One week, and two trains later, and still I couldn’t get her out of my mind. The woman who appeared before me haunted me, she was a stranger, though she felt familiar. I thought for a moment that perhaps it was the familiar within the carta I took from that witch, though I found it unlikely. The woman I saw was not a spirit, or certainly not a witch’s familiar. She looked like an Ael, a Flare based on her hair and freckled skin. Though also not like one all at the same time. Her eyes shined a brilliant green, and sparkled with the many colors of a garden of flowers. Though brief her appearance was, it haunted me, not with a sense of dread, but allure.

Thinking of her was perhaps the distraction I needed to ease the tension that grew between me and that Inquisitor. Though it would not last long. Upon transferring for the third time, we were met with a tightly packed train. I had no choice but to sit in my assigned seat, as my ticket indicated, a seat which situated me in the middle of Commander Ada, and the bounty hunter Achak, while the Inquisitor sat directly in front of me; her gaze stalking me like a predator once more. Only nine more transfers, over the course of a month remained. This truly was a long journey.

While I was fidgeting to find some comfort, stuck between the mountain of flesh that was Achak, and the oaf that was Commander Ada, I noticed the latter rustling through some papers. Not just I noticed, but the Inquisitor as well, she spoke for the first time in days, inquiring about the papers.

“Oh these?” the Commander Ada answered, “just some reading material that a subordinate provided.” he played it off as if It were only a few pages, some older and less legible than others. Though he kept going back and rereading them, whatever they were they must have been fascinating to him. Either that or he was just incredibly bored.

“May I inquire into the nature of the material?” the Grand Inquisitor asked, never dropping her formal stiff attitude, even for a moment.

“It would seem to be old letters. Nothing important I assure you. Although they do contain some interesting stories,” he brushed her off, doing his best to hide his intrigue. “Speaking of stories, have any of you heard the one about the Inquisitor and the Witch?”

“Let me guess, the Inquisitor kills a Witch, the end?” Achak grunted.

“No, no, good sir, I assure you it’s a much lovelier story than that,” Ban chuckled. “You see an Inquisitor had been granted leave to see his sick daughter, and while traveling the wastes he was beset by bandits.”

“So what? Bandits attack all the time.” Achak interrupted.

“If you would allow me to continue,” he cleared his throat, “they robbed the Inquisitor, taking everything he had, even his armor. Left only his helmet, as a reminder of who they had killed. He was left for dead.”

“Three people passed by,” this time the Inquisitor interrupted, “a farmer, who ran in fear of the bandits. A priest, who believed the Inquisitor to be an imposter, there to set a trap. And lastly a merchant, who was too busy to stop and help.”

“Ah so you do know it, I’m impressed.” The commander wore a big silly grin. “And you know what happened next?”

“Bleeding out, he was near death. When a woman came and dressed his wounds. She tended to him, and brought him to a nearby village. She paid for him to stay at an inn and recover. He awoke to discover later that the woman who saved him was a witch. She gave him food, and money, and went on her way.” she finished the story.

Beaming from ear to ear with his big foolish smile, Ban laughed, “You do know it. I’m glad, I thought that only we Knights still taught the tale.”

“So a witch had mercy on an inquisitor? Hell I sure wouldn’t have,” Achak said, the least bit concerned with the company he kept.

“I have never heard that story,” I admitted, “where did you hear it?”

“The late High Priestess elect taught it to me, said she had heard it from a friend.” Ban gazed lovingly at absolutely nothing, as if he had been reminiscing on better times. “I have more stories if you would like!”

Perhaps it was out of sheer boredom, or perhaps genuine intrigue, “please, go on,” I requested.

“Oh, taken an interest have you? Well how about I tell you the story of the wayward son?” He cleared his throat again, and began to recount a tale of the son of a rich man, who squandered his fathers inheritance, and returned to him destitute believing he would be turned away. Only instead the father welcomed back his child with open arms. He went on to tell another story about a desert-fox who wanted to quench its thirst with some vinebaubles, but when the fox could not reach them, he cursed them and went away. He finished with a story about a man who sought out the wisdom of a Sage. The Sage poured him wine, but when the cup was full, she continued to pour until it ran over. The man shouted, stop I have had my fill of wine and now it spills on the floor, to which the Sage reprimanded him saying, his mind had been full of hate, and like the cup, was too full to receive her wisdom. 

After he had finished recounting the stories, Seta, the Grand Inquisitor, looked at him and asked, “Where have you heard these tales? Not one of these is a teaching from the church.”

“Ah but you see, we knights of Ada preceded the church, only in name were we founded later,” He clicked his tongue, “we know the Goddess’ wisdom can come from any place, not just the mouths of priests and priestesses.”

“Weren’t the Knights founded in the six hundredth year?” I had remembered learning that in the church’s history.

“Ah, in name only, but our teachings predate the calamity by hundreds of years.” It certainly could have been true, though whether there was proof of that or not was up to debate.

“You want to hear a good one, my people have lots of stories like that,” Achak said, surprisingly invested.

“By all means, do tell.” Ban smiled at him, his eyes wide as a child staring hungrily at a full plate of food.

“Alright, this one’s about the Rag-wolf. Rag-wolf was walkin along the road on a hot day, sweatin mightily, he said, ‘hey cloud! Come here, shade me.’ And so a cloud came and shaded him. He was still sweatin, so Rag-wolf said, ‘Hey rain! Come down from the cloud so I might be cool.’ And so it rained. Rag-wolf then said, ‘Let a stream form, so I could cool my sore feet.’ So a little stream came pourin down from the rain. It wasn’t big enough for him, so Rag-wolf said ‘Hey stream! Let there be more water.’ And then there was. Rag-wolf was swept up in the river, came near close to drownin, finally comin up on the shore of the new riverbed, barely breathin. Two birds watchin laughed at him, told him ‘serves you right’ before flying off.”

“Ah ha, a lesson in greed no doubt?” Ban laughed.

“Somethin like that,” Achak grunted again.

“How about you Sister Marionette? Any stories you’d like to share?” I felt as though following Ban’s lead they all looked upon me.

“I’m not really much of a story teller.” I cast my gaze downward, avoiding their eyes.

“Oh come now, anything will do. I am sure that one as lovely and wise as you could have something.”

“I have been with the church since I was young, all I know is what they teach me.” My face burned, turning a deeper shade of purple.

“There is one story you know,” Rafa said to me in silence, “the story of the Garden.”

“It is forbidden,” I whispered to her.

“There was nothing but the void, and a young woman within,” the Inquisitor began to speak. I turned my head to her, those words, was she telling the story? “She was sad, and so very alone. And so she wept, and seven teardrops fell. Suddenly she was surrounded by flourishing beauty, as a garden of many colors grew around her. She was no longer afraid of the void, as it had been filled with beauty. Still she was alone, so she wept. Seven teardrops fell, and seven women, beautiful and strong, came from the tears. They comforted her, and she was no longer alone.”

I stared at her, unblinking. Rafa had taught me that story, a story she said all familiars knew.

“You are a fountain of wisdom dear Inquisitor,” Ban marveled at her.

“Where, where did you hear that story?” I asked her, my voice almost shakey. And more importantly, how did she know that I was thinking about it?

“It is only a small part of a larger story,” she answered, “it is called ‘The Maiden and the Garden’. It is meant to be an origin story for Familiars.” 

“Fascinating, I never knew,” Ban slapped her knee, “you continue to surprise me Inquisitor.”

“Seta.” She corrected him.

“Oh, would it be right though, to call the Grand Inquisitor by her name?” He asked despite formalities never being an issue for him before.

“It is if I say it,” she said.

“Very well, then it is an honor dear Seta,” he bowed his head, as much as he could with the tight space, while tipping his hat, “and of course you all can just call me Ban.”

“Wasn’t much for fancy titles anyway.” Achak laughed. “We’re all just meat to the vultures in the end.”

“Wise, yet grimm, I believe I’m going to grow fond of you my friend.”

“Not sure I’ll say the same,” he snorted.

“Ouch, though honesty is a noble trait, even when it stings.” Ban leaned against the window. “There’s just so much to see and hear out there in this beautiful world.”

“I wouldn’t know.” I said, my voice sullen.