Chapter Text
Ravka had always been a modest kingdom, or at least it was in Genya Safin’s eyes. In the earlier hours of the morning, Genya found herself gazing at the grand palace against the glow of the sun once more, reflecting its rays over the city below her. It was the simple things that brought her joy. Red and amber skies dense with clouds, quaint little houses and plenty of places to shop about. It was more than enough to live a simple life even if simplicity is something Genya had the scarce pleasure of having, most of which came from these sort of mornings. The view she had was not one that everyone could say they have experienced, but the sunrise would always be grand no matter where you were. What made it all the more better was the fact that the rays of sun would bounce off the metal rooftops of the houses, enough to illuminate the city in a flurry of light and color. Perhaps she should persuade a certain Sun Summoner to replicate the scene whenever she pleased.
However, as beautiful as her home was,the ruling of their current Grand Engineer, Alexander III, made the place an industrial nightmare. One other thing she liked about the mornings was the idle state of the factories as well as the machinery that roamed across the streets that they called ‘cars’. Hideous metal carriages that did nothing but pollute the air. Still, Genya could understand why those who had never been to Ravka would call it a wonder, especially the city of Os Alta.
It was tempting to stay at the castle gates to admire the view but the bluing sky was a discreet warning that her personal time was already passing her by quickly. It was time to move on to the next activity. Tugging her kefta over her shoulders, Genya walked through the gates with her head up high to embrace the day ahead with the usual determination. She had to be smart with her time for she always knew what shade of the morning sky she had to be back when her duties called. It was a funny way to tell the time but all the more reason to gaze at the beauty above and simmer the dread of having to trek back to the castle. It was the same routine everyday. With the deep red of the dawn, one would think that there was only so much to do when the city was still waking but with how acquainted she was with the city’s secrets, she knew the places to go first and the people to see.
The cobbled path was a journey she trekked along more than she could count. Whether she was with a companion or on her own, she could navigate the way even with her eyes shut. The stones beneath her boots were well worn with time and with just a few more years, she might have her footprints permanently engraved into the ground. At least someone might find their way with each step. It was a funny idea to entertain but the thought she might help someone with such a silly thing did not make it entirely useless. She could count each step and mark each of her checkpoints but eventually, she concluded that the landmarks might be the more helpful idea.
She could map it all out in her head. 5 checkpoints in total; 20 minutes. The first one closest to the castle was the diverted path that stretched into a dirt road on the right and into the woods nearby. She recalled her last and final visit into the awful gray clearing, and it was only to supervise a group of Materialki from neighboring kingdoms who had come to present new inventions to appease the Grand Engineer. The display had been thrilling, and thankfully, they had a few Tidemakers at ready for the few disasters. It was nothing a few splashes of water could not handle. Even so, knowing the Grand Engineer well enough, nothing had impressed the man. It would be quite the story to tell to anyone who dared to visit the woods. To tell of trees that could grow no more and of the blackened blades of grass that would never see the sun. Tales of the Black Heretic’s whereabouts have even surfaced because of those woods, all of which Genya believed to be pure nonsense.
But that was it for her first checkpoint, and possibly the most interesting one. The ones that came after were not as exciting. The second one was only a lone farmhouse upon a hill where an elderly couple would emerge to wave at her as she passed by. They were only traditional farmers left in Ravka as most agriculture was mass produced for convenience’s sake. It was a joy seeing their business in the market but with an early morning, Genya would have to miss them today.
The third checkpoint was a small section of shops for those who lived further away from the main town. From what Genya could see, she could make out a grocer, a blacksmith, and a parking space for travelers on their vehicles. The other shops were a blur but by the looks of it, they seemed vacant. She rarely saw anyone stop by the lone strip and she had never thought to explore. If she remembered, she might go for a peek.
The fourth one was easy to miss but she figured she would add it to the list as something to spot. It was a statue with only its feet left upon its pedestal, engulfed in vines and moss. Genya had always been eager to find out the model of the ruined figure since the day she found it but with a stolen plaque and no face to recognize, it was a lost case. The sight of it was enough to give Genya a brief smile before moving on.
Finally, the fifth checkpoint was the town’s archway. It was enough to explain that she had already arrived. She could hear the bustle of the markets and the streets mixed with the low thrum of machinery starting up. Only a weekend could stir up a crowd this vibrant. The city was already alive. A few cars whizzed past her with their drivers greeting her with mild smiles and obligatory waves, and those who saw her as they walked were quick to acknowledge her. The usual greetings were not uncommon as many either greeted her for her status or for courtesy’s sake. It was never easy to tell just how genuine a person was but it was simpler assuming that it was the latter so that she could go about her day without conversation. Conversation was saved for tolerating nobles at parties and dealing with palace gossip. Nothing more.
Many Ravkans would do her the favor of ending conversations before they even began, and the most she had ever had past the standard ‘how are you’ was, “how is your hair so red?,” from a little boy who spoke Kerch. For children, she would grant herself the allowance of her quota and that was enough.
In her stride, she took in every detail of the bustling landscape around her. From the posters to a singular crack in the wall, nothing went past her. Being a Tailor, she has always had an eye for detail. What was most notable about her morning stroll were the colorful speckles of light from the clothes of passing citizens as they breezed through the ever growing streaks of sunlight. Gemstones were a popular fashion choice but the shine was too much for jewels. She observed that some had the glow of gemstones while some had both of a gemstone and of polished metal.
During times when she was not blinded, she tried to find the source of such flashy fashion and much to her surprise, she found that all of them came from a quaint little invention. Steel flowers. Now that she has noticed the existence of the flowers, she began to see how the invention has populated the town.Not all wore them on their clothes. Some held them in bouquets wrapped in parchment as one would a regular arrangement. Some paraded it as accessories donned upon their necks, wrists or hats. Few, who Genya recognized as members of the First Army, wielded them by their long stems, their tips sharpened to blades. An obvious choice. She was out of place among the display but all she cared about presently was the bakery where she would get an early morning snack before touring the rest of the city with something to nibble on.
Anyone who visited the bakery in the morning was lucky to be able to snatch up a freshly baked delight. It did not mean that the bakery was no good in the afternoon but anyone would choose a loaf straight out of the oven over one sitting in the display since the morning. Her floral endeavors could wait.
There was another exception for conversation whenever she visited the bakery and it was one she looked forward to every day. She may well consider this a part of her routine for there was not a day when she would miss this. The storefront greeted her with trays of pastries, packaged in paper bags with labels for anyone who had only a bit of time to grab their purchases. It had been an option for Genya but she much preferred picking hers up properly. It was a modestly sized store, no bigger than a cottage kitchen but the person who ran the place gave Genya the whole world.
Giving the door a gentle push, bells chimed overhead and there came a gleeful call from the kitchen. “Good morning, Genya, darling!”
“Good morning, babya. ”
The warmth of the bakery could bring anyone to the home they dreamed about. Well, that was the case for Genya; this was what home felt like to her. Approaching the counter, she watched as a sharp-faced elderly woman came striding out of the kitchen with a tray filled with balls of dough. Genya could only assume that the tray was not supposed to be out of the kitchen yet. It was touching to see that the woman, ‘ babya’ to her, would go out of her way to greet her before anything else.
A cloud of flour fogged the counter as babya set the tray down unceremoniously to embrace Genya, and she happily accepted the messy little hug. Her kefta was always the least of her worries. She always had plenty more clean ones back at the palace, and babya’s main care was to give Genya some love to start her morning with rather than the state of that kefta. Like all cloaks, this was just a fancier one.
“How are you, my darling? Beautiful as always.” Babya removed her gloves hastily to cup Genya’s cheeks in her palms, marveling at the woman, and in her eyes, a little girl.
“I have been well, babya . Same as always. Buried in work and subjected to tolerating the general’s demands now that we have our Sun Summoner,” Genya sighed, but a smile stretched across her lips. “And how about you? I hope the bakery is faring well.”
“Oh, like usual. It’s just baking everyday. Nothing more to it!” Patting Genya’s cheeks, babya returned to her unattended tray. “Speaking of the Sun Summoner, is she adapting well?”
Genya chuckled softly. “You can say that. Faster than I’d expected.”
“I wasn’t expecting such a young girl. Where did they say she was from again?”
“Keramzin.”
“Oh, a ways away from here.” Babya scurried off to the kitchen to shove the almost forgotten tray into the oven before scuttling back to the counter. “Saints above. She’s like a little mouse. Radiant just as you are, but with all that power. It must be quite the responsibility.”
“She’s doing alright, babya . I trust she is fully capable of fulfilling her duties.” Though, not many could say the same about her. Genya swallowed that doubt, and babya was keen on believing her.
“You’re right, you’re right,” the older woman rambled with a relieved smile and a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ve seen a fine young lady hold herself fine in the palace. Our Sun Summoner can do the same.”
Genya failed to hide her evergrowing smile. “I wonder who that might be.”
“You ought to look in the mirror. Perhaps you’ll have an idea,” the older woman quipped.
Retrieving a paper bag, babya retreated into the kitchen once more, leaving Genya with only contentment in her heart. Babya’s warmth had done wonders for her morning already. In all the stress that weighed down on everyone at the palace, Genya felt cleansed of the burdens. As long as she was within the walls of the bakery, not a problem in the world would trouble her. Not while babya was there to scold it all away. As far as she knew, no one dared to challenge the woman, kind as she was. When Genya had been a teen, babya would tell her absurd stories of her youth, of how a single wave of her rolling pin would send even the most terrifying of gangs from Ketterdam running.
Seeing as no trouble ever arrived at her bakery, Genya might believe her tales. Babya was a strange woman, indeed, and awfully secretive. Still, Genya may not know her true name but she figured she had an infatuation for synthetic keepsakes.
Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of green caught her attention and she was met with the sight of a miniature clover sitting among an array of other synthetic flowers. Polished metal among the more vibrant plastic ones. It was no surprise that babya was up to date with the trends of recent days but accessories were not often anyone’s immediate choice. Clothes had the more groundbreaking statement in their fashion and trinkets a form of personality to color a person up. The lesser a person had on them, the duller their personalities were said to be. The flowers on everybody did not indicate a personality enough to explain why they were so popular and now was her chance to find out why they were everywhere.
Babya emerged from the kitchen with a bigger paper bag filled to the brim with sweet breads and an entire loaf of a braided kind of bread. If that stash was meant for Genya, she was struggling to recall if she had ordered a week’s worth of breakfast prior to her visit. No such message had been sent, but babya looked proud of the package she had prepared. She plopped it in front of the gaping grisha, and when Genya made to reach for her purse, the older woman swatted at her arm.
“Now, now. None of that. Consider this batch a gift,” babya insisted as she pushed it towards Genya whose mouth may welcome a fly at any moment now.
“You said that last week and the week before,” Genya protested.
“But not the week before the week before and so on,” was babya’s argument. She continued. “I have a few new types of bread that need a tester and what better person could I ask but you?”
Genya rifled through the bag, inspecting the selection of colorful bread for today’s victim. “There is no winning against you, is there?”
“I’m glad that you’ve finally learnt.”
Genya picked a funny looking bun topped with a crust of blue and pink swirls. A child would be enticed by bread designed in such a way but her curiosity got the better of her as she took a bite. The colors reminded her of the question she meant to ask. The bright green clover still sitting on the counter top was becoming quite menacing. Without an answer, she feared having to leave this bakery to confront the mystery of the flowers plaguing their city.
“Is there an occasion in town that I’m unaware about?” she asked between mouthfuls of bread. It was delicious.
Babya furrowed her brows. “Whatever do you mean? It’s the same as any other day, my dear. Unless what you ask is a trick question.”
“Not at all, babya. ” Genya puts the unfinished half back in the bag, her free hand motioning towards the clover. “I’ve been seeing these steel flowers everywhere. People have been wearing them on their lapels, or on their chests. I have never seen anything like it.”
“Oh!” Babya’s eyes seem to light up as she picks the clover up to present to Genya. “I’m puzzled you don’t have one yourself! You see, a craftworks shop just opened down the street from here. Lovely chap runs the place.”
“I wasn’t aware.” She took the steel specimen to have a feel of it. It felt lighter than ordinary metal, deceivingly like the weight of a flower.
“He makes everything by himself and on request, he can create something for you on the spot. Impressive showmanship for sure, but he’s a shy one.”
“How long has he been running it?” Genya returned the clover into babya’s outstretched hands.
“Just yesterday!”
“Quite the popular store if his work is the new fashion statement.”
Babya let out a thoughtful hum. “You must get one for yourself, darling. But if it isn’t to your taste, you should at least stop by for a quick look.”
“Alright, you’ve convinced me. I trust your judgment, babya.”
“When have I ever been wrong?”
Genya laughed at that but the look on babya’s brow was convincing. “Fair enough. I’ll come back with my reviews.”
“If you won’t get anything for yourself, expect another gift.”
“You really don’t have to.”
“But I insist.” Babya reached out to grasp Genya’s hands inside of hers, giving them a firm squeeze. Even with the counter between them, nothing stopped the old woman from yanking the grisha closer to her, nothing short of an embrace. “My girl deserves nice things in her life. It may not be as grand as what you get at the palace but it’ll be my gift to you.”
“Whatever you give me will always be better than the waste I get there anyway.”
“You flatter an old woman.” Planting a kiss on Genya’s knuckles, babya proceeded to swat her away in stark contrast to the affection she had just given. “Now, don’t let me waste your morning away. You have your breakfast, yes?”
After a quick inspection of her bag, Genya nodded. “Everything is in here.”
“Perfect. I will see you tomorrow morning then.”
“Have a good day, babya .”
Snapping her fingers, babya hurried past the counter, hurrying over to Genya with great urgency. “Now, you cannot leave without a hug.”
“Why, of course”-
Babya had the best hugs. The comfort of a mother’s embrace was a delight that only she would have the privilege of having in the bakery. A big squeeze and a gentle kiss on her cheek. It was enough to make sure that Genya felt the love that she deserved. Returning a chaste kiss to babya’s cheeks, she bade her farewell and went on her way to look for the flower shop. Not another moment to waste after babya quite literally shoved her out of the bakery with directions to the steel florist. If the little old lady was so insistent on a visit, Genya had no choice. She had to admit, her curiosity had already gotten the best of her as she began the journey.