Chapter 19: Testament of the lovely Sister Marionette: Chapter 8

Stepping off the train, I almost couldn’t believe what I saw. Crude structures, small and built from a strange white stone, made up the entirety of the village. To say they looked cheaply built was an understatement, it was as if no expense had been allowed in their construction whatsoever. The streets were nothing more than dirt roads, indistinguishable from the desert sands. It was not a densely packed place, though it wasn’t small either. Seeing the multiple doors it had seemed, as far as I could tell, that the houses were built for more than a single family each. I had also noted that they didn’t have glass windows, just small rectangular holes in the walls, to let in natural light and allow for air flow. 

The normally distinct smell of diesel fuel was almost completely absent here, though there was a different kind of scent in the air. People gathered around crude wooden stalls, where they cooked organ meats over open grills. It seemed like they were some sort of food vendors. I couldn’t tell if my stomach now ached from hunger, or disgust. Organ meat was far from desirable back in the Abbey, in fact it was forbidden. Though looking back, I can’t deny, it smelt appetizing to me then. 

“Are we...are we in the wastes?”

“Might as well be,” Achak grunted, “never been to the first circle before, have ya sister?”

I shook my head, “there’s no business for a nun this far out.”

“Of course not, no tithes, no convents, no protection from the malice,” the bounty hunter punctuated his statement by spitting at the ground.  It was mid afternoon, though it was hard to tell with the sun being hidden behind the vortex of Malice that surrounded the far edges of Haven. 

“Unsettling sight, isn’t it,” Ban said as we both stared off into the distance, “ever been this close to the edge before?” It was as the sky had been made of colored glass, the kind you would see at the abbey, and few golden rays of sunlight stretched through the cracks of that glass. It was not just unsettling, it was unreal, the very sight cast down a heavy weight on my heart. 

“The third circle has been the farthest out I’ve been till now.” 

“You are fortunate then,” Seta said, following behind us.

“How does it feel, this was your home right?” Ban asked her. 

“No, I am from Sydonia, it is further west,” she answered him. I remember hearing the rumors that she was from the first circle. It was hard to believe that someone who came from the edge could become the Grand Inquisitor. You could perhaps even say it was unheard of. I had come from the third circle, I thought I was the only one, the only person saved from a life of destitution by the church. As hard as my experiences were, seeing this village, if it could even be called that, reminded me that many more were still worse off.

“Just one rats nest to another,” the minister sneered, “they’re all the same.” He wore an expression of pure disgust, the kind you would make when you stepped in a mound of animal feces.

“The landscape may be hellish, but the people are still important,” Ban argued, “perhaps the church would learn to show these people the same favor that we enjoy in the inner circles.”

Bosk merely replied with a throaty “Bah,” before changing the topic, “We’re in Betlle now, you will be going to Kanon to pick up the package.”

“We are traveling on foot?” While I didn’t know the distance, any time spent out in the wastes would be unfavorable.

“You will go with a small caravan, there’s no train service in Kanon, it’s the only way,” the minister answered. Even with nearly eighty percent of Haven having working train lines, it seemed that the first circle was that missing twenty percent. Perhaps it was because the first circle was the largest of the circles, or perhaps this was because it was the poorest.

“Please tell me they’re at least Diesel carts?” Ban begged, though his hopes were dashed as Bosk pointed to an old fashioned wagon, pulled by a couple burrows. “Dear Goddess, have mercy,” he lamented. 

“Does the church not have the funds to send us in a more optimal mode of transport?”  the researcher, Judeka, asked.

“It is not a lack of funds, but the use of discretion on the church’s behalf,” Bosk said, “you will stick out less traveling like the rabble, than you would otherwise. We must not draw the eyes of bandits nor pirates, or any other sort of ruffian on this mission.”

”Let ‘em come,” Achak grunted, “I need to stretch my muscles,” he gave a big flex. 

“Better to not welcome unsavory company, friend,” Ban said. Looking back, I never understood Ban’s own presence there. Achack, the Inquisitors, and myself all had combat ability, the knights of Ada however, were pacifists. Their weapons were ceremonious, and even had they not been, there was little Ban would be able to do with his saber. A part of me took this all as cowardice, though looking back now, perhaps peace truly was the more courageous policy.

“Indeed,” the minister adjusted his glasses, “I shall remain here until your return. The Outer Guard have our object in their possession, they will relinquish it unto you, and you will safely guide it here.”

“So why wait till we arrive before breaking the bad news?” Ban asked.

“Last minute changes, the outer guard were to meet us here, but their plans have been derailed. Something about a riot.” Bosk cleared his throat, “I was hoping the issue resolved itself, but I was placing too much faith in the lot of them. That being said, they will not be joining us, in their place, a second Inquisitor contingent will be waiting on our express train.” He finished his explanation, and soon after we departed from the village. 

***

The wagon jumped and jostled as it drove over the rocky terrain. Each bump sent the rear wheels higher, making for an unpleasant ride for its passengers. We had divided into four wagons in total, hardly a caravan, the drivers were the only civilians that were present. Restless from the train ride, I bounced my leg repeatedly while tapping my hand on the wooden seat. Seta and her band of inquisitors had ridden together in a separate wagon, our separation doing nothing for the continual darkness that weighed heavy on my shoulders. Strangely, the researcher Judeka had requested Ban to join him in another wagon, this sadly left me with the belligerent bounty hunter instead. He looked at me with a broken toothed grimace that gave my stomach a churn. Focusing on breathing, I tried to clear my mind and reflect on the Goddess, but only the image of Sister Agast’s headless body filled my mind. I had lost sisters before, it wasn’t unusual, the work of the Warbride Nuns was dangerous. Though, this was the first I had seen executed. I heard of it, for sure, as the church would never keep it a secret. They would announce it, not so we may mourn, but so we might feel the shame of bearing our burden. Though we had been absolved, any honor we were shown was simply false platitudes. A show for the rest of the world, for nothing would ever change what we were. We were Witches.

Beads of sweat dripped from my brow, no matter how much I fanned myself with the folding paper fan, provided by our driver. The intensity of the heat, the dryness of the wastes, made me long for that unending train ride. At least the train had some method of cooling.

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“Fuckin hot, aint it?” Achak growled, “can’t believe them church men would send us out here without any proper coolin gear,” he patted his head with a scrap of cloth. He slouched back in his seat, his legs spread wide apart, had it not been for his loincloth I would have gotten an eyeful of more than I would have liked to see. “They better be handin out a bonus for this,” he grumbled.

“Do not expect the church to compensate you any better than what they have agreed upon.” 

“Fuck em,” he barked, “I know my worth, and it sure aint the peanuts they’re paying.” 

“Then why accept the job?”

“Work’s been slow,” he leaned forward, “the inquisition been hurting business for us hunters.”

“Surely you don’t mean you hunted witches?” It certainly happened, from what I had heard. Civilians would form lynch mobs, and execute Witches on their own. Though it was more dangerous for them than it was for the Inquisitors, not having armor made of Malecite meant they were more susceptible to a Witch’s magic.

“Nah, not witches, but lots of lesser thugs like to find themselves a witch boss to latch to. They think they got security when they have a magic blasting bitch to fall back on. They get cocky, and they get sloppy, that’s when they get caught,” he laughed, “bastards gettin too comfy, now they don’t want to leave their den.”

“A good hunter should be able to catch criminals regardless.”

Achak snorted, “Problem with living out here in the wastes, supply and demand, and lately bandit supply just ain’t fillin for the hunters demand.”

“Is that not a good thing?” 

“If you think about it from your cushy comfy lifestyle perspective, yeah it sounds good. Lower crime rate means safer streets. For someone who lives off of catching the thievin scumbags, well we got a different perspective.”

“I had never thought about the symbiotic relationship between bounty and hunter,” I had admitted. Though looking at it, I doubt the problem was a lack of crime, but a surplus of desperate hunters looking for work. That is, however, from my flawed perspective on the matter. The fifth circle has no systems in place like bounty hunters, as it is the home of the bulk of the church’s military power.

”Symbi what now? I don’t know about that, but I do know is, if you take a tiger’s food away, he got nothing to eat,” he laughed again, “just think what that could mean for you if we ever found a way to get rid of them beasts of malice.” His expression changed, it got a bit softer, he held his hand to his face as if he was in deep thought. “You ever heard of a shaman before?” he asked me.

“I can’t say for certain that I know what it is, though I have read the word before in the old church records.”

“Men, and sometimes women too, who used magic in a different way to that of you witches,” he answered, “bet you never knew that was possible.”

I shook my head, as far as I knew, becoming  a witch was the only way.

“A couple of partners would channel the ‘eros’ as you call it, and call on the spirits of the carta, then the spirit would answer and bang! Magic.”

“How is that possible without forming a contract?”

“I’m certainly no expert or nothin, but what my people taught was that the ‘contract’ as you witches call it, is a union between the spirit and the witch. I suppose that union is what makes the eros in you strong. For shamans, we formed the same union, only with each other, and then the spirits would honor our union. That’s what made our eros strong.”

“I see, if what you are saying is true, then why are there no shamans anymore?” I did not think him a liar, though I did question the knowledge he had been given.

“Church wiped us out, well I mean to say the shamans, killed each and every one. Burned the scrolls that taught the methods, and completely did away with anythin that could have passed on the wisdom. Shit, that was in the early days of Haven, when this land belonged to the Kydael.” He sighed. “Though the malice took a lot of the world I suppose, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if they worked with us instead of against us.”

“That is...detestable...”

“Talkin bad about your own masters? Let’s see if you got those same guts when it’s your time. They wiped the shamans out, one day it will be the witches.”

Those words sat heavy on my mind, it was the exact thing I had been afraid of this whole time. I often tried to ignore it before, but it was always there, gnawing at me. My eyes grew wide, my sweat increased, and my heart raced. 

“Let’s hope not all of us outlive our usefulness,” Achak said, leaning into the corner of his seat and closing his eyes.

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