Tightly gripping the pen, her palm moved across the rough table full of small pits. In the process, a small stream of air flowed through the gap between her thumb and the pen. Before putting the pen to paper, she involuntarily held her breath for half a second. Ink gathered at the tip of the pen, slowly seeping into the paper fibers as her wrist applied slow force. The stroke reached this point, turned, and formed the first character. And the first word was...
—Dear Bassario
Pause. The word "dear" always seemed incomplete, but there was no better alternative. Over the years, countless longing hearts had placed it at the beginning of letters, giving it immense power. It would never become pale from overuse. Next, the facts must be stated. This is a letter, not a conversation; there is no time for hesitation between characters, no hints from glances.
—I am sorry, but I must
Pause. The first word that came to mind was "leave." It sounded too sentimental and strayed from the true meaning. "Go ahead"? That wouldn't work either, as it was a phrase commonly used to imply death. Finally, she decided to explain honestly, using a long sentence. The sentence had to be completely redone. Although she could temporarily alter it and then rewrite it, the stiffness of rewriting would make her feel cold. She crumpled the letter, threw it away, and replaced it with a new sheet. Starting over, this time she had to think clearly before writing. The same beginning, "Dear Bassario," followed by...
—I am sorry, an unexpected event occurred. An elder who guided me through my growth is critically ill, and I must return to my hometown to see him.
Pause. Think slowly. Think clearly before writing. The tone must be kept ordinary. It should not appear anxious.
—Regarding my hometown, I have been away for too long and do not know what it has become, but it has always been a very complicated place. Both the environment and the people are very different from Silithus. I got into trouble there, which is why I left, and there will certainly be many matters waiting for me to handle upon my return.
Pause. Writing this far, she suddenly felt a bit panicked. A drop of excess ink splattered onto the lower right corner of the last letter. However, since she had already decided to maintain a calm tone, she had to stick with it.
—We planned to leave together, to see other places together; I am not going back on this promise, but due to the unexpected event mentioned earlier, it cannot be fulfilled immediately. My hometown is not a place suitable for both of us to stay. We will not find our future there. I hope you stay a bit longer in Silithus, and if you plan to go elsewhere, be sure to leave your destination or contact information with Marlis. I will return to you immediately after resolving matters here.
Writing "immediately" caused a tremor in her heart. She had not been away for long, but she missed Bassario terribly. She couldn't help but write, "I miss you." She couldn't write that; she had to hold back. If she expressed regret in the letter, the regret in her heart would magnify tenfold. Since she had already reached Menethil, she had already reached Menethil.
—Bassalio, please forgive my self-determined actions. I am currently in Menethil, the port you have heard of. I have a long journey ahead, and if I tell you too much, I fear losing the courage to continue alone. The days with you are the happiest of my life.
Damn. She suddenly realized she had strayed from the intention to control her emotions, but it was too late. She didn't want to crumple the letter again. These words were important, and she had never said them to him. Finish this sentence... the happiest days of my life.
—I initially thought to say: this matter is my fault, so if you have other plans, such as entering the army through Marlis' recommendation, I would not oppose it. In reality, these words are just an excuse found out of guilt. The result I truly want is only one: wait for me to return, Bassario, wait for me, do not leave.
That's enough. Closing.
—Yours, Bossia
Into the envelope.
Sent to a destination unknown when the letter would be received—if it would be received—Cenarion Hold, Silithus.
That night, Menethil's church bells rang non-stop. Believers and non-believers woke from their dreams, flocking to the source of the bell sound, each with complex emotions and different expectations. Some suspected war had broken out; some guessed the truth. Bossia also arrived at the church. Under the gaze of hundreds of confused and anxious eyes, the priest announced the news: Archbishop Benedictus had died. Among the crowd, Bossia spotted the innkeeper's wife, who had earlier urged her to come to the church, fainting to the ground. She carried the innkeeper's wife back to the inn, then packed her belongings, settled the bill, and planned to leave overnight. The innkeeper noticed her fatigue and suggested she stay until morning; to repay her for bringing his wife back, he waived the last night's room charge. Bossia agreed. She returned to her room and slept for only about fifty minutes before dawn.
She had planned to stay in Menethil for a while longer. On the one hand, moving forward from here would bring her closer to the familiar world she was not entirely prepared for. On the other hand, after sending the letter, she held onto the unrealistic fantasy of receiving a reply from Bassario, gaining forgiveness and a promise to wait. But now that reality had occurred, she had no reason to hesitate on the way.
Why did she have to return to Stormwind? Bossia found it hard to explain. When she heard about Benedictus' illness in Silithus, the impulse completely engulfed her. Perhaps for a very brief special period in her life, she had hated her godfather. Years later, the hatred vanished without a trace, leaving only memories of his teachings that helped her grow. Naturally, these teachings were all related to the Light, but the Light was not the true reason she recalled them. Orphaned at three, she had eighteen years of unparalleled growth environment thanks to Benedictus. Moreover, when he first took on the responsibility of raising her, Benedictus was just a poor, unknown priest. Although she chose to leave her godfather and the Light, without the training from both, she would not have survived such a long dangerous journey.
Hearing about Benedictus' death did not add more psychological pressure. She anticipated it was inevitable; she just had to face the result. In any case, at twenty-one, she was no longer naive. Now, she could at least be sure she was no longer naive.
Bossia still couldn't avoid regretting the wording of the letter. "My hometown," "many matters waiting for me to handle," all were so vague; she claimed that being with him was the happiest time of her life, yet had reservations about the reasons for her self-determined actions. This seemed only an inch away from hypocrisy, but she knew it wasn't. Returning to Stormwind, she didn't know how deeply she would get involved. Even if she didn't reveal her identity, others would try to, like MI7. MI7 had once chased her to Gadgetzan, prompting another departure. She could not let Bassario enter this world. After her identity was revealed, she had to bear all consequences alone, without anyone by her side. The disputes belonging to Stormwind had cost her the first love, and now she had to keep Bassario far away.
Recalling the once greatly depended on Jorgen—based on her experiences in Gadgetzan, she guessed he was now in a high position in MI7. She had long worried about him, but had to admit she knew too little about him. This was because MI7 always operated in ways she still could not understand. If trouble involving MI7 arose after returning, she couldn't expect Jorgen to lend a hand.
Near dawn, Bossia had been thinking about Benedictus, but suddenly, the longing for Bassario became overwhelmingly strong, making it unbearable. She recalled those endless skies seen after waking up in his arms, and before her was only the narrow, awkward, fishy-smelling gray-white outside the inn window. She shed some tears, warning herself to leave immediately. She first went to the dock for a while; she watched distant sails and nearby crowds leaving and arriving, scenes seemingly unchanged from eight years ago, but her mood no longer aligned with those days. At one moment, she thought she saw Bassario in the crowd, and she fled these dangerous illusions, leaving Menethil.
The journey from the port to Stormwind did not go particularly smoothly. Along the way, she saw many heading to Stormwind as well. The closer she got to the destination, the more she felt her identity might be exposed early, forcing her to avoid crowds and travel alone. Occasionally traveling with others, she heard about the earthquake in Stormwind, deepening her worries. Hearing about the place where she grew up becoming unrecognizably ruined was unsettling; after all, people and hearts might have far greater changes than the environment.
While resting in Goldshire, she learned that Stormwind was strictly preventing unknown identities from entering the city. This, along with considerations for the future, made her decide to reveal her identity from the start. Outside Stormwind's gates, she reported her name and background to the guards. Clearly, the events of eight years ago had faded significantly, leaving the guards unsure how to react, so they detained Bossia and reported to their superiors.
Everything that made Bossia leave eight years ago, everything that worried her, everything that convinced her to keep Bassario away, began to take effect the moment she stepped into Stormwind. That night, the candidate for the next Archbishop, Nehari Charlostu, ordered the house arrest of Benedictus' goddaughter, the apostate Bossia Wislanzo.