A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

The two administrators stood stiffly behind their table, their faces pale under the lamplight. Their eyes flicked between one another, then back to the silver-haired woman seated calmly in her wheelchair.

Neither seemed eager to be the first to respond.

At last, the older of the two cleared his throat. His hand smoothed the edge of the paper before him, though his fingers twitched faintly against the surface. "Your Eloquence… with respect, the situation is clear. The creature in question—" his eyes darted toward me, then away at once, "I mean to say, Sunmire's heir in question, is not eligible for the Decennial. According to the records, it is stated that he is a tamed beast under Elven Beasttamer Sali; he is not a direct registered entrant. According to the Guild's regulations, he and the beasttamer must be disqualified immediately."

The second administrator straightened as though to lend weight to the statement. "Yes. This is no slight against Sunmire, nor against you personally. But the rules of the Decennial cannot bend. If we allowed exceptions here, then fairness collapses. Every entrant would claim the same treatment, and the preliminaries and examinations would become meaningless."

His eyes flicked briefly to the appraiser still standing quietly at their side, then back again. He folded his hands tightly on the table. "Our decision must be consistent. He is ineligible. There is no other interpretation."

Their words carried authority, yet I could hear that the edges of their voices shook.

Across the room, Rava shifted faintly. She tilted her head to one side, the curtain of her silver hair spilling lightly over her shoulder. The faint smile never left her lips, but something colder threaded into the air.

"Disqualified?" she repeated softly, her voice carrying more curiosity than anger.

Her blindfolded eyes turned toward them, though it was impossible to tell if she truly looked at them or past them. "Disqualified, you say."

Her pale fingers folded together neatly in her lap. She let the silence stretch long enough that the administrators began to shift uneasily, and then she spoke again.

"Tell me," she said lightly, "are you prepared to incur Sunmire's dissatisfaction… over such a trivial thing?"

The words were simple, but the weight behind them pressed down hard.

The administrators froze. Their composure faltered.

The younger one's jaw tightened. His eyes snapped toward his colleague, searching his face as though the answer might be there. The older man met his look, but neither spoke.

For several seconds, the chamber was filled only with the faint hiss of the lanterns and the muffled noise of footsteps outside.

Finally, the older administrator spoke again, his voice slower. "We… we do not seek to offend Sunmire. You know well that no guild official would dare such folly. Your nation's friendship is not trivial. It is valued highly."

His hand clenched faintly on the paper, knuckles white.

"But the Guild is bound by its foundation," he continued. "Every member state agreed to the rules. If we break them here, before the eyes of all, then we undo everything. The Decennial is meant to be above influence."

The second administrator nodded quickly. "The Decennial is watched across the continent. If bias is seen, if it is believed that one heir of Sunmire was allowed to twist the rules, then every entrant from every nation will cry foul. The Guild cannot allow such disorder."

His tone firmer now, almost defensive. "I believe that even Sunmire would not wish to see the Decennial ruined."

The silence returned.

Sali's arms around me had grown tighter, trembling slightly. Her eyes darted toward the administrators, then back to the woman in the wheelchair.

Rava remained still. Her head tilted slightly the other way now, but the faint smile never left her pale lips.

The administrators pressed on, sensing the need to fill the quiet.

"Your Eloquence," the older said, voice taut with effort, "we respect Sunmire. But our duty is to the tournament. Without rules, the event becomes a spectacle. With rules, it is an examination worthy of trust. That trust cannot be broken."

The younger one added, "This is not a rejection of Sunmire's heir. It is the enforcement of law. Surely Sunmire, too, must value order above favoritism."

I shifted in Sali's arms, tail twitching once. Their words had gone in circles long enough.

"If that's the case—" I started to talk, my voice breaking into the silence.

But Rava's voice slipped over mine, smooth and quiet.

"I understand," she said.

The administrators froze. Even the appraiser stiffened.

Rava straightened slightly in her chair.

"Mira."

"Yes, Lady Rava."

The attendant produced a small notebook from the folds of her cloak, the worn leather cover opening with a creak. A thin pencil was already tucked inside; she slid it out and held it ready.

"Write this down," Rava said. Her voice was light, almost casual, but there was no mistaking the weight carried beneath each word. "Effective immediately, Sunmire will rescind its promised support for the Central Continent's upcoming deep-delve expedition. The matter is far too dangerous, and without trust, there is no reason for our involvement."

The scratching of Mira's pencil filled the silence.

The administrators' mouths opened faintly, but no words came.

Rava continued, unhurried. "Second. All investment and funding directed toward the Central Continent's medicinal research projects are to be canceled. After this meeting, inform our officials at once. The resources will be redirected elsewhere, where they will not be wasted."

Mira nodded once and wrote, her hand steady.

"Third." Rava tilted her head slightly, her silver hair brushing across her shoulder. "Inform our embassy staff that our stay here ends today. Make arrangements to depart before nightfall. There is no further reason for us to remain."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The words landed like heavy stones, one after the other.

Mira finished the last sentence and closed the notebook with a neat snap. She tucked it back into her cloak as if nothing unusual had just been ordered, then placed both gloved hands firmly on the wheelchair's handles.

The administrators were pale, their hands twitching against the edges of their table. Sweat beaded their temples despite the cool air.

At last, the younger one found his voice. "Your… Your Eloquence," he stammered, "forgive my bluntness, but do you truly have the authority to issue such orders on Sunmire's behalf?"

His colleague's voice followed, lower but firmer. "The withdrawal of funds, of military support, such things are no minor matter. We do not question your station, but… do you hold the mandate to speak for Sunmire itself?"

Rava tilted her head slightly. Her silver hair shifted over her shoulder, catching the lantern light. Her faint smile remained.

"Yes," she said simply. "I was granted authority."

Her voice carried no strain, no need for explanation.

The two men faltered. Their mouths opened, then closed again, words stuck in their throats.

"Come, Mira," Rava said lightly. "We have nothing more to do here."

"Yes, Lady Rava."

The wheelchair creaked as Mira turned it toward the door. The faint rattle of its wheels echoed across the chamber as she began to push.

The administrators panicked.

"Wait, please!" the older one burst out, his hand slamming against the table. "Surely there is some mistake in the records. A clerical issue, nothing more!"

"Yes!" the younger added quickly, desperation breaking through his tone. "That must be it. The paperwork was misfiled, overlooked in the rush of the preliminaries. It happens often, everyone knows this! The entrant's status can be corrected at once."

They leaned toward her, voices rushing.

"There is no need for Sunmire to withdraw over something so trivial," the elder insisted. "We will amend the records today. The error will be erased."

"Yes," the younger repeated, nodding rapidly. "A correction, no more than that. The Guild bears responsibility for the oversight, not Sumire's heir. Surely Sunmire would not end relations over such a small matter."

I sat silent in Sali's arms, watching. A few moments earlier they had stood firm, speaking of fairness, of the sanctity of rules. Now, before Rinvara's quiet smile, they scrambled for excuses.

My mouth opened, but I shut it again. This wasn't the time. Whatever her reasons, I would hear them after this.

We left the chamber in silence.

Sali still held me close, though her arms trembled faintly. Her steps were stiff as she followed beside Mira, who pushed Rinvara's wheelchair down the quiet corridor. The faint creak of the wheels was steady, the sound carrying even through the thick stone walls.

The administrators had not followed. They had been too busy whispering to each other, fumbling through parchments and trying to invent new words for "error" as though it would wash away what had just happened.

The door shut behind us, cutting off their voices.

I squirmed lightly in Sali's arms. She blinked down at me, uncertain, but loosened her grip. With a small hop, I leapt free, landing neatly on Rinvara's lap.

Her hands rose slightly, welcoming the weight as though she had expected it. The faint smile on her lips deepened. "There you are," she murmured.

I settled against her knees, my eyes narrowing. "Why?"

Her head tilted. "Why what, little brother?"

"Why drag me into this?" I asked. My voice was low, but it carried. "Why twist them into panic and make me participate in the tournament? What are you after?"

Sali's eyes widened faintly at my words, but she said nothing. Her arms folded against her chest, silent, as if bracing herself.

Rinvara chuckled softly, her shoulders shaking once. Her hand brushed over my fur with a careful stroke. "I will answer, but first, I need to ask you something."

She turned her blindfolded eyes toward Sali. "The elf girl. Since she's been with you all this time, is she trustworthy enough to hear what I say?"

Sali stiffened, her lips parting as though she wanted to object. I think she didn't want to know more about politics.

I glanced at her, then back at Rinvara. "She is my mentee. If I can hear it, so can she."

Rinvara hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head back. "Very well. That makes it easier."

She was silent for a moment, her pale fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of her chair.

"Publicly, Sunmire has not changed and the people live as they always have. To the eyes of the world, we are as stable as we were ten years ago."

She paused. "But behind closed doors, things are different. Very different."

My ears pricked.

Rinvara's smile thinned. "The Council has approved projects that were forbidden before. Factories rise in secrecy behind our cities, created to manufacture oil and exploding powder."

Sali drew a sharp breath, clutching her bow case closer.

Rinvara leaned back slightly, her voice smooth. "Sunmire is getting ready to produce them emmasse. They are ready to arm themselves with tools that could reduce entire districts to ash."

My stomach turned. "That's forbidden."

"Yes," Rinvara agreed, her smile sharpening. "But what is forbidden when ambition blinds men? They tell themselves it is preparation, that it is necessity, that the light demands it. And so the plants are being built day and night."

Her hand brushed lightly across my ear. "And at the center of it all is Bishop Quarroth. He holds the reins while the seat remains vacant. He has silenced opposition, smothered doubts, and insists that Sunmire will rise stronger than ever."

Her blindfolded eyes turned upward, as if gazing beyond the ceiling. "He hides all of it, waiting for the day the projects are complete. And when that happens, they believe nothing, not even that 'society', will be able to stop them."

The corridor grew colder with her words.

I let out a low grunt, my claws tapping once against the armrest. The picture she painted was too clear, too dangerous. Sunmire was playing with fire, and the whole continent would burn if it is found.

My claws tapped against the wooden armrest of her chair. "And what," I asked, my voice squeaking, "does any of that have to do with me?"

Rinvara's smile widened, faint but unmistakable. "Everything," she said. "Can you not see it, little brother? With the world shifting as it is, there has never been a better time for you to step forward. To claim the name that is already yours."

Her hand moved slowly, stroking along my back as though I were still a mere beast and not the one questioning her. "This tournament is the perfect stage. It is a stage watched by every guild, every house, every wandering adventurer desperate for a story. If you shine here, none will be able to deny your place."

I narrowed my eyes, silent.

She continued anyway, as if my silence were agreement. "Once you've carved your name into the continent, once you've made accomplishments that no one can refute. You would come back as a figure the world already recognizes."

Her head tilted slightly, and her blindfold caught the glow of the lantern light. "You could be the pillar we need. The one who brings light back to Sunmire. The others squabble for power and chase secrets in the dark, but you, you will be different."

Sali walked beside us in silence, her steps faltering at Rinvara's words. Her grip on her bow case tightened, and her eyes flicked toward me but quickly turned away again.

Rinvara went on, "Half of the southern borders are under my control, but they will not remain so forever. What we need is strength, living strength, one who the people can rally behind."

She leaned slightly forward, her smile sharpening. "I have arranged it so the south will welcome you when the time comes. The Decennial is your opportunity, the light's chosen stage for you to make your claim."

Her hand brushed across my ear again, light and almost tender. "Think of it, Pophet. You, not as the outcast all those years ago, no longer some shadow trailing after an elf girl, but as the one who will stand tall before the continent. The one who will carry Sunmire's hopes. Our pillar of light."

Her words pressed one after another, never stopping.

Her hand tightened faintly on the chair's armrest. "This is the time, little brother. Do not waste it. Do not turn away. The light itself has guided us here, to this very place, this very moment—"

I cut her off.

"I have no intentions of returning to Sunmire."

The words left my mouth flat, heavy.

The corridor went silent. Even the creak of the wheels stopped as Mira halted suddenly.

Rinvara's smile froze. And for a long moment, she said nothing.