Bossia stood in the courtyard, holding a wooden practice sword. She had requested it from a guard to test his attitude. The guard hesitated at her request, stating that he would need to consult Bishop Nehari.
"For such a small matter?" she asked.
"In any case, I can't provide you with any weapon."
"If you consider this a weapon, it's not even as effective as if I grabbed a candlestick or a pair of tongs from inside. I didn't do that but instead asked you directly if you could help. Doesn't that show I'm not planning any trouble?"
"I understand, but that doesn't mean you would cause trouble..."
The guard stopped speaking. He realized he had made a mistake. Bossia added, "I just want to move around a bit." The guard didn't respond, turning instead to order a servant to fetch what she wanted.
"Thank you," she said.
"Don't hit anything," he replied, avoiding her gaze.
Since being attacked by the Prayer Circle and saving two guards, Bossia had noticed an increase in her freedom. This wasn't a direct order from Nehari but rather a change in the daily attitudes of the guards and servants. She hadn't tried to escape when she had the chance, and she had even helped their people. Bossia could read this unspoken understanding in their cautious eyes. The details of how she left the church were unclear to most, and as long as it wasn't intentionally vilified like the Prayer Circle did, it was far less impactful than her title as the daughter of Archbishop Benedictus. Since her house arrest, she had shown no hostility, and the spreading of this somewhat legendary rescue story had made those around her drop much of their unnecessary guard: "No wonder she is the daughter of the Archbishop," they thought.
That day, Bossia's sword didn't harm anyone. She didn't launch a real attack. The attackers had decided Bossia had strayed from faith and deserved punishment, but after she picked up the sword, they didn't want to become her enemies. They simply stared stiffly at her, with some even starting to back away from the encirclement. By the time nearby guards arrived, the crowd had dispersed. Bossia never considered what she would do if these people had really charged at her. She had never thought such a possibility existed. In front of her were people who, after suffering losses from an earthquake, had dressed themselves as judges of faith, driven more by the momentum of the disaster than any true attempt to correct others, more about self-preservation than righteousness. They had already lost much and didn't want to see their own blood on the sword's edge. More than a decade ago, Bossia was taught that civilians must always be protected first. She still agreed with this principle but knew that once on the battlefield, if you start attacking others, you can no longer rely on your civilian status. The attackers from the Prayer Circle did not have the courage to step onto her battlefield.
Now, holding the wooden sword, she tried to imagine a Qiraji bug emerging from the ground in front of her. Her mental combat simulation quickly yielded a result: she could only throw the thing away and run. If it were the people from the Prayer Circle, she could still stand her ground. This contrast suddenly made her feel that she had been away from Silithus for too long. If he still hasn't read my letter by now, then maybe he never will. To drive away this thought and to give the guard who had agreed to let her play with the wooden sword some peace of mind, she casually swung it a few times, getting used to its weight, then practiced attacking an imaginary enemy. She could feel the guard not far away watching her intently. He wasn't necessarily more vigilant.
"Bossia."
She had not heard this voice many times but already felt a sense of weariness. She lowered her right arm, which had been thrusting the sword forward, and turned around. Nehari, uncharacteristically, did not display a condescending demeanor.
"Who gave you the practice sword?"
"It was... me, Lord Nehari," the guard said. "Miss Bossia said she wanted to move around a bit. I thought there was no harm..."
"So you took matters into your own hands?"
"I'm very sorry. I failed in my duty."
Before the guard finished speaking, Nehari turned his attention back to Bossia.
"That doesn't look like the moves a former paladin would use," he said. "Of course, I'm not surprised."
"I know what you're going to say next. If you don't have any new information for me, let's not waste time. I insisted on getting this; don't blame him."
"Go and fetch another one," Nehari ordered the guard.
"My lord, what are you planning?"
"Go now. That's an order."
The confused guard left, and Nehari said to Bossia, "Wherever you learned those sword skills, it helped you escape from those people. I missed my morning exercise today because of a busy schedule. How about we take this opportunity to spar?"
"You've already sent him to fetch something. It's quite annoying to act as if you're considering others' opinions after making up your mind."
"If that really displeases you, then it's fortunate you have a way to vent, though only if you can."
The guard brought the practice sword and handed it to Nehari. Before returning to his original position, the guard glanced at Bossia.
Nehari gripped the sword tightly. His thumb hadn't fully healed; if she noticed, it would be his failure.
"Are there any rules?" Bossia asked. "Since you've said so, I will attack fiercely."
"When it ends is for me to decide. You need not worry about anything else."
Bossia thought Nehari was using this situation to demonstrate his power, not punishing his subordinate, but suppressing her audacity in practicing swordsmanship under house arrest. While trying to protect herself as much as possible, she saw no need to hold back. She initiated the attack.
Nehari blocked several of Bossia's slashes, each time immediately creating distance and preparing for the next defense.
"What are you doing?" Bossia asked. "You said it was sparring, not just letting me practice killing."
"This isn't a real battlefield. I have time to figure out what kind of opponent you are."
As soon as he finished speaking, Nehari charged forward, slashing out with the sword. Bossia blocked it and immediately realized that even a wooden sword in Nehari's hands carried considerable force, and a direct hit on the body would leave long-lasting bruises. But that didn't matter. If she had failed to avoid or block a Qiraji's attack, even just once, the consequences could have been fatal. In fact, he was right; this was an opportunity for revenge. Remembering the slap she had taken from Nehari, Bossia intensified her attacks.
Nehari's intent was to gauge what kind of battles and training Bossia had undergone. Escaping from the Prayer Circle without harming any civilians already demonstrated her clear handling of unexpected situations. Now, her attacks showed no hesitation or panic, further proving her extensive combat experience. In some of Bossia's specific sword moves, Nehari could still see traces of formal paladin sword training; on the foundation she had built years ago, she had developed a completely battle-based combat style. In Nehari's view, Bossia's attacks were swift and effective, but her defense was less than ideal. She often became overly cautious, preventing her from immediately resuming her previous attack rhythm.
—Nehari gradually realized that this wasn't a sign of fear of injury.
She must have become accustomed to fighting a species far more physically capable and agile than humans.
In the Plaguelands, the powerful enemies Nehari's forces often faced were abominations. They were strong, hard to take down, but slow and not very intelligent. The most effective way to deal with them was a group attack. As long as one could overcome fear and remain calm, following similar tactics to take them down one by one wasn't particularly difficult. The enemies Bossia had faced, however, were different. Nehari didn't believe that Bossia's current strength could match his—let alone the fact that he was holding a wooden sword instead of a warhammer—but it seemed she had experience in battles unfamiliar to him.
He intercepted an attack, stepped back a few paces, and then said, "Tell me exactly where you've been."
"That question again," she replied. "No matter how many times you ask, the answer is the same. I've never been a spy, and the rest doesn't concern you. But are you genuinely curious this time, or just using your thumb as an excuse to end this?"
Nehari didn't recall Bossia ever seeing his thumb bandaged. He handed the wooden sword to the guard. "We'll stop here," he said. "Take hers too."
"I felt I was close to avenging that slap you gave me last time, and now you stop," Bossia said after handing over her sword.
"This wasn't a fair fight. For me, it didn't even qualify as practice. But I understand why you were able to escape that day. Let me ask you something else, Bossia. If the Archbishop were to see you today, what do you think he would feel? Pride or shock?"
"I don't want to talk about hypotheticals. I've already said everything I needed to at his grave. If he can see me now, then I have nothing to hide. What about you? The Archbishop nominated you as one of the candidates; that was a very serious matter. But now you've abandoned that responsibility. If he knew, he might regret his decision."
"This, like having to keep you here, is not something that can be summarized by personal will. I must do this."
"Must...but do you want to?"
"I've already said, this isn't about personal will."
At this moment, the guard who had taken away the wooden sword returned to the courtyard. "Do not make such a mistake again," Nehari said to the guard, then turned and left. As he walked back into the house and passed through the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten something: he had intended to ask what Bossia and Jorgen had talked about.
Had the conversation continued, Nehari would have begun to doubt himself even more. When he had first picked up the practice sword, Nehari had even considered giving her a small lesson. That thought had completely vanished at some point, as if its brief existence had been absurd. Initially, his definition of Bossia was simple: a heretic. Whether she was dangerous or not, she had to be tightly controlled. The more he got to know her, the more that crude concept began to unravel. When he turned the last question he had asked Bossia back on himself, the foremost answer in his mind was: at the very least, Benedictus would not want to see him continue to confine Bossia.
Before returning to Stormwind from the Plaguelands, Nehari's life path had been much simpler. When he was younger, he had imagined how he might one day compete for the position of archbishop; as those hopes clearly became mere fantasies, he found himself becoming a candidate nonetheless. He discovered that he still revered the visible faith, or else he would not have betrayed the late archbishop's wishes and fully supported Hylan, who seemed to be the only one capable of replacing Benedictus. It was from the moment he delivered his speech withdrawing from the election that he knew he had once again stepped into a world where he had once made grave mistakes. When the struggle did not directly involve force, he lacked confidence.
As for Hylan, Nehari had already shown complete trust in him. Hylan arranged for Bossia and Jorgen to meet, assigned only two guards, and chose not to take a more concealed route to the prison; none of this had been discussed with Nehari. However, Nehari did not question Hylan's intentions. In areas where he lacked confidence, he decided to leave matters to those he chose to trust. At least for now, he would not seek unnecessary trouble for himself.
Outside the house, the captain of the guard responsible for the security of the entire building approached him.
"Lord Nehari, there have been some unusual occurrences at night recently." After receiving Nehari's signal to continue, the captain went on. "Some soldiers reported that while on guard or patrol around here at night, they felt they were being watched or even followed."
"Is there any evidence?"
"No evidence, in fact, no one has actually seen anything. They all judged it based on sounds."
"Have you had any similar experiences?"
"I haven't encountered anything. But I will be more vigilant in the future."
"Gather reports on this matter, summarize the locations where the stalker might have appeared, and submit them to me for review."
"Yes, my lord."
Nehari walked toward his warhorse, which was tied near the house. He planned to increase the number of guards. He would not inform Hylan of this matter for now.