Under the beneficent sun, in spring adorned with the blossoms of apricots, and in summer thickly dusted with powder, a small town of minor nobility sprawls comfortably. Slavyansk—this is how it is marked on maps, though some call it something else entirely. The name is known to few, even though it appears in plenty of curious documents. The townspeople are gloomy and злі. Their faces are gray and expressionless—after all, they don’t know what an interesting place they live in.