A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

The tailors had outdone themselves.

Within three days, they presented an outfit that surpassed even my expectations.

It was grand, carefully designed, and made to fit me perfectly. The main robes were pure white, embroidered meticulously with threads of gold that depicted Sunmire's crest—a blazing sun surrounded by five rays.

It was the kind of attire a pope might wear, formal and authoritative, designed specifically for the shape of a Godbeast.

Over my shoulders, a heavy, crimson cape fell gracefully, lined with soft, thick fur.

It added a layer of dignity, almost imperial in its appearance. My attendants stood back as the tailor made his final adjustments, nodding in satisfaction.

On the afternoon of the banquet, my attendants began preparations early.

Grooming me was no easy feat, considering I was now 10 feet tall. But they approached the job with intense seriousness.

They combed my fur meticulously, trimming stray hairs and smoothing each section of my fur until it was immaculate. The process took hours, stretching nearly into the evening, but by the time they were finished, I looked like I belonged at the heart of a coronation.

Shortly after sunset, a carriage arrived outside my villa. It looked large and ornate, drawn by four majestic horses whose harnesses shimmered faintly in the fading daylight.

The coachman stood at attention as my attendants opened the villa doors, bowing respectfully as I stepped inside. It was spacious enough for my full-size, allowing me to sit comfortably on plush velvet cushions.

My attendants joined me, similarly having dressed for the occasion, settled into their seats with quiet dignity.

The ride through Kethra's streets was smooth and uninterrupted. Lanterns had been lit along the way, casting a warm, gentle glow over the cobblestones and canals.

When we reached the palace gates, I noted the careful decorations that had been placed. The palace itself seemed transformed from my earlier visit, covered now with glowing rune-lights. Soft colors pulsed gently along the archways and pillars, adding an air of refined celebration.

Our carriage stopped precisely at the entrance, where footmen were already positioned to open the doors and lower the steps.

My attendants exited first, taking careful positions at either side as I stepped out onto the grand pathway. There were murmurs from some of the servants as they saw me, but they were quickly silenced by the sharp eyes of the senior chamberlain standing near the entryway.

Inside the palace's grand hall, numerous nobles had already gathered, representing Kethra's neighboring kingdoms. They stood in small groups, speaking in quiet, conspiratorial tones.

Politics and alliances, subtle rivalries and quiet tensions, I recognized the signs immediately. They were all the same, people who hungered for power.

At the entrance stood the announcer, a man who clearly took pride in his role. He raised his voice clearly, resonating across the large chamber.

"Sunmire's Light, the sixth heir, Pophet, the Gentle Faith that Echoes, has arrived."

All eyes turned to me. Conversations ceased instantly.

The gazes of nobles, royals, and dignitaries fixed squarely toward my direction, some with undisguised curiosity, others with veiled disgust.

I padded forward, moving calmly into the banquet. My regal attire amplified my presence, my height, and the quiet strength of a Godbeast's presence. At ten feet tall, I towered above every guest in the room.

None spoke yet. The people waited quietly for whatever words or actions I might offer.

But for now, I gave them none.

'Let them watch,' I thought. 'Let them speculate.'

After all, tonight, I was not merely a guest; I was the event itself.

I padded quietly toward a spot near the wall, deliberately moving away from the banquet's center. Despite the dignity of my entrance, my thoughts quickly shifted toward simpler things—specifically, food.

The long preparations and the carriage ride had left me hungrier than expected, and the dizzying mix of scents in the hall wasn't helping at all.

I looked at my attendants. "Bring me something to eat," I instructed them. "Preferably meat, plenty of it."

"Yes, Your Reverence," he responded immediately and signaled to the other attendant. Both bowed quickly and moved off toward the long tables filled with food at the far side of the hall.

Left alone for the moment, I tried to steady myself.

The banquet hall was grand, but now that the attention had shifted away from me, the sheer variety of perfumes, oils, and scented powders in the air made my head heavy.

My sensitive nose was assaulted by dozens of distinct fragrances from different nations and nobilities—heavy musks from the territories north of here, sharp citrus perfumes popular in the eastern isles, and the overly sweet floral scents favored by southern nobility.

Mixed with these were the subtler smells: the soaps and bathing oils each nation preferred, some heavy and rich, others almost medicinal in their sharpness. Even the fabrics worn by the nobles carried lingering aromas; dyes and silks, leather boots polished with pungent wax, coats imbued with fragrant spices to signal wealth or status.

Together, these scents overwhelmed my senses, and I felt slightly nauseated.

I was grateful I'd chosen a quieter spot near the wall, away from the immediate conversation.

With my presence no longer the middle of their attention, the nobles and dignitaries resumed their conversations. The hall filled once more with the low hum of careful words, polite laughter, and the delicate clinking of glassware.

Observing their careful gestures and polite smiles from the side was somewhat irritating.

I loathed people who dabbled into politics for power.

My attendants had nearly reached the tables when a loud tap echoed through the hall, silencing all conversation at once.

Every guest turned instinctively toward the entrance, and the announcer stepped forward, straightening his posture importantly.

He declared, his voice ringing clearly through the chamber. "Presenting His Majesty, King Ormund of Kethra."

Ormund entered first, dressed in regal attire, but modest enough to reflect his reputation as a practical and thoughtful ruler. He moved towards his throne, greeting key dignitaries with courteous nods as he passed.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Presenting His Highness, Prince Aron of Kethra," the announcer continued smoothly.

Prince Aron appeared shortly at the entrance. His eyes immediately sought me out, narrowing as they locked onto mine. Even from far across the hall, I could feel the bitterness radiating from him.

Our last interaction clearly hadn't been forgotten. I merely returned his stare calmly, unbothered.

The announcer continued: "Presenting Their Highnesses, Prince Edrin and Prince Calem."

The two younger princes entered together, looking around with polite interest. Both carried themselves with dignity but lacked Aron's obvious animosity.

They paused briefly upon noticing me, their gazes filled with mild curiosity and perhaps a faint admiration, but they quickly returned their attentions to the nobles near them. Soon they were surrounded by eager courtiers, beautiful women, and peers from other kingdoms, engaging easily in friendly conversations and idle flirtations.

Finally, the announcer spoke again: "Presenting Their Highnesses, the twin princesses, Princesses Sara and Selenia."

The princesses entered side-by-side, their attire elegant, and their expressions carefully pleasant. They smiled politely at those nearest, nodding their heads gracefully.

But they were young. Far younger than their older brothers. From a rough estimate, I'd say they were about 6 or 7-years-old?

At last, my attendants returned, bearing large plates piled with an assortment of delicacies.

I felt immediate relief upon seeing them, the scent of freshly cooked meat and sweet pastries a welcome distraction from the oppressive perfume-laden air.

The food was a welcome distraction from the oppressive, perfume-laden air. I lowered my head, grateful for something else to focus on besides politics and rivalries. The meat was savory, tender, and precisely what I needed.

For a moment, I almost forgot I was in the midst of Kethra's grand banquet hall.

Almost.

As I chewed slowly, my ears twitched.

Nearby, just at the edge of my peripheral vision, I sensed careful, but weirdly sudden movement.

Turning my head slightly, I spotted two small figures peeking at me from behind one of the hall's thick marble pillars.

It was the twin princesses, Sara and Selenia.

Sara, the younger twin by perhaps a few minutes, tugged impatiently at her sister's sleeve. Her voice carried a clear, childish whisper despite her attempts to keep quiet. "Seia, Seia, he looks so different from the books!"

Selenia, clearly more concerned with maintaining the aura of royalty, sighed and tried to free her dress from Sara's grip. "Rara, stop tugging on my dress. We shouldn't stare."

"But Seia!" Sara protested, tugging again urgently, "He just looked over here!"

Sara quickly ducked behind her sister, clinging to her dress and peeking out from behind her shoulder nervously. Selenia, however, straightened herself and took a slow breath, visibly gathering her composure.

To my surprise, she stepped forward and approached me with calm steps, halting just a short distance away. With practiced grace, she performed a small, polite curtsy and lifted her gaze to mine. Her voice was clear and remarkably steady.

"Greetings, Your Reverence. I'm Princess Selenia of Kethra. Please forgive our rudeness for disturbing your meal."

I paused, meat half-chewed in my mouth, uncertain how to respond.

Interacting with children had never been one of my strengths. The last time I'd dealt with any, at the orphanage, I'd simply lain down and let them climb all over me.

But something told me such an approach would not go over well here.

My hesitation lingered awkwardly until, mercifully, one of my attendants stepped in. She smiled warmly, clearly charmed by the princesses' earnestness.

"Your Highnesses," she said gently, bowing her head respectfully, "would you care to join us?"

I shot her a quick glance, feeling betrayed. Had she not sensed my discomfort? Surely she must've known I had no interest in socializing with these young royals. But my attendant seemed entirely oblivious, or perhaps intentionally ignoring my distress.

She maintained her pleasant expression, awaiting the princesses' response.

Sara's eyes brightened immediately, her earlier fear forgotten. She quickly stepped out from behind her sister and moved forward, bobbing a cheerful curtsy. "Thank you very much! We'd love to!"

Selenia sighed softly, clearly resigned to her sister's enthusiasm. Still, she managed a composed smile, nodding politely toward my attendant. "We appreciate your hospitality."

My attendant gestured to nearby chairs that had quickly been brought forward by other servants, carefully positioned close enough to be respectful yet far enough to avoid encroaching directly on my personal space.

As the two princesses settled into their seats, Sara's curiosity overtook her again, her voice bright and unabashed. "Your Reverence, is it true that you really breathe fire? Why do you have such a weird face? Why is your fur brown? The books say Godbeasts have silver fur and are supposed to be mighty and terrifying!"

"Rara," Selenia whispered sharply, nudging her sister gently. "Please mind your manners."

Sara blinked innocently. "What? I'm just curious!"

I stared at the two princesses for a moment, chewing slowly to buy myself time. Sara's expectant gaze grew only brighter as the seconds passed, while Selenia watched carefully, clearly prepared to intervene if necessary.

Finally, I swallowed, resigned. "No, I don't breathe fire," I said carefully. "I was born with this... appearance. My fur has always been brown." I paused briefly, collecting myself. "And yes, I'm different from my siblings. Very different."

Sara's eyes widened even further at my answers, clearly eager to continue with more questions. But just as she opened her mouth again, the entire hall fell silent once more.

King Ormund had risen from his throne and was preparing to speak.

Around the chamber, subtle etchings flickered to life; amplification runes, placed strategically to carry his voice clearly throughout the hall.

"My esteemed guests," Ormund began, his deep voice echoing comfortably through the grand chamber. Every noble, dignitary, and visitor turned respectfully towards him, listening intently.

"Tonight, we gather to celebrate not only the safety and prosperity of Kethra but also the enduring strength of alliances forged through cooperation and trust." He paused, letting his words resonate with the audience before continuing, his gaze sweeping deliberately over the assembled guests. "Sunmire, our trusted ally, has once again proven its dedication to mutual strength and shared prosperity. We extend our deepest gratitude to Pophet, the sixth heir, whose bravery and valor have secured the safety of our kingdom."

Ormund turned towards me, smiling warmly. "Your Reverence, we would be honored if you shared a few words with us, reflecting the bond between our peoples."

My mouth fell open slightly in stunned disbelief. I stared at Ormund in shock, betrayal flickering clearly in my eyes.

'You… you dare betray me like this?' I thought, panic rising rapidly.

Around me, nobles murmured appreciatively, fully expecting a grand and eloquent speech.

Even Sara and Selenia watched with wide eyes, clearly impressed by the sudden turn of events.

I realized, grimly, that there was no escape.

The metaphorical spotlight was on me, and refusal would only fuel the embarrassment on myself.

As I hesitated, a mage approached cautiously from the side.

"Excuse me, Your Reverence," he murmured apologetically, carefully tapping a spot on my fur near my throat. "Coupling rune," he explained quickly. "You're good for the next five minutes. Please speak now."

I sighed inwardly, resigned.

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped toward the center of the hall, gazes from every corner of the chamber tracking my movement.

I lifted my head, forcing dignity into my stance, though internally I struggled to piece together a speech.

"Honored guests," I began carefully, feeling my voice carry smoothly and strongly through the hall, "the bonds between Sunmire and Kethra run deeper than mere treaties and agreements. They are as natural as the meeting of the sea and the sun."

I hesitated briefly, reaching desperately for something meaningful to say. "The sea nurtures life, providing sustenance and strength, while the sun illuminates our path, guiding us toward a prosperous future. Together, they embody the harmony that our kingdoms strive to achieve."

The hall was silent, everybody attentive. "Just as the sea cannot thrive without the sun's warmth, neither can the sun fulfill its purpose without the sea's presence. Such is our alliance: Dependent, interconnected, and strengthened by mutual trust."

I paused dramatically, then decided to conclude swiftly before inspiration deserted me. "A passage I have once read utters out this, 'Life itself is an endless bond between the endless sky and boundless ocean; separate, they falter, together, they endure eternally.' May our alliance similarly endure, strong and everlasting."

Applause erupted around the hall, appreciative murmurs rippling among the crowd. I exhaled discreetly, relief washing over me.

Yet my respite was short-lived.

From the other end of the hall came a sudden, harsh yell, cutting rudely through the applause. I looked, recognizing instantly the voice of Prince Aron, slurred and obviously drunk..

"You fucking mongrel!" he shouted, swaying slightly as he pointed accusingly at me, his face flushed with anger and alcohol. "You think you're better than us, don't you? Ha! You stole the dungeon's artifact!"

The hall went deathly silent.

I stared calmly at Aron, irritation rising again. Clearly, my troubles for the night were far from over.