A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

"Oh Light," Mira whispered, stepping forward. She towered over me now. I barely reached her leg.

She crouched down, hesitantly extending a hand toward me as if not entirely certain I was still me. "Sir Pophet? Are you alright?"

I tried to answer, but what came out was an undignified little "Arf!"

I cleared my throat and tried again. "I'm okay!" I barked, in as low a register as I could manage.

It still sounded comically tiny.

But it worked. I had actually done it.

The room was enormous from down here, the furniture suddenly gigantic.

Rinvara held out her hands anxiously. "Pophet, talk to me. What happened? I heard you yelp."

She probably felt my whirlwind of emotion and couldn't decipher it.

I trotted up to her wheelchair and tried putting my little paws on the footrest. "It's okay, Rinvara. I'm here," I said quickly.

"Sorry to scare you. I felt like I could shrink myself, so I tried." I realized I was grinning, my tongue lolling out.

It probably looked ridiculous, but I was too pleased to care.

Rinvara's head tilted, and she reached toward the sound of my voice. I gently nuzzled her hand to let her know where I was. Her fingers brushed over the top of my head, and instead of the large, thick ruff of fur she was used to, her hand practically enveloped my entire little skull.

Her jaw dropped. "You… you did shrink! Lights above," she gasped.

Without warning, she scooped me up under my front legs and plopped me into her lap.

"Hey!" I squeaked, wriggling for balance. I wasn't used to being manhandled—pughandled?—so easily.

But Rinvara held me firmly, running her hands over my much-reduced frame as if to verify I was real.

Her astonished smile grew wider with each passing second.

"You're tiny," she marveled. There was real delight in her voice now. "By the Light, Pophet, you're like a… a little puppy again!"

She cradled me and pressed her forehead to mine, laughing in disbelief. I felt her laughter rumble through my now pint-sized body.

If happiness had a sound, it was my sister's laughter echoing off these marble walls.

Mira, after overcoming her initial shock, started to chuckle as well. "Incredible. I've read of books saying that Godbeasts were capable of transforming into human-form, but never thought I'd see something like this. Does it hurt? How long can you stay like this?"

I twisted around in Rinvara's grasp until I was sitting upright in her lap. "It doesn't hurt, more like pins-and-needles for a moment. And I'm not sure how long it lasts…"

I closed my eyes and felt for the strain of the technique. It was there, a faint tension throughout my body, like I was constantly losing energy. It would probably revert if I ran out of Qi.

Already, I noticed a trade-off: I didn't have the same raw strength or tough hide in this form. I'd have to be careful; one errant boot step from a passerby could hurt me.

Still, the advantages were clear. I patted Rinvara's arm with a tiny paw. "This answers the problem! I'll just ride along with you."

"Yes, indeed!" Rinvara's face was positively glowing with amusement and admiration. "I can hide you under my cloak. No one will suspect a thing."

Mira clapped her hands once, decisively. "Alright then. We have our Lady in disguise and our knight in… miniature. Shall we venture out, my esteemed patrons?"

My tail wagged furiously at her enthusiasm. "Lead the way," I yipped.

Rinvara settled me against her abdomen, beneath the folds of her cloak.

It was a surprisingly snug fit.

Mira took up position behind the wheelchair and eased us out the door.

We traveled down quiet back corridors known only to clergy and high officials, avoiding the main halls. It was an oddly furtive departure for a princess of Sunmire, technically, and her brother, but we wanted no fanfare.

As far as anyone beyond a select few knew, Lady Rinvara was currently dead—and we intended to keep it that way until the time was right.

Within minutes, we emerged onto a side street via a discrete ramp. The early day greeted us with a gentle breeze carrying the scent of rose bushes and city dust. I peeked out from a gap in the cloak's folds. Sunmire's largest city, Valden City, sprawled before us in all its eclectic splendor, and my heart swelled at the sight.

Directly ahead, the city unfurled in layers of old and new. Ancient stone temples with stained-glass windows stood shoulder-to-shoulder with newer constructions: brick townhouses, clock towers, and sleek buildings adorned with glowing crystal light-strips.

Broad avenues paved in polished limestone cut through bustling plazas, while narrower cobbled lanes wound into dense marketplaces.

And everywhere, signs of magical and technological innovation mingled with the sacred. On the corner across from us, a street lamp of carved crystal sat atop an iron pole, still faintly luminescent from last night's enchantment.

Beyond it, a mechanized auto-carriage chugged along, gears clicking softly as its enchanted steam-powered engine propelled it forward without horses. The carriage's sides were painted with holy sigils, and a small pennant of Sunmire fluttered on its roof—a noble or priest being ferried to morning duties, no doubt.

High above, I caught a glimpse of a steam tram gliding along elevated rails. Its whistle sang a jaunty note as it approached a station, releasing a puff of white steam into the clear blue sky.

The tram cars were lined with glowing runes that both powered and guided them along their tracks, a transit system that had made Sunmire's largest city the envy of many a more "modern" cities.

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It was strange; just a year ago, those trams were a brand-new experiment. Now, they seemed an integral part of the cityscape.

I felt like a country bumpkin seeing civilization for the first time, and technically I was seeing it anew—from a pug's-eye perspective, half-hidden under a cloak. It was all a bit overwhelming, but in a good way.

Rinvara drew in a slow breath. "I can feel life around us," she whispered.

Her face was mostly hidden by her hood, but I could see her nostrils flare and the way she tilted her head, listening.

"So many hearts, minds… it's like an ocean of emotions.."

Mira began to push the wheelchair forward, and we rolled into the flow of the city. "It's relatively quiet at this hour," she narrated conversationally for Rinvara's benefit. "We're in the district's side street. To our right, there's an herbalist shop just opening—the smell of mint and chamomile is simply lovely. And on our left, a bakery… oh, they're putting out fresh loaves."

Rinvara giggled. "Already trying to lure me into baked-goods debauchery, Mira? We only just got outside."

My nose twitched, and even through the cloak, I caught a hint of sweet-dough aroma. My stomach gave an appreciative growl. Compressed or not, I apparently retained my appetite.

We wound our way down the gently sloping street. The buildings here were stately, mostly administrative annexes and housing for clergy. Soon, those gave way to more commercial structures as we neared a public square. I recognized the statue in its center: a bronze depiction of Lady Aurelith. Around her, artisan stalls had begun setting up for the day's market. A pair of young men were arguing good-naturedly as they levitated a stack of crates with a spell and guided them into place.

The square's notice board was plastered with papers: news bulletins, recruitment notices, prayer schedules, all jumbled together. A few civilians milled about reading them. One particular poster, bordered in black, caught my eye.

It bore a sketch of a white wolf framed by a halo. Even from a distance, I could tell who it was meant to be, Rinvara.

Above the drawing, in bold letters, were the words:

"In Memoriam of Lady Rinvara, Sunmire's Light."

Below, smaller text I couldn't yet read was likely detailing a memorial service or proclamation of her sacrifice.

My blood ran cold and hot all at once.

In Memoriam.

They'd made her a martyr in absence. I knew it was likely; declaring her dead would rally the faithful and stir outrage against our enemies.

We were rolling closer to the notice board now. Too close. In a moment, if she turned her head just right, she might hear someone talking about it or sense the somber mood of those reading the flyer.

I had to distract her.

Quickly, I popped fully out from under the cloak, onto her lap and climbed up her torso. I licked her chin, which startled a laugh out of her.

"Ugh, you silly thing!" she said, scrunching her nose as I slobbered affectionately. She forgot the moment of tension as she tried to fend off my spontaneous pug assault.

Mira caught on immediately. With a subtle shift, she redirected the wheelchair slightly away from the notice board, steering us toward a different street leading out of the square.

As we turned, I shot a glance back at the poster of Rinvara with its bold black border. My jaw clenched. Not yet, I promised silently. I won't let her see that yet.

Not when she was just regaining a measure of peace. There'd be time to address whoever had decided to plaster her death around Sunmire. But in this moment, I wanted Rinvara to enjoy being out without that burden.

Oblivious to what I'd seen, Rinvara stroked my ears under the cloak. "Easy, boy," she teased lightly, as if I were truly just some excitable pup.

We continued on, leaving the square and entering a long boulevard lined with shops and cafés. The city was coming fully alive now. Shopkeepers swept stoops, venders hawked morning papers. A street performer on the corner blew into a peculiar flute that caused illusory birds of light to dance above his audience. A small crowd had gathered, their ooohs and applause rippling with delight.

Mira described everything in a soft undertone: the colorful awnings, the cobbler setting out polished boots, the elderly couple haggling with a fruit seller.

Rinvara listened in rapt silence, and I could sense her soaking it all in—the normalcy, the vitality of ordinary life carrying on.

At one point, as we paused by a fountain, Rinvara's head tilted and she smiled. "There's a street performance nearby, isn't there?"

"That's right," Mira said. "About a block down. How did you know?"

"I can feel the joy," Rinvara said simply. "It's like a gentle warmth spreading out. People are happy, entertained. It's wonderful."

Her own happiness at that was evident; Rinvara matched her own emotions from others' well-being.

My throat tightened a little. After the endless nightmares she'd been through, here she was delighting in a stranger's simple joy.

Down the road, I spotted the performer: a wiry man with a gaudy purple vest juggling orbs of light that changed color and shape mid-air. Children squealed as one orb turned into a shower of flower petals that vanished before hitting the ground. It was a simple illusion trick, but the laughter it brought out was real enough.

As we carried on, Rinvara suddenly stiffened, her hand shooting out from beneath the cloak to grab Mira's forearm.

"Something's wrong…" She said urgently.

Mira immediately halted. I poked my head out, ears pricked. Wrong? I sniffed the air instinctively, but sensed nothing amiss amid the mélange of city smells.

Rinvara's brow creased under her hood. "A child—scared, upset." She turned her head slightly to the right, as if tracking an invisible thread. "There."

Mira and I followed her attention. We were near the entrance of a different district, its marble archway leading to a quieter side courtyard of shops. At first I saw only a few passersby. Then, off to one side by a stone bench, I spotted a small figure curled into themselves.

A little girl, maybe five or six, sat hunched and crying quietly, clutching a wooden toy.

Without hesitation, Mira guided us closer. The girl looked up at the sound of the rolling chair and the clink of Mira's boots. Big tears streaked her dusty cheeks. She didn't run, but she eyed us warily—especially the imposing cloaked figure of Rinvara.

"Hello there, love," Mira said gently, kneeling a short distance away to avoid looming over the child.

She kept her voice bright and calm. "Are you alright? Are you lost?"

The girl hiccupped, scrubbing at her face. "I—I can't find my dad," she whimpered.

Rinvara stayed quiet, likely suppressing her aura so as not to overwhelm the already frightened kid, but I felt a wave of empathy emanating from her. "What's your name?" Mira asked.

"Linna," the girl sniffed. "Dad was buying bread… I saw a kitty and followed it and... and then I couldn't find dador the bakery or—" She continued crying.

Rinvara lifted her hood just enough for her mouth to show, offering a kind smile in the girl's direction. "Linna, my friend here is a doctor. She will help you, alright?"

I hid deeper into Rinvara's cloak. I was never really good with children, even in my previous life.

With a bit more gentle coaxing, we learned what her dad looked like and the name of the bakery. Mira figured it was the one just a street over.

Sure enough, as soon as we emerged from the district onto the next street, we heard a panicked male voice calling, "Linna! Linna, where are you?"

"Dad!" the girl shrieked and took off running. A man in his 30s barreled through the crowd, scooping her up and covering her face in relieved kisses. The reunion was so heartwarming I swear even a few onlookers clapped.

I silently peeked out from the cloak, where I could see Rinvara with a hand pressed over her heart, clearly moved.

Mira spoke quietly, meant for us alone, "Well done, Lady Rinvara. You sensed her when none of us could see her."

Rinvara shook her head, smiling gently. "The poor thing's fear was ringing like a bell. I'm just glad we found her father. The joy I feel from them now…" She sighed happily. "It's like stepping from the shadows and into the sun."

We continued on our stroll, sticking to the less crowded thoroughfares. As the morning wore on, we gleaned snippets of daily life and current events from the city around us.