A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

We arrived at Kareth's Gate by late afternoon. The sun hung low and golden over the sprawling mercenary city as our wagon rolled through the checkpoint.

I caught sight of the massive steel gates that marked the border—open wide now, guarded by Sunmire troops who waved us through without delay. Bishop Tharne's influence, no doubt.

Speak of the devil: as soon as we pulled into the loading yard, I spotted a figure in flowing sun-embroidered robes striding toward us.

Bishop Tharne.

I recognized that youthful face and auburn hair from years ago at the Basilica, though he looked a bit more weather-worn now.

A contingent of clergy aides and city officials trailed in his wake.

I hopped down from the wagon, causing the suspension to sigh with relief. Tharne's eyes flicked to me and for a split second, surprise and immense relief mingled on his face.

He quickly schooled his expression into something more measured and came forward. "Sir Pophet," he greeted, inclining his head respectfully.

Then his gaze shifted past me to the wheelchair being unloaded from the wagon. The medic had already wheeled Rinvara down the ramp onto solid ground.

Rinvara turned her head toward us, alerted by the muted clank of Tharne's ceremonial armor and perhaps his scent. She offered a polite smile, hands folded in her lap. Despite the bandages over her eyes and the shawl covering her still-human form, she held herself with quiet grace.

Bishop Tharne removed his cap, pressing it to his chest as he approached her. "Lady Rinvara," he said softly. Regret brimmed in his tone. "By the Light, I am so sorry."

Rinvara inclined her head. "Bishop Tharne," she replied, voice gentle but formal. "It gladdens me to hear your voice."

Tharne knelt briefly in front of her wheelchair, a gesture of contrition more than ceremony. "I apologize to you both," he said, looking from her to me, guilt etched plainly on his face. "When you vanished, I pursued every lead… until an attack in Durnsby forced my detachment away, and orders from the quarters requested for me to direct my attention elsewhere. I had no choice but to halt the search. Not a day passed that I did not feel the weight of that failure."

He bowed his head deeply. "I beg your understanding. And your forgiveness."

Rinvara reached out carefully. Tharne immediately took her hand between his gloved ones.

"You did what you had to do," she said kindly. "Our wars pull us all in many directions. I hold no grudge, Bishop. You found your way back to us in the end."

Tharne visibly exhaled, shoulders easing as though a great burden had been lifted. He squeezed her hand once, then stood and faced me.

"Sir Pophet… I am astonished at what you've accomplished." A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. "When I received word that it was you who struck the blow to rescue her, I could scarcely believe it."

I felt heat creep up my neck. I wasn't used to praise from Bishops. I scratched idly at a dried patch of mud on my foreleg. "I had a lot of help," I muttered. "Without The Mortician and the others, I'd be dog meat. And Rinvara—" My eyes drifted to her. "Rinvara might still be…"

Alive, I finished silently. Or worse. I shook off the thought.

Tharne studied me for a moment, his bright green eyes catching the late sun. There was something earnest and open in his face, so unlike the wary, political expressions I'd grown used to from clergy.

"Modest as ever," he said. "But give yourself credit, Sir Pophet. You've done Sunmire a service beyond measure." His gaze went distant, hardening a bit. "And you slew one of Ferron's prized champions in the process."

At that, I fell silent. The memory of Varnok's last gurgling breath and the blood on my tongue flickered through my mind.

"He had a name," I said quietly. "Varnok."

Bishop Tharne nodded. "Yes. Varnok." He practically spat the name. "He was a beast of a man, even before Ferron alchemists worked their enhancements on him. We had intel he was being groomed to join Ferron's Champions."

Tharne frowned deeply. "The Mortician informed me his toxins were useless on that brute. A unique physiology that neutralized poisons—imagine that. It's why The Mortician failed to… handle him."

So The Mortician had tried something before. It made sense now; Ferron had specifically placed a poison-immune monster to guard Rinvara. A shiver of anger and admiration ran through me.

They had planned well. But not well enough.

Tharne went on, voice grim. "With Varnok gone, Ferron will be keen for blood. You took one of their prize hounds off the board. Don't be surprised if they elevate this in their endless list of grievances."

"Let them," I growled before I could stop myself. "They started this. I intend to finish it."

Tharne regarded me thoughtfully, but didn't comment on my barely disguised hatred.

The Bishop motioned to an aide hovering nearby. "We've prepared quarters at the municipal hall for both of you to rest. Please, come. The journey to the capital is long; you should recuperate here at least for tonight."

He stepped aside, inviting us to move inward from the loading yard. I noticed then a modest carriage waiting just beyond the gate. Not a fancy gilded thing, but a sturdy auto-carriage with enough room for Rinvara's wheelchair and, presumably, an open flatbed for me if needed.

The thought of yet another transport made me groan internally. But Rinvara needed rest, and a carriage was better than trundling through city streets in a drafty wagon. So I didn't protest.

"Thank you, Bishop," Rinvara said, as the medic began pushing her chair forward. "A rest would be most welcome."

I fell in step behind them. But as we started toward the carriage, I couldn't help noticing the way Rinvara's grip tightened on the armrests.

Her face remained serenely composed, but I knew her. She was bone-tired and likely in more discomfort than she let on.

I sidled up close. "If you want to skip any debriefing or pomp, just say the word," I murmured to her.

Before she could respond, Tharne overheard and raised a hand. "There will be time for formalities later. Today, consider this city merely a safe harbor. Rest is the only thing on the agenda."

He offered a regretful smile. "I've given strict orders, not even the local clergy knows of your stay here. This return is off the record."

Thus, we made our way quietly to the provided quarters. The carriage ride lasted only a few minutes; Kareth's Gate's administrator had apparently set aside a whole wing of the main administrative hall for privacy.

A pair of city guards stood watch to ensure no one snooped.

Inside, the accommodations were simple but comfortable: a sitting room, a bedroom with a wide bed, already fitted with additional pillows for Rinvara's comfort, and an adjacent washroom.

They'd even dragged in a large woven rug to cover most of the stone floor, perhaps to make it cozier for me.

How thoughtful.

Bishop Tharne insisted on helping transfer Rinvara from wheelchair to bed himself, which led to a comical scene of him and me essentially trying to carry her together—one hulking pug and one bishop gingerly hoisting a petite blind woman.

Rinvara bore it with amused grace, though she did yelp when we almost set her down too quickly. Eventually, she was propped up against a mound of cushions, and I draped a quilt over her legs.

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Tharne stepped back, slightly out of breath. "Comfortable?"

Rinvara nodded. "Very. Thank you."

An awkward pause followed. Bishop Tharne fiddled with the pommel of the short sword at his belt. It struck me he was nervous, or at least uncertain, around us now. Perhaps unsure what to say after all that had happened.

His eyes kept drifting to the bandages over Rinvara's face and the myriad scars visible on her slender arms.

"Many would not have succeeded," Tharne said. "And none other of your siblings came, I notice." There was no accusation in his tone, just a sad reality. My siblings, scattered across duties and warfronts, had been unable or unwilling to mount a rescue. Or maybe forbidden by the Council—one heir risking life was bad enough, let alone more.

Rinvara reached out into the empty air. Tharne gently took her hand again, bending closer. She smiled softly, aiming it somewhere over his shoulder. "What matters is we are here now."

Tharne bowed his head. "Indeed." He released her hand and straightened. "I'll leave you to rest. In the meantime, I'll handle the necessary communications to the capital. The Grand Vicar will want immediate updates."

"Before you go," Rinvara said suddenly, "may I ask, how fares the war? Our people? I know I've been… out of touch."

Trust her to worry about everyone else first.

Tharne pursed his lips. "Truthfully, not much has changed on the surface. Skirmishes, and some political movements. Sadly, I will not be seeing you off tomorrow. There are some matters I must attend to."

Rinvara simply said, "I see." There was a weight to her words, and I imagined she was too busy wondering how she could help.

With that, he excused himself, quietly shutting the door behind him and leaving a pair of his aides stationed in the sitting room outside as extra guards.

Evening settled gentle and calm. The city sounds outside were a distant murmur, nothing like the front. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could lower my hackles a notch.

I made a bed for myself at the foot of Rinvara's. The room was plenty big for me to sprawl out, but I chose to curl tightly so I could rest my chin on the mattress near her feet. She found my paw with her hand and held it lightly.

We talked in low tones for a while, about trivial things mostly. How the broth could use more salt. Normalcy. I think we both craved it. Eventually, her voice grew drowsy. Before she fully drifted off, I heard her murmur, "Going to sleep now, Pophet?"

"Soon," I replied. "I'll be right here."

She smiled, eyes closed. "Wake me if you need anything."

The absurdity of her offering that to me almost made me laugh. Instead, I just said, "I will."

Within minutes, Rinvara was asleep, her breathing deep and even. I lay awake a while longer, mind churning. Despite Tharne's reassurances, I couldn't shake a sense of unease. For now, I didn't have enough pug brainpower to properly think it through. I shut my eyes and listened to Rinvara's breathing, using it like a lullaby to finally let myself rest.

Morning came without incident. Rays of sunlight peeked through the heavy drapes of our quarters. I woke to find Rinvara already propped up against her pillows, the medic fussing over her bandages in the gentle light.

"Good morning," Rinvara greeted softly, hearing me yawn and smack my jowls.

"Mornin'," I mumbled, voice thick with sleep. I stretched luxuriantly, back popping in a dozen places. That was the best rest I'd had in… I couldn't even remember.

The medic looked between us with a warm smile. "Bishop Tharne sent word that the train is arranged for this afternoon. You've a few hours yet."

I sat up fully, ears perking. "Straight to the capital?"

The medic shook her head. "Not directly. To Valden City first, then an airship hop to the Great Basilica. Passenger rail doesn't go all the way, but it'll be a comfortable ride."

Valden was the largest city on the route back, about a day's travel by rail. From there, an airship could get us to Sunmire's capital within hours. Good; the sooner Rinvara was home, the better.

Rinvara shifted as the medic tied off a fresh bandage on her arm. "Are we meeting the Administrator before we depart?" she asked.

I raised a brow. Administrator? She meant Lord Velin, presumably. Last time I'd seen that old cog of a man, he'd been all business. Efficient, detached. He had facilitated my journey to Fort Kessan but hardly rolled out a warm welcome.

The medic answered, "Yes, Administrator Velin requested a brief audience once you're ready. Likely to wish you well on your journey."

Rinvara nodded. "Then we shouldn't keep him waiting too long."

I eyed her bandaged eyes and still-pallid complexion. "You sure you're up for a meet-and-greet?"

She postured as if to give me a sidelong look. "I can manage a conversation, Pophet. I'm injured, not infirm."

Her tone brooked no argument, but I still frowned. "If you get tired, we cut it short. Deal?"

She smiled. "Deal."

Half an hour later, we were escorted—Rinvara back in the wheelchair—down to the administrative hall's atrium. Morning operations were in full swing; messengers coming and going, secretaries carrying stacks of parchment, guards standing at ease by doors.

But as soon as we emerged, a respectful hush fell over the space. People paused in their tasks to watch in silence as we passed. Perhaps due to me.

At the far end of the hall stood Lord Velin, Administrator of Kareth's Gate. He looked much as I remembered: ramrod straight despite his years, uniform precise, the chain of his silver pocket watch glinting under the skylight. But there was a marked difference now.

"Lady Rinvara," Velin greeted, a bit surprised at her current appearance, but his voice remained steady, "Welcome back." He stepped forward and, to my astonishment, executed a respectful bow.

Rinvara reached out a hand vaguely and Velin gently took it. "Administrator Velin," she said. "I'm sorry to have caused so much trouble."

Velin's lined face actually cracked into a faint smile. "Trouble, my lady? Hardly. This city owes you far more than it could ever repay." He straightened, clearing his throat gruffly. "I've heard of your captivity through the grapevines… It seems that news of your return has not been disseminated yet. If there is anything Kareth's Gate can provide for your comfort or recovery, you need only say the word."

Rinvara shook her head gently. "Your kindness is more than enough. And I apologize that I won't be able to resume my duties here… at least for a while."

Leave it to Rinvara to apologize for being kidnapped and maimed, as if it were an inconvenience to us.

Velin's mustache twitched, and he made a soft huff that might have been a near-laugh. "My lady, the people of Kareth's Gate will rejoice to know you are alive once the council relays news to the proper channels. That is all that matters. You focus on recovering; the front lines will survive without you patching us up for a time." There was a raw affection in his tone, barely masked by his formal words.

I sat a little ways behind Rinvara's chair, quietly marveling. The Administrator—a figure of cold authority if ever there was one—looked ready to kneel at her feet.

And was that moisture in his eyes?

Yep. It was. He discreetly dabbed at one corner with a handkerchief before continuing. "The train is ready when you are. I took the liberty of arranging a private car and, ah, special accommodations for Sir Pophet as well."

He glanced at me with an apologetic twinkle. "We've had to attach a freight flat at the end of the passenger cars. Not the most luxurious seating, but I'm told it's been padded."

"That's fine," I said.

Rinvara reached a hand back toward me, beckoning. I padded forward next to her. She lightly touched my shoulder, orienting herself toward Velin. "Administrator, I believe my brother has yet to receive a proper introduction to your city."

I opened my mouth to protest—I'd seen plenty of Kareth's Gate under far less pleasant circumstances, thanks. But Rinvara went on, a playful note in her voice, "The last time he was here, he 'snuck' in without fanfare, if I recall. Perhaps when this war is over, we can both visit properly. I'd love to show him the markets… and that cafe by the west barracks with the honey pastries."

Ah, someone told her about the Grand Vicar's window.

A flush of pleasure colored Velin's cheeks at her suggestion of a future visit. He bowed again, less formally. "It would be our honor and delight. Both of you will always have a home in Kareth's Gate."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond. Thankfully, Rinvara just squeezed my shoulder, saving me from having to fumble out an awkward thanks.

After that, farewells were brief. The train was scheduled to depart soon, and I could tell Rinvara was already growing a bit weary from the conversation.

Velin's aides personally escorted us to the station platform adjacent to the administration hall.

It wasn't a large station—more of a private loading area for official use. A gleaming black-and-brass locomotive hissed gentle steam, hitched to half a dozen passenger cars. At the very end was a flatbed car with tall walls and an open top, looking rather like a giant metal box with no lid. Several thick canvas cushions had been tossed inside, lining the floor.

'My luxury suite,' I presumed.

A handful of onlookers stood at a distance: station workers, a few off-duty mercs, perhaps a couple of curious citizens.

The medic and the two Sunmire guards wheeled Rinvara right up to the first-class carriage where a ramp had been set. She could be rolled directly in without hassle. I watched intently as they secured her inside, ensuring she was comfortable by a window. The medic settled into the seat beside her, already unpacking a satchel of medicines and pillows for the journey.

One of the guards hopped out and jogged back to me. "She's all set, Sir," he reported. "We'll be with her at all times."

I nodded. "Good. Thank you."

At last, it was time to board. I clambered up into the freight car with one powerful hop, landing amidst the cushions. My car was basically a big open-topped crate, but they'd thoughtfully installed a kind of steel rail along one side—likely so I could peek to see the other passenger cars if I stretched my head to the side.

It wasn't half bad, honestly. They'd even placed a giant water bucket in one corner and—the light be praised—a heap of cured meat strips wrapped in paper. Travel rations for the VIP (Very Important Pug).

As the train whistle blew and we shuddered into motion, I settled myself in for the ride. The canvas cushions were thick and the motion of the train surprisingly soothing. Wind whipped overhead, ruffling my fur but the day was warm enough that it didn't bother me.

I glanced up to see Velin on the platform, who I was surprised to see personally send us off. He watched us depart with a content look. He gave one last respectful nod as the cars clacked by. I nodded back, then the train rounded a bend and the station disappeared from view.

I let out a long breath. This was it, then. We were really going home.

I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythmic clack-clack of the rails. I could faintly catch Rinvara's familiar scent mixed with floral sachets someone had tucked in her car.

It smelled like hope.