Pope Pug
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Chapter 56.
🕑 Added 2025-08-08 19:11:25 +0000 UTCI suppose I should have expected it. Every peace was temporary. This time, my fate arrived in the form of Sali’s mother, who had found me mid-groom in the abandoned cottage. I barely had time to compose myself.
So, that’s how it happened. I was a captive now.
I was swept up, quite literally, by a pair of surprisingly gentle hands and carried off through the dusk like some errant pet. The indignity was almost impressive.
“U-Unhand me, elven woman!” I squeaked, voice breaking in a way that could never be mistaken for regal.
She just smiled and glanced down at me once, as if to confirm I wasn’t about to bite her wrist. I considered it, but the effort seemed excessive. Dignity, again.
We crossed the grass until we reached her house, a place I’d only ever seen from the cottage window. Up close, I could see that the walls were made of plain wood, paint faded by decades of sun and rain.
The door creaked on its hinges as we entered, still her carrying me.
Inside, there were lanterns on shelves, a few glass jars with plants in them.
The air smelled faintly herbal, a mix of dried mint and clean earth. The main room was small but open. A stone hearth squatted against the far wall, and the floor was smooth, with woven mats arranged just so.
There were no unnecessary decorations. Just a row of children’s shoes by the door, a neat rack of cloaks, a battered broom in the corner.
It was quiet, and it was warm. There was also a pair of low shelves that carried books, mostly of recipes or plant encyclopedias.
I was set on my feet while she removed her cloak and brushed dust from her sleeves. That’s when the reality of my situation finally sank in.
Shame finally caught up with me.
However, without pausing, she set down a small pillow on the living room table and lifted me onto it. My pride suffered another small defeat, but the pillow was soft and I refused to look uncomfortable.
She went into the kitchen, moving without hurry. I heard water being poured, the gentle clatter of wooden cups. She called out, “Would you prefer chamomile, yarrow, or wild mint? Or perhaps just water?”
I blinked. This was not the interrogation or scolding I’d been bracing for. She was treating me like a guest, or worse, like a child.
I cleared my throat, regaining what was left of my composure. “Water is fine,” I said, perhaps a little too quickly.
She didn’t comment, just nodded.
After a short while, Sali’s mother returned from the kitchen carrying a mug and a small bowl—a steaming mug for herself, and mine, which was set beside me on the table.
She set herself down in a chair close by. She took a measured sip, then placed the mug down, watching the steam rise between us. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes remained keen.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I studied the grain of the table. She studied me. Finally, she spoke.
“I assume you are the one the rangers are looking for?” She didn’t say it as an accusation, only as a simple fact that needed confirming. “There have been questions for days now. Sali and the others have not exactly been subtle.”
I did not answer immediately.
She took another sip, then continued, “I do not hold you at fault. I can already assume what happened. Sali and the other two children must’ve found you and brought you into the cottage, didn’t they? Judging from when they’ve started going there more frequently, I’d guess they’ve been taking care of you this entire time.”
I watched her carefully, uncertain of her angle. I could sense no hostility.
She set her cup down again, then began counting on her fingers, “There’s been talk among the rangers. One, a private airship crashed into the inner forests two weeks ago. Since there are no flags, most assume it came from the Concordium, second-hand and rented. Two; then there were the bodies. Two dead Sunmire clerics. Several more dead mercenaries. And—”
She paused, glancing at me with something almost like curiosity, “Three. An artifact. One they say is from Kethra.”
I could feel the fur along my spine stiffen, but I forced myself to remain still, chin raised, eyes trying to level with hers. I found it a bit of a shame that The Tidemother’s Embrace was found by the elves.
She watched me a moment longer, reading the change in my silence. Her voice softened further. “Four. They say that a giant beast being transported had caused the crash. Because of that, half the children in town have their own version of the rumors regarding an evil spirit loose in the woods.”
She continued counting, her last finger curling in toward her palm. “And lastly, Five. The giant beast had suddenly vanished without a trace. So, pray tell, what happened, Godbeast from Sunmire?”
For a moment, I weighed the usefulness of a lie against the futility of pretending. But there was nothing left to conceal.
What was up with my luck? Both women that I’ve met outside of Sunmire were too capable.
I answered with the same careful restraint she offered me. “An assassination attempt on my life. Before I knew it, the airship had already crossed into these skies. I only noticed when they killed my attendants.”
Her expression didn’t change. She folded her hands in her lap and nodded, as if I’d confirmed a theory she’d already accepted.
My thoughts circled, unsettled by how much she knew. I narrowed my eyes at her. “How do you know all of this?” My voice was lower.
She smiled then, the faintest crinkle at the corners of her eyes. “I still have connections. Some friends remain in the ranger corps. There are always rumors to be heard and conversations to be had. I know more than most, I would guess. And they are still searching for you, even now. Which is why I find this situation—” she paused, exhaling a faint breath, “—a shame.”
My ears pricked. “What is?”
She looked at me plainly, her tone neither harsh nor sorrowful. “They will find you soon. Now that the investigation at the wreck is complete, and communications have been sent to Kethra, Concordium, and Sunmire, they are increasing their manpower. Rangers from other posts have been called in. They’re even sending in The Tracker.”
“The Tracker?”
She glanced toward the window, her voice steady. “An elven champion; if she’s given a trail, she will find its end, no matter how faint. Hence why she received her moniker. Her spirit’s capabilities lies in pursuit. It’s said she can follow the scent of magic or memory itself. No one escapes her for long. If she is searching for you now, it is only a question of time before you’re found.”
For a while, neither of us said anything.
I simply felt tired; I was being hunted for a fault that wasn’t mine.
The door rattled open. The children tumbled in, voices rising in greeting. But when they saw me, perched on the pillow and Sali’s mother seated nearby, they froze, mouths half-open.
I met their wide eyes and said, as bluntly as possible, “Your mother found me.”
The silence after my blunt confession stretched for several seconds. The three of them looked all fidgety, almost afraid they were going to get a scolding.
Sali’s mother looked at them and sighed.
“You did well,” she said, “You helped someone who needed it. That’s something to be proud of. I am not angry with you.”
The relief in the air was nearly tangible. Ennor’s shoulders relaxed, and Myra let out a quiet breath she’d been holding. Sali, for her part, immediately moved to my side and looked up at her mother, smiling.
Dinner came soon after. Sali’s mother moved to the kitchen and began to prepare the evening meal. She worked efficiently, chopping roots and greens. The children helped where they could: Ennor set the table, Myra fetched a crock of water, Sali tore up bread and arranged it in a basket.
I sat on the pillow, my role as the dignified observer unchanged.
After dinner, Ennor and Myra packed up their belongings and slipped on their sandals, telling Sali that they’ll come back again tomorrow.
However, before they left, Sali’s mother told Sali to say her goodbyes, properly. To which she did.
Myra was so tired she barely managed a wave before stumbling out the door after her brother.
The night pressed in, and Sali was left with the duty of cleaning up. She gathered the bowls and utensils and carried them out to the stream behind the house. I heard her footsteps fade, the door swinging shut behind her with a quiet thud.
That left only Sali’s mother and me in the kitchen. She moved with practiced economy, folding a cloth over a loaf of bread, pushing a chair back beneath the table. I watched her, tail curled neatly behind me.
She spoke as she wiped the table. “I have lived a long life, and there are a few things that have not changed since my childhood. The elders, for one—their laws, their fear, their insistence on tradition above mercy. That is why I need you to leave tonight. When the time is right, I will turn myself in as the one who cared for an outsider in the inner forest. It must be me.”
I blinked. “You’re willing to take punishment? Why? What is so strict here that it cannot be broken for a single accident?”
She met my gaze without wavering. “You will be found soon, one way or another. The law is absolute. Outsiders are forbidden in the inner forest, no matter the reason. Even by accident. If the elders discover you, they will not question how you came to be here, only that you were sheltered. And those found to have helped an outsider…” She paused, folding her hands tightly together. “They will be punished. This law does not change, no matter how many lives are saved or how innocent the intent.”
She continued, “I have brought Sali up as best as I could, and taught her the importance of goodwill. If there is fault, it is mine alone for not having found you sooner.,”
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
I found myself searching for something to say, something worthy of the risk she was taking. “There must be another way. Maybe you can run away? You don’t have to—”
A quiet sniffle interrupted me.
Sali stood outside the barely opened door, carrying a bucket of cleaned dishes. Her fists balled at her sides, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had clearly been listening for some time, but it wasn’t until the word “punished” that her composure failed.
“Is it my fault, mom?” she choked, voice trembling. “I’m t-the one who carried him here. Should I have left him in the woods? I-I should have—”
Her mother moved across the room without hesitation, kneeling to pull Sali into her arms. Sali collapsed against her, sobbing.
Her mother stroked Sali’s hair, her own voice steady but soft. “No, Sali. It is not your fault. You did what you were taught, you showed altruism to someone who needed help. You did right.”
Sali would not be soothed. Her mother held her close, murmuring reassurances. But Sali clung tighter, sobbing harder.
I remained silent, unwilling to intrude in this moment.
But then, Sali’s mother suddenly froze. Her gaze darted to the window, then to the door. I saw her eyes sharpen.
“Change of plans. They’re here,” she said, voice shifting to something far more urgent. Her arms tightened briefly around her daughter. “Forgive me.”
Then she whispered a single word.
“peelS.”
Sali went limp, her body folding gently into her mother’s lap.
In just a matter of seconds, she was fast asleep.
My heart pounded, more from shock than fear. I knew, immediately, what I had just witnessed. In this world, there were only a handful of them. Eight, by the last scholarly count, who possessed mastery of the awakening: Lexical Sorcery.
The art of commanding the world with words.
Decades before, in Sunmire’s university city. She had been a guest of honor, an elven matriarch respected even among humans. She had intervened in disputes that might have become wars, her presence alone enough to quiet factions.
But just as suddenly as she’d risen to prominence, she vanished. The books called her “the queen who abandoned her throne,” and the stories whispered that she had eloped with a commoner, turning her back on the ancient line.
Her name had been erased from most records, but the title remained.
The Verdant Whisper. Phase-1.
It seemed impossible. Yet here she was, kneeling on the kitchen floor, Sali in her arms.
She did not waste time. “Get up,” she commanded me with authority.
I obeyed, rising to all fours. She shifted Sali gently onto a blanket in the corner, then strode to the center of the room. With another word, she swept her palm across the air.
Reality flexed. A thin line of light appeared in front of her, widening into a shimmering portal. On the other side, I could see the faint outline of trees, less dense, the outskirts of the forest.
She bent quickly, opening the floorboards near the hearth. With ease, she pulled out two sturdy bags and tossed them into the portal.
“You must go. Now,” she said, urgency ringing. “This will bring you to the border of the outer forest. With luck, you will be clear of the rangers before they arrive.”
I hesitated, mind racing with a thousand questions. "Why risk this? You are the Verdant Whisper. You could easily—”
“Protect my daughter, Pophet, the Gentle Faith. Revocer. evoM.”
The world suddenly spun as I went flying toward the portal. At the same time, I felt my body surge with sudden strength, as if my wounds had recovered in an instant.
My paws hit the ground first, a grassy stretch bordered by the pale trees of the elven forest.
A moment later, Sali gently floated beside me, slowly set down by some unseen force.
“That’s unfair treatment unbefitting for me,” I muttered.
But the portal was already closing. The last shimmer of light snapped shut, leaving only the hush of wind through the grass and Sali’s quiet, sleeping breath.
I steadied myself, though not completely back to full power, the fatigue had faded, replaced with a raw, sharpened sense of Qi.
I looked down at Sali. She was still asleep, her brow smooth, tears dried on her face. I nudged her gently, not ready for the journey ahead but aware that we had little time to linger.
*****
When the portal vanished, the old elven matriarch, known now to few as the Verdant Whisper, remained kneeling beside the spot where her daughter slept. The house was silent except for her own careful breathing.
She rose, straightened her tunic, and spoke aloud: “Good evening.”
A response echoed from the corner shadows, “Your Eloquence.”
Another elf stepped into the light, her features eerily alike.
There was a time, centuries ago, when the world had seemed to be hers for the taking. She remembered her awakening, and how the world opened not as how their teachers taught them, visions of spirit animals, but as living words and sigils.
Mana, to her, was language: phrases hanging in the air. Elvenkind shunned her for it, called it an unblessed awakening. She was marked as a danger to tradition.
But through effort and persistence, she rose through the ranks. Orders were orders, and she delivered the sentence without mercy; young or old, kin or foreigner, anyone who transgressed the law.
Her ascent was paved with necessary cruelty, and the elders rewarded her for it. Soon, she was feared by all.
Eventually, her achievements became too much to ignore. She advanced to Phase-2, then Phase-1, and became the youngest elven commoner to ever wear the crown of succession.
The Verdant Whisper, they called her: the queen whose words could halt an army.
That confidence carried her everywhere, until her embassy to Sunmire, two hundred years past.
There, among the vaunted Godbeasts of the old city, she encountered the creature revered by Sunmire. The Godbeast, a Phase-0 creature.
Instinctively, she felt it. If the Godbeast so willed it, she would crumple and die
However, the Verdant Whisper, who was so used to obedience and fear, was unsettled by the creature’s humility. In that gentle presence, she spent time with the Godbeast, slowly discovering the texture of joy for the first time: quiet meals, unhurried walks, the way laughter sounded when not used for political endeavors.
She learned how to live outside of tradition, and for a rare stretch of years, she was simply content.
It was enough to change the course of her life.
After her return to Silvanth, the Verdant Whisper found herself drawn to a life she’d never tasted during her reign.
She dressed as a commoner, selecting plain garments and worn cloaks that blended into the daily crowds. The crown was left behind, replaced by a simple braid. She would slip out from the guarded halls and vanish among the people.
She found freedom in the ordinary. During the festivals, she wandered the lantern-lit avenues, unrecognized.
She listened to the laughter of children, watched the weaving of ribbons, and sampled food from market stalls. She found that roasted nuts tasted better when eaten with cold fingers, that spiced tea had a warmth she had never noticed before.
With each excursion, she learned that happiness was not a privilege reserved for rulers, but something small and persistent, hidden in the corners of everyday life.
It was on such an evening that she met him. He was an elven commoner, broad-shouldered and rough about the edges, with hands stained by honest labor as a regular ranger on the outer forest.
There was nothing refined in his bearing, but he greeted her with directness.
She found his simplicity refreshing. When he laughed, it was genuine. When he looked at her, he saw only the woman before him.
She initiated conversation. What began as idle talk turned into something more. They met again, and again. Each week, at the edge of a town or down a quiet lane, their bond deepened.
The Verdant Whisper learned the pleasure of anticipation; the simple thrill of waiting for someone, the comfort of shared silence, the fire of new affection.
For the first time in her long life, she let herself fall in love.
But tradition soon pressed in. Among the higher echelons of the elves, union was only permitted for those who had properly awakened. Her own awakening, marked by the forbidden Lexical Sorcery, had always been a shadow on her record, tolerated only because of her strength and achievements. For a Matriarch, it was barely accepted.
The truth could not be hidden for long. When word spread that she was pregnant, the halls erupted in scandal. The elders’ fury was absolute. There were public conversations of stripping her of her position as Matriarch.
But the threat that truly chilled her was directed at the man she loved: the commoner’s life was to be forfeited for sullying the sacred line.
A part of her wished to flee, to abandon Silvanth and start anew. But she knew the risks, her body heavy with pregnancy and her beloved defenseless.
To run would be to doom them all. The only path was negotiation.
She appeared before the Council. Those who had reached the upper phases—Phase 0, 1, and 2—could swear oaths that none would break in fear of the punishment that came after. And so, she made her vow, binding and eternal: she would step down as Matriarch, vanish into obscurity, and never again lay claim to the throne.
In return, her husband and her child would be spared. She would live as a shadow in the forest, but her promise to protect Silvanth would remain.
The elders agreed, their pride placated by her sacrifice. She gave up the title, the crown, the open display of power.
She gained a family instead. And so the Verdant Whisper disappeared.
In one of the sections of the inner forests, she found the contentment that rulership had never given her. The gentle weight of a sleeping child in her arms and the shared strength of a love that needed no title.
But peace was never eternal. It all came crumbling down, as all things do, with a single, unremarkable day twenty-five years ago.
Her husband died without warning. It was almost insulting in its ordinariness.
She suspected foul play at first; she demanded an investigation, turned her old authority on every contact she still possessed. But the truth was simple, almost cruel. A simple accident.
For weeks, she moved through her days as if submerged in thought. She found herself drifting through daily life, answering Sali’s questions with half-formed words, managing the house by rote.
But when Sali hugged her during the funeral, she realized she had to keep going. For her.
Now, she faced the present; the presence of a figure she had not expected to see again.
The elf before her had once been her bodyguard. A shapeshifter, adept in more forms than any common mage. They had fought together against assassins, and her bodyguard had even taken her place on the throne a few times just so she could sneak out.
But they parted ways when the crown was set aside. Now, the bodyguard stood across the room.
The shapeshifter spoke first, her voice neutral. “It will be reported that your daughter carried an outsider into the inner forests, sheltering it.”
There was no accusation, just inevitability. The elders would need someone to blame.
The Verdant Whisper nodded once, eyes steady. “I know.”
The oath she had sworn all those years ago had been explicit. As long as Sali was alive, the vow would hold, and she would protect Silvanth.
The elders would not dare to risk the consequences of violating that oath. Sali only needed to be alive.
Sali would be imprisoned, used to blackmail her, and isolated from the rest of their kind.
The law was ruthless, but the oath was older, and older than any of them dared to challenge.
After all, why would they throw away a Phase-1 powerhouse for a little girl’s life?
Hypocrites, the lot of them.
She sent Sali away to be free from the same shackles of law and tradition.
The shapeshifter waited in silence for further conversation, but the Verdant Whisper offered none. There were no more words to give. And so, she was cuffed, led outside into the darkness. Back to the very kingdom she left.
Comments
BelligerentGnu
Whelp. There's a society in desperate need of revolution.
James
Sali, the first disciple?
