Bossia had once imagined that if Bassario stayed in Silithus waiting for her, then once they reunited, it would be unbearably awkward for her to explain all the changes that had occurred, filled with unavoidable regret. Yet, this current situation made her even more uneasy. She had never anticipated that he would chase her all the way to Stormwind, appearing in this very house. Regardless, the surprise of his presence far outweighed her melancholic feelings; she needed to calm herself, lest this unexpected evening plunge into a mire of self-reproach along with her thoughts. He was standing right in front of her—at least she mustn't let him think she was unhappy.
"Fortunately, I already knew your real name and had seen you performing last rites for those soldiers. The Archbishop of Stormwind is critically ill, and you suddenly disappeared; I thought this might not be a coincidence. News travels fast in the outside world. In Menethil, no matter where I went, I heard people talking about the Archbishop Benedictus' ward returning to Stormwind. That's when I knew I was right, and that finding you wouldn't be difficult. Your true identity is even more interesting than I had guessed, Bossia."
"So, you… received my letter?"
"A letter? You wrote me a letter?"
"I wrote it while I was in Menethil. I… I wanted to explain what happened. I wanted to reassure you because I would..."
Bossia was about to say, "because I would return." Bassario interrupted her.
"Why did you wait until you were across the sea to write to me? You know it would likely never reach me. If you wanted to reassure me, why didn't you leave a message for me at the fortress?"
"Of course, I thought about it and considered discussing it with you when you returned from your mission. But when I heard the Archbishop was gravely ill and wouldn't last much longer… My mind was in turmoil. I just felt that if I didn't leave immediately, I might never be able to. I was also worried that leaving a message might arouse suspicion. After leaving Silithus, I didn't have the opportunity to write to you… It was only in Menethil that I was ready to talk about this…"
Bossia couldn't explain it properly. In the brief period after leaving Silithus in a surge of determination, she was surprised to find that she didn't miss Bassario as much as she had imagined. It wasn't until she was sitting in the cabin en route to the Eastern Kingdoms that she realized her earlier calm was an illusion—a temporary suppression of her emotional needs by the solemnity of making an important life decision, or perhaps by a sense of responsibility. She had also spent much energy avoiding goblins or Theramore guards who might recognize her, leaving little time for herself. She was like a warrior eager to make a name for herself, feeling irritated by incessant worry for her family before the battle, only to be too caught up in the front-line chaos to look back until a rare peaceful night brought on restlessness. Being in Menethil, having crossed the ocean, reminded her that she must seize this final chance to express herself. Writing "the happiest time of my life" in the letter brought her comfort and relief, but also made her genuinely question whether she had made the right decision.
The letter, which could have proven her state of mind, seemed to have vanished forever. She didn't know when she would have another chance to express herself. She knew all of this could have been avoided. She didn't see much blame in Bassario's expression. This wasn't necessarily a good sign.
"You set off alone like that; I was really worried and disappointed. We had agreed—you would pack your things, and when I returned from my mission, we would leave together. I spent a long time wondering if I had done something wrong."
"It's all my fault. I'm sorry."
"At first, I just thought this might have something to do with the news about the Archbishop of Stormwind. If I wanted to find out where you had gone, I had to head east. Later, I had other thoughts. For whatever reason, you couldn't travel with me, but that didn't mean I couldn't set out on my own. No matter what, I was going to leave. If the Archbishop's situation had nothing to do with you, and if I hadn't received any word from you, I would still have continued on. Throughout the journey, I kept wondering why anyone would want to leave those places and run off to Silithus. By comparison, there's nothing there."
Bassario was always too honest. These words pricked at Portia's heart, but she couldn't bring herself to complain. He wasn't wrong. Since she hadn't expected him to find her here, she also had no reason to expect him to stay in Silithus. Without her by his side, Bassario wouldn't completely lose his sense of purpose. Deep down, there was still another version of herself, small and fragile like a melting piece of ice, that longed to hear these words—"I can't live without you. I left just to find you. Even if I hadn't found you tonight, I would never have given up." What frightened her was that perhaps this other self, with its cruel willfulness and naivety, had hurt Bassario by taking his devotion for granted.
Bossia hugged him tightly.
"I don't want to apologize anymore," she said. "No amount of apologies will help. In that letter, I said that I hoped you would stay in Silithus and wait for me to return because I didn't want to be apart from you for long. I won't make that mistake again. I missed you, Bassario."
"It's alright. I'm here now."
He kissed her forehead.
"What else was in the letter that I should know?"
"Nothing, just some silly stuff. I also said this place wasn't suitable for you, but it seems I was wrong. You even managed to find this house."
"That's not hard. Are there road signs and house numbers in the desert? But I heard these people were keeping you here against your will."
"Yes. Returning to Stormwind under my original identity upset many people."
"Then let's get moving."
"What?"
"Of course, we're leaving here. We can't wait until dawn. You don't have anything that needs dealing with?"
"Tomorrow, I..."
Bossia stopped. The Archbishop's relics. The things that had been entangling her mind. Perhaps there were precious traces left by her parents, perhaps...
— I just said I wouldn't make the same mistake again.
"No," she shook her head. "There's nothing worth holding on to anymore. Let's go. Anywhere you want."
She could find the most rational reasons to support this decision, like the high likelihood of falling into new trouble once she obtained the relics. She also understood that she might regret abandoning them at the last moment. But she couldn't wait any longer, nor could she ask Bassario to wait.
"This outfit isn't suitable," he said.
"Don't be silly. I'll change right away."
"Where's your sword?"
"They confiscated it. I don't know where they put it."
"No problem. We might not need it at all. If necessary, we'll just grab one."
"Just like in Silithus."
Bossia let go of him, walked to the wardrobe, and picked out some suitable clothes for action, throwing them on the bed. As she was about to remove her nightgown, she said:
"Bassario, turn around first. I don't want you getting any strange ideas at this moment."
"Do you think I have no self-control?"
"Stop talking and turn around."
Bassario did as he was told. Bossia turned her back to him and changed her clothes. There was another reason for doing this. Even if only for a second, she needed to confirm her resolve without his gaze. In her not-so-long life, she had often chosen to leave alone, ignoring the wishes of those who cared about her; no matter the reasons, this was always a selfish act, and she had no intention of defending herself anymore. Perhaps the truth was that no one could keep her tied to one place forever—she always grew weary of the familiar. This wasn't a trait to be proud of; but as long as she was with Bassario, she didn't have to suppress her inclination for adventure. This time, her decision was surely the right one.
At that moment, Bossia heard a series of noisy sounds outside, coming from far away and gradually getting closer, then maintaining a certain distance. People were gathering. Soldiers. She immediately turned around. Bassario slightly faced the window, also listening carefully to the commotion outside. The initial chaotic sounds disappeared, replaced by a tense atmosphere of silent agitation, made up of many people's unrestrained breathing and the sound of hands gripping weapons.
"Bassario, outside..."
"They've surrounded the house. It seems to be a trap. I wondered why the guards were fewer tonight."
"What's going on? Did they follow you?"
"All I know is that if we don't act tonight, we might not get another chance. In any case, these people are much sharper than the Twilight Cultists. Bossia, listen..."
A loud voice from outside interrupted him.
"Intruder, you have one minute to come out the front door with Bossia Wislanzo. Once the time is up, we will storm in. Prepare to face justice."
Nehari. Anger and worry both surged in Portia's heart, with the latter gaining the upper hand. She held Bassario's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Bassario, I'll go out the front door as he says, and you find a chance to escape from another exit..."
"That makes no sense. Since they're already prepared, there might be more guards at the back door. Besides, I said I'd take you with me tonight, and you agreed. Taking a little risk is part of the plan."
"This isn't just a little risk! The person who just spoke is a big figure in the Stormwind military. I've known him for over ten years. He won't do anything to me, but you..."
"Calm down, Bossia. Do you remember the first mission we completed together? We had to burn down the silithid hive but got surrounded by silithid. There were many other situations more dangerous than this, not to mention the day we spent killing silithid in the Zora Hive. As long as we stay sharp, we'll be fine. Do you want to leave with me?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Bassario's eyes were calm, but Bossia knew this wasn't the same as confidence in victory. It was simply his habitual attitude when facing danger. The problem was that what they were facing together was neither silithid nor Twilight Cultists, but unknown enemies.
"Intruder," Nehari warned again. "You have thirty seconds left."