Ana Kuya’s insult. Instead, he takes a breath and wishes Ana Kuya a good afternoon.
“Interfering old bat,” he grumbles as they walk back to their home.
“You aren’t too angry with her, are you?” his wife asks worriedly, “I’m sure she didn’t mean it badly.”
“Don’t worry, milaya, I promise I won’t be rude. She won’t be getting an invite to our home any time soon, though – she’s angling for it, I know, but I won’t tolerate a gossipy old woman nosing around our house. And I think you should keep away from her, milaya – she’s liable to upset you.”
“Of course, Sasha,” his wife nods, “I promise I won’t speak to her. There have been a few other ladies who have invited me to tea, though …”
“My sweet little wife,” he presses a kiss to her head, “of course, you shouldn’t ignore our neighbours. Still, I do like to keep you close – selfish, I know, but it’s a husband’s prerogative – so make sure you always tell me when you’re going out and I’ll come and collect you when you’re done.”
“Yes, I … I’d like that, Sasha.”
“Just remember, don’t worry if you don’t manage to properly befriend any of our neighbours. It’s only polite that we’re amiable, but you and I are quite settled and happy on our own, so we don’t really need anyone else, do we?”
“No, Sasha,” his wife agrees, “it’s just you and me.”
He tries not to disturb Alina when she’s painting.
She gets caught up in her work and startles easily if he comes in while she’s mid-flow.
While he hates being away from her, even if she’s only down the hall, he knows she deserves this space to herself. And she’s such a talented artist, her landscapes displayed all over their new home.
Alina had gone to art school for a while, but they’d decided that it wasn’t really for her. She loves her art, but the school stifled her creativity and she’s got so much more inspiration here in Keramzin, where the views are beautiful and she can work as and when she wishes, rather than having to stick to a schedule.
It really is better for them here in Keramzin. There’s a lot to love about cities, but the charms of small towns are not to be ignored.
Aleksander spent nearly two decades in the rat race, focused almost entirely on his work. It was only when he met Alina that he realised how empty his life was.
And his sweet Alina was suffering when he first saw her, thin and sickly, working too hard and not eating enough, in desperate need of a more relaxing life.
It’s a blessing, that the two of them both have work that can be done nearly entirely remotely. And Aleksander has a loyal, reliable team who help him from back in Os Alta.
Small town life isn’t for everyone, but he truly believes it’s perfect for the two of them, especially as they’re hoping to expand their family.
“Sorry it took me so long to come and say hi,” the sheriff tells him with a wide, open smile, “my deputy’s been off sick and it’s been chaos.”
“No problem at all,” Aleksander opens the door to let the man in, “I understand how important your job is. And, really, it’s just such a pleasure to come and live somewhere you can get to know your neighbours, and be honoured with a visit from the sheriff himself.”
The man puffs up, pleased at the compliment. He wears his shiny badge with obvious pride, and perhaps it might be annoying, but he’s too affable to be truly annoying.
“Don’t get much real crime around here,” he shrugs, “Keramzin has good people, mostly minor disputes.”
“And I suppose you don’t have much to do with the bigger city police forces?”
The sheriff grimaces, “oh, I avoid them if I can. They’re always looking for trouble, never seem to understand that a town like this could simply have decent, hard-working folk. Too many crime dramas on the television these days, making everyone think there’s a serial killer in every small town.”
“Well, we’re glad to have you looking out for us in any case. My wife Alya is prone to migraines, so I’m afraid she’s lying down at the moment, but she baked some honey cake yesterday and she’d be so pleased if you took some with you.”
The sheriff beams, “I’m never one to say no to home baking, Mr Morozov. Give your wife my thanks.”
“It’s no problem at all, sheriff. And we’ll be sure to call you if we encounter any problems.”
“That’s what I’m here for. I’m sure you’ll do very well, though. As I said, this is a quiet, steady town and we don’t have any real trouble.”
“That sounds wonderful. Exactly what we’re looking for.”
Sergei, the landscaper that he’s hired to come and look at the west section of their garden – they want to add a fountain and a small patio – stares at Alina’s herb garden with a frown.
“Could I take a closer look at that, Mr Morozov?” he asks, “it’s just, I could have sworn I spotted some belladonna.”
“Of course,” he gestures for Sergei to go ahead.
It only takes a few minutes for Sergei to come back shaking his head, “that’s belladonna, for sure,” he says, “and there’s some oleander as well.”
Aleksander’s heart skips a beat at the thought of his Alina being around such plants, especially when they’re trying for a baby.
“I’ve no idea how this happened,” he shakes his head, “we picked up some seeds and plants at the market, and there must have been a mix-up. Thank you so much for noticing – will you be able to safely remove them?”
Sergei nods, “of course. You’ll need to make a report to the mayor’s office too, just so they can check there haven’t been any more mix-ups.”
“Of course,” Aleksander says, “I’ll have my personal assistant Ivan deal with that right away.”
----------
Alina is shaking when he tells her the news, obviously distraught at the danger that has been growing in their very own backyard.
He holds her close, stroking her hair and kissing her softly, reassuring her that it’s alright and the plants have been removed.
“We’ll keep a much closer eye on the herb garden now,” he promises her, “Ivan’s arranged for an expert to come and do an inspection every two weeks, just to be on the safe side.”
“How reassuring,” Alina whispers.
“Sasha, saints … oh.”
“No saints here, milaya. Just you and me.
“I … oh … yes … right there, please.”
“No one else has ever made you feel like this, have they, milaya.”
“I … I …”
“No one knows how to make you fall apart like this. How to make you come and come until you’re so sweet and dazed and pliant in my arms.”
“No one else,” she whimpers as she shudders through another orgasm, “no one else has ever made me feel like this, Sasha.”
“That’s right,” he grins as he kisses her hungrily, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he feels his own release coming on, “it’s just you and me and the family we’ll create together.”
“Oh,” his wife stares, wide-eyed at the pendant he’s bought her for her birthday.
“A sun for my solnyshka,” he helps her put it on, “you bring such light into my life, milaya.”
“It’s too much, Sasha. You’ve already given me so much.”
“Well, what use is money if I can’t use it to spoil you, milaya? Now, what would you like to do today.”
“I … I thought we might take a trip to Caryeva, for a change of scenery.”
Aleksander shakes his head, “the races are going on at the moment and Caryeva is a madhouse, and full of disreputable characters. Perhaps in a month or so, when it’s quieter.”
“Of course. Well, maybe we could go for a ride in the forest?”
He smiles. They keep two horses at the stables on the edge of town, and try to go out to them as often as possible. Alina loves to ride, throwing her arms wide as she gallops at top speed. She’s a wonder on horseback, although he does have to keep a close eye on her as she’s liable to ride too far without realising it and some of the woodland around Keramzin can be treacherous.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, milaya.”
I found a love, for me
Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead
Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet
Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me
Aleksander spins Alina around the room before pulling her into his arms and dipping her carefully.
She giggles, humming along to the music, as he tugs her closer and the two of them sway side to side.
“I love you, Alina,” he tells her with a tender kiss.
For a moment, she just stares at him, and then she smiles, “I love you too, Sasha.”
She’s crying when she brings him the positive pregnancy test, four months after their move to Keramzin.
Happy tears, he knows. His wife has a kind, soft heart and she weeps at so many things – Disney movies, documentaries about animals trapped in cages, news stories about unexpected reunions.
“You’ve made me the happiest man on earth,” he whispers as he caresses her still-flat stomach, “we’re going to be the happiest family together, milaya, I promise.”
“A family,” she sighs wistfully, a faraway look on her face that tells him she’s thinking of her long-lost parents.
“I’ll give you the family you deserve, Alina,” he holds her close, in tears himself over the prospect of their child growing inside her.
He’s truly never been happier than he is in this moment.
The search continues for Ahmrat Jen Art School student Alina Starkova, who disappeared while walking back from the library to her dorm during the summer exam period of her first year at the art school.
Three weeks ago, on the two-year anniversary of Starkova’s disappearance, her parents Anton Starkov and Keyen Kir-Taban made an impassioned and tearful plea for her safe return.
CCTV footage shows Starkova being approached by a suspect – roughly 6’1 and believed to be male – and forced into an unmarked car just three streets away the university library. Police have been unable to trace the car or its owner.
Interviews were conducted with Starkova’s friends, family and fellow students, but no serious suspects have been identified.
Police state that they believe Starkova may have been taken over the border, and they continue to work with Ravkan police forces in the hopes of uncovering her whereabouts.
Excerpt from an article in the Shu Han Chronicle